Sailing with Impunity

by Mary E Trimble

  We gave many items to the kids that would have been theirs one day anyway, sort of an early inheritance. We had them all over for dinner and held a grand giveaway party. The next weekend we had a huge garage sale, selling (and later giving away to a thrift store) everything except a very few items, which we stored in Bruce’s folks’ basement. We decided to sell our SCUBA gear, another heart-wrenching decision for me. I had a single air tank, plus a set of doubles and Bruce also had two tanks. We decided that it might not only be dangerous to have air tanks on the hot deck of a rolling boat, we couldn’t be assured of available pressurized air where we were going. We did take our snorkeling gear—masks, snorkels and fins. We sold our double seagoing kayak. It was too big to take with us.

  While we still lived in our house, I put my sewing machine to good use. My Singer, bought when I was eighteen, had served me well for 35 years. Now I made several nylon sail bags, a laundry bag and miscellaneous bags for storage. A bag can be shoved into a space and made to fit in a curved bulkhead or corner where a solid container cannot. I also made Velcro straps to hang in storage lockers to hold coiled line and other small items. I made a safety strap to keep me secure in the galley.

  We moved aboard Impunity permanently on New Year’s Day 1989, one of Seattle’s coldest, snowiest days on record. The icy, slippery ladder and decks were treacherous. I soon learned to wear tennis shoes and tote my good leather shoes to work, and to change them again before I returned home to the boat. The wooden hatch leading below decks often froze, making it difficult to open. Later, Bruce replaced one of the four interlocking slats with a three-quarter-inch thick plexiglass slat which handled easier and also provided more light below.

  In early February, the weather turned even colder, dropping to 8 degrees Fahrenheit. During the coldest weeks, the lake froze close to shore and Bruce regularly used a big lead ball at the end of a line to break up the ice forming around the boat. That sharp ice could damage a hull.

  Impunity’s charming fireplace, made in Spain, had a facing of blue and white tiles. Though the firebox was small, we appreciated this little gem while we lived aboard in winter. Presto logs, broken into fourths, burned beautifully. The fireplace, plus a small space heater, were our only source of heat, but it was adequate. Once they were turned off, the boat quickly grew cold.

  The morning after we moved aboard, we awoke early to get ready for work. The boat was so cold, a layer of ice had formed in the toilet bowl. Now, that’s cold.

  While Bruce started our little space heater and made a fire in the fireplace, I dressed for work. I reached into the locker to pull my business suit out. I grabbed the hanger, my teeth chattering with cold, but the suit wouldn’t come out. I tugged harder, quickly losing all enthusiasm for living on a boat. I heard a wrenching sound as the sleeve of my blazer pealed off the icy bulkhead. As the sleeve thawed on my body, the dampness did nothing to salve my dwindling spirits. That night Bruce lined the locker with heavy plastic bags to keep my suits from freezing to the bulkhead.

  Although we could take a shower on board, it was the type of shower that sprayed the entire head compartment. There was no separate shower stall. The marina had shower facilities and we opted to use them. In winter’s cold, to dash from the boat to the shower room was often uncomfortable and even worse when returning to the boat with wet hair.

  The long winter dragged on. Yet, every weekend, either Saturday or Sunday, we took the boat out to test changes we’d made and to get the feel of it. Sailing on a lake isn’t much of a test, but it helped us to get accustomed to the boat’s rigging, engine, navigation equipment, galley, anchoring, and so forth.

  One of my jobs as we neared a dock to moor the boat, was to jump onto the dock with the bow or stern line in hand to tie off the boat to the nearest cleat, It was at times a harrowing jump, but I never fell, although I stumbled a couple of times. I never did that without hoping I wouldn’t break a leg. Once, when my sister Alice was with us, she was stunned to see me leap off the boat. “I can’t believe you just did that,” she said.

  In the meantime, we took a series of classes offered by the Coast Guard Auxiliary. The classes served as refreshers for Bruce, but they were valuable for me, and my first introduction to boat safety, seamanship and shoreline navigation, We took these classes twice weekly for several months.

