The Tuna Fiasco... Part 3

So obviously, I had some issues with this outing. Some meaning lots. Was it a good time to bring issues up directly after the fact? Nah. I think we had to all sleep on it, it was raw. We all needed to go home and lick our wounds personally, mull them over, and philosophize about them privately. Then sort through the issues together. And the longer I slept on it and re-hearsed the situations over in my mind, the more issues I saw with the whole incident. And, the more upset I was.

Responsibilities and the Blame Game

I don't think my husband, or anyone else, for that matter, should be perfect. He'd be quite boring if he was. And no one should be graded so harshly. And, technically, anything I could blame him for he has any and every right to turn around and blame me for. I am his wife, his partner, his other half, his other naval architect/marine engineer. Would he hold me responsible? No. He holds himself responsible for both of us, and holds the boat maintenance as his responsibility. Should he? In his eyes, I'd guess he'd tell himself yes. I'd say maybe yes, and maybe no.

I can see that, in a traditional sense, he should feel that he ought to deem himself responsible for the caretaking of the family, wife and boat/mistress maintenance included. Similar to the fact that I should probably take care of his laundry, keep the apartment and boat interior sparkling, meet him at the door with a drink and some munchies, have a lovely hot dinner available within minutes of him coming in the door, never be annoyed that he ties his shoes by putting his feet on the was-clean-5-seconds-ago-comforter, and in all ways be a regular 1950's housewife. (Do I feel a little guilty that I can't pull that off, yes.) Nice to aspire to in both of our cases, but frankly, it's a bit much to expect us to pull off perfectly, and we don't point out each other's imperfections very often. But, I do have a brain knocking around in my head and to assume that I'm not capable of being quite knowledgable about boat systems is laughable.

Can I come down on myself for not being more knowledgeable about her specifically, spending more time on the boat and with the boat? Yes and no. R still has a lot of systems projects to do on the boat, and as such we've not always spent a lot of time on board. "Um, I'm in the middle of re-wiring the.... so it would be best to just not be on the boat till I get it all sorted out, so that you're not moving stuff and the dogs aren't getting into it." But beyond that, there's nothing stopping me from being on the boat and re-learning what I've forgot about her, and learning more.

Frankly, for a long time, since R got the boat, I viewed her with jealousy. I wasn't involved in the decision to obtain her, it was before we were really together. I utterly adored the Nonsuch, was at home on her, was not homesick for my family on her. The Hans was this "other woman" that I put up with sportingly, helped on, periodically overnighted on, sailed on, because R loved her. When he needed to put all of his month's dock money towards a big fix, I'd spot him. He'd get me back. My feelings towards her: "eh." I was happy to help support his goals, but the Hans was his boat, not really "ours."

But now we're here in Oregon, and there is no Nonsuch... and she and I are probably both frustrated. I'd like time with him, without human interlopers--nothing specific, just time, and if it involves sailing, so much the better. She wants her sails up, her innards back together and miles under her keel with a bone in her mouth. Can two lovely girls work together and get what they want out of the guy at the same time? Quite possible. I'll start spending more time on her. You can't fail to learn some of the boat's systems when being a boatwife. Further, if I'm on the boat, ready to go sailing, when R gets the merest itch to go sailing, well then, he only needs to round up himself and show up.

Is this manipulative of the Hans and I, to be conspiring behind his back? No, I don't think so. No harm to me--I'm happiest on the water and I have no specific real rational complaint about the boat. She's a good boat, the type that'll take care of a crew that takes care of her, definitely not a Wally-world boat. No harm to R either--he's happiest on boats, working and playing on them. If I spend more time on the boat, he'll spend more time there. If he gets around to sorting something out, so much the better. And if not, next time then, and meanwhile he'll have noticed anything out of order. Just being on the boat will do everyone in this love triangle good.

Pre-Flights & Post-Flights

I used to ask R prior to going out, "Did you remember to..." or "Do we have..." and he can get a little snippy--especially if he's tired--we both have ridiculous sleep schedules these days. I tend to quit asking questions to avoid the crankitude. That's wrong. He might be in charge of everyone, but I'm still responsible for me (and as a wife I feel responsible for him), and if anything happens to him, I'm probably the next person left. I need to know what's up. That means not standing down if he gets his dander up. If he's tired and cranky, I just need to be creative in how I get my answers.

