(no subject)
Feb. 25th, 2005 01:56 pmThe worst part about living on this boat (other boats may or may not be better in this respect) is rainy days.
When I was growing up in San Diego, three days was a really long storm, and an inch of rain over the course of a storm was a whole lot. Now we get heavy rain for a week straight, with rainfall of an inch per hour at times.
We get leaks. Rain blows in through the door and hatch unless we close up completely and deal with lack of air circulation. We have to pile stuff up in crazy ways to avoid the leaks. We have to figure out somewhere to put the rain gear, wet shoes, and other general sogginess.
koyote's side of the bed gets soaked and he has to sleep out on the couch. The lightning and thunder and pounding rain (and, at one point, walnut sized hail) and wind keeps us all awake.
On the worst days, I'm stuck inside a less than 200 sq. ft. space with a bored toddler ALL DAY, except for perhaps a 30 minute puddle stomp outside. We abuse the DVDs those days.
On the good side, once the rain is over, the small size means that the mess can be cleaned up quite fast. Also, most of the leaks should be fixable. We thought we'd gotten most of them during the last dry spell, but apparently not.
In the middle of all this stormy mess, I spent two days sailboat racing.
No, I didn't think that this was the brightest idea, either. But the race wasn't cancelled, and I didn't want to piss off the woman giving me free sailing lessons by leaving her without crew at the last minute, so I went.
On the first day, when we got outside the breakwater, I was honestly sure I was going to die. It was raining, the surf was storm-high, and the pelting of hail the night before (there were still piles of hail a foot high piled up around storm drains six hours later, and this is LA we're talking about) hadn't left me feeling too confident about the weather.
Just after the race started, the weather cleared up, and the rest of the race was absolutely beautiful. We didn't do too well - two of us were very new to sailing, and the third was more experienced, but had never crewed on this particular boat before. We got off to a poor start and finished last, but another boat didn't finish the race at all, so it could have been worse.
The second day started off beautiful, but it started raining around the start of the race, and never recovered. By the end, it was really pouring, and we were all soaked and miserable, but the miserableness only hit after the race ended. We did a lot better that time - we were ahead of the boat whose crew had taunted us mercilessly the day before for a good stretch, and we may have actually placed decently.
We don't know, though. They threw out the race because one of the markers wasn't where it was supposed to be.
I hate being in wet clothing. I hate having my face sprayed with water. I'm not the world's greatest fan of potentially life-threatening activities, such as scrambling around the slippery deck of a boat leaning at a 45 degree angle in 150 feet of water. Somehow I still managed to love it.
I think I'm addicted now, and may have to move up to the Bay Area, where these conditions are apparently the norm rather than the exception.
Our propane tank ran out the other night. We started it in October or November, and hadn't expected it to last anywhere near this long. Pretty good, especially considering that winter is probably the highest stove-usage season.
When I was growing up in San Diego, three days was a really long storm, and an inch of rain over the course of a storm was a whole lot. Now we get heavy rain for a week straight, with rainfall of an inch per hour at times.
We get leaks. Rain blows in through the door and hatch unless we close up completely and deal with lack of air circulation. We have to pile stuff up in crazy ways to avoid the leaks. We have to figure out somewhere to put the rain gear, wet shoes, and other general sogginess.
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On the worst days, I'm stuck inside a less than 200 sq. ft. space with a bored toddler ALL DAY, except for perhaps a 30 minute puddle stomp outside. We abuse the DVDs those days.
On the good side, once the rain is over, the small size means that the mess can be cleaned up quite fast. Also, most of the leaks should be fixable. We thought we'd gotten most of them during the last dry spell, but apparently not.
In the middle of all this stormy mess, I spent two days sailboat racing.
No, I didn't think that this was the brightest idea, either. But the race wasn't cancelled, and I didn't want to piss off the woman giving me free sailing lessons by leaving her without crew at the last minute, so I went.
On the first day, when we got outside the breakwater, I was honestly sure I was going to die. It was raining, the surf was storm-high, and the pelting of hail the night before (there were still piles of hail a foot high piled up around storm drains six hours later, and this is LA we're talking about) hadn't left me feeling too confident about the weather.
Just after the race started, the weather cleared up, and the rest of the race was absolutely beautiful. We didn't do too well - two of us were very new to sailing, and the third was more experienced, but had never crewed on this particular boat before. We got off to a poor start and finished last, but another boat didn't finish the race at all, so it could have been worse.
The second day started off beautiful, but it started raining around the start of the race, and never recovered. By the end, it was really pouring, and we were all soaked and miserable, but the miserableness only hit after the race ended. We did a lot better that time - we were ahead of the boat whose crew had taunted us mercilessly the day before for a good stretch, and we may have actually placed decently.
We don't know, though. They threw out the race because one of the markers wasn't where it was supposed to be.
I hate being in wet clothing. I hate having my face sprayed with water. I'm not the world's greatest fan of potentially life-threatening activities, such as scrambling around the slippery deck of a boat leaning at a 45 degree angle in 150 feet of water. Somehow I still managed to love it.
I think I'm addicted now, and may have to move up to the Bay Area, where these conditions are apparently the norm rather than the exception.
Our propane tank ran out the other night. We started it in October or November, and hadn't expected it to last anywhere near this long. Pretty good, especially considering that winter is probably the highest stove-usage season.