Aside from the few sneak peeks I’ve shared on Sailing Totem’s social media, I’ve largely kept my new ink all to myself. For an entire year. Why? Because it’s personal! The flock of swallows marks, for me, the journey our family shared of sailing around the world together. A special time, an uncommon achievement, a journey we shared.

What is it about sailors and swallow tattoos, anyway?

There’s a mix of symbolism, superstition and tradition in the ink sailors choose. Tattoos have a history longer than we can imagine, with archeological evidence stretching back to the Stone Age and in disparate corners of the planet. By the time Cook voyaged in the 1700s, body art was an established ritual among sailors.

Why swallows in particular? Imagine the men in the age of sail (which was pretty much all men at that time) embarking on difficult and dangerous voyages from which many would not return. The superstitions associated with this era of sailing were one way for a sailor to feel a tiny bit of control over something which mostly was not in their control, and swallow tattoos are intertwined with these superstitions.

A swallow tattoo marked the achievement of a sailor’s first 5,000 nautical miles, which represented a literal survival at their profession. A second swallow, often placed on opposite shoulders, was a symbol of homecoming. Barn swallows return home from distant migratory grounds, something that probably resonated with sailors wondering whether they’d ever see the shores of their home again. And if they didn’t, well, other superstitions say the swallow would help carry the sailor’s soul to heaven.

Contemporary versions have a range of freestyle options, since color and fine detail weren’t easy for sailors using a needle and gunpowder to do. The “modern classic” is the mid-century Sailor Jerry style, popularized by the famous Honolulu-based tattoo artist (not named Jerry).

My friend Niki, aboard Grateful, has also added swallow tattoos along the way, with different designs reflecting destinations, artists or her own inspiration. Her most recent swallow is a traditional Marquesan style, inked by the artist Kaha not long after arrival in French Polynesia. 

“We researched the ways to be sensitive about having these new tattoos,” she posted. “The key is to speak to the artist and allow for something unique to be designed in conversation about what’s important in your life.”

Niki jokes that “it’s a family thing,” as she shares pictures of her husband Jamie’s swallows, and his sister Mindy’s, both done in Palma de Mallorca.

The rope on Mindy’s representing the knot she tied delivering their other brother’s catamaran both ways across the Atlantic.

I’m neither an artist nor a very creative person. It was a long process—and sometimes painful—to settle on a design direction that felt right and ready to take to an artist to refine. Like my Marquesan tattoo, I sat with the idea for months until the right concept gelled.

A design aspect that resonated with me was to add a bird for each 5,000 nautical-mile increment of our family’s circumnavigation. At the time we closed the loop, it tallied eleven swallows. My self-imposed deadline was to have the piece completed before we left Mexico, symbolizing the beginning of a new chapter in my cruising life.

Once landing on an idea, it still needed the right artist to bring to life. This took much longer than expected. I studied the styles of artists I could access to make sure they aligned with my own, and I seeked personal recommendations. After several false starts, test-driving some temporary designs and a few visits to Tucson, I landed on the right artist and an approach: fine detail, organic movement and a design that allows for expansion with more birds at some future inflection point.

This week, our daughter Mairen, who is an artist, shared her latest work. I swooned—our journey in swallows, interpreted again. (And no, I’m not getting this as another tattoo.) But I just couldn’t wait to proudly post a print she’s made. There are some bulkheads around here that feel like blank canvases, and I sense a new Totem crew tee shirt in the works.

On that note, the family printing business we’ve worked with for years is no more. If you know of an outfit we can support for printing and shipping a small range of Totem gear, please send us a recommendation.

The post Swallow Tattoos and Sailors appeared first on Cruising World.

Looking for an explainer on using Starlink while sailing your boat around the world? How to combine it with offshore communications tools for safety at sea?

Here are all the details of our experience with our own Starlink installation, modifications, service plan options and other essential offshore comms, as well as a look at how Starlink is used in the wider cruising community today.

The first thing to know is that terms can be loaded. SpaceX has changed terminology for Starlink hardware and plans a number of times in the past few years. I’m using terms that are current in 2024.

Second, I’m not an expert at Starlink. I’m a cruiser on a Stevens 47, Totem, who is, like so many of us, astonished at the way our lives are changing around this new technology access. The work that my husband, Jamie, and I do relies upon this connectivity, and our safety tools are increasingly leveraging it as well. I welcome constructive feedback and comments from legit technology experts.

As I write this, Totem is swinging at anchor in turquoise water off Isla San Francisco in Mexico. We’re only able to linger in this Sea of Cortez idyll because of Starlink. We are miles from cell service.

The first time we came here, in 2009-10, we only needed connectivity for weather updates. We got them through our single-sideband radio and via Iridium GO! But today, streaming video calls for our coaching service demands high bandwidth. The Starlink on our stern arch allows us to linger instead of hustling to La Paz. It will be weather (unlikely) or provisions (eventually) or crew flying in (hard dates on those) that will bring us back instead.

Antenna selection

We purchased Starlink in November 2022. We chose a residential Gen 2 dish ($599 at the time; we paid about half in Mexico). This was the rectangle that succeeded the round Dishy McFlatface in 2021. The antenna was used at our apartment in Mexico for a year while completing Totem’s refit, and it is now on a sturdy stern arch mount next to the solar panels. It draws 2 to 3 amps per hour.

This same Gen 2 dish seems to be the most widely distributed among cruisers. In February 2024, it was replaced by a similar Gen 3 dish. The newer dish uses conventional connections on the cable from the antenna, has LAN ports directly on the dish, doesn’t have internal motors, and is supposed to have up to twice the data throughput (300-plus megabits per second). However, it can use 50 percent more power. Gen 3 also has a slightly larger footprint and a different base.

The other option is the Flat High Performance dish ($2,500), a larger rectangle and the only antenna officially approved for in-motion use. Yes, cruisers are using the Gen 2 and Gen 3 dishes in motion, technically out of terms of service, but apparently slow sailboats aren’t ringing the alarm bells at SpaceX. High-performance dishes have a wider view of the sky for better satellite acquisition (so, presumably, more stable connectivity) and use considerably more power, at least double that of our Gen 2 dish.

SpaceX has said that a Starlink Mini dish will be released in late 2024. This antenna is supposed to be much smaller, about the size of a tablet; be set up for DC electricity; and consume significantly less power. Make it half the price and it’ll be a cruiser winner.

Don’t have Starlink yet? Use our link to order, and we’ll each get a free month of service.

Installation on board

Choosing a location wasn’t too hard. There are two factors: Where is the clearest view of the sky? And, where is the dish most out of the way?

The obvious location on Totem was off the arch on our transom. While we were in Puerto Peñasco, the Cabrales Boatyard welder worked with my husband, Jamie, to create a mount on the port side of the arch.

A key customization we made was a stainless tube to frame the perimeter of Totem’s dish. The idea is that if a reefing line or the main sheet flails that way, it will not catch on the antenna and damage it, or send it flying.

The Gen 3 announcement came in time for us to shape the frame’s dimensions to accommodate it, in case we decide to upgrade.

Service plans and costs

Three plans are overwhelmingly used in the cruising community. Mobile-Regional, US accounts $150, for service when changing locations within a single continent; Mobile–Global, US accounts: $200, for consistent service when traveling between continents; and Mobile Priority, which is an add-on to keep service active when you’re away from official coverage areas (see Starlink’s coverage map). US accounts: $2/GB.

We ordered the dish in Mexico and shipped it to our apartment near the Cabrales Boatyard, which set us up with a Mexican service address for our account. Once we sailed south, we switched from the residential plan to a Mobile–Regional plan. When transiting the Sea of Cortez, we toggle on Mobile Priority data. We’ll do the same on the way to Hawaii.

Costs for each of these plans scale and vary by country. Pricing is based on the service address where our dish was originally sent; we pay about half the US rate for our Mobile-Regional plan. It’s not all cheaper, though: Mobile Priority data costs more on our Mexican account, and a Mobile-Global plan would run approximately $70 more than US customers pay monthly.

There are websites dedicated to tracking the range in service plan costs by country. Our data consumption when offshore, so far, has averaged around 6 GB per day on Totem. At nearly $3 per GB on our Mexican plan, it adds up, but it’s a bargain compared to the alternatives for high-bandwidth internet offshore.

Crossing an ocean with Starlink

There are the official terms, and then there are the real-life practices.

