Getting Caught Up and Staying Cool

Wow! It’s been a long time and an eventful summer as we get used to our new lives on the Caloosahatchee River in SW Florida.

Long story short ~ we love living on the boat, have learned a lot, enjoy the local people and our marina neighbors, and living in the sunshine makes me smile more than I have smiled in a long time!

To be sure, SW Florida is a bit on the hot and humid side during the summer but that’s okay by me! Our two daughters have very different takes on the weather in SW Florida. One has an internal body thermostat that is happiest in 65 – 72 degree temperatures and spends much time on board sitting by the closest air conditioner vent. The other needs 85 – 95 temperatures to feel really comfortable and feels like she is in heaven whenever she visits. No common ground whatsoever. That makes regulating the boat temperatures when they are both on board a bit challenging, although the boat does have zones, some warmer and some cooler, due to the ship design.

Thank goodness our central air conditioning was installed on April 15th because it’s been going pretty much non-stop for five months now. “Central air” on a boat is a relative term. Our vessel, Kalliope, is a 179 ton behemoth made of thick steel and six inch concrete floors (now beautifully and gloriously covered in low maintenance vinyl planking that really and truly looks like wood.) It was built in 1954 to push Sinclair Oil barges, 22 at a time, up and down the Mississippi River. That’s a mighty lot of heft!

Anyway, when we purchased our wonderful floating home a year ago (yikes ~ has it been a year already?), a central air condenser and air handler were in place but they were in dire need of replacing (at least 25 years old and not working), so, thankfully, at least we had air ducts and vents ready to go for the new units. However, these ducts and vents service just the three primary rooms on the main deck ~ the living room, dining room and master stateroom. When the installers were working on the new installation, they said it might be quite easy to extend the duct system to include the upper deck and the rest of the rooms on the main deck. Ummmm… not really. Not unless they were prepared to tunnel through six inches of concrete and four inches of steel.

Like most things on our ship, there is nothing subtle or low-profile about our central air. When it comes on, it comes on with a blast (the other night Rick said it sounded like a typhoon and that is a fairly apt description) and the blast never quiets down. And, because of the configuration of the air vents and the design of a ship which is meant to keep each room water tight and closed off from other areas, the cool air rushing through the system makes the three rooms with vents frigid while the kitchen and TV room remain on the warm side, not to mention the entire upper deck that gets very hot until/unless the window units up there are turned on. In addition, the thermostat is at the foot of the stairs leading to the upper deck and near the TV room so the ambient temperature measured there is usually at least five or six degrees warmer than the cooled areas. The result is that our stateroom, which was the hottest room on board before the air conditioning was installed, is often in the low 60s while the thermostat still reads 76. Brrrr!

Because of the eccentricities of our air conditioning configuration, Kalliope also came equipped with three window air conditioning units ~ one in the bathroom off the TV room on the main deck, one at the top of the stairs to cool the main living area of the upper deck, and one in the stateroom on the upper deck. At first we thought we could live with these units, though they were old and pretty rickety. But they seemed to function pretty well, only occasionally tripping the circuit breaker when they were running.

Then we realized that it might be a good idea to replace the window units with more modern, energy efficient units on an as-needed basis. First to go was the largest one that cools the main living area on the upper deck. With the exception of wanting to have the filter changed what seems like every other minute (indicated by a yellow light on the controls), our new unit is wonderful and has not even once tripped the circuit breaker! This was a very tricky installation as you can see. The unit is at the top of very steep boat stairs (more like a modified ladder) with essentially nothing for the installers to stand on during installation. Very grateful they could manage it!

For my birthday present in August, I requested a new window unit for the bath off the TV room (what can I say ~ we’ve been married for 44 years!), as watching TV can get quite warm with little or no cool air reaching us from the central air system. All well and good, except ….

Okay. Let me explain about getting fairly routine installations done on a boat. “No. Just say no.” That’s the usual response from places like Lowes and Home Depot. Before discovering the wonderful local flooring store that eventually installed our vinyl planking last November, we had tried in vain to get the job done through Lowes or Home Depot. We had even plunked down $4000 for materials at Home Depot and then they said “no.” (We did get the money back.)

We also had the curious experience last October of having Lowes agree to install new windows on the upper deck and to go so far as to send a “detail” guy out 25 miles into the middle of nowhere where we were docked last fall. Lowes understood that they were sending their guy to a boat. They had said “okay.” As far as I could tell, the guy understood that he was coming to a boat. But when he arrived, he took one look and said “We don’t do boats. Never.” Not quite sure what Lowes or the detail guy did not understand about the word “boat” BEFORE sending him out. We’re still waiting to get new windows. One step at a time.

Oddly enough, we managed to get our central air installed by a Lowes contractor (a major achievement!), as well as the upper deck window unit. For the upper deck unit, Lowes again sent out a “detail” guy before installation to work out the feasibility and method that would be used. Installation was a bit complicated but it was accomplished in a very short period of time and the team seemed to enjoy the unique challenges we presented. They used a hand cranked fork lift to remove the old condenser (small black one) and to install the new condenser (larger cream color one).

When it came time to replace the bathroom window unit, we once again went to Lowes and the exact same detail guy was sent to make the installation arrangements. A week went by. Two weeks went by. Finally we called to see what was happening and were told “There’s a bit of a hang up here. We don’t do boats.” I begged. I pleaded. I pointed out that not only had they installed a window unit less than a month prior but that one of their major subcontractors had installed an entire central air system in April. We were passed from one manager to another, all to no avail. Finally, I called the contractor who had installed our central air to see what we might do. He gave me the personal cell phone number of the local Lowes head installation guy and promised to call him to give him a heads up that I would be calling. I called twice, leaving detailed voicemails. Never heard from him. Ever.

We had thought we could wait to replace the upper state room window unit, but during the past week, the unit has begun to make weird crackling noises and to emit scary odors. So we are done with large warehouse home improvement stores (I know, I know ~ what took us so long…) and are waiting for a marine services contractor to give us an estimate for two window units. And waiting … he is now four hours late …

Who’s Minding the Boat? Of Pump Outs, Bilges and Electrical Hook Ups

Our daughter, Allyson, tells me that our new life is confusing to people. When we say we are living aboard a boat, they envision the ship-shape tidy but cramped quarters of a 30 or 40 foot sailboat, where most everything is below water level, you sleep in narrow bunks, the galley is not exactly a fully functioning kitchen, the head is a marine contraption of some sort and potable water comes in bottles only. But then we say, “no, no ~ it has 2500 square feet of indoor living area ~ enough for all of our Seattle furniture ~ an additional bunch of outdoor deck area that is larger than some yards, all new appliances, a 55 inch TV, two flush toilets, two full baths and city water.” So they envision either a luxurious yacht on the order of one that Aristotle Onassis would own, or a floating house like the one situated on Lake Union in “Sleepless in Seattle.”  (For my younger readers, Onassis, a billionaire Greek ship magnate, was Jackie Kennedy’s aka Jackie O’s second husband.)

But, then, the reality of it all hits our visitors instantly as they board/enter our beloved home via a gangplank and are immediately confronted with three large fuel tanks on the stern (our point of entry). Not a cramped 35 foot sailboat, nor a luxurious yacht, nor a floating house. It is uniquely what it is ~ a 60 year old retired Mississippi push tug that has lots of cozy living space but still bears, and always will bear, many of the hallmarks of an industrial ship. Actually, glamour yachts and cruise ships have all of our industrial components but mostly no one but the crew or owners see them.

During a recent visit from a friend from Seattle  we had two power outages, multiple bilge pump outs each day, as well as the usual daily holding tank pump outs, causing him to shake his head in concern and wonder out loud how on earth we could ever take a vacation ~ who would mind the ship??