  As the weather warmed, so did my enthusiasm. By spring we often ate dinner in the cockpit, enjoying our unique lifestyle while we watched the marina come to life after the long winter.

  We took a weekend trip to Cozy Cove on Lake Washington, giving us a.good opportunity to test the ground tackle. It was fun and gave us a small taste of what cruising would be like.

  In March, Bruce quit his job so that he could work full-time on readying the boat. Although he liked his job, he was ready to move on, so it was good timing for him.

  As a farewell gift, the president of his company gave us a desalination system to convert salt water to fresh. The desalinator, a series of tubes about three feet long and two feet wide, fit under the cabin’s sole, above the main water tank. We were overwhelmed with the generosity of the gift, and later very grateful to have it.

  I loved my job at Safeco and knew I could go far if I stayed. At my last routine performance evaluation, my boss asked how I saw my future.

  “Sailing around the world,” I answered.

  He laughed. “Who wouldn’t? But I mean here, at Safeco.”

  “I mean it, too. Sailing around the world. I hadn’t wanted to tell you too soon, because I’d like to work until it’s time to go, but Bruce and I plan to leave the first of June on an extended sailing trip.”

  He was excited for us and agreed to keep the secret until it was prudent to announce our plans. “When you return, if you want it, you’ll always have a job at Safeco.”

  We set a date of June 3, 1989 to set sail. Typical of us, the date was firm. We heard so many tales of people setting and repeatedly delaying their departure date. For us, there would be no procrastination.

  The kids’ reactions to our leaving were mixed. On one hand, they were concerned for our safety, on the other hand excited about our adventure. Bonnie was reluctant to have us gone for so long. My oldest son, Byron, and his wife, Debbie, bought us a sextant, which thrilled Bruce. He had taught himself celestial navigation and this would be our primary navigational tool. This was before GPS and although we had an old Transit satellite navigation receiver, things can go wrong with electronics.

  Bruce’s folks were hesitant about our going. Like any parents, they worried about our safety, about our being gone so long. They wanted to buy us something for the boat and Bruce suggested a radar detector, a device that would pick up a signal from a ship’s radar and sound a warning to us. I think that helped them feel we were safe. Well, safer.

  On our Saturday or Sunday sails, we took different members of the family so they could get a feel for what we would be doing. Some were enthusiastic, some not so much. But, undaunted, we continued with our plans. In our hearts, we knew what we wanted to do.

  .

  Putting the Pieces Together

  Log Entry—April 3, 1989: We are afloat again after three weeks on the hard.

  Bruce’s folks generously offered their basement for staging our supplies. One of the biggest tasks was to determine food for two years. That was largely my responsibility while Bruce took care of the boat’s various types of gear. I wanted to ensure we ate healthy foods, but knew the limitations and challenges of cooking at sea.

  We bought bulk rice, pasta, dried beans, peas, and lentils. For dry storage, I used Seal-a-Meal and heavy plastic bags. In each bag I measured enough for two meals for both of us. For instance, once at sea I planned to prepare enough rice for two meals at one time. We’d have it the first meal with something like a tin of roast beef and canned green beans. The next night I’d use the already cooked rice and make Spanish rice, sautéing onion, and adding canned tomatoes and spices to the cooked rice. I had several such meals in
mind which later turned out to be a great help when cooking on a rolling, pitching boat.

  I made lists of meals I could fix at sea, calculating how much we would need over a two-year period. We knew that in some ports of call we could buy supplies, and others perhaps not. From all that we read, food in Polynesia was expensive. We hoped to buy fresh fruit and vegetables and use our stored supplies for the basics.

  We’d heard the argument: Why bother taking all that food? Wherever you go, people have food. You can eat what they eat. That’s true, but island people often eat what they grow themselves, like taro leaves and roots, eggs and meat from their own chickens. After researching the possibilities, we decided not to rely on local fare.

  Before long, the folks’ basement looked like a bomb shelter with stacked groceries, but it was more organized than it looked. Here are some of the supplies we bought:

  – Carbohydrates: rice, pasta, lentils, beans

  – Tinned meats and fish: beef, ham, chicken, turkey, bacon, tuna, salmon. We hoped to catch fish while at sea.

