Lock Dock Thoughts

Many sailboats have a quarterberth, but this one has a Myrtleberth instead

We’re still at Edmonds Lock. It’s cold and grey and raining on and off. The third boat of the day has just gone by. Being cold and wet seems like a good way to make a day with an iffy outboard go sidewards — and there’d be almost nobody out on the water to tow or help if we need it. We decided to stay here for the day, get up at 6, and reach Kilmarnock before lunch tomorrow.

Merrickville will be a longer trip from there than here to there, so we’ll check the power and internet situation at Kilmarnock. If Sarah can work from there Tuesday morning, we might stay put and head for Merrickville when she’s done for the day, otherwise we’ll have a couple hours to give the outboard and ourselves a break before continuing.

The outboard is really a problem. It croaks, we drift… into rocks, swamps, other boats, none of the possibilities are good and paddling isn’t the most effective means of propelling or maneuvering a 26 foot sailboat. We’ve hit rocks once and concrete once and are lucky nothing went as hideously wrong as it seemed it had. We’ve scared ourselves and other boaters by being in the wrong places at bad times without maneuverability.

It doesn’t like to start and doesn’t like to stay started. We’ve tinkered, and people who know what they’re doing have done much and without them we’d probably be flotsam in a lily bog by now, but really — it’s old. It’s not happy. It would rather be fishing than gypsying, and it’s clearly not even really up to gypsying.

There’s a marina in Merrickville. Hopefully they can make this motor better, or maybe somehow they’ve got one they can sell cheap enough that I can find enough for it. I haven’t even looked at what a new outboard would cost because used ones are already quite out of the budget, but somewhere out there is a 12 or 15 hp long shaft electric start outboard with Skoro’s name on its agenda. There has to be, so there will be, somehow, even if borrowed for a while.

I could have waited for next spring. I could have stored Skoro, and ourselves. I could have tried to make everything right before going. But… I don’t have another winter in me, and the logistics don’t work, and nothing will ever all be right, and most problems surface along the way, and there’s little enough time in this world.

If I wait, I’d just be trading for different problems, and probably more of them, and end up too broken to go, let alone to be useful. We’ve been trained to believe we can’t actually do things that buck the status quo. The net of cautionary what-if’s is part of that. Yes, we can. Yes, there’s always going to be problems. Believe in the point of being alive anyways. Change the world.

So I’ll go.

I’m giving more thought to the idea of taking the short way from Montreal, though, and slowly going down the Intracoastal waterway… going just just far enough to avoid winter — then coming back to Canada in time for spring. Time in Ottawa again, then go east properly, through the rest of the St Lawrence and the Maritimes, and then follow the coast south.

I’m thinking. Or trying to, between the outboard and other things.

Photo credit: S Imrisek

Here’s what I could really use a hand with doing and manifesting.

If you have a piece of time or gear, or a connection, or an epiphany. It’s not a thorough list, because help with that kind of thing is part of the list.

1. Outboard resurrection or replacement (and maybe new large gas can)

2. Someone to live aboard or visit often while in Ottawa, to help relearn sailing and learn anchoring

3. Organize petition delivery and any other possible activism while in Ottawa

4. Find CHEAP places to stay along the Ottawa River to Montreal and along route south — book first couple nights ASAP (need proof for passport)

Also needed…

1. Help with posting and promoting — social media, fundraisers

2. Someone (or successive someones) to live aboard and help from Ottawa to Montreal and onward south

3. Finding gear/financial/etc donations/discounts —

4. outboard

5. other gear

6. high quality permanent markers for creating a very large Earth on the sail

7. dockage in/near Ottawa (and then beyond)

8. upgrade solar system to power laptop and kettle as well as current light usage

9. for found garbage and recycling en route: LOTS of biodegradable bags, chicken wire and coiled wire and similar materials for collecting and ‘artifying’ found items/garbage, large net for collecting from water

10. etc…

And my immediate to-do list:

1. Check the bottom and rudder more thoroughly (the water is so murky I can’t see underwater even with goggles and a flashlight)