Good question. Though, quite honestly, we feel like we’re on permanent vacation. We love, love, love being on the water and the balmy Florida climate. It’s also a kick seeing a sign that says “Miami, 140 miles” when we’re out running errands. The “season” has ended in Fort Myers, meaning all the snow birds have gone back North, and the bustling downtown area near the marina is eerily quiet. Our seasons are the opposite of the New England shore which is just now revving up for the summer season and will go quiet in late October or early November, just as we are gearing up for the new winter season. Weird.

So who is minding the boat? Well ~ let’s start with Allie’s picture essay of a “typical” pump out.

After dinner tonight, I was given a job…”babysit” the holding tank pump out! EEEEWWWW!

Whoosh! Suddenly the flow of the pump out increases! (I can feel it under my hand.)

18 million hours later, the pump out is still going…slowly…

Oh. Um, guess it’s better to feel the flow from under the hose coupling instead of over. Oops.

I take over for Allie and opt to read rather than take pictures.

The truth is that I have gotten to the point where I look forward to pump outs because it give s me the opportunity to sit quietly on the bow, enjoying the river breezes, one hand on the hose and one hand on my Kindle ~ currently reading the Ken Follett trilogy about politics and social change spanning the 20^th century ~ fascinating mix of history lessons, romance, and getting inside the heads of people with strongly held political convictions ranging the full spectrum from Facism and Nazism to socialism to anarchism to Communism.

So much for pump outs ~ pretty routine by now. No more burning out the marina’s pump motor. Yay!

On to the bilge. Ah, the bilge. I learn more about the bilge every day, it seems. Apparently, we have incoming river water basically running the length of our 85 foot hull (this, I am assured, is normal). Some of this water gets pumped out on a fairly regular basis. But, I have learned, gallons and gallons may have been sitting under the floor of the crews’ quarters* for years ~ literally ~ and is smelling rather… er…shall we say “ripe”? When we first moved aboard I assumed the occasional whiffs of somewhat sewage-y and metallic odors that wafted up from down below were somehow connected to the holding tank in the water room and/or the diesel engines in the engine room.

No, not really. I discovered, to my amazement and joy, at least a couple of months ago that the diesel engines actually smell kind of okay ~ just a somewhat sweet diesel kind of odor, not at all unpleasant, at least not to me.

More recently we finally had our new central air conditioning installed (just in time, as it turns out ~ temperatures have been running in the upper 80s/lower 90s for over a week now). There had been a central air condenser and air handler installed decades ago which were in dire need of replacing, so, thankfully, at least we had air ducts and vents ready to go for the new units. The new air handler was installed exactly where the old one had been (makes sense). What didn’t make so much sense was that the old air handler had been installed directly over some of the bilge in a small closet in the crews’ quarters. Net result … sigh … when the blissfully cool air was being efficiently and effectively blown throughout the main deck, it was accompanied by a not so blissful faint hint of sewage smell.

Crews’ quarters, currently being used as a storage area/basement.

New energy efficient air handler is much smaller than the old one which rested directly on the floor and next to the bilge water.

It is possible, of course, to install citrus-y air fresheners next to each vent, thus masking the stench ~ which we have done. But, we need to eliminate the source of said stench. I had already checked the water room, from which we assumed the sewage smell was coming ~ but, no, it smelled clean and fresh. So..

Rick intrepidly lifted a couple of floor boards near the air handler in the crews’ quarters* and found, well, perhaps you don’t really need to know what we found. Suffice it to say that Rick came up with a solution of running a long hose from the bilge under the air handler to the holding tank (by the way, “holding tank” is a polite way of saying the large tank into which our toilets flush before we pump it out to the marina tank and on to the City of Fort Myers sewage system). From the holding tank, the bilge water is pumped out with the rest of the sewage. Quite honestly, we are surmising that previous occupants somehow allowed some of their sewage to get into the bilge, which mostly should be relatively clean water from the outside, and just let it sit… and sit… and sit… At the very least, we are experiencing the lovely scent of anaerobic bacteria in action. Anyway ~ this is in process ~ we figure it will be about a week before the entire bilge is pumped out and then we will keep a vigilant eye on it. The ship, by the way, already smells ever so much better!

The only bilge area of which I was previously aware was a small area in the shaft room (somehow appropriately named, I think). The shaft room is behind the engine room and houses the two large steering shafts that guide the ship when we’re under way.  This tiny little pool of water inexplicably fills up to a certain level (not very significant) and then needs to be turned on to bring it back down to closer to empty. Normally, bilge pumps operate automatically and we often see all the boats around us happily gurgling bilge water out for hours at a time. At the moment, ours does not do this automatically. For a while we needed to go down once or twice a day to plug the pump in. The pump was very quick and effective, though, like most everything on the boat, it was very old and had one little quirk ~ once the water got down to a certain level, it started spouting water back into the bilge, rather than sucking it out.

So we replaced the old pump with a less powerful but non-spouting pump rigged up with a float that is supposed to automatically kick in when the water gets to a certain level. There have been a couple of odd things about said float. At first, it was kicking in when the bilge water level was low or empty and stopping when it was full. Still figuring that one out. But Rick managed to rearrange it so the float alerts the pump to begin when the water level, or rather the float itself, is high. However ~ the water never really gets high enough to make the float do its thing, so once or twice a day we still need to check the bilge and use a long handled tong thingy/picker upper to lift the float several inches above the water, thus starting the pump.

Long handled tongs grasping the bilge float.

As for the electrical ~ We now have two 50 amp connections for the entire ship, one for the central air conditioning and one for everything else. Most of the time this system works well, but on occasion, we trip a circuit breaker (stove, oven, large exhaust fan and window air conditioning units where the central air doesn’t reach). We pretty much have this one figured out too ~ we have bright flashlights in strategic locations throughout the ship so they can be snatched up in the pitch dark without needing to even think about it. I’m really good at getting the circuit back on ~ it’s located in a box on the shore. Except… we have discovered that sometimes we get just a bit of power back that allows for flickering, dim lights but not much else. A classic 1960’s style NYC “brown out” that used to be enforced by Con Ed during extra high usage times (every air conditioner in the city). Rick tells me that is NOT supposed to happen ~ either the circuit is on or it isn’t. Hmmmm..

So, anyway, we arranged with the marina to hook up the second 50 amp cord on a box across the dock from us. All copacetic, until today, a day when Rick happens to be out of town on a consulting assignment, when I got stopped by the dock master, who said “I thought this hook up was for one day. If it’s permanent, you need to plug in to a different 50 amp plug.” (60 feet down the dock) Allie and I are still wondering why (not really…) he didn’t mention this to Rick one of the billion times they chatted during the past week when the hook up was in place. But that’s a whole other discussion topic, so we’ll let it go… It turns out that we are hooked into a “transient” (overnight) shore connection that gets billed at a significantly higher rate than the “live aboard” rate and, besides that, it’s for transients. The marina’s solution? Purchase a 60 foot 50 amp (they are rather large) extension cord to plug into the connection 50 feet down the dock or turn the boat around so the bow is closer to the box we need to use. Oh my. Still under consideration.

I guess our life is a bit confusing! Never dull, that’s for sure! And, the answer is that we are all minding the boat. And it’s really fun!

*A bit of history, courtesy of Allyson: Another term for “crews’ quarters” is “fo’c’s’le”, short for “fore castle”, the placement up front where crew used to be posted to defend ships. Literally a castle in the front.

 

A Day in the Life

So I randomly selected Saturday, March 30^th, as our “Day In The Life” living aboard an 85 foot retired Mississippi River Tug, our beloved home otherwise known as MV Kalliope. Though the day was not entirely typical, it wasn’t atypical either. This was a day that Rick was teaching our daughter, Allyson (who is currently visiting), and me how to turn on the generator for non-land-connection power. The marina is having major rewiring upgrade work done which means that shore power is shut off periodically while the electricians perform their magic and Rick wanted to make sure that we could turn the generator on and off should he be away from the ship.

