Mostly Cushions.

Sunday 10th May 2020:
The days total achievements amounted to fitting a few mosquito screens around the boat and shouting at twitter posts. However I was pondering my existence on a boat during lockdown while doing the dishes, so I might as well bore you with my meanderings now as a way to fill some space.
I had just watched a video blog (Vlog) from “SV follow the boat” about how well cruisers are already prepared for this type of pandemic life, in as much as we generally have several weeks of food and supplies on board, we are by the very nature of sailing self sufficient and while running the tap to rinse the dishes, always a luxury, I was further reminded of a piece Vanessa and Robert wrote about their trip around Vancouver Island, partly with us last year, and how living aboard made them really appreciate how few material things you need in life. So I thought I might write a little about how our fresh water works on the boat.
Of all the things needed for survival, water is right up there, you can go a long time without food, but without water you’re doomed quite quickly. We have a 10 litre bottle of water under the sink we keep for emergencies, but rely on our two steel water tanks to supply all our needs, drinking/cooking/washing. Each tank holds about 200 litres (50 gallons), to put that in perspective, an average bath uses about 120 litres, so we carry enough for just over 3 baths, and if we had room I would definitely fit a bath. It’s not a massive amount of water. When we left Japan for Canada, it took us 5 weeks, but we provisioned for 7-8 weeks worst case, we had a water maker, but didn’t want to be dependant on that, because as it has just shown us, it can fail at any point and isnt easy to repair, especially out at sea. So we would have to exist on 400 litres over 8 weeks , or 7 litres a day (just under 2 gallons). We actually made landfall in Canada after 5 weeks with one tank empty and the other quite full, so that worked out well. But to achieve this you do have to train yourself not to do certain things. Leaving a tap running is a big no no. Filling the sink with water is also out. And showers are rationed and short.
The galley has three taps (Faucets should you be tuning in from America), the main hot/cold mixer tap supplied from a pressure activated pump, just like you have at home. This is often turned off on passage as it is very wasteful.

The other two pumps are activated by pedals you pump with your feet below the sink. One provides cold water from the tank, the other sea water from outside. Most of the dishwashing is done with the sea water, then a quick rinse of the dishes with the fresh pump, I try to get the water to cascade over many dishes at once, rather than treating each dish to its own rinse. I love the foot pumps as you can dispense tiny amounts of water, if I just want to dampen a cloth I can get a teaspoon sized amount out easy, with the main pressure pump it’s much harder to control.
Here in the marina we have hot water, we normally get hot water at sea when the engine has been running for half an hour or so, the engine’s radiator water (Heat exchanger to be nautical) is used to heat up fresh water, but being connected to shore power in the marina, there’s an electric heater that kicks in. So I had a full sink of hot water to soak the dishes in. This is a rare treat for me, and I felt a little guilty about it, even though I’m in a marina with water literally on tap. I still rinse with the sea water, as it has become habit now.

Monday:
Not much better than Sunday, lots of polishing around the boat and a trip to the Immigration office to be told I had missed my middle name off one of the application forms and I would have to go back online, start a new application and return in a day or two. I picked up some fresh bread, avocados and coriander on the way back. I think I have too many avocados now.

Tuesday:
Today I got stuck into polishing the woodwork in the cabin. I bought some spray polish, it’s called Pledge in the UK, it’s like instant gloss for those of us too lazy to do it the old fashioned way. It worked great, but I did wonder how much harm the chemicals involved might be doing to my lungs.
Mike from SV Elsie Jones came over for help with his electronics. He sat in the cockpit, 2 metres away (ish) and we chatted through face masks about boaty things. He’s quite ancient and had some good yarns to tell. He’s from Manchester originally, the boat is named after his mother who is welsh, but he lives in Thailand and bought the boat here in La Paz and planned to sail there. Those plans are scuppered for this year so he booked a flight home, La-Paz to Mexico City to Dallas to Japan to Thailand, quite expensive, then found out he’s not allowed to transit at Dallas. I doubt he will get a refund. I advised him to find out why he can’t transit, I’m sure he should be allowed, he’s travelling on his Irish passport, his Irish links are quite tenuous, and he wondered if that was why. You can’t transit through the states now if you are coming from the UK, Ireland or a schengen country.