When I was very little, My Dad had a set routine. He actually had what amounted to his "pre-flight checklist" and "post-flight checklist"--a holdover from when he flew Cessna's as a hobby. The lists are laminated cards in the boat. He still uses them. But we each had assigned duties. The crew was the same on each voyage, however. Big Sis would handle the sailcover. I would handle the handrail covers, steering wheel cover, and instrument covers. Little Brother would please stay out of the way, and check that he had his Hot Wheels and Cheeto Puffs and coloring book.

If R's been working on one system or another, he may request that I let him handle certain things. We also share gear/tools/etc. between the family boats, or the shop from time to time. This makes a checklist a bit more complicated, but perhaps still do-able.

Safety Plan

One thing we may also want to work on is a Safety Plan. Big ships are required to have one posted--and it's not a bad idea for little ones--it's a sketch of the boat that shows where all of your required and spare safety equipment is. Posted in a prominent location, it's a nice thing to show guests in case they can't remember where, say, the bandaids are, or the horn is.

Confidence

While I know plenty about boats, and I've been sailing since I was 2, the majority of my sailing has always been on a catboat. Under sail I didn't feel like I was comfortable handling the Hans alone. I've never been out sailing alone, but all it takes is one dubious hiccup from the engine room and suddenly R's below and I'm skippering a really big boat I'm not entirely comfortable with maneuvering, really because we haven't had a lot of sailing time on the boat. And it didn't matter what boat I was on with R, I was always lowest on the totem pole if FIL was available, even if FIL knew not much about sailing, but plenty about running a powerboat.

For my own part, I wanted boat time for my own confidence. And I wanted it away from the guys in my life. And perhaps all guys. I'd had training for man overboard situations on big ships, but not on little boats. I wanted to prove to myself that I knew what I thought I knew, first. With that under my belt, I'd have no reason to keep taking a seat when in reality there were times I'd rather be taking a stand. It wasn't much fun for me. R would always be Captain and I would always acquiece to any demand or command he gave me; I'd actually agreed to obey when we said our vows and I'd meant it. But that vow was only to him, and I didn't care to be lowest man in the food chain on my own boat. I was pretty certain that in many ways I didn't deserve that.

When the boat show rolled around in January, I ran into a brokerage that also ran ASA classes. They offered a women's only ASA 101, and I signed up for the first one of the 2011 season, the first two weekends in May. I'd get boat time, practice, some time to sharpen my skills and practice with a sloop, and we'd gain contacts in the sailing community. I'd come out with a shiny certificate and a discount on our insurance.

ASA 101

When class time rolled around I was nervous. With the exception of ye odd silversmithing class, I haven't been in school in a few years now. Meanwhile, my husband had crossed the bar the day before on a customer's boat and was somewhere out on the Ocean. I'd slept, but not well, and I'd eaten, but not well. I was somewhat of a basketcase, because the trusty SPOT, which wouldn't transmit if R was below deck, hadn't been transmitting it's regular signals every 10 minutes for... oh... more than 12 hours. Which meant he was below deck most likely. So, he was maybe hurt or sick, but not so badly as to warrant emergency attention. Emergency or not, just because I didn't think it was an emergency, didn't mean my head was more with a boat 100 miles away than the 17' Hunter I found myself at the helm of.

At the same time, this unease made me doubly determined: with R beginning to collect offshore time, it was proof he was serious that we would be doing some offshore cruising. We would both need to trust me more before we could do that ourselves. We were each making steps in the right direction right that very moment for our goals. I knew I'd need to follow up and get more sailing time afterwards, perhaps even without R.

There was one other girl signed up for the class, N. D was our instructor. N and her husband owned a Beneteau 37, so we were both looking to become more comfortable on fairly similarly sized vessels. We went through basic parts of the boat, some basic knots, some safety, and found ourselves on the water, furling and unfurling jibs.

A few particular incidents stick out in my mind. The instructor was demonstrating docking along an abandoned dock. During the demonstration the outboard quit, but we had just pulled up to the dock. With the raging river current running past us, and no docklines out, just fenders, I didn't see any reason we would stay put. I'd always viewed outboards with unease--R's got a few around that know he's the boss but understand they can pull plenty of misbehavior on me. My experience was, getting the outboard started could take a few minutes--and if we didn't have a few minutes to get it started, it might be beneficial to be tied off, lest we float into other docks.

"Would you like docklines out?" I asked, ready to dig into the cuddy, after watching several pulls on the starter.