Here is some of what we learned:

Butterfly valve on generator fuel tank

 

Inside the shore power distribution box which must be turned off when engaging the generator

Behold the Generator!

Generator coolant tank that needs to be filled with water to get the fuel pressure up

Generator Prime the Pump Button

Moving the generator gear lever to the idle position

Temperature gauge happy

Rev gauge happy

Fuel pressure gauge happy

For our bonus round Allie and I learned how to turn on each of the two large Detroit 600 something diesel engines (Detroit Drippers as they are known, meaning that finding pools of oil underneath is normal and means the engines are very happy). This was more of a challenge than might be expected on March 30^th, since the battery used to spark the starboard engine was dead and had been for some time, necessitating a lengthy overnight recharge from a new battery charger (the two that came with the boat were non-functioning and useless). We did, however, triumph and had two happily purring engines running for 15 minutes. Hurray for battery chargers! Well, Allie tells me the battery charger didn’t really do anything ~ it wasn’t until we used jumper cables from the car (with accompanying sparks) that the battery revved up enough to start the engine…

Battery charger

The bilge, which collects excess water in the hull that needs to be pumped out periodically, also had been having some issues the week prior to March 30^th, meaning the normally mostly empty bilge was filling up and needing to be pumped out two or three times a day. We finally determined that the ancient pump out hose attached to the bilge had numerous pinhead leaks in it which we at first thought weren’t any big deal. However, we did decide to replace the hose just to see what might happen. Lo and behold ~ the bilge has been staying at the same mostly empty level for several days now! Apparently, there must have been backed up water in the hose which was dripping back into the bilge after every pump out.  So our lessons for the day also included knowing what to look for in the bilge and how to run the pump (surprise ~ it entails simply plugging it in and unplugging when it’s done!)

Dawn detergent ready for bilge

Dawn really and truly is what commercial sea folk, marinas etc. use to clean up oil spills and it really works!

And then there were the lines. The week prior to March 30^th was particularly blustery, putting a strain on some of our lines. When the wind is from the north, we blow into the dock which makes us feel very secure. However, there are times when the winds are from the south and we are blown away from the dock, putting a tremendous strain on the lines, necessitating additional lines and/or additional securing of the existing lines.

Uh Oh ~ frayed line

Securing boat during gale force winds by tying across the dock

Watch out for flying objects!

Allie and Rick adding a strong hemp line to supplement the frayed line

Not to mention the frequent holding tank pump out (at least once every couple of days), always being careful not to pump out completely dry because it may overheat and blow out the marina’s discharge tank (please don’t ask how I know this…)

Heading down into the Abyss, er, water room

Pump out valve

After all of our lessons and demonstrations, March 30^th proved to be eventful in other ways.  That afternoon we experienced what is for Florida just a moderately heavy thunderstorm with high winds and torrential (horizontal) rains (can’t wait for hurricane season….) Our west coast bred animals (Apollo the Golden Retriever and Sweetie the Cat) were frantic!

Apollo hiding under a table after a loud clap of thunder

Dark and stormy afternoon

Allie, Rick and Apollo watching the storm from a dry vantage point

And then after the storm we discovered a number of points of vulnerability for rain leakage (vents, not actual holes in the roof), which culminated in a small river flowing across our kitchen floor and in through the bow screen door down to the water room (where the holding tank and other water related equipment live).  We already knew about the leakage through the large exhaust fan by the kitchen and keep a bucket there permanently.

Just a couple of inches of rain in the bucket so far

However, we were not aware that rain would teem through the bow screen door and spill down the stairs into the water room down below nor were we aware that it would pour through the kitchen door to flood the kitchen and dining room floors.

Aftermath of 15 minute storm with flooding through the kitchen door, a waterfall to the downstairs water room, and even flooding in the microwave through an inactive old vent.

Note to selves: water proof before hurricane season.

Yikes!

And yet, none of this distressed me, so content are we in our new lives aboard. A river flowing through the kitchen? No problem ~ that’s what towels are for. Torrential rains, high winds and lots of lightning? Exciting! The movement of the boat rocking and swaying? Love it! Learning to run industrially designed equipment? All in a day’s work and it gives me a tremendous sense of accomplishment. Peering into the admittedly disgusting holding tank to check the level? Not my favorite but okay.

But, really, in most ways, our life on the water is exactly like living on land. Household chores, meal planning, chatting with neighbors, visiting the gorgeous new library just three blocks from the marina, running errands, walking 3 – 5 miles a day, evening drives, Starbucks in the morning and dinner out once or twice a week. All punctuated by the joys of being surrounded by water, friendly people, an unlimited variety of boats and ships, commercial and private, coming and going, and lots and lots of sea life ~ pelicans, dolphins, small sharks, large grouper fish, huge schools of smaller feeder fish.

Well, maybe not quite “exactly” like living on land. Using a “dust buster” aka shop vac to clean crumbs off kitchen counters.

Always time for games!

Finding shoes in random places, deposited there by anxious Apollo

Sunset on March 30th

Ending evening walk between two large vessels on our way home ~ a tall fishing boat on the right and a mini cruise ship (looks like a stretch limo on water) on the left

Allie and Apollo after a doggy bath in the warm sunshine the next day

Blue skies and wispy clouds the day after

Pelican waiting for his buffet to appear under the water surface

 

And Watch Out for Pirates!

When we purchased the boat it was with a lease to purchase agreement with the previous owner. No lending institutions or lines of credit were used. We offered a hefty initial payment, followed by six months of not-quite-so-hefty payments, culminating in our owning the Kalliope outright as of March 2014. This arrangement bought us time to see if we truly were comfortable with living aboard an 85 foot ship or if this was one of those daydreams that would turn out to be a nightmare (there have been plenty of moments…) Turns out that we love, love, love living aboard a boat and find that this is perhaps the coziest home in which we have ever lived.

There are inconveniences, no doubt about it. Both flush toilets are accessible only through staterooms, meaning if someone is sleeping in the stateroom, middle of the night emergencies can be awkward. Or tiresome, necessitating a ¼ mile round trip trek to the marina’s bathroom. We do have the Incinolet that is in a bathroom connected to the TV room rather than a stateroom, but we have not yet used it ourselves (except for one time when we first arrived and discovered that it did not work). Nor do we recommend to anyone else that they use it even though we have since that time repaired this marine device that incinerates the waste through a two-step process at 1200 degrees F, after which the ashy pile can be tossed in the trash.

We have learned of an alternative to installing a flush toilet where the Incinolet currently resides (a flush toilet being virtually impossible without major welding work and replumbing). Nature’s Head composts the waste, using peat moss as a base. Friends who have been using a Nature’s Head for a month or so say it’s awesome, odor-free and really user-friendly. No outhouse looking metallic unit like the Incinolet, just a normal looking toilet.

Yikes! Can’t believe I just spent two paragraphs talking about plumbing again. I’ve always known that conversations about both toddlers and dogs dedicate a disproportionate amount of time and attention to basic bodily functions and bathroom habits and now I guess I can add conversations about boating to that list.

To get back to the point ~ the person from whom we bought the boat might be described as an old salt with a bushy white beard, an unrestricted 500 ton vessel captain’s license, with a touch of Jean LaFitte thrown in.  In other words, very, very tough to negotiate with, eager to hang onto the contents of his own wallet and equally as eager to separate everyone else from theirs. In early December, shortly after we arrived at our current home in Fort Myers, curious marina residents and visitors who knew the previous owner kept warily walking by and occasionally gearing up the courage to ask us if we were the new owners. When told that, yes, we did, indeed purchase this 85 foot retired river tug (or more accurately push tug, meaning it pushed barges up and down the Mississippi River) with the intention of living aboard, anecdotal tales began to pour out. Tales that sent “shiver me timbers” up and down our spines.