Wednesday:
I decide to get up at 06:30, after a very restless night. For some reason around 02:00 I woke with my heat rash stinging, I thought I would try to learn my pronoun rules with the verb Ser and Estar. Once you have this cracked, a lot of Spanish gets easier. Things like: “Yo soy, tú eres, él es, elle es”, for “I am , you are (informal), he/she is”, and all the plurals, they are , yous are etc. I fell asleep reciting these and of course went straight into a nightmare that lasted until 6:30 of me not being able to get them right. Prior to that I was working for both Donald Trump and Boris Johnson in some hellish office were everyone seemed to be mad. I expect their offices probably are quite mad.
So as the sun rose, and the kettle boiled I unpacked the printer from its several layers of plastic bin bags to see if it would print off just one last Visa application before it died, one with my middle name this time. All went well and I headed off to the immigration office after a very pleasant breakfast of coffee, toast and Danish pastry in the cockpit.
Passing the Arjona chandlery on the way, I popped in to see if the fuel switch for my outboard engine had arrived from Mexico City, looking at the invoice it was 8 weeks ago when I ordered it. They had promised to phone/email me when it came in but never had. They seemed very pleased to hand it over to me when I arrived, and I’m looking forward to fitting that shortly. The old one leaked sometimes and filled the cockpit with the smell of petrol.
I arrived at immigration, puffed out and very sweaty, it seems to be getting hotter earlier every day, I know that’s how the earth’s orbit works, but it seems that 9:30am is the new 12:00 now. Must be a virus thing. I tried hard to get my forehead temperature down by waving my head in the breeze, waving my sombrero around my head and taking deep slow breaths. The reason being they take your temperature before you can enter the immigration office and on Monday I was borderline, I tried to explain that I’m an old man who has just spent the last 20 minutes cycling up a hill in the heat, but it didn’t matter, they let me in anyway and seemed happy to see me, a quick check of my new documents and I was told everything was fine and my visa would be ready before 1 pm. I also didn’t need to pay for it, thereby saving me a trip to the bank.
I was surprised how well things were going, and I did wonder if it was because of my trousers! I had read the night before on facebook how someone else got great service in that office the day before, and they pointed out they had dressed up quite formal for their visit. I always dressed up in SE Asia, as immigration / Customs and Quarantine people consider themselves to be very important people and to go in in shorts and t-shirt is a sign of disrespect, but in Mexico everybody seems to wear scruffy jeans, even when in the immigration office. Anyway, I was in long trousers, button up shirt, and I even combed my hair, despite it not being the weekend. Who knows? I popped back at 12:30 and my visa was ready and they were all smiley faces, even getting me to jump the queue, much to the surprise of the Canadians who were only on their 4th visit. I chatted with them, they were on a boat out in the anchorage, I told them I was on Sister Midnight, they replied, “oh we heard you on the net, and we saw you in Cabo, You’re the guy who lost his passport aren’t you”. Fame at last 🙁

Back on the boat and Carlos the diver had been and left after fixing up the gouges in the coachroof that the dinghy had made. They are coming back tomorrow to sand/polish and match up the colour. I’m not expecting it to be perfect, but it will be a lot better than it is now and one day I will get someone to do the whole of the boat from bow to stern so it looks like new.
Next up I dragged two of the sofa cushions out onto the dock and with some of the soap given to us as a gift in Osaka, I started scrubbing them. I have a supply of fresh water and endless sunshine to dry them, so I thought I should give it a go. I have no idea when Kathy and I will be able to agree on new fabric for the cushions, so if I can just get them looking a bit better it’s got to be worth a try. anyway I’m running out of things to polish.

Thursday:
Woke up with a headache, it must be hell for hypochondriacs these days. I decide to ponder my fate in bed for a while and decide it’s reading too much twitter that is probably giving me a headache. I get up, do a bit more cleaning. Carlos returns and admits he can’t match the colour of the gelcoat and has brought reinforcements, a gentleman whose name I miss, but he has a tub of what looks like orange paint with him, and he sets to work. I stay below as I make it a habit never to watch skilled craftsmen doing an important job, I feel the extra pressure can only make things worse.
Later that night just after the sun sets I watch the International Space Station make an almost overhead pass.

Friday:
Shopping day today, I have noticed that either I’m getting weaker or the bike needs oiling. I decide I will go to the supermarket every other day now that I’m in the marina, and that I will cycle beyond the police checkpoint and back to get some extra exercise.
I can imagine some people might get freaked out by the checkpoints, Police, Army and Navy guys hang around stopping every car, each of them holding on to their AK47 automatic weapons. It doesn’t bother me, perhaps because when in Afghanistan, it would often seem like I was the only one without a machine gun or mortar launcher hanging off my waist. I wave and they always wave back. I smile at them, and hope they smile back, but with everyone wearing a mask, it’s hard to tell. I miss the smiles you normally get from everyone as you cycle around here.

I spot what may possibly be the last bottle of alcohol free Heineken in La Paz. It’s sitting on the floor with the other misfits, like the bad boys sent to detention or the group W bench. This bottle left its five friends in the 6 pack carton at some point and has joined the other oddballs on the floor out of the way. Twice I have taken it to the checkout, both times to be told it can’t be sold as there is no entry in the tills lookup table to give it a price. It’s future is uncertain. I will visit it on subsequent trips to see how it fares.
Later, encouraged by the cushions I have washed so far I work on some more before retiring to the cockpit for Guacamole as the sun sets and I spot another pass of the International Space Station. I track it on my phone and it starts to disappear just after it passes over Houston.

Saturday:
I do another shop, I have decided to start building up a decent stock of supplies should I have to make a long offshore passage. I may go north in the sea of Cortez to avoid the hurricanes in a few weeks time, but I also am working on a Plan B should that not be possible. My plan is to head out to Hawaii and reprovision there before heading north to Canada or even Alaska depending on where the Pacific High is. this will give me a few months at sea and more time to work on my fishing skills, starting with Tuna down here and ending up with Salmon towards the end of the trip.

The sea/organic life in the marina is quite something here, the water must be very nutrient rich, the shrimp noise from under the boat is really loud, and as you can see above, plant life is quick to grow on anything not moving fast here.

I stow away some more pot noodles, salt, flour, instant yeast and tinned goods, and wash the remaining cushions. There’s one stubborn one not dry yet, but I’m amazed at how well they cleaned up, amazed and embarrassed that I took so long to sort this out.

Paul Collister