Officially, when moving between continent-based regions, Starlink expects an account to be on a Mobile–Global service plan. Offshore and outside of service areas, Mobile Priority data must be toggled on. For example, a cruiser starting in Sicily (European region) who sails to the Caribbean (North America), then stops in Colombia (South America) on the way to the Panama Canal, and transits from there to French Polynesia (Oceania) in the spring would be in at least four (or five, if they were in Africa) regions.

In practice, cruisers have used Mobile-Regional plans without service interruption while transiting regions, such as sailing from Gibraltar to St Lucia, or from Panama to the Marquesas. Mobile Priority does need to be switched on.

Officially, if you’re using Mobile-Regional in a new country for more than two months, you’re supposed to change your service address to the new country, or return to the country where your service address is located.

In practice, there is no enforcement of this country requirement unless regions are changed as well. Many cruisers find ways to optimize their service plans based on location without repercussions. For example, cruisers sailing from the Americas to French Polynesia generally choose among three options after arriving: They continue with Mobile-Regional with Mobile Priority data on, or they switch to Mobile-Global, or they sell the hardware to themselves and associate it with a new account in the region. This hack requires reassigning the hardware to the new account, and then closing the old account.

No matter how they set up Starlink, some cruisers limit the power draw and data cost by turning it on once or twice a day offshore.

Modifications to consider

Three modifications help our Starlink work better on board Totem.

First, we converted the AC powered dish to 12-volt DC. Why? To reduce power consumed overall.

Here, we needed two aftermarket components: a 150W GigE Passive PoE Injector ($65) and 12-to48-volt DC Step Up Converter ($39). Connect the cable from the dish to the PoE, which is connected to the step-up converter. Gen 3 dishes have a standard RJ45 connection at the end of the cable; Gen 2 users will need to convert it. That’s the next step. Remember to add a fuse block.

Second, we replaced the Starlink router. Why? To add power efficiency and access more features.

The ethernet cord coming out of the Gen 2 dish has a proprietary connection. That’s annoying when you want to use a different router. We converted ours through this rectangular Dishy cable adapter to RJ45 ($30), then used Totem’s existing MikroTik router ($75). We’re running PredictWind Data Hub ($299) in this mix. Make those connections (network cable on one side of the PoE box, power on the other), and then it works once the 12-volt power is on.

Third, we disabled internal motors. Why? Motors increase electricity use and reduce connection stability on a moving boat, including when swinging at anchor.

SpaceX cottoned onto this, I guess, since Gen 3 dishes don’t have motors. We’d encourage Gen 2 owners to disable theirs: it might feel scary to drill a hole in your antenna, but the performance is more stable, and you’ll save power.

The trickiest bit took a couple of tries to make the dish go flat. Jamie marked the spot, then drilled a hole with a 5/8-inch bit. After sucking out plastic debris, he used a pair of longish, stiff tweezers to pull out the wire connections to disable the motors.

How-to steps for this process are easy to find online. We initially covered the hole with some electrical tape, and later used silicone sealant on it for a longer-term solution.

Integrating to Iridium Exec

Like a growing number of cruisers, Jamie and I rely on connectivity for income. We also aspire to spend time in remote locations again soon. But counting on Starlink working 100 percent of the time is too risky.

Iridium Exec is the obvious piece of gear for reliable remote connectivity. The Exec and Starlink are integrated through our PredictWind Data Hub, with Starlink as our primary internet source and with Iridium on standby.

Embarking on offshore passages without reliable backup communication feels dubious at best. For folks who have lower data needs: If texts are enough, an InReach is another option for that backup. It can’t download weather GRIBs, so isn’t a great option if you go farther for longer and end up relying upon it.

Change is the constant

It seems that as soon as cruisers get used to one set of norms with Starlink, things change. Terms of service continue to be inconsistently enforced, which means anyone using Starlink outside of those terms are carrying some risk.

This week, Starlink emailed a reminder to some users that Mobile plans are intended for temporary travel and transit, not permanent use in a country different from the service address on the account. This email reminded users that terms of service are contingent upon regulatory approvals by the country in which the dish is used, and stated that connections could be cut off on April 30.

This notice appears to be aimed at a single country in Africa that does not have regulatory approval, with the helpful directions, “Should you wish to advocate for Starlink to be approved…” Recipients included plenty of South Pacific cruisers (French Polynesia is not yet “available” on the Starlink map) who were shaking in their sea boots. We get it. We depend on Starlink now, too.

More on Starlink aboard

For more resources on using Starlink on board, check our post about Starlink for Cruisers from November 2022. The resources we detailed are still the go-to references.

Coming up from the Sailing Totem crew

We’re giving two American Sailing Association seminars in the next few weeks. On April 25, we’re presenting proactive steps for safety on board. May 7, on the cusp of our intended passage to Hawaii, we’ll discuss passage preparation. For $10 off (more than 25%) use TOTEM10 in the checkout. Register here for safety at sea. The registration for passage planning is here.

On April 28, Totem Talks will answer the important question: Do cruisers poop in the ocean? A no-holds-barred conversation about heads, holding tanks and dealing with our, um, output. Get the poop here.If you’re in our coaching community, you could also join this weekend’s OpenCPN workshop. Want to know more? You can learn about working with us, or get in touch.

The post Welcome Aboard, Starlink appeared first on Cruising World.

Panchita was a callejera, a street cat who adopted us. She was one of thirtysomething animals we fostered while in Puerto Peñasco, Mexico, during the extended refit of Totem, our Stevens 47. The rescue agency where our daughter Siobhan volunteered had offered to transport Panchita north of the border for adoption, but when the time came to let her go, we couldn’t do it. She was irrevocably one of us.

Now, we are learning what it means to go cruising with a pet. Here’s the best and the worst of what we’ve figured out so far.

Transitioning Aboard

To help Panchita transition from street life to boat life, we made nests for her around the boat that incorporated familiar smells and favorite things. There may have been a few extra treats doled out. We brought her favorite dried anchovies, familiar litter box, and a fleece throw dubbed “the magical blanket” because of the calming effect it has on her.

The first few days, she stayed mostly hidden, coming out to eat and use the litter box. Panchita gradually explored every corner of the boat in high-alert mode, tail down, creeping from cabin to cabin. During the next week, she gained confidence, and her tail returned to the happy-cat question mark position.

Getting Underway

We were advised in a Facebook group to harness-train her, so we could keep her secure as needed. There’s a mixed set of reviews about whether PFDs are effective for cats. Plan A was to keep her belowdecks, or in close reach in the cockpit, while underway.

Harness training is amusing at first: A cat buckled in for the first time may flop down and forget how to walk, or just look at you with a deeply offended expression. Panchita adjusted eventually. Dried anchovy bribes helped.

Eleven days after moving aboard, we set sail for a weeklong passage to Banderas Bay. She hated the engine, and she vanished into one of her growing list of hidey-holes when it was turned on. Under sail, she slowly became more comfortable moving around belowdecks and making occasional supervised visits to the cockpit.

Her favorite places were often near us, or in one of the nests we’d made for her. An unexpected, chosen refuge was the laundry hamper. Never, in nearly two years at our apartment, did she seek it out. At sea, it must have felt nice and secure, and it had the right smells.

The Poop

Who wants to deal with provisioning for kitty litter around the world? Not us. Some cruisers do, while others use beach sand (sounds like a great way to invite bugs on board). Still others work with what they find along the way. And then, there are cruisers who teach their cats to use the toilet.

On land, Panchita would cry to be let outside to do her business. She got used to litter, so we used that aboard too. We started toilet training with a kit that we found online after arriving in Banderas Bay, and it’s going pretty well so far.

Meanwhile, we also purchased Purina’s Breeze “litter system,” which a lot of cruisers like because you don’t need to stash as much litter. The pellets last longer, and it’s possible to wash and reuse them. They also won’t track sand into your bunk.

Keeping a Cat Safe at Sea

We did not install nets, but many cat owners do. Another calico, Poppet, is circumnavigating on the Valiant 40 Sonrisa with her humans. Here, she demonstrates the attitude of many cats regarding lifeline netting.

Will we install nets? I think we’ll wait and see how curious our ship’s cat is. For now, we feel comfortable with the combination of her general caution and disinterest in being on deck underway, using a harness to secure her if needed, and remaining vigilant about her location when we are sailing. 

Keeping a Cat Safe at the Dock or Anchor

Marinas aren’t a safe place for a curious cat. She might get into a place she can’t get out from, whether that’s trapped in the dock’s structure or inside an unfamiliar boat. Or, she might wander away and get lost. We’ve heard so many heartbreaking stories.