And so, in January, we decided it would be wise to work with an attorney to coordinate the paperwork exchange that would give us full title simultaneously with the final funds transfer. The plan seemed simple enough to us. The attorney would prepare the paperwork for final bill of sale, the Certificate of Documentation being signed over to us, and our application to obtain title. It’s a bit complicated by the fact that the Certificate of Documentation must be cleared and signed off on by Homeland Security, meaning there are a lot of bureaucratic red tape and possible snags, but, other than that, pretty simple. He signs, we sign, paperwork goes to attorney who would be holding the final payment (kind of like escrow) and, bada bing ~ we own Kalliope by the end of March!

“Tain’t necessarily so.” It was a good two weeks before we received any response whatsoever and then finally the response intimated that our final payment would somehow be for more than agreed to. When Rick made it very clear in a responding email that if there was any adjustment to the payment it would be downward, he received a phone call that led to Plan A: The deal would be done either February 27^th – March 4^th or March 19^th – March 23^rd at a meet-up at the attorney’s office on one of those days. That led to Plan B which set the date of March 19^th for sure.

But, wait. That led to Plan C when Rick received a call where it was proposed that we wire the money as usual on March 7^th and that the papers would be at the boat “without fail” on March 19^th. Ummmm… No.

What was to be a straight forward exchange of documents for money was getting much more complicated and worrisome.

So, back to Plan A/B. We would all meet at the attorney’s on the 19^th.

But, wait. On Thursday, February 26^th, we received a call that proposed Plan D: “why don’t we just close this out by March 4^th” at the boat.

It was a tense weekend, for sure, with lots of backs and forths, posturing, texts and BCC’s galore. At this point Rick was in full professional fighting mode, being as tough and stern as he is with recalcitrant subcontractors and owners, and came up with a “line in the sand” Plan E ~ a certified check would be at the attorney’s office, not to be handed over until all of the paperwork was in hand and approved by the attorney.

But, lo and behold, when it became very clear that we were not going to budge, all the papers were magically faxed to the attorney and the final wire went out just like that. Done deal. As of 1 pm, Tuesday, March 4, 2014, we owned our unique, wonderful, floating home outright!

It took the rest of the day and evening for the adrenalin to drain out and for us to truly believe it. But so it was and so it is. Rick went into high gear on Wednesday morning, hanging pictures, arranging fossils and artwork ~ dozens of little touches that we were postponing until we really, truly owned the boat. We want the ship to always look tidy, warm and inviting because, well, because we like it that way and because each day brings more people who want a tour, including occasional well-known names.

Shortly after the dust had settled on Tuesday, paperwork and funds all in place, Rick received a text saying “You are very tough!” Signed “The Other Pirate.” High praise and Victory at Sea!

Afterword: Rick is a fan of H.P. Lovecraft, creator of Cthulhu, “A monster of vaguely anthropoid outline, but with an octopus-like head whose face was a mass of feelers, a scaly, rubbery-looking body, prodigious claws on hind and fore feet, and long, narrow wings behind.” Several years ago, our daughter, Allyson, presented Rick with a Cthulhu mask which we subsequently placed on a mannequin head and have now anointed honorary Co-Captain of the boat. So, I guess you might say that my long ago fantasy of being Captain (well at least Co-Captain, along with Rick and Cthulhu) of a tugboat has finally come to pass!  

From Dark and Industrial to Inviting and Cozy: Settling In, Part II

After living on the water for three months now, I have realized that there is no such thing as a completely “non-industrial” boat, not even the most glamorous and luxurious yachts. By their very nature, all marine vessels need lines, pulleys, anchors, holding tanks (or small heads that need to be manually carried and emptied onshore), ship to shore walkie talkies (another one of my newly acquired skills), navigation devices and charts (mostly replaced by online GPS’s now), running lights, TV and radio antennas, bilge tanks and pumps, water hoses and all manner of scrubbing, polishing and cleaning devices. As our daughter, Hillary, likes to say and do, “time to swab the decks!”

We’re not sure just why, but at some point in the past when the three humongous working engines were replaced by our two “small” engines,  the five fuel tanks below decks (and hence not visible from shore) were replaced by three tanks planted on our stern, hard to miss as you step aboard.  At first this bothered me a LOT ~ “how can anyone even begin to imagine that this is someone’s lovely home???” We hang Apollo’s leashes from the industrial Kleig lights Rick unearthed in November when he was painting at night. I keep dreaming that we might replace the Kleig lights with a more decorative coat rack or hooks of some sort, but Rick likes the Kleig look and, frankly, I’m getting to the point that I hardly notice either the tanks or the Kleig lights. It does, in fact, look like home now.

The inside looks a lot less industrial and, in fact, we have toured a couple of the large yachts that have been our temporary neighbors, and our interior looks more homey than most yachts, where you never forget that you are on a boat. The interior has been primarily my domain and, even in the earliest of days, most of my time was spent “prettifying” the interior.  While Rick and the contractors attended to the tasks necessary to make the ship actually function, I kept myself busy replacing unsightly outlet covers, Windexing virtually every surface, researching flooring options, scrubbing and putting Contac paper on every cupboard and cabinet surface, and getting door mats and other amenities, including my beloved step stools.  We now have two and three step stools/ladders on each deck, always ready to pull out for whatever task out of reach for my five foot frame. I also supervised and cheered on Rick and Linda as they painted (they ROCK at painting ~ me not so much, though Linda did teach me to prep the walls ~ cleaning, taping, and sanding). A sample of my spackling My sister, graceful dancer and yoga instructor, sanding and adding paint touch ups.

Rick installing a ceiling fan.

I must admit I can’t resist Windexing ALL surfaces, including cabinets in the engine room and the three fuel tanks on the stern. Engine room cabinet with shelf liner and neatly arranged tools.Before and after top of oil tank.

From the time we arrived in Florida on September 11^th, our goals were to get the appliances in place, paint the walls, and to get new flooring before our furniture arrived on November 19th. It was tight but we managed to do it, including ripping up and disposing of over 1600 square feet of carpeting on our own! Old carpeting. Cracked concrete under old carpeting.Ripping up carpeting in process. I love peeling things and ripping up the carpeting turned out to be extremely gratifying and fun! Carpeting rolled up and ready for removal.Upper deck vinyl planking. (Apollo is very insecure and is always close at hand for all photo ops. This was taken today.)  Main deck vinyl planking.

The day our furniture arrived at the RV marina. Full sized moving van and driver who is terrified of boats. Despite that, the move was expeditious, smooth and harmonious. One plastic box went into the “drink” but it was salvaged.

The next day, a hired captain and crew of three came to help us move from up the Caloosahatchee River to the Fort Myers Yacht Basin where we will stay until at least the end of March. We are getting to the point of being somewhat envious of all our transient neighbors who come in for a day or two and then blissfully sail or motor off to the Bahamas or some other fun destination. And we are getting more and more comfortable with the thought of moving mostly on our own, though we will need to hire a crew of at least two whenever we decide to move again ~ it is, after all, a retired working tug that was designed for a crew of six or more to haul barges up and down the Mississippi River.  Needing to start and keep running two large diesel engines plus a generator mean that ideally we need someone who knows engines in the engine room most of the running time to make sure everything looks copasetic.

