Saturday, June 23, 2012
Status updates via texts
· 4:43 pm I text to everyone, “Hey all. We got a late start. Shaking things out here. Prob about 3 to 4 hrs behind al & patty. What time did mike & andy leave? We’ll monitor 16, 13 & 69.”
On the importance of ice and other essentials
As we left Philadelphia, we decided that despite our stores of dry ice and block ice and all our frozen items, we didn’t have a single cube of ice for a soda or a gin & tonic.
Over the past few weeks, as we discussed preparations and new improvements to the boat, finally realizing we wouldn’t get them all done, we needed a solution to our sans-refrigeration Tartan. As a classic sailboat from the 70s, refrigeration was not an option and previous owners did not make the upgrade. The Tartan does have a nifty cockpit ice box compartment in which we keep a few cases of soda cans and usually load up with six or more bags of cube ice, but exposed to sun and air, it isn’t very cool. We battled the quick-melting ice cube method all last summer and decided we needed a smarter approach this year.
After doing some research, we decided that we would try the DRY ICE approach. Our friend Mike offered to pick up a block or two for us on his way over from New Jersey along with block ice which is hard to find here in Philadelphia. Mike picked up our coolers on Thursday and returned them on Friday afternoon, full of dry ice and block ice. In fact there was little room for any food in the coolers! We turned one cooler into a freezer—the critical point about dry ice is that it evaporates with exposure to air so the less often you open the cooler, the longer the dry ice will last—and in that cooler we sandwiched in all the vacuum packed frozen meat packets (chicken, steaks, fresh chorizo, pork chops) next to a big chunk of dry ice and a block of regular ice. The other thing I’d read about dry ice is that it will freeze everything in the cooler. So in the smaller cooler, we had just one block of dry ice but no room for anything else at that point. The nifty cockpit ice box compartment is not a good place for dry ice and unfortunately we had not planned a stop for bags of cubed ice. With the departure already delayed by storms and oversleeping, we just ignored it.
After getting underway and realizing the warm sodas, the lack of ice cubes and the next stop 50 hours away would make for some disagreeable crew, Peter conceded to plan to stop in Delaware City.
After getting everything stowed away in its proper place…
Once I started moving tools, life vests, sail bags and the swim ladder, I discovered a small problem. Without panicking, I called to Peter in the cockpit to say that something seemed amiss, not wanting to admit that I’d found hoses spraying from all sides somewhat resembling a fountain in both looks and sounds—wshhhhhhh!
After checking out the source of the leak, Peter said we had so many stores on-board that the stem through-hulls were below the water line for the first time, forcing the seldom-used hoses into service. The hose proved to be old and spongy—Peter could put a finger through them. We moved the cases of water and gin to the bow of the boat and were able to get the through-hulls above the waterline, but a fix would be needed before too long. Good thing we had a stop planned!
As we motored into the infamous Delaware City Marina (we’d all spent too much time there a few years ago salvaging a friend’s sunken boat and had sworn off a return at any price…except ICE oh and a hose leak that matched Love Park’s fountain!), we thought we saw a familiar mast, then it was the hull, could it be….yes, we saw the blonde head pop up out of the companionway and we knew it was Terry and Ron on Golden Echo! Terry and Ron had been our dock neighbors for years until they retired and moved on. It was great to run into them unexpectedly—they were there doing some work on their boat, getting ready for their next trip.
Delaware City was hot, buggy and the electricity was out, but the staff of the marina treated us like old friends. Somehow our arrival there marked the beginning of vacation and we felt the cruiser vibe take over, foretelling the pace of our whole vacation. We pulled up to the dock, hopped off, hugged Terry and Ron and then all went hose shopping in the marina store. After jokes from the harbormaster about charging Philadelphia prices since the computerized price checking system was not working in the electrical outage, Terry and Ron offered to put the equipment on their bill (the credit card machine was out of order too!) so we could be on our way.
We bought five bags of ice and invited Terry and Ron back to the cockpit for gin & tonics. The salon was in total disarray now that we couldn’t store anything in the quarter berth, but there’s one thing about sailboat friends: they never see the mess and instead focus on the gimbaled mechanism on the stove and tell stories about mishaps and hard won solutions. Over cocktails, we caught up on tales from our honeymoon sailing in the Grenadines and their winter cruise through the Chesapeake (these are not the usual in-search-of-tropics sailors, instead they both prefer cooler temps and dream of cruising as far north as they can go). As the drinks ran low and the gossip slowed down, we knew we had to get going. We were off again, motor-sailing to get out the mouth of the bay and head up to Block Island.
Over the past few weeks, as we discussed preparations and new improvements to the boat, finally realizing we wouldn’t get them all done, we needed a solution to our sans-refrigeration Tartan. As a classic sailboat from the 70s, refrigeration was not an option and previous owners did not make the upgrade. The Tartan does have a nifty cockpit ice box compartment in which we keep a few cases of soda cans and usually load up with six or more bags of cube ice, but exposed to sun and air, it isn’t very cool. We battled the quick-melting ice cube method all last summer and decided we needed a smarter approach this year.