Aside from the danger to the cat, it’s a real no-no to get on another person’s boat (unless there’s explicit permission). The cat could do damage. Panchita has already found the nonskid on my standup paddleboard a nice place to scratch, and the nuisance damage from claws digging into, say, fake teak decking can get expensive to fix.

What if the cat lands in the water? It’s our biggest fear. Some liveaboards hang apparatus off the side of the boat while anchored or moored for the cat to self-rescue by climbing up. It could be a fishing net or a yoga mat, or any of a number of things.

In our first weeks with Panchita on board, that fear was realized. Late one night, she got out through a hatch we didn’t think was accessible to her. We only found out she’d gone wandering when she came into our cabin, soaked and meowing mad, around 3 o’clock one morning. Her bloodied claws suggest that she was lucky to get out of the water, probably by way of climbing barnacle-crusted pilings. High on our agenda is working out something to hang off the transom for her to climb, and to do some in-water training at anchor.

Previously, Panchita loved to be outside, and had free access to go in and out during the daytime at our apartment. Being mostly confined to a boat is a massive transition, but an essential one.

The Benefit of a Tracker

I can’t imagine not having a tracker. They come in two basic types (radio-frequency and cellphone based) with different advantages. We have both and will employ whichever is best suited to the current situation.

Tabcat was our first tracker. It uses radio frequencies. We decided this was a great fit with our intention to be in remote, disconnected islands. It’s a lightweight tag on Panchita’s collar that lets us home in on her location from 500 feet away. We can remotely prompt the tag to beep, and she has become conditioned (anchovies, again) to return to our apartment when it sounds. A Tabcat kit includes two tags, each with a battery life of up to one year.

After Panchita’s nighttime escape and unplanned swim, we also decided to try a GPS-type tracker. Tractive’s historical tracking feature was eye-opening: We could immediately see that she was getting off the boat when we didn’t realize it, and probably getting onto multiple other boats on the dock. We have since buttoned up her escape routes so we can sleep at night, and we set a perimeter alert so we are pinged if she goes beyond our safe, close range. It’s also comforting to know that if she does wander farther, the GPS/cellular network method will help us find her.

The tag is bigger than Tabcat’s, but our petite, 2-pound Panchita doesn’t seem to mind. The tag is also waterproof. It’s possible to remotely prompt it to make a sound or flash a light. It does need regular charging, about every other day, and for those hours it can’t be on. For that reason, some cruisers with Tractive tags purchase two.

This link Tractive gives you a 30 percent discount; the bigger cost will be the subscription, however.

Arriving in New Countries

It’s more complicated to arrive in a new country as a pet than to arrive as a human. Even if the pet won’t leave the boat (like the dwarf hamsters we carried to 28 countries), the pet should be declared, which usually means paperwork.

Pets should be microchipped and have current vaccinations. You may need a vet’s certificate of health from the country where you departed; you may be able to get one on arrival. Countries may require a titer test (proof of sufficient rabies antibodies) taken within the past few years. Others won’t allow your pet regardless of titer tests if they’ve been in countries with certain levels of rabies risk within a defined period of time. Every country’s pet-entry requirements are different and need researching.

Excellent veterinary care is available in Mexico, but we naturalized Panchita as a US kitty with a couple of road trips to a veterinarian in Tucson, Arizona. To avoid the 120-day quarantine that was formerly the norm, handwritten records in Spanish weren’t going to be enough. Plus, the titer test required spinning serum from a blood sample and then overnighting it to the University of Kansas (with results sent directly to Hawaii).  Don’t tell my husband, Jamie, but those trips added up to around $1,000.

Health Needs

Cruisers invest a lot of preparation to care for the medical needs of the crew: giving CPR, and sourcing prescriptions or other medications that could be needed.

To do the proper sourcing for a pet, we attended a presentation by a cruising veterinarian, Dr. Sheddy, who addressed medicines to carry and how to handle wound care, near-drownings, poisoning and more. It was eye-opening. She’s seven years into her mission to provide free veterinary care to animals in need from aboard her sailboat, Chuffed. She shares practical, real-world advice for remote cruising with a pet on board, including medications for your pet’s first aid kit.  

We’d Do It Again, But…

Most pets will increase complication, add costs, and affect the boat’s routing options. And, cruising might not be your pet’s idea of living their best life. You may already have a pet who is part of your family, and who will make the sacrifice willingly. But if you don’t have a pet yet, think hard before adding one if you plan to go cruising.For a more dog-centered point of view, see this recent article in Spinsheet magazine by our friend Cindy Wallach. She’s cruising the Caribbean with rescue pups Choo Choo and Pip, and has great insights.

The post Cruising with a Pet appeared first on Cruising World.

This month, we’re rolling out a new Sailing Totem series featuring hindsight intelligence from our massive refit, beginning with the forward head. Totem’s smallest cabin underwent very big changes and was a showcase for many of the decisions that would shape the refit overall.

When we bought Totem in 2007, the forward head retained the traditional look of a white finish with varnished wood trim. We destroyed that early on for practical reasons: chainplate replacement, better storage and then holding tank migration. They were the right moves, but it was never an appealing space—until now, which goes to show how significantly a boat’s interior can be changed.

This started as a simple repair (this is a theme—the domino effect of a small project). The original sole was a fiberglass shower pan with teak grating, intended as a wet head. In early Totem days we removed the shower, but in its wet head lifespan, the seam between the pan and a bulkhead opened up. Water found its way through and rotted the lower portion of the bulkhead. The area was not visible nor accessible, but Jamie noticed small bits of rotted plywood in the bilge.

He cut a small access hole through the shower pan to assess, and, well, throughout the day it became a large access hole, followed by the decision to rip out the entire pan. A two-foot-wide section at the bottom of the bulkhead was dry rot. (Every boat has it, boss.)

As he cut out the bad section of bulkhead to begin repairs, other possibilities rolled around his head: We could get rid of the 40-year-old cracked Formica. We wanted to decommission the old VacuFlush toilet and upgrade to a newer type, but it would need a new base. Why not move it from the awkwardly narrow location as well? The washing machine sat inside a locker; that placement could be better. Why not rebuild the adjacent vanity while updating that storage? Why not relocate the holding tank seacock that was barely reachable? Heck, why not just rebuild the whole cabin? In the end, only the holding tank (which we installed in Australia in 2011) remained in the same place.

Form and Function

It’s nice to have an appealing cabin after years of strict utilitarianism. It’s also more functional and more comfortable. The bulkhead was rebuilt in a way that no water can ever reach again. Stating the obvious, we made a conscious choice to move away from the wood-paneled interior look of a classic bluewater boat. I expect this will garner some hand-wringing from the traditionalists, and I don’t care. We love the clean, fresh feel and tones of the new finishes. 

To counterbalance the loss of warm tones (still not missing the sterile white Formica), we looked for natural materials to bring back an organic feeling of warmth. A bamboo vanity counter and river rock sole fit the bill nicely.

As for function, the new toilet location and orientation allows easier use while sailing. The washing machine is out of obvious sight and fits the small space perfectly. The existing vanity area storage is more accessible. The vessel style of sink—not normally a favorite—has the subtle benefit of less small counter space. And, it just looks cool!

Material Selection

Bamboo, for the vanity, was honestly a bit of an experiment. It had to be perfectly sealed, as any moisture will wick, stain and damage. Our fingers are crossed for now. We purchased it in plywood sheets from Cali Bamboo, saturated them in multiple coats of epoxy, then used a matte two-part polyurethane finish.

River rock was an unconventional choice for a boat. It feels incredible underfoot. Every time I set foot into the head now feels like a bit of reflexology therapy. To make the install easier, we purchased it in tiles designed to nest together from Pebble Tile Mosaics. They were set in epoxy, sealed, and a boat-friendly grout was applied.

We use AlexSeal for Totem’s hull, and we used the same for the interior. The goal was a durable finish that would feel almost like gelcoat for easy cleaning and permanence. What we didn’t want was the shiny look of a hull, though, which meant adding a lot of flattener. Warmer whites (the cloudlike Fleet White for the headliner, and the warmer toned Lunar White for the walls/bulkheads) give the space a homey glow. The folks at AlexSeal and San Diego Marine Exchange, where we purchased the paint, answered our many questions to achieve the look we wanted.

Product Selections

Toilet. Out goes the VacuFlush, in goes the Tecma Nano. We’ve used Tecma for several years in the aft head, and are impressed. Fresh water (and it doesn’t use much) means no smell. A composting head was never part of our consideration set, since the lone benefit for us is storage space by getting rid of a holding tank. Not compelling, especially when weighed against the tradeoffs. The head’s location changed in the refit. It’s now oriented so when seated you face across the beam instead of fore/aft. Much easier underway.

