Warm Weather Sailors

:lat=-23.134917:lon=-134.915800:

The last time Mark and I were cold on our boat was in the fall of 2007, when the two of us and the dogs motored down the Inter Coastal Waterway (ICW) towards Florida. It was the beginning of what was to become our multiple year Irie adventure. To stay warm (or at least try to), we baked a lot of things in the oven, used our camping stove with a metal cookie sheet on top as “central heating” and went to bed with three layers of clothes and a wool hat on. The dogs cuddled together, rolled up in a ball, and the decks had ice on them. Mark slipped once while preparing to lift the anchor. We swore we would never cruise in a cold climate again.

Being in the Gambier Islands makes us think back about those uncomfortable goose bump weeks, almost six years ago. Granted, we don’t have hail here or frost on the decks, but the down comforter has been retrieved and covers us up at night. We are cold and not used to temperatures under 85 degrees (30°C) anymore. Yes, we have spoiled over the years! During the day, it is about 60 degrees (16°C) and at night… well, we don’t really know, because by then, we are comfortably tucked into bed. Once, we ventured to shore around sunset (which happens at 5pm) in shorts and a sweater, only to row back to Irie to warm up a bit and grab longer clothes, before continuing the evening. It must have been 50 degrees (10°C) or so. I think the biggest shock to us was the fact that we never expected to spend time in a region’s “real” winter again. We didn’t expect the Gambier Islands to have Tropic of Capricorn temperatures, but we should have known better, after sailing 23° south of the equator and ending in these islands, basically laying on the Tropic of Capricorn!

I’m not sure whether it is because the time of the year – we just celebrated the shortest day on June 21^st, the official start of winter – but the trade winds are fairly non-existent. Frequently, the wind comes from the south (think South Pole, with no land between there and here) and is icy. Once a week, it totally clocks around and when it comes from the north (think equator) it is – surprise, surprise – not any warmer. Being on land, where the roads and trails are mostly sheltered from the wind is much more pleasant and comfortable than being on the water, so we often go for walks in town and for hikes over the hills and around the island(s). Sometimes, we find a sunny spot on shore and just sit there, soaking up the rays of warmth.

Mark and I are using the oven frequently again, baking up a storm, while we spend a lot of time indoors. Doing the dishes afterwards in ice-cold seawater is anti-climactic. For the first time ever, we are drinking hot tea and hot chocolate every day. The windows have been shut for weeks; the cockpit remains unused, besides for dish washing. Showering outside is unattractive and almost painful. When we open the tap at the sinks to get some water, it feels like it came straight out of the fridge. Finally some cold drinking water, just when we don’t need it. The fridge itself barely runs and doesn’t sweat at all like in the humid climates. This is great for our electricity usage, but the collected frost on the evaporator keeps melting, soaking all the food inside. No need for ice cubes in our cocktails! No need for cocktails at all, really. Mark’s new favorite drink at five o’clock is hot tea with a shot of rum.

Instead of blocking out the sun and always searching for shade, we now embrace being showered by the bright light and the subdued heat, whenever it is present. When the sky is bright blue and the sun is out in full force, we drop everything and (try to) go for a snorkel, a bottom cleaning (of Irie), a dinghy exploration or a walk on the beach, or in the woods. We need to take advantage of the handful of nice days. Sounds familiar?

We are enjoying our time in this beautiful archipelago, albeit in a different way. We stare at the pine forests and the contrast with the magnificent hues of blue in the lagoon, and realize we are in a special place. We longingly look at the colorful reefs from above. The spectacular coral formations and habitats of thousands of attractive sea creatures are inviting, but the cold water they exist in is not. The chilly air we feel after emerging from the sea makes it even worse. We observe the beauty around us, but we can’t be part of it… So, we feast only with our eyes, while the rest of our bodies confirm that we are warm weather sailors.

Brrrraving the Cold

The alarm clock goes off. It’s six o’clock. Mark and I are still holding each other. It doesn’t really help. Our body heat seems to have evaporated. We are two ice cubes, attached, holding our position in the warmest spot of the bed. My winter hat kept my ears comfy during the night. My nose peeks out from under the covers and immediately freezes. At least, that’s how it feels. Our breath creates white puffs of clouds. We don’t feel like getting up and emerge in the cold air. Another day on the waterway awaits us, so we have to get moving in order to leave at first daylight.

Then, it all comes down to speed. As quickly as we can, we jump out of bed and grab all our layers. I kept a few clothes under the sheets, so they would cause less of a shock when I put them on… Undies, tight shirt, long sleeved shirt, T-shirt, sweatshirt, fleece, pyjama pants, socks to tuck ‘m into, jeans, another pair of socks, rain pants, shoes, Mark’s ski jacket, and the hat stays on. The sailing gloves come on after breakfast. That’s a little tough, because my fingers feel numb. Better than nothing, though, since we don’t have winter gloves.

Our first steps on deck are precarious. We both slipped before on the icy surface. After taking the dogs to shore (Mark’s the one getting out of the dinghy and into the water to pull it on shore, because he has rubber boots) and finagling with the lines to get the thing attached to the boat, we are ready to leave. Hours on end, we suck it up in the ice cold cockpit. The north wind doesn’t have mercy. One hand steers, while the other is tucked away between our legs. Even a pocket is too cold. Mark and I take turns steering and navigating. Neither one of us is motivated or able to do anything else. We quietly wished we had dodgers, but knowing the expense, we quickly get rid of that thought. Other sailboats pass us. They have full enclosures. Their owners waive, with a frown on their face and pity in their eyes. They’re not even wearing foul weather gear! We take pride in roughing it and feeling one with the elements. We are pure sailors/motorists! They are wimps and they can barely see what they are doing! Anyway, that’s why we’re going south. Then, what will they do with their full enclosure? All that extra plastic and canvas will just be a hassle and we will be hassle-free! Kali and Darwin are curled up in a ball. They appreciate the thick blankets we put out for them

After anchoring, we rig up some kind of heating system with our camping stove and a cookie sheet. We plot our course for the next day, with all our clothes on. For dinner, we decide to make something in the oven. For once we don’t mind it takes hours to prepare something in there. I enjoy the heat against my back, when I sit down next to the oven door. Of course I’m blocking the warmth for everybody else…

And then it’s eight o’clock: bed time. We get rid of our outer layers, but keep socks, pants, a couple of shirts, and hat on. A few clothes will come off later, when the bed slowly warms up. My hands make one last movement in the cold air to set the alarm clock. The dogs are huddled on their blanket next to the bed. We close the bedroom door to keep all generated heat inside. It makes a big difference. Our conclusion of the day is the same as the previous days: It sucks to sail in cold weather. We gotta go south! Not that we aren’t trying, we’re just barely making progress.

About a week later, a friendly man lends us his car, and Walmart provides us with a small propane heater. That takes the chill out of the air. It sure helps to get our day started less painfully.

About two months later, we are in Central Florida and hope these experiences are well past. It sure makes it easier to write about it, wearing shorts and T-shirt, with fingers staying stiff-less…