We left on November 22nd, over-nighted at a lock just outside Fort Myers, and pulled into our slip around 10 am on November 23^rd, just in time for Thanksgiving. By Christmas, just three weeks later, we had emptied and recycled or returned over 150 boxes to U-Haul and Rick had hung much of our artwork on the walls. It definitely feels like home now that we are surrounded by our furniture, books and art. OOur stateroom (bedroom) is really cozy ~ nothing like our large land-based bedroom but our king sized bed still fits! The aft head shower, geared up with new fixtures, is strong and hot, and Rick enjoys spending time in our newly installed Jacuzzi tub in the master bath ~ a bit on the short side to accommodate the space (5 feet) but very deep (21 inches). 

Our home is most definitely a work in progress, but we are down to fine-tuning for the most part, after discovering and correcting one final major plumbing glitch. From the time we first boarded Kalliope as the new owners, we felt a noticeable list to the port side. It took us until after Thanksgiving to figure out why. It turns out that the aft sink and shower, rather than going into the holding tank or directly overboard (used soapy water is “gray” and allowable in waterways), had been emptying into one of the three decommissioned oil tanks below decks. It took several hours of maneuvering to find an effective way to empty the 1000 – 2000 gallons of water that had accumulated there over a period of who knows how long, but after it was removed, magically, the list corrected itself!

In addition, Rick worked with the local marina plumbing, electrical and mechanical guru (a welcome relief from the original plumber) to reroute the kitchen sink water directly overboard rather than into the holding tank where it was wasting precious space and necessitating more pump outs than would be required normally. At this point we are down to routine pump outs every two days (by the way it turns out that our holding tank, or at least the part that actually holds the water, does not hold 500 gallons, but rather 100 gallons. Long story.)

As any home owner knows, there is no limit to the creative demands your house can place on your time, ingenuity and wallet. A home that happens to be a floating vessel presents many of the same challenges. Our list at the moment includes projects familiar to land-based home owners, such as replacing “failed” windows; replacing an old and rickety sliding glass door; and interior painting touch ups. In addition, eventually we might get around to correcting both shower fixtures so that we actually get hot water when the fixture is pointing towards “H” rather than towards “C.”  Not quite sure if the plumber who installed them is dyslexic or has a weird sense of humor.

Perhaps a bit less familiar to home improvement experts is the concept of needing to hire a diver to scrape off barnacles and clean the hull, not to mention daily inspection of lines that are keeping you attached to the pier, checking the bilge and holding tank two or three times a day, scrubbing the exterior of three large oil tanks on the stern (my personal obsession) and keeping the gangplank squared away with the entry steps.

A couple of weeks ago an artist who will probably eventually paint our name on the stern (we’ve seen his work and it is beautiful) stopped by, clearly intrigued by our floating home. After his initial visit and chat with Rick, he came back a couple of times, remarking that he loves being near our boat because it feels so warm and inviting!

Though, in the end, the truth is “We’re On A Boat!” Thanks to my niece, Jessica, for sending this video to us awhile back. I’m posting two versions, the unrated version and the censored version so you can select the version with which you’re more comfortable.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yb0IyEo2dKA UNCENSORED

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9iUjx4_X1qA CLEAN

Dark and Industrial to Inviting and Cozy: Settling In, Part I

I first spent the night on the Kalliope in late September. One night and one night only! I went back to my sister’s a couple of days later (after checking in to one of the local cabins for the next two nights)  and said that Rick and I had agreed that it was best that I not spend the night on the boat for an indefinite period of time.

On that night, we arrived late in the evening of a sultry September day to a dark, forbidding looking and very, very loud ship. The rest of the RV resort/marina was dark, somewhat eerie and silent, but Rick was keeping the gigantic exhaust fan in the bow on 24/7 in an attempt to dispel the noxious diesel fumes that permeated the entire vessel. That is one loud exhaust fan! http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U47Pdg87hEk And the video doesn’t come close to doing the noise level justice!

In addition, three ancient and very noisy window air conditioners (one in the aft head and two on the upper deck) were going full blast ~ thank goodness for that ~ we’re still working out how to get the central air conditioning to work ~ if it will work without replacing the entire unit.

The overall feeling to me was one of being enveloped by a palpable, metallic, inorganic yet somehow living monster filled with all sorts of unfamiliar and intimidating sounds, smells, and mechanisms.

Despite the three noisy air conditioners, the ambient temperature of the ship was oppressively hot and the ambient feeling was sticky, industrial and dirty, making me feel pretty squeamish about sleeping on any of the beds that had been left behind. (Our own furniture wasn’t due to be delivered for another two months.) I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was in a creepy futuristic post-apocalyptic sci-fi movie only it was real. Eek!

I finally agreed to sleep in the “king” stateroom , which has since been converted to a TV room.

A bunch of linens also had been left behind and we put one of the clean sheets on top of the rather slimy feeling quilt that was on the bed. But sleep was elusive. I kept imagining all sorts of creepy crawlies sharing the bed with us. Somehow I did survive that uncomfortable night but the next time I slept on the boat was just before Thanksgiving when we overnighted at the Locks outside of Fort Myers and, by then, thankfully, it was on our own bed and in our newly designated smaller but lovely stateroom. Repurposed art work used as window shades in the master stateroom.

At this point it’s almost impossible for me to imagine that our wonderful, snug home was once so alien to me. But it was. I marvel each time I pass through the dining room to our state room  that this is where I spent so much time in dazed confusion over what the contractors were doing in the kitchen and down below in the mysterious water room where the holding tank and numerous circuit boxes live. The ship was unbearably hot (as opposed to the past week or more when we’ve been experiencing unusually chilly weather); noisy with fans and air conditioners running night and day; plumbing, electrical and junk removal contractors dominating the ship in their drenched T-shirts; me running to and from the tiny town 12 miles down the road to get tools or to and from Gator Bait, the convenience store/pub/gas station just a mile away to get more bottled water and occasional pizzas for everyone; the unpleasant odors. By December when we were situated in Fort Myers with our own furniture and new flooring, the local plumber observed that we didn’t even smell like a boat with the usual diesel-y, gas-y fumes. Yes!

During that first month I often wondered just exactly WHAT we had gotten ourselves into and kept asking Rick at what point we would tell the previous owner we wanted our money back and get the hell out! But Rick, ever the optimist, was always able to convince me that it would all be okay.

Aside from running errands and walking Apollo, blissful retreats from the (at the time) frightening and foreign feeling boat, my hours at the boat were spent triaging what had been left behind, despite our telling the previous owner that we needed him to remove all of his furniture and belongings so we could move ours in. Cupboards full of unappealing, dusty dishes, pots and pans and even rusty canned foods and hardened spices. Rooms full of diesel and cigarette smoke infused furniture and carpeting that took three major load offs by professionals. A filthy, decrepit ice machine.  Ack ~ the list goes on and on. Thankfully, the RV resort staff was able to use some of the furniture for the cabins and recreational hall and we were able to take a bunch to a nearby Goodwill.

My sister remembers one day when she was helping me replace the cupboard handles in the kitchen when I came to her sobbing that the entire ship was falling apart. In her ever wonderful reassuring way she hugged me and told me that she was sure it really wasn’t and asked just what it was that was so upsetting, envisioning something truly epic like a collapsed ceiling or engine disintegrating before our very eyes. I produced a tiny nail that had come out of the wall paneling on the upper deck. To her extraordinary credit, she did not giggle (though she told me later she was tempted), but hugged me more and said she was sure that the nail could be hammered back in.

She also remembers 5 AM one morning when she was staying at the cabin with me (Rick made it a point of honor to sleep on the boat). I woke her exclaiming that I had found the perfect refrigerator (due to very small doorways, sizing was an issue for all of the appliances) and was ordering it at that very moment on my iPhone because I could get 3G but not Internet at the cabin. This triumph was the culmination of countless trips to Home Depot, Lowes, an RV supplier and tons of Internet research. Such was my complete and utter obsession in getting the boat to work for us. After ordering the refrigerator I tried to go back to sleep and announced to my sister that I was doing just that. Twenty minutes later I announced that perhaps I wasn’t going back to sleep after all. A couple of days later I told her I hoped I hadn’t disturbed her too much and she admitted that listening to (and seeing) me order a refrigerator on my very bright iPhone at 5 AM was, well, not very conducive to a good night’s rest.