Sink. The Vitreous China Sink was an affordable (about $60) Wayfair purchase. With a 16-inch by 13-inch oval, opting for a vessel style instead of inset, the counter space was effectively increased, which makes a big difference such a compact space. The faucet is a household Delta model, and while it felt too expensive at nearly triple the cost of the sink, we had been frustrated by faucets and taps that failed quickly and we appreciated that the “guts” of these ones are better made.

Washer. Nothing new here. This is the same Giantex we’ve had since 2018, after finally graduating from the five-gallon bucket. We’ve considered upgrades, but this simple, affordable (we paid around $200) machine has been great. Check out our washing machine discussion for ideas here.

Favorites

I posted a list of reasons I love the new head on our social media, and the response inspired a more detailed summary. So here goes. A few things stand out: First, how clean this looks, even with the open cubbies. Okay, don’t laugh about the peanuts on that top cubby. That container is actually holding kibble for our ship’s cat, Panchita. Her toys, treats and first-aid kit occupy part of the storage locker behind the head.

I finally embraced a feeling of settling into our home again while rolling up a new set of Marmara’s Turkish towels. We treated ourselves to a new set when we moved back abaord, saying goodbye to the prior towels we’ve had for eight years. Fringe-less, this time. For me, hanging a bath-sized towel by the door and a hand towel by the sink was that moment. If you’d like to support small businesses like Marmara, and their yummy, soft organic towels, we highly recommend.

So, what’s missing? Well, the space could use a little more personalization—some artwork, especially. I have a couple of favorite prints that I’m really tempted to put in the head, but I’m afraid I won’t see them often enough. Maybe the right piece will become apparent while wandering a market here in Mexico; something to remind us of this country we’ve come to love.

Reality Check

The understated material, which is not visible and yet we couldn’t have done the refit without, was epoxy. Jamie’s preferred brand is West System, and he sure went through a lot of it—around 38 gallons for the entire refit. He used epoxy and fiberglass to rebuild the bottom of the rotten bulkhead: epoxy thickened with colloidal silica to fill holds and filler inside corners; epoxy thickened a little with easy-to-sand fillers to saturate every interior wood surface to make it waterproof, tougher and prepared for paint. Where there is epoxy, there is sanding—so much sanding—which required sandpaper, respirators, and two overworked random orbital sanders for one very tired sailor who would much prefer to be sailing.

Jamie is very clear about one thing: that he’s not planning to do a refit of this scale ever again.

What do you like about our refit and the changes to this cabin? Got ideas for what to add in our sparse head? Let us know in the comments!

Don’t miss our March TOTEM TALKS, with a special guest!

Notice how I dropped that mention of our cat’s first-aid kit above? We’ve recently been lucky to connect in person with Dr Sheddy, the cruising veterinarian of Vet Tails. She’s been aboard S/V Chuffed for seven years, bringing free health care to animals along the way. (To be honest, I’d never thought about a first-aid kit for a cat, but, as it turns out, of course we need to.) She’ll join us on Saturday, March 30 at 9am Pacific/Noon Eastern to tell stories from her cruising adventures as well as share some highly practical information about taking care of a pet aboard. Register here, and feel free to send questions in advance!

The post Sailing Totem Refit Series: The Forward Head Makeover appeared first on Cruising World.

As sailboat races go, the first Wednesday-night race of the season was off to a cracking start. Our crew maneuvered ungracefully prestart, and we were sloppy tacking aboard the J/35, but our winter fog lifted as we beat toward the windward mark. 

Then the sailing therapy abruptly ended with a crash. 

As dismastings go, this one was uncomplicated. The windward cap shroud failed at the upper T fitting. What had been installed by a rigger the week before became a mess of wires, crumpled aluminum, and torn Kevlar. I was a sailmaker at the time, and my takeaway was clear: Never trust riggers.

Two decades later, I was aloft on our Stevens 47, Totem, to inspect newly fabricated and installed standing rigging. All was fine up to the second spreader, where I found several missing cotter pins. The memory of the dismasting came to mind. Our dream of sailing to the South Pacific with three young children suddenly felt riskier. We had hired the best rigger around, but the entire project was a fraught with mistakes and delays. A couple of bucks’ worth of missing parts could’ve toppled the mast, our dream and our safety.

Most sailors don’t think it’s necessary to inspect a rigger’s work, just as most drivers never inspect a car’s engine before driving away from a mechanic’s repair shop. But there is a difference. If a car repair is faulty, resources are nearby. Rigging problems at sea can be complicated, and there’s not usually an expert rigger around the corner. 

To prove reliability, you have to own it—really own responsibility for the condition of rigging, steering cables, through-hull fittings and more. This can feel daunting because it’s technical. 

For beginners, forget about rigging terminology and engineering. Also, don’t focus on finding cracked wire strands or fittings. That’s not to say ignore them if you find them, but cracked metal is a late discovery, well past safe limits. Instead, learn to spot clues that indicate early stages of a problem. 

For instance, look for rust on stainless steel and for corrosion on aluminum. Question why a line is getting harder and harder to pull. Sight up the mast while sailing to see if the mast profiles look smooth or lumpy, stable or dynamically bouncing. Look from side to side and from front to back. Note how slack the leeward shrouds are while sailing in different windspeeds. And get to the chainplate behind your bookshelf to look for water stains, especially rusty water stains that trail downward. 

These are all clues to potential problems. You don’t have to know the solution, but rigging failures happen mostly because nobody identified the clues.

Rigging Inspection Tips

Stainless steel should be shiny with a smooth, fluid look. Being rough, dull, splotchy or striated might indicate lower-quality metal, or it can mean that the metal has changed properties from age or use. Stainless steel is least effective at resisting rust when its surface is frequently abraded, such as a clevis pin securing the articulating parts of a boom gooseneck. This is also the case when the surface is deprived of the oxygen necessary to form a protective layer, such as bolts passing through a chainplate and bulkhead. 

Have a 10x loupe to amplify what you cannot see well enough with eyes alone. Look for general surface smoothness, pitting and cracks. Light-orange rust is probably superficial, and is easily cleaned with white vinegar and a rag. Darker red and brown rust can indicate failing or failed metal. 

Does the rust have a pronounced line or edge? This could be a crack, even if it’s not opened up yet. Photograph the area to note the date and condition. Then clean away the rust to assess surface problems. If rust reforms in the same areas within several weeks, the metal is not right and needs further attention.

Additional checks for rigging wire include looking for uneven gaps between the wire strands. Run your hand over the wire, feeling for any strands that are slightly raised. These can be broken strands, which might be hidden inside a swage fitting.

Understanding Alignment

Another thing to consider is alignment. It’s the relationship between the direction of a rigging load (force) and the orientation of the rigging component meant to carry that load.

Take a pencil, grasp each end, and try to pull the pencil apart. You probably can’t. Now secure half the pencil length to a table, with the other half extending past the edge. Push down on the overhanging end. It breaks easily. 

The pencil is surprisingly strong when load is parallel to the length of the pencil. The more misaligned the load is to the length, the easier it is to break the pencil. 

It’s the same concept with rigging. Chainplates should be shaped and oriented to transfer load down the length of the metal and into the bulkhead. If the chainplate has an angle out of alignment with the shroud, then the metal flexes to pull it straight if there is enough load. The more it flexes, the weaker and more brittle the chainplate gets. 

This was the cause of our J/35 dismasting. The T fitting at the top of the shroud was set incorrectly in the mast slot. The forced misalignment was too much for the metal, and it failed.

The most common misalignment I see on rigging is with toggles—the U-shaped linkage used at the bottom of every turnbuckle and numerous other parts of standing rigging. A toggle fitted over a chainplate is often wider than the chainplate. There is room enough that the toggle slides, so one side is against the chainplate. The other side, with a gap between it and the chainplate, is misaligned to the load. The rounded-end portion of the toggle (the bottom of the U) is stressed and flexed, ever so slightly. This cycle loading, coupled with the metal pieces scraping against each other and no oxygen, is a recipe for trouble. 

Where the surfaces come together is a good place to look for dark-red or brown rust on the toggle. This misalignment is easily corrected by adding a few bucks’ worth of nylon washers to keep the chainplate centered within the U of the toggle.

A Sad, Common Tale

We did sail Totem to the South Pacific in 2010. In one year sailing between Mexico and Australia, I counted 15 boats that had dismasted along the way, and a few near dismastings. One occurred on friends’ Tayana 52 after the headstay chainplate sheared off at deck level on passage to remote Suwarrow in the Cook Islands. 