"Um... no." the instructor said. The outboard finally decided to start, and she added... "If this were your Hans Christian and R said no to that question, what would you do?"

"Nothing. He said no. He's the Captain. It's not a good time to quibble. Be ready for whatever he does ask me to do, and keep a look out. Deal with the situation first, then if I want to know why he answered the way he did so I can understand, I'll ask."

"OK. Good. That's fine." I wasn't sure whether to expect a blistering harangue for not saying something more feminist, but I was completely honest. To hear her say "Good" was a relief, and reassuring. And she would tell both N and I during the class repeatedly how well we were doing.

Over the 4 day course we practiced tacks, jibes, anchoring, docking, heaving to, and most importantly: Man Overboard. This consisted of the usual cushion (cue the reminder about most drowning victims being found with their zippers down). D would toss it overboard, and we would use the figure 8 method, approaching Peeing Paul the Cushion on a beam reach, the helmsman on the lee, catching their cushion. The only brakes available were the mainsail sheet; the jib was ignored entirely--if we had to rescue someone on our own, just focus on the main. Assuming Peeing Paul has a life jacket on and stays on the surface, I can get there.

The class was awesome. I have been on sailboats that small rarely, and it was pretty exciting to get her scooting. She worked on us about what makes us uncomfortable, what worries us on our own boats, what our issues are. I panic over outboards. I can handle heeling, but sudden heels do make me scramble on boats I don't know. I was very uncomfortable about jibing, being catboat raised, and I don't do terribly well with a tiller. If I let a situation get the better of me, I lose control entirely. Not anything I didn't know.

Did I learn a ton... yes and no. I re-inforced what I already knew in my head and had done before on a few other boats. In a situation where I was forced to be in charge, and there wasn't some guy hovering near to try to relieve me. It was a relief and a confidence booster. I expect I'll be taking more ASA classes in the future.

SeaBags

R likes to keep my life jacket in the Hans. Which means that if we are at the shop and suddenly need to go help someone, I have to use a dork-jacket without my whistle, that isn't all pre-set for me. Sure, something's better than nothing--but I want my PFD. That's why he got it for me, isn't it? It's one more thing to chase down when we plan to go fishing randomly. I've barfed, napped, sailed, fished, studied, got burnt to a crisp, and barfed some more... I've done everything in my PFD. It's Mine. Pretty much an extension of me. I'm used to it enough that I don't really remember it's there--even though it's the heavy one rated for offshore with the D-rings.

My instructor's convinced me. Keep it with me. Put it in a bag with the other stuff I want. Hat, gloves, knives, Bullfrog, extra sweater and cold weather gear, glasses, copies of certifications/licenses/documents/and a list of medications. Some basic first aid stuff. Two bottles of water and some snacky-treats that are human and dog-friendly. If I store the little stuff in a ziplock box, the box doubles as a bowl for the dogs on the run. I can't tell you how many times having one of those ziplock boxes available has helped me, or some random dog owner out. They're inexpensive, and I don't mind giving one to a stranger with a toasty dog.

Systems Issues

One issue that was probably embarrassing for R, and upsetting to FIL and I, were the VHF and nav light issues.

I decided to take matters into my own hands as far as the lights were concerned. I ordered fixtures for the lights we didn't have or needed replacements to. And new lights from Bebi. I even ordered a special light to be installed in the dodger, with white and red, and dimmer switches. When everything is finally installed (R's still having to fight for a few minutes on the boat at a time) we can turn all the lights on and light up like a Christmas tree. The missing transom light is installed on the hard dodger. Out of splash-range, for the most part, and aft of the backstay.

The VHF is an issue we're still working on. I think after the next haulout we'll be doing better. We've got the handheld and as long as it stays in the aft end of the cockpit away from the main VHF, they don't interfere with eachother.

Float Plans

Lastly, but not leastly... I'd like to work on having some float plans available for each of the boats that we take out, and keeping them in a binder that has the appropriate information available so that if someone needs to call in that we're having an emergency, they have all the information at hand they need to get on the phone with the Coast Guard and answer every question the Coast Guard could come up with. I came upon this generic one to start from, so I'm sharing it here. http://www.floatplancentral.org/

Finally...

While we're never going to be perfect, I think the tuna fiasco forced us to each think harder about being more careful this year. I felt and saw improvements, and I wish we had more time on our own boats to see more.