I don’t think I could have made it to where we are without the amazing support, nurturing patience and comfort that she and Rick continually supplied during those first couple of months. But here I am! In fact, Rick needed to go out of town on business and my sister and I were marveling the other evening that I am currently on the boat by myself ~ checking lines, pumping out, checking the bilge, and resetting the shore power when the combination of stove, space heater and exhaust fan blow the 50 amp circuit. Never in our wildest dreams three months ago did we think I would ever, ever stay here myself!  Pump out line set up by yours truly! 🙂

Adventurous, Courageous or Just Plain Certifiable?

Many have used the word “adventurous” when commenting on our new home. Some have mentioned courage. Others have made it very clear that, while they enjoy reading the blog, there is no way in hell they would trade places with us.

The other day we received an email from a friend who lives in the UK that opened with, “I remember an interview question, often used on candidates joining the UK civil service, to explain the difference between courage and foolishness.  I guess you are now the lead exemplar.”  We’re not quite sure if he places us in the “courageous” or the “foolish” category… I can tell you that I frequently feel we have crossed the line right into the realm of “foolish,” but then, on other days I just feel grateful and happy to be where we are, living in incredibly cozy quarters and reveling in the (mostly) warm winter temperatures and sunshine!

Our friend’s observation did get us to thinking ~ are we courageous or even adventurous? And, quite honestly, we agreed that we feel neither courageous nor particularly adventurous. We’re simply doing what needs to be done to live the way we are choosing to live right now.

Certainly living aboard a rather unwieldy vessel at a marina has introduced us to many conventions and behaviors that are beyond our previous concepts of “normal.” There is a sense of camaraderie among “live-aboards” (as opposed to “transients” just traveling through) in boating communities. By definition, for whatever reason (and there are as many reasons as individuals living on the water), we are all “outliers.” Humans are designed with features that adapt most readily to land living and land is where the vast majority of human-kind stays most of the time. (Rick reminds me that there actually are large communities of people in Asia who live on the water ~ another of my favorite childhood stories is “Ping”, about a little duck who lives with his family on a junk on the Yangtzee River in China).  But, for the most part, the instant you move onto a boat more or less permanently, you begin to live “outside the box” and begin to lean on other outliers as a loosely organized support and information group.

There are protocols, such as the expectation that anyone who expresses the slightest interest in seeing what’s aboard your vessel is to be invited onboard for a tour. I always give an abbreviated history (truth be told, the only history I actually know) of the boat as we walk through the boat. Men love seeing the engine, water and shaft rooms, whereas women often defer on that part of the tour which entails clambering down and back up one of two very steep sets of steel steps into a dark and noisy area of the ship. Men often get positively giddy when they see our two “Detroit Dripper” engines.

It is expected that you will spend a certain amount of time chatting with just about anyone you see around the marina. “Transients” always want to know how long we are here for (indefinitely) and where we might go. Everyone has a story to tell and they can often be very elaborate, time-consuming (upwards of an hour in some cases), and filled with, shall we say, details that make one raise one’s eyebrows.

In many ways, living on a boat is reminiscent of living in a Manhattan apartment, as we did for 27 years. After 13 years in our homes in Seattle, we had forgotten what it is like to need to haul laundry to and from a Laundromat and to always have a stash of quarters on hand. We bring our garbage and recycling bags to the shore each night as we take Apollo for his evening walk. Suddenly I remember the last thing I did each evening after washing the dishes in NYC was to take the garbage out of the apartment to the shared garbage compactor in the hall.

Trips to the grocery store and running other errands often entail getting a wheelbarrow to carry our bags from the car to the boat. In Manhattan wheelbarrows aren’t used, of course, but everyone has a shopping cart that travels everywhere with them. And, though we do use the car for most errands (unlike Manhattan), we also put on four or five miles a day just walking to and from the shore, exploring the shops in the nearby historic district, walking Apollo, and constantly running up and down the stairs on the boat and walking from end to end countless times each day.

When they were here for Christmas, our daughters reminded us that I used to repeatedly compare our need to use space efficiently in our apartment to being on a boat. I don’t actually remember this and, in fact, we have a lot more space here than we ever did in New York ~ by a factor of 2 ½!

Earlier this week we met a young family who, to us, embody the concepts of courage and adventure. As I was walking to shore one morning, I passed a newly arrived 33 foot sailboat. A gleeful, fearless toddler was excitedly running back and forth barefoot from one end of the boat to the other. At one point this little guy began to walk up and down an erstwhile mini-tight rope (actually a holding strap for some gear) without missing a beat while his pony-tailed Dad was working on the engine. I noticed that netting had been rigged up all around the rim, making their home one giant playpen for their son!

Over the next couple of days we chatted with the young couple and learned that they are photographers from Michigan, looking for adventure and bringing their two year old son with them, taking advantage of the couple of years they will have before he starts school. In October they sold everything to buy their boat with the intention of moving aboard and staying in Michigan to fix it up. By early November they had said “Enough,” and headed off down the Mississippi for warmer waters and a gentler climate. For details of their journey since then, you can “Like” their Facebook page, “Raising Havik,” Havik being the name of their son and Raising Havik the name of the boat.

We invited them to tour our boat. One of the wife’s comments was “wow ~ you don’t feel the motion of the water on your boat!” In turn, we were invited to tour their extremely snug and cozy home on the water, efficiently and lovingly packed all the way through. Getting aboard their vessel requires a bit more athleticism than getting on to ours ~ stepping over a foot and a half wide expanse of water onto the edge of their deck to board (about three feet lower than the dock) and then grabbing on to a hook on a concrete piling to get back out.  In their compact space they have set up, among much else, two bookshelves, a cupboard bursting with dozens of spices, another cupboard filled with dozens of watertight containers of grains, a two burner stove, a refrigerator that is three or four feet deep, and a fully stocked bathroom. Over the past two and a half months they have been in and out of lots of very cold, inclement weather, had two or three engine breakdowns, and managed to get to Florida in six weeks. The second night they were docked, they were up until midnight or later with spotlights they had rigged up for night work, as they toiled away at repairing the engine and I don’t even really know what else. But wow!

They are currently moored away from the dock (more economical), waiting for their passports before they embark for the Bahamas ~ sooner rather than later, preferably ~ it’s been pretty cold here for the last few days and the forecast says this will continue for a few more days. 

 That, my friends, is the picture of adventurous and courageous!

And here is Rick painting the 22 foot tall spud (hollow steel pole used as an anchor when you’re not tied up or using the anchor).  That may or may not be the picture of foolishness ~ but it sure was fun and stretched both of us way beyond anything we ever imagined!

DIY, Anyone?

I’ll say this for our adventure ~ I sure am learning a lot! Rick instinctively knows where to look and how to identify plumbing, electrical and mechanical problems around a boat (actually, in general). He grew up boating with his parents on Long Island Sound and has spent most of his adult life longing to do just what we are doing ~ living on and around salt water! I, on the other hand, am a work in progress and not so willing apprentice.

It is exciting to have a common project to work on ~ it keeps us from getting bored and unmotivated at our eligible-for-social-security-and-medicare age, each day brimming with surprises and revelations that push us physically and mentally way beyond anything we ever imagined we could do. I’ve lost 10 pounds since we arrived in September ~ not a Curves workout exactly, like those my body was used to, but I do tons of lifting, going up and down stairs that are more like ladders (this is a boat, after all), hauling heavy bags and boxes around, as well as logging 4 or 5 miles each day on my pedometer, mostly just from running around the boat and several trips a day to the marina office and back, as well as walking Apollo.