Their chainplate was ­oriented fore and aft. After years of sailing with the wind force in the genoa pushing the headstay side to side, imperceptible flexing in the chainplate without ­structural support to counter the misaligned force weakened the metal to the point of breaking. 

Fortunately, in that case, the inner forestay and a downwind sailing angle (where forces pushing the mast forward create less load on the headstay) were enough to support the mast through the midnight fire drill to reduce sail and destress the rigging. But the lesson remains the same: Try to spot and fix these problems before they reach this point.

As I write this, Totem is nearly ready to sail west across the Pacific Ocean again. Our 30-month refit has left much of Totem new, except the mast, which is original at 42 years old. The standing rigging is only four years young, but I’ll be aloft with my 10x loupe regularly in hopes of keeping the trip uncomplicated, as ocean crossings go.

The post How to Rig Everything in Your Favor appeared first on Cruising World.

The conventional contents of a well-supplied ditch kit no longer make sense for most cruisers. As we prepared our 47-foot Stevens Totem for a new round of ocean passagemaking, we thought more critically about what belongs in our kit. It now looks very different from the kit we packed to sail south from Puget Sound in 2008.

The point of a ditch kit is to provide resources to survive if we must abandon ship. Necessary resources are contextual, of course. Are you 5 miles or 1,500 miles from the coast? What is the nearest rescue or aid-rendering resource? Is it hours away, or days?

Advice about what to put in a ditch kit abounds, but building the best kit for your particular boat and cruising plan is not so simple. There are big lists out there of all the things we might need (for example, Quantum’s recommended list, which includes 79 lines and far more items to pack) that stem from real examples in the living memory of our cruising community where a major event could mean weeks in a raft. Books have been published, such as Adrift: 76 Days at Sea, Steven Callahan’s recounting of his 1982 ordeal. But the world has changed. Trying to build a kit that contains everything is now a liability, not a saving grace. 

Why? For two primary reasons: The time to abandon, and the time to rescue.

Regarding the time to abandon, imagine that you’re offshore when a serious event happens. Your boat is holed by debris. Or, it’s on fire. You have minimal time to launch a life raft. It’s night. The seas are rough. A crewmember is sick or injured. In this scenario, a weighty, overstuffed kit is less likely to make the transfer as you abandon ship—and if the kit’s not with you, it’s not a helpful resource. What’s better than having everything you might need is, instead, having the minimum resources required. A compact, lighter kit will be easier to grab and go, increasing the probability of the ditch kit making it into the raft with you. 

Now, think about time to rescue. In the past, this amount of time in the life raft was routinely much longer than it is today. Your time between calling a mayday and being rescued is almost certainly going to be measured in hours, not weeks. Fishing gear and hand-pumped watermakers are not necessary to survive hours or even a couple of days in a life raft.  

A friend with the U.S. Coast Guard confirmed for us that time to rescue is now startlingly short compared to what it was in past decades. Today’s sailors have better tech for signaling—EPIRBs, personal locator beacons, weatherproof and portable GPS and VHF radios. We also live in an era when rescue services are better coordinated, better equipped (think: heat-sensing cameras) and better at finding boats in distress. Starlink, even, has helped to effect faster retrieval, such as the recent case of the offshore sailboat Raindancer, which sank 15 minutes after colliding with a whale between the Galapagos and Marquesas islands. Quick coordination among cruising boats with Starlink meant the crew was picked up by other cruisers only 10 hours after abandoning ship. 

One key to a rapid rescue time is being able to call a mayday with your location to people who can facilitate your rescue. After that, think about the minimum resources you will need while waiting for help. 

For all these reasons, our ditch kit recommendations now start with an EPIRB that transmits via AIS. (See products from McMurdo and ACR. Some personal locator beacons also have AIS that can signal to help approaching rescuers find you. Have a waterproof VHF radio, ideally with digital selective calling and separately stored batteries. There also are dedicated, emergency VHF radios with long-life lithium batteries. A handheld GPS, also with batteries stored separately, is another good idea, as is a portable way to communicate offshore in weather, such as a Garmin inReach or an Iridium Go.

Next, add drinking water; weatherproof flashlights with separately stored batteries (a waterproof container for all these batteries is ideal, as is one for all the devices); and flares. Consider the traditional, pyrotechnic type as well as electronic flares. 

Beyond that, think about context. Where are you cruising? If you’re in icy waters, you may have other essential requirements, such as survival suits.

Most life rafts come with some gear packed inside. Identify what yours contains, and adjust accordingly. In late in 2023, we purchased an offshore life raft. Inside were a range of items we didn’t need, such as a signaling mirror and seasickness medication.

Our new ditch kit is about one-third the size of the kit we had when we circumnavigated on Totem. The smaller bag is much lighter and easier to carry—and we have secondary ditch kits that we can also try to bring in an emergency, but that are not essential. These secondary kits include a jerry can with fresh water that will float if thrown overboard, and that can be secured to the raft with a tether; basic first aid supplies for burns, cuts and contusions; laminated copies of personal identification documents; dense sources of nutrition, such as granola bars and peanut butter; and low-weight, low-bulk space blankets.

This approach to making modern primary and secondary ditch kits is far better than our old kit, which I could barely even lift—and which ultimately was so heavy, it could have sunk. It also was hard to keep track of all the contents that need periodic review, such as batteries for expiration dates. 

We are far from the only experienced cruisers now advocating for a different ditch-kit approach. Capt. Eugenie Russell, whose J/120 was holed by a whale while racing from Southern California to Ensenada, Mexico, has talked about how that boat’s ditch kit drifted away and sank, instead of making it to the raft. But the EPIRB had been set, and the crew had a handheld VHF radio—which meant they spent only four hours in the life raft. 

Russell now suggests having a VHF radio clipped to you. Maybe a waterproof case for a smartphone and passport clipped to you too. Perhaps a backpack-style ditch bag to keep your hands free in an emergency. 

Context really is everything, though. Don’t let anyone, including us, tell you what should be in your ditch kit. The world is rarely that simple, especially when you’re exploring it by boat.

The post It’s Time to Rethink Your Ditch Kit appeared first on Cruising World.

In spite of ourselves, or perhaps thanks to ourselves, we and our 47-foot Stevens are safely in Banderas Bay, Mexico, after a weeklong passage—Totem’s first since hauling at the Cabrales Boatyard in April 2021.

We often tell the clients we coach about liveaboard cruising, “Your boat is unreliable until proven otherwise.” My husband, Jamie, and I did not take our own advice very well. Before departing the harbor, Totem’s brand-new engine had been run for less than five minutes. New plumbing, wiring, LiFePO4 batteries and a range of new equipment from solar panels to offshore communications and a stove had been installed, and barely used.

On the other hand, we felt that we knew Totem and the nuances of our passage well. There was also pressure to reach Banderas Bay to meet our kids as they arrived for winter holidays, flouting another cruising maxim: Never have a schedule.

With a nervous, new-to-boating cat on board, we motored out of Puerto Peñasco. A trifecta of faults emerged inside of a few hours: The new windex fell from the masthead, crashing below; the autopilot pulled “crazy Ivans”; and Jamie found an unexpectedly large amount of water in the bilge. “Fresh or salt?” I asked, almost afraid of the answer. 

Thankfully, then, the problems slowed down. Jamie suspects he forgot to tighten the nut for the windex. Autopilot function was restored after much troubleshooting, and after Raymarine customer service directed a wire swap. The bilgewater’s source was a new hose to our hot water tank that softened more than expected. We fixed it.

Ahead of us was still 800 nautical miles, about five and a half days at a typical pace for Totem, to reach our destination of La Cruz de Huanacaxtle. Plenty of time for surprises or mishaps. Although, we’d broken another rule: Always start a passage well-rested. In fact, we were exhausted. Jamie was a perpetual motion machine, seven days a week, making Totem ready. I was fresh off a course of antibiotics for bronchitis, physically run-down. This was a shakedown not just of the boat, but also of our senses, our routines and our skills. 

Wintertime sailing in the Sea of Cortez includes managing the roll of northerly systems and the lack of wind between northers. We paused in San Carlos, dropping the new Rocna Vulcan anchor for the first time into wide-open Bahia Algodones at 1 a.m. Easier sleep was nice, but the stop was to change the transmission oil and inspect engine connections, as per Beta’s break-in recommendations. We also took on more diesel. This was a delivery passage, not a leisure cruise. 