2. Contact Ottawa River Club re: stay while in Ottawa

3. Troubleshoot the bilge pump and get it working

4. Repair/patch and repaint two deep scrapes in the hull (maybe paint a couple other spots)

5. Passport photo and letter to attach to application; apply in person

6. Doctor/clinic/whatever

7. Practice anchoring — necessary when there’s nowhere to dock!

Here’s what’s we’ve been doing…

1. Ongoing outboard repairs

2. Checked bottom and rudder — need to check better

3. Replaced broken oar

4. Bought second boathook (so we don’t break another oar)

5. Bailed bilge

6. Sorted and connected anchor, anchor chain sections, and anchor rode

7. Replaced popped fender; added two more

8. Got the alcohol stove working

9. Fixed a few window leaks

10. Removed and deflated dinghy to improve visibility from cockpit and movement across deck

11. Learning charts, plotting routes

12. Refilled gas cans twice (once adding oil for the necessary 50:1 mix when such was not available)

13. Resorted storage and added containers etc to help with space and accessibility (it was pretty chaotic in here, that wasn’t helping anything)

14. Cleaned entire boat

15. Installed curtain rods (shade and privacy at docks were both issues)

16. Maintaining water supply, meals, dishes

17. Charging tech (phones, power packs, depthfinder, etc)

18. Traced wiring; got some working, will map all and resolve the rest later

Photo credit: S Imrisek

There’s detailed spreadsheets for the budget and maintenance log, and a list of ideas to contact for donations and gear and whatnot, but I haven’t updated them since launching. Really all I’ve done is boat stuff, and then we eat, and then we fall asleep, and then it’s morning and time to hurry up again, with pieces of time for Mr Myrtle interspersed throughout.

Even going through locks takes time and learning; sometimes docking does, too. Everything does, and everything has to be mindful… you know, kind of like life ought to be anyways.

Photo credit: S Imrisek

Also thus far…

1. We’ve gone through 13 lock stations, which means maybe twice as many locks, two gas bars, and a marina

2. Navigated traffic, deadheads, a major river channel, and channels so narrow I don’t want to think about them, and crossed lakes

3. Found help and amazing human beings all over the place, and in the most unlikely places, and at the most opportune times

4. Eaten meals restaurants would give their eyeteeth to serve, and some they’d roll their eyes at but they were delicious and so good (and sometimes pretty entertaining)

5. Resolved several emergencies (and sometimes just calmed down and let them resolve)

6. Seen places so beautiful it makes me cry to know they might not exist much longer, and cry again because I was so blessed to see them

7. Swam in clean green water

8. Jumped in water so murky I couldn’t see with a flashlight

9. Remembered why I’m alive

It’s beautiful, and surreal, and I wouldn’t trade it, but living on a boat does not mean swanning through the days with bonbons and bikinis. It means worries and work and scrapes and bruises… but it means using myself and my time and what resources I have to take care of myself and the planet rather than to do things that make us both keep getting worse. I’ve never felt so right about something (in spite of the daunting parts).

Meanwhile, here we are at Edmonds, staying warm and catching up on sleep. I’m reconstructing my nerves after that scare yesterday. We’ll make some peanut sauce in a bit and have it on mushrooms (not foraged!) and broccoli we treated ourselves to on a grocery trip in Smith’s Falls, maybe with ramen or quinoa. There’s young boys leaping off the top of the lock gates when no boats are around, and there’s birds and trees and waves. Tomorrow this outboard will get us a bit farther, and somehow it’ll either get healthier or get replaced. Everything will come together… it’ll be replaced by new problems, but when they’re constantly being helped and fixed, the curve doesn’t increase exponentially… it settles, slowly, and positive things grow.

Thanks for listening. Please share these posts.

Be the story, be the change.

Stay well,

Ann

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If you can help, with wishes or advice or elbow grease or funds or an outboard, please get in touch or go to

CLIMATE EMERGENCY SAILBOAT | Chuffed | Non-profit charity and social enterprise fundraising

Or

The Climate Emergency Sailboat is creating a better world… because we are all in this boat together | Patreon

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