Blues Rider
I am not Blues Rider. Blues Rider is the putative name of my sailboat. Putative because the name is not actually anywhere on the hull. It is in my head mostly.
This was my fourth season owning a 1985 Pearson 28' sloop. Every year I learn new things, mostly because I am fairly ignorant about the workings of a cruising boat. As a kid growing up on Long Island Sound, I sailed every day, every summer, for years. I learned to sail - steering, setting the spinnaker, trimming the sails, fixing snags, sighting marks and bailing out the bilge. There are relatively simple problems on the 13 foot, wooden boat I sailed as a boy. I did a lot of my own winter maintenance, painting and varnishing the small hull and accessories. It was great fun.
Blues Rider is a different order of magnitude. It is made of fiberglass, layers of polyresin built around a wood core. It incorporates systems with which I was completely unfamiliar. She sleeps six and therefore is equipped with a galley (kitchen), a head (toilet) and a power supply. A marine kitchen requires organization. It's small, there is no stove per se, just a one or two burner set-up fueled by butane in my case. My father used to demonstrate proudly our ability to make coffee on his boat. I thought it was pretty silly at the time. Now I regard it as a miracle.
There is an insulated ice box that preserves the cold for two days. That's fine for sailing in local waters, which is all I really do. But if you wanted to get away from the coast and into blue water, you would need a refrigerator. The ice box is sufficient, provided you suspend food high over the melting berg in the bottom of the box.
The marine head has become quite user-friendly. The latest models have pictographs showing how to empty the bowl and how to fill the bowl. At sea, these are two separate actions. Knowing how to operate a marine head is different from knowing how a marine head (and holding tank) operates. A holding tank is just what it sounds like. One essential truth about a holding tank is that, no matter how good the tank or how distant it is from the crew, it must, must, must be chemically treated to break down and eliminate the odor. The bad news is that head manufacturers don't like to admit that, despite their brilliance in building the toilet and tank, they have not conquered all aspects of this sort of nautical passage. The good news is that the chemicals work.
The electrical system is a fascinating wrinkle on the conventional power supply. Like a car, the power is generated primarily by running the engine. However, you are running what amounts to an RV off the battery. You have to be careful what you add to the system and how you do it. Everything must be tailored to the relatively primitive 12 volt system. You don't want to deplete the juice faster than you can replenish it.
That's what I've learned in the first four seasons. Fortunately, I do remember how to sail.
This was my fourth season owning a 1985 Pearson 28' sloop. Every year I learn new things, mostly because I am fairly ignorant about the workings of a cruising boat. As a kid growing up on Long Island Sound, I sailed every day, every summer, for years. I learned to sail - steering, setting the spinnaker, trimming the sails, fixing snags, sighting marks and bailing out the bilge. There are relatively simple problems on the 13 foot, wooden boat I sailed as a boy. I did a lot of my own winter maintenance, painting and varnishing the small hull and accessories. It was great fun.
Blues Rider is a different order of magnitude. It is made of fiberglass, layers of polyresin built around a wood core. It incorporates systems with which I was completely unfamiliar. She sleeps six and therefore is equipped with a galley (kitchen), a head (toilet) and a power supply. A marine kitchen requires organization. It's small, there is no stove per se, just a one or two burner set-up fueled by butane in my case. My father used to demonstrate proudly our ability to make coffee on his boat. I thought it was pretty silly at the time. Now I regard it as a miracle.
There is an insulated ice box that preserves the cold for two days. That's fine for sailing in local waters, which is all I really do. But if you wanted to get away from the coast and into blue water, you would need a refrigerator. The ice box is sufficient, provided you suspend food high over the melting berg in the bottom of the box.
The marine head has become quite user-friendly. The latest models have pictographs showing how to empty the bowl and how to fill the bowl. At sea, these are two separate actions. Knowing how to operate a marine head is different from knowing how a marine head (and holding tank) operates. A holding tank is just what it sounds like. One essential truth about a holding tank is that, no matter how good the tank or how distant it is from the crew, it must, must, must be chemically treated to break down and eliminate the odor. The bad news is that head manufacturers don't like to admit that, despite their brilliance in building the toilet and tank, they have not conquered all aspects of this sort of nautical passage. The good news is that the chemicals work.
The electrical system is a fascinating wrinkle on the conventional power supply. Like a car, the power is generated primarily by running the engine. However, you are running what amounts to an RV off the battery. You have to be careful what you add to the system and how you do it. Everything must be tailored to the relatively primitive 12 volt system. You don't want to deplete the juice faster than you can replenish it.
That's what I've learned in the first four seasons. Fortunately, I do remember how to sail.
posted by Evan Sarzin at 7:44 AM
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