Predictably, the equipment had glitches. All the winches needed servicing. Both the AIS (new) and the GPS were flaky. The new speed transducer was off by 2 knots, clearly needing to be calibrated. Also needing calibration were new transducers for the freshwater and black-water tank levels. A total surprise was that the running lights didn’t work. Fortunately, the masthead tricolor kept us visible at night.  

In addition, our crew was reduced to two. In our latter years cruising, the kids who grew up on Totem made watch rotations and rest easier. What would doublehanding be like again? I leaned into the fact that we’d done that before, with the handicap of managing small children—a bigger burden. 

Watchkeeping under the inky nights of this passage’s new moon was brightened by shooting stars from the Geminid meteor shower. Despite the weeks of pushing our limits in the run-up to departure, we fell easily into our rhythm for alternating watch. 

Combining a shakedown with a delivery may not sound fun, but this passage reconnected us with the joy of life under sail. We reveled in the updates completed to Totem. Jamie grinned as he scrolled through the new multifunction display’s data for the engine, tankage and energy produced by the 1,215-watt solar upgrade. We ran the 120-VAC watermaker off inverted power from the new 945-amp-hour Blue Heron battery LiFePO4 bank. A new mattress—why did we wait so long to replace that old foam slab?—glided the off-watch into slumber. The new GN Espace oven’s performance made us both a little giddy about future galley fun. And, as we worked down the typically disconnected Sea of Cortez, seamless broadband from Starlink eased several rough edges. 

Our boats, after years, are like extensions of ourselves. We know where the sole creaks when we step on it, and which door knocks because the hook or latch isn’t quite tight enough, and how wind on the beam whistles through rigging above 15 knots. Our boats talk to us in different voices during different conditions. Totem’s sounds are new again. It’s exciting and unsettling. 

Tucked into a roadstead anchorage near Topolobampo, where a scrubby sand spit offered protection from the latest norther, Jamie and I reviewed our progress. I counted things to be grateful for, such as how well our cat, Panchita, was adjusting to life on a moving platform. Gazing at the carpet of stars, we wondered about the new sounds from Totem, only to realize that in the moment, they were dominated by squeaks and chirps from a pod of dolphins swirling around the hull. Such moments of magic distanced us from 30 months of tedious and trying refit work.

Just after midnight, we got underway again. With the wind eased to 20 knots, we rigged for dead downwind, wing-and-wing sailing. It was a bit rolly, but we were sailing again, finally. The new genoa was perfection that helped power us to a top speed of 9.8 knots.

Almost exactly one week after departing Puerto Peñasco, we arrived in La Cruz de Huanacaxtle. Turning the corner at Punta de Mita into Banderas Bay, the magnitude of the return overwhelmed us, as did the bay’s natural drama. The glossy dark backs of humpback whales gently breaking the surface, a dorado leaping off Totem’s bow, sea turtles in number, birds diving into our wake—all surrounded by the rugged Sierra Madre mountain range. Friends had been watching our approach, and as we neared the harbor, a pair of dinghies came out with cheers, greetings and, best of all, our daughters, Mairen and Siobhán, a perfect cap to the journey.

The passage wasn’t uncomfortable or challenging, despite the uncertainty of which shakedown bug might emerge next. It wasn’t graceful, with gear crammed in place and some locker doors taped closed because hardware wasn’t installed yet. However, so much more worked well than didn’t.

The worst surprise was coming down with a case of pneumonia. But mostly, what remains with us are the happy faces of friends who helped us cast off. They smiled in a celebratory send-off from the dock, tying a bow on our extended refit. Happy tears ran down my cheeks as we motored to the harbor entrance. Delight warmed us upon realizing friends followed us out of the harbor to wave us off.

Sailing away from the Sonora desert, our emotions welled up to eclipse our exhaustion. We closed a chapter on transformation and exhaled in our home place: aboard Totem, and at sea.

The post A Return to the Water appeared first on Cruising World.

Inspecting the condition of your rigging is an important step in safe-passage preparation, so going aloft is—or should be—on the maintenance shortlist of many cruisers. Does that sound like a glorious opportunity to gaze at your boat from an eagle’s-eye view or a nerve-racking ascent to avoid (or get over with as quickly as possible)? Maybe the reaction is, “Hell no, that’s a job for a rigger!” However you feel about going aloft, cruisers should be familiar with safe practices for ascending their boat’s mast(s). Here are some tips for doing it well.

Safety first

Going up the mast is serious business that requires good, proven equipment, safe practices, and an eye to knowing when not to defy gravity. If you question any of the safety checks described here, make a plan and go aloft only after addressing them.

Overview

Because humans are clever, there are a surprising number of ways to ascend toward the stars on a sailboat, such as sitting in a bosun’s chair, dangling in a harness, or climbing mast steps, whether solo or with a winch buddy. There is no best approach, just the one that works for you.

Make a plan

If doing a solo ascent, anticipate the necessary tools so you don’t have add a trip for that missing screwdriver. When assisted, discuss if you will inspect things on the way up or down, communication protocol, and line-handling technique.

What tools will you need, and how will you carry them? Items should be accessible and safely stowed. Jamie has a canvas bucket that slings onto the side of the bosun’s chair; it holds enough without being too deep to reach items easily. If you don’t usually put keepers on your sunglasses or eyeglasses, this is a good time to do so. Remember that even a small item dropped from aloft can have a much greater impact below. Crew on deck should stay away from the mast base when not actively raising or lowering the aloft person.

Unambiguous communication

Does stop mean soonish or, “My knee jammed between shrouds, and I will bleed if hoisted 1 millimeter farther”? Talk through the steps you plan to take. Will you stop at spreaders on the way up, the way down, or both? 

Assume you will not be able to hear each other without aid. If you have wireless headsets (called “marriage savers”) for anchoring, such as Bluetooth Sena headsets or 1.9 GHz Eartec headsets, this is a perfect additional use. A clipped-on handheld VHF on an unused channel is another option. Or simple earbuds or a headset and a phone are an easy hands-free alternative. There are even apps you can use to connect 1-to-1 without internet, such as by using NFC or your boat’s network. 

Good gear

Start with the device between the human and hoist mechanism. If using a harness, is it in good condition and at least reasonably comfortable? Same if it’s a bosun’s chair. Check that the mast steps aren’t corroded, the halyard isn’t chafed or UV-damaged, the winch is working well, and the rope clutch securely holds the line under load. Note that a winch self-tailing mechanism alone is not enough to secure a person aloft. We know of a fatality when the halyard slipped from a self-tailer and the rope clutch did not engage.

Lift mechanism

Use halyards or a boom topping lift, but not a spinnaker halyard (or other external halyards) as the primary hoist; it’s OK to use these as backup safety lines. Spinnaker halyards run through hanging external blocks, adding greater risk for failure. 

When Totem was in the Seychelles, new cruising friends asked for help after discovering a couple of broken wire strands on their 55-foot monohull and hired Jamie to inspect the rigging.  He was inclined to go up the mast—barely inclined, thanks to a sloppy anchorage and gusty trade winds. As Jamie started rigging the bosun’s chair, the owner grabbed the spinnaker halyard as the primary hoist for the ride up. Jamie said, “No, I don’t go up on spinnaker halyards.” The owner pleaded, and the wind blew too much to drop the furled main and headsail, so Jamie acquiesced. Upon reaching the masthead, the first thing Jamie checked was the external spinnaker halyard block—and he found a crack in the shackle. Next was the fastest controlled descent possible.

Make sure the halyard(s) are in good condition. If the halyard does not pass through a rope clutch, you must secure the tail to a cleat after the winch. A second halyard (with an additional person to tail it) acts as a safety line, just in case. 

Don’t use halyard shackles; they can fail, leading to catastrophe. Instead, tie halyards with a bow line. Consider bringing up a safety tether to clip to the mast if working at one spot for a while.

Test!

Before ascending, do a shock-load test. It’s free, easy and really good piece of mind. If going up in a chair or harness, hoist your ride a few feet above the deck, then bounce. Really throw your weight down into it. You want to check the shock load from a safe height, not one that can break bones or do neurological damage.

Electric winch?

No. Well, it’s hard to make this choice when push-button power is an option, as it turns out to be a lot of work to haul someone up the mast. But electric winches are powerful, and very bad things can happen very quickly. Power-winch accidents in hoisting scenarios have resulted in the loss of fingers and limbs. There is also the risk of not stopping at the masthead in time, so the trusty bow line jams or gets pulled into the halyard sheave. That can cause the line to fail, which is easier than you might think because electric winches work so quickly and powerfully. Clear, unambiguous communication with your partner becomes even more important. If you do go up with the power winch, the winch operator must use extreme caution.

Going up!