I have never been much for DIY. As a long-time Manhattan resident, I embraced the concept that there is no job too big nor too small that I can’t pay someone else to do it. Getting paid for a job well done and, most especially, tips, make people smile a lot!  And I like to make people smile!

When we moved to Seattle from Manhattan, our real estate agent was very keen on showing us homes with small rooms and “old world charm” ~ “fixer-uppers.” Our response was always a very firm, “no, thank you!” Move-in ready ~ that’s the ticket! Over the course of four years we looked at literally hundreds of houses, both online and in person but nothing felt just right.

But, finally, after four years of renting and a couple of unpleasant landlords, one day in late August of 2004, as we drove back to our rental home from walking the dogs at a nearby beach, we saw a “For Sale” sign right in our neighborhood. At this point, it had become kind of a running gag that we would at least glance at every house with a “For Sale” sign out front. This house (what became our home) was hidden from the street and at the end of a very long (and at night dark!) driveway. Though it was three stories tall, because of its location downhill from the single story bungalow in front of us, it was invisible from the street. It took us a few minutes to find it, but we drove to the end of the driveway, noting that the neighborhood had a number of curious cats (Sweetie, The Cat, became more or less friendly with some of them, though it seemed that they would come calling at our house, rather than vice versa). We called our agent to get inside the house the next day. It was the antithesis of “old world charm” ~ eight years old, very light and airy, three stories of an open stairway, and even came with a pool table (which stayed there when we left last August). We fell in love instantly. That was a Thursday. By Sunday we put in our offer. Within three weeks the house was ours for the next nine years!

Well, purchasing a 60 year old retired tugboat named Kalliope, did not exactly emulate our home owning experience. Quite inadvertently and naively, we have become quite the DIY’ers. Rick has always been handy with picture hanging and minor repairs around the house, but neither one of us was quite prepared for what awaited us here. We did grow enamored of spending occasional evenings at Lowes when we were in Seattle, but for me it was mostly buying plants and gardening equipment.

When we decided to just go ahead and “do it”, we knew that there were a few things that needed to be done on the boat before I would be willing to move on board. The carpeting throughout the boat was diesel and cigarette smoke infused, as well as being late 1970s chic ~ ie, ugly, in my opinion. The appliances were 30 years old, rusty, dirty and more than likely unusable (which proved to be the case). So, new flooring was a must. We eventually settled on vinyl planking which is water proof and, hence, perfect for a marine environment. And I really wanted new appliances to make my culinary adventures more pleasant.

Other than that, we figured it was mostly ready to go. Not exactly. I’ve already spoken of some of the plumbing issues that have presented themselves. There were others, as well as electrical mysteries to resolve. The aft shower, for example, did not turn on at all, something I discovered much to my horror, after our first night on board as I tentatively stepped into the shower (this was in mid-September and I never again stayed on board until just before Thanksgiving after our furniture had arrived, most plumbing and electrical issues had been resolved, and we were set for the downriver trip to Fort Myers). Why did it not turn on? Well ~ more than likely because the pipes had been disconnected and the hot water heater dedicated to the shower was missing. None of this, of course, had been mentioned by either the previous owner nor the surveyor. Once we replaced the missing hot water heater, reconnected the pipes and replaced the fixtures, miracle of miracles ~ the shower worked!

The list goes on. Much of the work needed to be done by professionals. But, much, we, especially Rick, have done ourselves. When I sent my sister a picture of this , her delighted observation was that she didn’t think I even knew what a screwdriver was, let alone that I would know what to do with it. I hadn’t quite realized the reputation I have (mostly true) with my two very DIY sisters! I will admit that mostly I use my screwdriver for replacing electrical wall plates, at which I have become quite adept. But, under Linda’s tutelage, I have learned to replace cabinet handles, and prep walls for painting, including spackling, applying spackling tape, and sanding, among other things that I can’t quite think of right now. Oh, and duct tape is my new best friend for covering up old insulation and stuff I don’t want to look at. The cupboard above the microwave.

I went around the boat last night, taking pictures of random tools lying here and there, ever ready for yet another adjustment, installation, or job. Here is what I found:  In the kitchenIn the office areaOn the table where the sound system isIn the living area on the main deckOn the TV room coffee table, which, by the way, is a repurposed door dreamed up by me and built by Rick! Upper deck coffee table. Copper stuff coveted by our current plumber. But none of these compare to what can be found below decks in the engine and water rooms: 

One steamy day the electrician was on the boat, working on some wiring in the kitchen. He had finished up what we asked him to do but Rick wanted him to stay to help install the new microwave. The electrician allowed as how he had other jobs to go to, didn’t want to just hang around until we were ready to install it (Rick was making some last minute adjustments), and that he thought we could manage this ourselves. I certainly had my doubts, but manage we did! . The next time the electrician came back, I proudly told him that we had installed the microwave ourselves and he smiled and said, “It feels kind of good to do it yourself, doesn’t it.” And so it does!

Of Incinolets and All Things Plumbing

Of Incinolets and All Things Plumbing

This is an Incinolet, possibly a dream come true for an environmentalist fighting for less water usage. Possibly a worst nightmare for those with a squeamish stomach (myself included). According to the date on the instruction booklet, this little beauty was installed on the ship around 1991, presumably for those times when Kalliope was at sea in a no pump out zone. Incinolets use no water. Instead they are equipped with a two-step system of “flushing” waste ~ step on a lever to “flush” into a burning chamber beneath the seat and then push a button to incinerate, turning the waste to ash that can be simply and easily thrown away (at least according to the instructions).

Sounds scary to me and possibly not as environmentally friendly as one might hope. Think Manhattan circa 1970 when Rick and I found that our teeth literally began to feel gritty in the upper Bronx as we drove down from Connecticut to visit family, due to the hundreds of thousands of incinerators in constant use throughout the five boroughs. When my family used to visit relatives in New York City in the 1960s I remember being grossed out by my what came out of my hair when I combed it ~ the comb was encased in greasy black grime. By the mid-1970s when Rick and I moved back to New York from California, the clean air act had put an end to incinerators and given rise to a handful of people in our apartment complex complaining that they never had roaches when trash was incinerated, not compacted. But the air became clean and has remained so, thank goodness! Just makes me wonder about the impact of using Incinolets on a regular basis, rather than flushing waste water away to sewage treatment plants to be sanitized and recycled.

Anyway, Rick did valiantly try to use the Incinolet once the very first time he stayed on board. Unfortunately this particular Incinolet was missing the starter switch and was attached to a dead circuit (hmmm…), so what went into the mini burning chamber stayed for several weeks until Rick had ordered and installed the necessary parts and an electrician had reconnected the system to a live circuit. I was on board when the great incinerating event happened and I can tell you that air quality was not improved. Fortunately, the odor did not linger for long. Since that time, the Incinolet has been unplugged and unused and will remain so for the foreseeable future. Oh ~ and the toilet seat broke off. Ugh!

Plumbing and water are very big issues when you are living on a boat. Marina neighbors bond over running to use the shore facilities rather than contributing to the holding tank. I have learned that there are three types of water ~ white water is the water that comes fresh out of the tap; gray water is water that has been used for bathing, showering and washing dishes; and, black water is waste water that needs to be treated as sewage. Depending on where your boat is located, white and gray water may be discharged directly into whatever body of water you happen to be docked at, as well as at sea. Black water must be routed to a holding tank and pumped out to the shore’s sewage treatment system on a regular basis.