  – Canned soup: cream of mushroom and cream of chicken to use in combination dishes, plus vegetable, chicken noodle, etc.

  – Prepared dinners: macaroni & cheese, canned chili, canned ravioli, Top Ramen. We bought only a few of these items for “stormy weather.”

  – Canned fruit: peaches, pears, applesauce, apricots, etc.

  – Canned vegetables: green beans, corn, tomato sauce, whole tomatoes, stewed tomatoes, peas

  – Cereals: oatmeal, cream of wheat, granola

  – Crackers: mostly saltines

  – Flour, sugar and coffee, separated into smaller, moisture proof containers

  – Salt, pepper, and spices: small amounts sealed in sturdy plastic bags

  – Cheese: Mostly canned cheese from Washington State University Creamery

  – Powdered milk and canned juice

  – Desserts: packaged pudding mixes, jello, hard candy

  – Sprout seeds: We’d learned in Africa how valuable this fresh vegetable is and we put in a good supply of a variety of sprout seeds

  – Yeast: with the hope of baking bread

  – Cleaning supplies: Bleach, sponges, liquid Joy for dishes and to cut engine grease, plenty of rags. Unscented bleach has many uses including as an efficient disinfectant.

  – Personal soap: Prell shampoo for hair and body because it would suds in salt water, bar soap for fresh water use

  – Paper supplies: marine toilet paper (very thin and unsatisfactory), tissues and paper towels for the galley

  Good friends gave us boxes of freshly harvested fruit from their orchard and for weeks we dehydrated apples, plums and pears. I also dehydrated garlic, onions and other fresh vegetables, and vacuum sealed them in plastic bags.

  Then there were personal sanitation articles: toothpaste, shaving supplies, deodorant, and so on. Knowing feminine sanitary supplies wouldn’t always be available, I laid in a two-year supply of pads and tampons. Bruce was aghast. They were bulky, but I dutifully repackaged them and sealed them in our heavy plastic bags. For my peace of mind, it was worth every inch of storage they took.

  The list seemed endless, but in our research we learned from others who had “been there” what worked and what didn’t. Mostly, what we learned was keep it simple, but also, don’t rely on buying it there.

  We had a long talk with our doctor about possible emergency medical situations and how to respond. He gave us several prescriptions that we had filled for pain and other emergencies. Our dentist made up a kit in the event of a broken tooth, a type of cement to seal an injured tooth from air exposure, and other dental tools that might be needed. Plus we laid in a large supply of several sizes and shapes of bandages, antibiotic ointment, hydrogen peroxide, and the like.

  Neither one of us would be taking prescribed medication, but we had with us a good supply of vitamins, knowing our diets wouldn’t always be balanced.

  In the meantime, we had Impunity hauled out of the water for three weeks at Seaview West boatyard at Seattle’s Shilshole Marina

  For some projects, Bruce didn’t have the tools to do all the tasks that needed to be done so we hired boatyard marine mechanics for those jobs. For instance, at low tide they used a crane to lift the 58-foot mast out of the boat and put it onto supports on the dock. Then, they lifted the boat out of the water and settled it in a cradle “on the hard.” A local machine shop fabricated a stainless steel mast step to replace the deteriorated original step. Because of previous wear and tear on the mast, Bruce cut off two inches at the bottom, so the machine shop made the step two inches taller to accommodate that difference.

  We still lived aboard and I got pretty tired of climbing a twelve-foot ladder to board, rather than our normal stepping down into the cockpit from a dock.

  We spent a huge chunk of money here, but we wanted the boat as strong and safe as we could get it.