Take pictures while you’re up there. No, it’s not just to show how cool you look at the masthead. Get a lot of photos of the rig, both zoomed in (in focus) and panned for context. You might also find something unexpected to capture and examine later. Reviewing photos offers another opportunity to rig-check after the climb and spot things you might have missed.

Descend safely

Gravity is your friend—and your foe. It will make lowering you easier, but the ride down can feel uncomfortably jerky. To reduce jerkiness, the deck support crew should ease the line smoothly in 3-  to  4-inch sections rather than small increments. Be sure the eased halyard has a fair lead to the winch so there is no chance the line can jump over the end of the winch. 

The other contributing element for a smoother ride is being mindful of the number of wraps around a winch—too many, and it won’t ease smoothly. Usually, two wraps provide enough friction to hold the person’s weight while still letting the line slide around the winch as needed. If the weight feels like too much to hold easily, then add another wrap.

Remember that returning to deck level is more dangerous because the self-tailer and rope clutch are not used when easing.

The easiest inspection

Does it need to be said? It’s a lot safer and easier to inspect your rig components when they’re lying on sawhorses at ground level and not in the boat. This is the current state of Totem’s equipment, although we hope to have it back up again soon. We’re counting down to the boat’s splash…and sailing to Puerto Vallarta in December!

The post Sailing Totem: Safely Going Up the Mast appeared first on Cruising World.

We’ve been asked recently: What do you do to keep your cruising sailboat clean? What routines do you have for liveaboard boat cleaning? 

On Totem we have two basic principles:

1. Keep the approach simple and effective, because there are a lot of other things we’d prefer to spend our time doing than cleaning the boat. 
2. Prioritize environmentally friendly cleaning products, for reasons that shouldn’t need explaining. 

Cleaning Tools

We have far fewer cleaning tools on the boat than we did in our house—and almost all run on elbow grease instead of electricity.

Vacuum: A rechargeable handheld model like this works for us; other friends swear by their more powerful, compact Dyson model.

Whisk broom and dustpan: These are often easier to grab than the vacuum.

Buckets: There’s always a 5-gallon bucket or two on board, and often a smaller bucket as well. Nesting bowls from the galley can get called into service too.

Scrub brushes: A brush around the size of your hand works for most below-deck needs; we keep a couple of wider brushes for deck scrubbing. A small brush, like a toothbrush or nail brush, is useful for getting into small or awkward spots.

Sponges: For generally cleaning, two all-stars: extra-thirsty sponges, like these big carwash sponges, for soaking after sluicing, and Swedish dishcloths (thin sponges, actually, made from cotton and cellulose), which are great for everyday wiping up, and they’re biodegradable. 

Cotton rags: We use them to wipe, polish and dry. Old T-shirts are great, and so is terry cloth. Avoid using microfiber rags because they add microplastics to the water. 

Great multitool: Use this telescoping handle with interchangeable attachments to be a mop, brush or boat hook.

Notice the dearth of long handles? We’re just not that big of a boat, which translates to doing fine with the smaller stuff and working with the available storage aboard.

Making environmentally friendly choices is harder than it should be because there is no regulation in using terms such as biodegradable, nontoxic or natural. Brands can use any terms to their liking without consequence, and the cleaning industry is full of greenwashing. That’s just one reason we like to lean on cleaning products that are based on simple ingredients we can more readily supply. 

You might like choosing brands that prioritize environmental friendliness versus the DIY cleaner approach for keeping a cruising boat clean. That’s cool! Do your research and try multiple, environmentally safe products when you have access to them; not all brands will be available once you sail away. You might be in a place where environmentally friendly products are available, but this was not the case in most places we’ve sailed. We’ve found that what’s readily available are products from multinational brands thinking about profit, not the planet. 

Basic Cleaning Kit

Here’s a quick list of ingredients that stocks an effective cleaning kit on board. Most are widely available. Another great advantage of this slimmed-down cleaning approach, beyond being liberated from brands and radically reducing packaging? Freeing up precious storage space from the array of products you thought you needed! 

Vinegar: Great for cleaning, disinfecting, deodorizing, deterring mold or mildew…the wonder ingredient for all-purpose cleaning.

Baking soda: Shake it on straight for scrubbing. Like vinegar, it is shockingly multipurpose on board, and like vinegar (which we keep in gallons on board), you can store it in bulk.

Borax: Similar to baking soda but more alkaline, making it a harsher option. I tend to default to using baking soda. In the mixes below, they are nearly interchangeable. Use slightly less borax. Some folks swear by borax for its strength.

Biodegradable liquid soap: There are many options and bulk packaging. Dr. Bronner’s (castile or Sal Suds) is widely recognized, but it falls into that “hard to find once you leave” category. If you can’t find any, swap phosphorus-free liquid dish soap or use borax and water. Note: Don’t mix castile soap in a vinegar or other acidic solution; they counteract each other (makes sense when you think about it: acid versus alkaline), and the mix will not work.

Lime or lemon juice: This top choice for polishing up stainless on deck is readily available just about everywhere, and often inexpensive. As a backup, use citric acid.

Optionally, use essential oils to add a specific result, whether it’s fragrance or antibacterial. If you’re new to using essential oils, make sure it’s one that plays well with your cleaning goals, and with your denizens. We are new cat parents and have learned that many essential oils are unhealthy for pets. More here about essential oils used on Totem.

A note on bleach. We don’t use it for any general cleaning. Toxicity aside, vinegar is a better deterrent and cleaner for mold or mildew. If you do have bleach, never mix it with vinegar because that creates a dangerous gas. 

Mixes and Methods

Keeping it simple, again: These simple all-purpose approaches work above and below deck. 

1. Spray bottle of all-purpose cleaner for simple cleanup: Put 3 tablespoons of Dr. Bronner’s into a 16 oz. bottle, add a tablespoon of baking soda, then fill with water.
2. Spray bottle of diluted vinegar for basic wiping and mildew deterrent. Use a 3-to-1 (or try 2-to-1) ratio; optional addition of essential oils. Basic wipe down or to remove soap film. 
3. A squeeze bottle of scrubbing liquid ready to go for the deck or the counters. Mix 1 2/3 cups baking soda with ½ cup Dr. Bronner’s in a bowl, and dilute with ½ cup water (or more if needed to pour readily). Great deck scrubber.  
4. Abrasive powder in a shaker (repurpose a grated-cheese canister) is simply baking soda and optional essential oil: shake on, then scrub or wipe up bigger messes. Spray on top with that vinegar solution and wipe away.

One of the things that’s flummoxed me is finding a good spray bottle that holds up over time. The ones I’ve tried seem to have a short life span—a couple of years, max. If you have winners, please comment.

Let’s Be Clear About Something

I am not a happy hippie homemaker just stirring up organic cleaners to maintain my spotless spaces with nary a toxic product on the sustainably grown bamboo shelf. LMAO! I’m human, I try my best, and I think that’s what we should all ask of ourselves. OK, if my kids are reading this, they are laughing and saying, “C’mon, Mama, you are a legit hippie!” I am also pragmatic, make imperfect choices, and just try to make better ones when I can.

Meanwhile: not living aboard yet? Great. This is the easiest time for you to start new cleaning habits and to find what works for you. 

Cleaning Products To Avoid

While some are especially an issue where we have runoff into the marine environment, consider that good practices begin on land. Why not start better practices right now?

Dawn detergent: Marketing efforts to the contrary, Dawn is toxic to marine life. Actually, it’s just a really toxic product in general. Read the details behind their failing grade here.

Disposable wipes: Those wipes in a can, whether it’s to disinfect or to wipe your butt, might be convenient. But each one is a piece of single-use plastic. Think they’re OK because it’s all greened-up on a plastic tub from Seventh Generation? Nope. Unilever, parent of Seventh Generation, is definitely more interested in profit than planet. Single-use plastic is a poor choice when there are plenty of alternatives to creating more plastic waste.

Magic Eraser: These sponges are supposed to help get your topsides shiny and bright, but they also shed microplastic in the form of melamine directly into the water.  

Ammonia: Even a tiny bit is toxic to fish. And now you know. Don’t have any on board and you won’t be tempted.

If you’ll BYOB (bring your own brand), remember to look beyond packaging. Here are two “clean” sounding brands repping a toxic product for general cleaning:

• Simple Green. It is not simple or green. It’s a toxic cocktail. Avoid!
• Mrs. Meyers. I know, it looks so wholesome on the label. Well, it’s not wholesome, and has consistent flunking ratings from the environmental working group.