Here is some of what I have learned. Water (like everything in nature) has a powerful will to get in wherever it can find the tiniest opening, meaning when you are on a boat, you need to be on continual alert for excess water. The function of the bilge is to collect incoming water and the function of the bilge pump is to automatically pump out excess water once it reaches a certain level in the bilge. Normally bilge water is clean ~ simply the water from the ambient medium ~ river, ocean, bay, whatever. All boats have bilges and bilge pumps that are in continual use. At any given moment at a marina you will see at least one boat with a spout of water shooting out into the water.

We have a large holding tank ~ 500 gallons ~ at least it sounds large. However, we have found that, even when it is not actually full, for some as yet unresolved reason, it sometimes spills over into the bilge, turning the bilge water into waste water and sending unpleasant fumes throughout the main deck of the ship. The craziest example of this was when we had to pump out just before leaving our “hurricane hole” in south central Florida to go down river to Fort Myers where we are currently moored. Over 250 gallons of clear water were pumped out even though we had not been living on the boat at the time, let alone using any water! This just a few days after we did an initial pump out of waste that had been left behind by the previous owners ~ another 300 gallons of black water. We do hope eventually to solve this mystery, though for the time being, with a pump out every three days, we seem to be doing okay.

On Thanksgiving Day, to the our great amusement, our feast on the open upper deck was delayed for about 20 minutes while Rick performed an emergency pump out after discovering that the holding tank was beginning to overflow to the bilge. Pumping out the holding tank (toilet waste or “black water”) involves hooking up a two inch hose on the boat to suction units on the pier that suck the holding tank water straight into the city’s sewage system for treatment.  My sister and daughters helping put up a new name plate on Thanksgiving Day ~ a new tradition?

So there are two kinds of pumping ~ the bilge which rids the boat of excess water that might cause it to sink and happens automatically or by an electric switch at times of our choosing. And the holding tank which requires the use of two hoses (one on the boat and one on land) to empty the sewage water into the city sewage system. All boats that have heads (toilets) have both a bilge and a holding tank. (To any of my more boat savvy friends, please forgive my simplistic and naïve explanations!)

Plumbing and electrical issues (more on the electrical in another post) onboard have abounded since our arrival in September, but with the help of a not very good plumber at our first location and the resident marina guru for all things boat-related at our current location (he’s been here for 37 years and has been described as a genius ~ and he sure has done a fantastic job for us), our plumbing seems to be in pretty great shape right now.

Many of the plumbing issues were real head scratchers, one of the most egregious of which (there are others that will be discussed in another post) was that the toilet in the small bath was set up to go directly into the water rather than the holding tank, whereas the kitchen sink empties into the holding tank. Hmmmm… The sink vanity in the same bath exploded the first time Rick tried to use it (something about water surges from the shore hook up, similar to power surges in electricity), necessitating the purchase and installation of a new vanity. And the tub was, well, gross. We replaced it with a smallish but wonderful Jacuzzi tub and shower. However, the first plumber installed the shower fixture upside down so, for the time being, we turn the tap towards the cold symbol to get hot water (this was discovered the first time I showered ~ luckily it was a hot day). New tub and vanity

The kitchen sink was rusty, dirty, filled with bugs, and replaced. The fact that it is plumbed to empty into the holding tank definitely does not help our overflowing tank problem. But we’ve been told that it would require welding and other expensive and difficult procedures to change this so we’re sticking with it.

The dishwasher ~ ah, the dishwasher. Well, you may be gathering that we needed to replace all appliances, and you would be guessing correctly. The first time the dishwasher was installed by the original plumber (yes, I did say “first time”), it was left unattached to the counter top and hanging out six inches. I was told that it was impossible to shove it in any further but that it was fine. Not precisely the case. One morning during the fix-up stage when we were staying in a cabin on the grounds, we arrived at the boat to find a major flood coming from the back of the dishwasher. We felt lucky (yes, I did say “lucky”) because this happened at a time when the old carpeting had been ripped up and the new vinyl plank flooring had not yet been installed. So the flood covered a concrete floor and was pretty easy to clean up.

The second time it was installed, the cycle ran okay but ended with a two inch pool of water just hanging out in the bottom of the tub with no apparent intention of ever draining out. It turned out that one of the hoses supplied by the manufacturer had broken and needed to be replaced. Also, it was discovered that the dishwasher had inadvertently not been hooked up to the disposal unit, which I am told, is how it is supposed to be. I called the manufacturer to say that we needed to replace the hose and was told that it was an installation issue and not covered by warranty, but they would send one of their local factory certified repair people out to fix it. Alas, when I called the repair person, I was told in no uncertain terms that he did not work on boats and, furthermore, wasn’t I living at that “trailer park” (the snowbird RV resort and marina)? He didn’t do RVs or trailers either. All righty then.

The dishwasher was initially installed on October 1^st, yet Thanksgiving came and went and dishes were still being done by hand. Not really a problem, but if I have a dishwasher I would love to be able to use it! The original plumber had promised to locate the right hose and have me using the dishwasher by Thanksgiving. He has not returned several phone calls since the last time Rick spoke to him two days before Thanksgiving. A bit concerning because his wife recently had her seventh baby and it was a complicated and dangerous delivery. We do hope all is well with him.

Anyway, out of the blue, the manufacturer called to say they wanted to make this right (I had sent a scathing report to their customer survey people). This time I was told that the first customer service representative had no business telling me that was an installation problem ~ that was for the technician to say. The local technician that was contacted this time (it is easier to get reliable service in a less remote location), was a dream! The company sent automated voicemail and email messages telling me when to expect the service representative and, lo and behold, he came when they said he would! The first time, he discovered that the hose we were trying to use was the wrong kind of hose ~ we needed a loop hose ~ and that he needed to order one but he would be back on December 10th. Sure enough, he came back and within 10 minutes I had a fully functioning dishwasher at no charge and it was completely shoved back under the counter the way it needed to be! Three months later, I have a wonderful dishwasher! Yay!

Goodness ~ there’s more about plumbing but I’ll save that for another day.

Someone said yesterday that the saying for boat owners in Florida is “boat = bring out another $1000.” And I once heard that the happiest day of your life is the day you buy a boat. And the second happiest day is the day you sell it….

Living on a boat is definitely a full time job!

Fast Forward to Thanksgiving and a Quick Tour

Well ~ I will be sharing the saga of all our trials, tribulations and triumphs over the past two and a half months, but for today I will share a quick tour of the boat that our eldest daughter, Allyson, videotaped while she was here for Thanksgiving. And, yes, our furniture arrived on November 19th at the upriver location in a remote area of Florida; we managed a mostly uneventful overnight trip November 22 – 23 down the Caloosahatchee River to the yacht basin in Fort Myers; we are still in the midst of boxes, boxes, boxes, unpacking and settling in, making the Kalliope a real home for us; and we celebrated Thanksgiving aboard with our daughters, my sister, Sweetie, The Cat, and Apollo, The Golden Retriever. Dinner was delicious; the weather perfect ~ especially for Hillary who thrives in warm sunshine, though she currently is going to school in Pittsburgh; and we all had a wonderful time!

Here are the video clips that Allie took. Enjoy! And, by the way, I am able to post this thanks to Rick and Verizon who talked Rick into getting a Jetpack last June over my loud and mocking protestations. Jetpack’s 4G mini wi-fi network rocks! No need to get any other wi-fi! Yay!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3lM7HYpux58 At the marina

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Db9r7YNuuD0 Welcome aboard

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jSWj-IPbOoE Main deck

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QHSW-m599-Q Upper deck

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4eCaS7D5SzU View from the top

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6inH7ikMCdw Upper aft deck

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9BFUwNlBd3I Laundry room and bow

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g9tnzGWiQ9M Below decks ~ engine room, water room and shaft room

Allie didn’t realize that when she turned her camera the video would go sideways but these give you a sense of our new home!