  While the boat was in dry dock, Bruce kept himself busy. Among the many things he did were:

  – Installed zincs (to stop corrosion of metals)

  – Added ground plane for single sideband radio

  – Installed new antenna and cable for VHF radio

  – Installed single sideband radio antenna

  – Replaced fastenings on the Aries wind vane

  – Replaced cutlass bearing

  – Repacked propeller shaft seal

  – Replaced three through-hull fittings and rebuilt all others

  – Replaced all below-waterline hoses and clamps

  – Applied new bottom paint, moving the boot stripe up one inch

  While the mast was horizontal on the dock, Bruce replaced all its inside wiring and replaced the three halyards on the main mast. He also replaced the two halyards on the mizzen mast. All standing rigging was disassembled, cleaned, checked and reassembled.

  We made endless trips to boating supply stores. We purchased spares of anything that might break down such as an extra freshwater pump, bilge pump parts, pulley parts, fuses, wiring, paint, light bulbs, critical stainless steel bolts and nuts, line, batteries, damage control plugs (conical tapered softwood plug for emergency hole repair). We mailed an order and check to England for important spare parts for the Aries wind vane. The list went on and on.

  Bruce also put in a supply of engine oil, air filters, engine injectors, sail repair tools, manuals for everything, replacement seals and impellers for every pump, tools to cut and splice rigging cables. It was expensive, but not as expensive as being in a foreign country and having to send for a part; or worse, being at sea and stranded because of a breakdown.

  Bruce designed a heavy awning for Impunity’s cockpit, using Sunbrella, an acrylic fiber ideal for boats. At the time, I didn’t appreciate its potential value, but would later wonder how we could have survived without it. Besides providing protection against sun and rain, the awning was designed, once its halyard was slacked, to catch rain water and funnel it into five-gallon jugs. We could roll up or lower the sides. He contracted with a well-known local sailmaker, Schattauer Sails, to make the awning and also our safety harnesses, which Bruce also designed.

  We received many compliments on Impunity, both in and out of the water. People who knew sailing recognized a classic, seaworthy sailing vessel. By this time, I had developed an experienced eye and could instantly tell an offshore sailing vessel from a daysailer. I was beginning to feel like a real sailor.

  We again attended the annual Seattle Boat Show. When we had gone the previous year, everything seemed new and strange to me, but this year I felt like an old hand and actually knew what people were talking about. We bought a set of good stainless steel cooking pots with removable handles for convenient storage. Those pots and a pressure cooker turned out to be priceless galley aids.

  We bought a bucket of fillet knives, a “special” at the Boat Show, to give as gifts when we visited different landfalls. Bonnie’s husband Neil gave us a bucket of cigarette lighters, a collection he’d added to for yea
rs. I went through my sewing supplies and sorted a large can of colorful buttons to give away, plus bought thread, pins and sewing needles as future gifts. From our experience in Africa, we learned these items are highly valued in countries where they were not readily available.

  We made friends at the Kenmore Marina where we had Impunity moored, and often visited with Bill and Alice who also lived aboard their boat. They were enthusiastic about our trip and had future plans to do the same.

  Friends of theirs, a young couple they had met at the marina were currently sailing the South Pacific and Bill wondered if we would see them. They gave us Greg and Kathy’s boat name, Genesis, and said if we saw them to send their greetings. I thought that would be some kind of miracle, but we agreed to do so.

  Daughter Bonnie agreed to take care of our finances while we were away. Life goes on and so do taxes and life insurance premiums. Plus she’d pay any bills accrued in our travels. We added her name to our bank accounts and gave her our Power of Attorney so she could write checks and make decisions on our behalf.

  On many of our day excursions, Bruce would “swing the compass” which is the process of adjusting the boat’s compass with that of known landmarks. A boat’s compass can be skewed by various metals on the boat, such as engine, wires and electronic gear.

  Bruce lined up the boat to a landmark and calculated on the chart the exact direction, then adjusted the boat’s compass accordingly. A compass has little screw adjustments to allow these deviation fixes.

  At the end of April, I took a week of vacation for our shakedown cruise to test the rigging, engine, pumps, rudder, self-steering, galley, and ourselves. We left on a windless Saturday, motored across Lake Washington and into the Mountlake Cut, preparing to go through the Ballard Locks. The locks move boats from the higher level of Lake Washington to Puget Sound, an elevation difference from six to twenty-six feet, depending on the tides.