After doing some research, we decided that we would try the DRY ICE approach. Our friend Mike offered to pick up a block or two for us on his way over from New Jersey along with block ice which is hard to find here in Philadelphia. Mike picked up our coolers on Thursday and returned them on Friday afternoon, full of dry ice and block ice. In fact there was little room for any food in the coolers! We turned one cooler into a freezer—the critical point about dry ice is that it evaporates with exposure to air so the less often you open the cooler, the longer the dry ice will last—and in that cooler we sandwiched in all the vacuum packed frozen meat packets (chicken, steaks, fresh chorizo, pork chops) next to a big chunk of dry ice and a block of regular ice. The other thing I’d read about dry ice is that it will freeze everything in the cooler. So in the smaller cooler, we had just one block of dry ice but no room for anything else at that point. The nifty cockpit ice box compartment is not a good place for dry ice and unfortunately we had not planned a stop for bags of cubed ice. With the departure already delayed by storms and oversleeping, we just ignored it.
After getting underway and realizing the warm sodas, the lack of ice cubes and the next stop 50 hours away would make for some disagreeable crew, Peter conceded to plan to stop in Delaware City.
After getting everything stowed away in its proper place…
I tackled the formidable quarter berth in order to organize our little home away from home… 
Once I started moving tools, life vests, sail bags and the swim ladder, I discovered a small problem. Without panicking, I called to Peter in the cockpit to say that something seemed amiss, not wanting to admit that I’d found hoses spraying from all sides somewhat resembling a fountain in both looks and sounds—wshhhhhhh!
After checking out the source of the leak, Peter said we had so many stores on-board that the stem through-hulls were below the water line for the first time, forcing the seldom-used hoses into service. The hose proved to be old and spongy—Peter could put a finger through them. We moved the cases of water and gin to the bow of the boat and were able to get the through-hulls above the waterline, but a fix would be needed before too long. Good thing we had a stop planned!
As we motored into the infamous Delaware City Marina (we’d all spent too much time there a few years ago salvaging a friend’s sunken boat and had sworn off a return at any price…except ICE oh and a hose leak that matched Love Park’s fountain!), we thought we saw a familiar mast, then it was the hull, could it be….yes, we saw the blonde head pop up out of the companionway and we knew it was Terry and Ron on Golden Echo! Terry and Ron had been our dock neighbors for years until they retired and moved on. It was great to run into them unexpectedly—they were there doing some work on their boat, getting ready for their next trip.
Delaware City was hot, buggy and the electricity was out, but the staff of the marina treated us like old friends. Somehow our arrival there marked the beginning of vacation and we felt the cruiser vibe take over, foretelling the pace of our whole vacation. We pulled up to the dock, hopped off, hugged Terry and Ron and then all went hose shopping in the marina store. After jokes from the harbormaster about charging Philadelphia prices since the computerized price checking system was not working in the electrical outage, Terry and Ron offered to put the equipment on their bill (the credit card machine was out of order too!) so we could be on our way.
We bought five bags of ice and invited Terry and Ron back to the cockpit for gin & tonics. The salon was in total disarray now that we couldn’t store anything in the quarter berth, but there’s one thing about sailboat friends: they never see the mess and instead focus on the gimbaled mechanism on the stove and tell stories about mishaps and hard won solutions. Over cocktails, we caught up on tales from our honeymoon sailing in the Grenadines and their winter cruise through the Chesapeake (these are not the usual in-search-of-tropics sailors, instead they both prefer cooler temps and dream of cruising as far north as they can go). As the drinks ran low and the gossip slowed down, we knew we had to get going. We were off again, motor-sailing to get out the mouth of the bay and head up to Block Island.
Meal #1:
Spanish-inspired tapas with a bit of Italian bubbly
This is one of the meals that has the longest shelf-life but is always one of our first meals because it’s so irresistible.
Our usual boat tapas line up: Jamon de Serrano, marconi almonds, cheeses, artichoke hearts, a can of olives preferably stuffed with anchoas (which Peter likes but you can’t tell him they’re anchovies in English because he doesn’t eat anchovies!), and any other little extras you feel like adding. If I have stale bread, I make pan con tomate out of it by rubbing garlic on the bread and then smooshing tomatoes and drizzling olive oil. If not, a nice cheese cracker will do.
Here, the Italian flare is accentuated by pecorino romano cheese (a very nice hard cheese that would last a long time if we didn’t use it for salads and dinners and…) as well as some arugula. If you’re feeling more Italian, prosciutto and regular olives would make fine understudies.
Wait…we forgot the cherries! They went nicely with the manchego.
Bring out the Bubbly
All this is accompanied by cava if we’re being strictly Spanish or in today’s case, a leftover bottle of prosecco I didn’t want to leave sitting in the fridge at home.
Any bubbly helps make it feel like a celebration and we always save a little for The Moon, a nod to the seafaring tradition of sharing libations with the boat and the sea.
When we opened up this very bubbly bottle (the cork read “Life is a Bubble”) it spilled out so Moon got her sip first!
Cruising up the New Jersey Coast
Peter’s watch saw us past Cape May in the early morning hours and all morning we cruised north-east toward Block Island, past all the seaside towns marked by amusements, water towers and the high rises of Atlantic City.
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