Routines To Get Clean

Aboard Totem, we deep-clean the galley on Wednesdays, the heads on Fridays, and…LOL. I’m yanking your anchor chain: We don’t have any routine. Cleaning aboard is based on need or opportunity. Oh, hey, is that a squall bringing an abundance of fresh water on the horizon? Time to clean.

Is the boat (or a particular cabin) getting dirty? Tackle it when time allows. Do we have access to abundant fresh water? Then it’s a great time to clean. Sometimes that’s exactly what a pending squall means: Time to get out the scrub brushes and use a welcome dump of fresh water.

This is my cue to credit our kids, who were an awesome cleaning crew and generally more fastidious about cleaning up the boat (well, after a certain age anyway) when needed than this particular parent. Team effort helps too: It’s awesome how fast you can scrub down the boat when there are helping hands. Adding a ship’s cat might introduce some kind of “vacuum every X days” routine, but more likely I’ll just see a bunch of cat hair, and that will be the spark to turn on a favorite podcast and get to tidying up.

The post Sailing Totem: What Are the Best Products To Use To Clean Your Boat? appeared first on Cruising World.

Getting mail while cruising is a problem all cruisers need to address (groan). It’s been more than 15 years since Jamie and I received mail in a conventional manner at a fixed address we call home. I have intended to update our guide to the best virtual mailbox services for a while. There are a number of market entrants since our 2017 summary. But more importantly, there’s a key factor—perhaps the key factor—easily overlooked when picking “the best” service for your needs. Services to consider include those in the USA, Canada and select other countries. Don’t miss the mail service FAQ at the bottom!

Choosing a Private Mailbox

There are a few main features to consider when choosing a virtual mailbox service (VMS), with some insight into how these features work.

1. Location. Rarely does a VMS support residency. Most likely, users choose to consolidate in a particular state for convenience or personal reasons. In most cases, VMS does not count as proof of residency.
2. Services. The baseline is simple: A VMS provides a digital scan of your mail (envelope exterior first, interior contents on request), then forwards the mail or shreds it based on your wishes.
3. Cost. There is an annual fee and additional costs. Don’t overlook the add-on charges for bonus services. Many are volume-dependent. Ruthlessly cut your mail by only sharing the new address when required.

The Most Important FactorThe factor I had not considered before: What is the actual storefront for your virtual mailbox service? Outside a headquarters address, most brands and platforms are executed by a local business independent from the platform. We learned this when picking up a parcel sent to an iPostal1 box we rented in Phoenix, and arrived at a small shop called not iPostal1, but Biltmore Mailboxes Plus.

Choosing a VMS is not just picking a plan or service, it’s also trusting your personal mail to other humans. In that sense, don’t you think it might be nice to know more about them? Friends cruising the Caribbean on their St. Francis 44, Majestic, use iPostal1, one of the major virtual mailbox services. In Annapolis, the iPostal1 business (and Anytime Mailbox address) is run out of a Staples store. Staples feels like a faceless chain to some, but it knows the folks working at the mail service inside; this made it the right choice for Majestic.

We recommend due diligence on the storefront, and one of member of our coaching community took it a step further and outlined a great process. In Pinky Parson’s words:

• I Googled the address and used Street View to find out exactly where the mail would arrive what exactly the business is.
• I read Google reviews of the business. If it was a big-box store, I passed. (Just my personal preference.)
• We went to the store to meet the owners and chat with them about which VMS platform they liked working with.
• We went home and signed up for Anytime Mailbox. (The store owners we spoke with had a slight preference based on its ability to help customers with payment information.)
• We came in a couple of days later with IDs to sign the USPS form and meet the rest of the staff.

Parson’s full account of her virtual mail service search can be found on her SV Loka’s blog.

Forwarding Mail

One of the great things about a virtual mail service is your mail is scanned and you can receive it as a PDF. We have never needed to have mail forwarded, so I ignored the subject in our 2017 post on mail services. But our friends on Majestic provided several recent examples of how important VMS forwarding has been for them while cruising in the Caribbean:

• Retirement papers that needed originals with signatures
• Replacement bank cards (typically not sent internationally by banks)
• Global Entry cards for travel back to the USA

Mail forwarding costs can vary meaningfully. If you anticipate this, anticipate the fees!

The Best Mail Services

Expanding and revisiting the original list, we found services you may want—or want to know the cost for—in addition to the factors mentioned. These include an address in the state of your choice (especially if it differs from the service’s headquarter state), a grace period for free mail storage, the ability to repackage when forwarding to reduce cost, and secure shredding. 

Dockside Mail: We’ve used this Seattle-based service for several years now. It was started by liveaboards at Shilshole Bay Marina to meet the need they saw around them. It ticks all our boxes, offers a good value, and the humans behind it are awesome. They really understand the cruiser market. 

Saint Brendan’s Isle: Another family business that gets travelers is popularly known simply as SBI. It has focused on the cruiser and RV markets for a long time.

Traveling Mailbox: Cruisers rave about its dashboard and the availability of a mobile app to manage your mailbox. One of our clients returned to land but refused to give up their TM box! It made life that much easier.

Anytime Mailbox. It has a large global footprint with addresses just about anywhere you could want.

iPostal1. It has addresses in every state, often the same storefront as Anytime Mailbox. The staff in one shop we asked told us their customers tended to like iPostal1’s dashboard best, but another preferred AM for management (see Parson’s note above).

The list is longer, with services like PostScanMail, USA2Me, VirtualPostMail, PO Box Zone and more.

Is it important to you to have an address in your hometown? Then start by searching online for mailbox services in that location; you may hit the mark.

Canadian Services

These are the virtual mailbox services I’m aware of that offer Canadian addresses. Anytime Mailbox has the most extensive list of Canadian addresses. iPostal1.com offers nine locations, including Vancouver and Winnipeg. eSnail wins for being a personal operation in Vancouver. Clevver has addresses in Toronto and Montreal, and YCA / Your Canadian Address is Montreal-based.

Beyond North America

This list was effectively nonexistent a few years ago but now includes a range of service providers. Check Anytime Mailbox, possibly the most international of all, and the only service I’m aware of with Australian addresses. After AM, Clevver seems to have the most significant international footprint, with addresses in Europe, the Middle East, Asia and more. iPostal1 includes addresses for a range of countries in Europe and Asia. Unique to the UK is Ship to Shore, Boatmail and UK Postbox.

When You Need a Real Address

Jamie is well-acquainted with needing to ship to real addresses when there’s a customer ordering a new sail. Shipping agents are occasionally necessary to handle import and duty, but sometimes it’s just using a marina address (always confirm first). For example, the crew of the Privilege 445 Motu recently received a new sail at their marina location in Grenada.

If we need a physical item, we either have it sent directly to a location we will visit (such as a marina that will hold mail) or to someone who will visit us. It is remarkable how many things are no longer “important” once you wait a little while; in our modern world, we’re just very accustomed to near-instant gratification.

Of course, sometimes it is really important to get a thing. During our refit in Puerto Peñasco, we have been fortunate to have friends just an hour-and-a-half north in Arizona who hold mail and packages for us. (The picture of Jamie at the top of this post is in front of their garage.) Internationally, we’ve received packages to the boatyard in Mexico and marinas in a number of countries.

Mailbox Service FAQs

Virtual addresses do not convey residency. US nationals may wish to “relocate” to a new state for tax purposes; it’s not as simple as a virtual address. Learn more about residency here; importantly, check with the states you wish to retain (or shift) residency to. Virtual Post Mail has a good article outlining why a VMS typically isn’t enough. But for a counterpoint, the RV club Escapees can assist with domicile for Texas, Florida and South Dakota. Still, consider that you will probably need an address in your domicile state, and the VMS may be the most convenient way to have one.

VMS is irrelevant for home-schooling. The home-schooling laws you should follow are those guiding your physical location, not your virtual address. Only a few states care about what you do as a resident when you are not physically present. 

Your VMS and home or hailing port do not have to match. And neither is tied to legal residency. It may feel good to have all these in one state because it’s convenient or home or soothes a part of our brain that likes consistency, though.

You may still need a real address for a few things. Get familiar with requirements for voter registration after moving aboard and before sailing away so you don’t miss the window to register to vote in an election you care about.

Banks often don’t allow a VMS. Thanks to the Patriot Act requirement for a residential address, some institutions (banks, namely, but also health insurance) take issue with a VMS. We have gotten around this by using a friend’s address to sign up for a credit card, then promptly changing address to our Dockside VMS once we had the cards in hand.

The post Sailing Totem: An Update on Virtual Mailbox Services appeared first on Cruising World.