1 February 2005
PARADISE VILLAGE MARINA, Nayarit, Mexico -- The painters did arrive on time yesterday, sanded like maniacs and left promptly at 4:30 p.m., just ahead of a rainstorm. Yup, sometimes it rains in Paradise.
The rain, of course, was not the rain that falls in northern climes at this time of year. This was a gentle, warm drizzle for about one half-hour the first time the clouds rolled through. I know it rained for that long because I was talking to the captain and first mate of Sand Castle who are good friends with Capt. Dustin Fox. I dropped by their boat at 3:30 to wait for the harbormaster's office to open at 4 p.m. Two to 4 p.m. is siesta time in Mexico and most people take it quite seriously. It's something we should consider in the states, but there would probably always be some workaholic moron who would work through siesta to gain a one-inch advantage over other people in his company. No other industrial nation works the hours -- or takes less vacation days -- than the U.S.
We spent the morning (pre-worker arrival) getting the last of the debris off the deck: anchors, the life raft, the inflatable dinghy, oars, the boogie board, outboard motor tanks, coolers, miscellaneous awnings and covers, and finally some parts of the deck hardware. When David arrived at 10:20, his workers started sanding and scraping as soon as I parted with the money for the materials. The boat, above decks, looks like it snowed there is so much white fiberglass dust. The photo shows the taping around the forward ports and even some evidence of the rain. By 6 p.m., it was starting to rain harder. Downtown Vallarta got enough rain that street vendors closed up shop. No taco vendors and beer on the street corners?
Itâ??s a natural disaster.
Tuesday afternoon I'm on my way to the Puerto Vallarta aeropuerto where I will jump on a flight to San Diego and then a second leg to Sacramento. The weather forecast I'm looking at says that it is, well, phooey. I'm not going to look at it.
I prefer to be surprised when I get off the plane.
mjf
Monday, January 31, 2005
Some things need more than just a touch-up
31 January 2005
PARADISE VILLAGE MARINA, Nayarit, Mexico -- The painters are supposed to arrive any minute to start dressing up Sabbatical for its new coat of topside cabin paint and green non-skid paint. I've already been to the ATM, trying to coax as many pesos out of it as possible because in Mexico, people work for cash, not checks or credit cards, and they always need money upfront to buy the materials. In this case, materials is about half of the total cost of the project.
David Barba, the foreman/owner on the job has said he can do the impossible -- paint Sabbatical's cabin top and decks without removing a single fitting, winch, window, or hatch. Don Tiffin, who built Sabbatical from dream to reality, is more than a little skeptical, but willing to see how they do it. I'm skeptical, too, but knowing that David will only be holding the money for the materials until the job is done to my satisfaction gives me a certain amount of serenity. Thanks to Don, I will miss all the gruesome details of the project: sanding, scraping, taping and eventually spray painting. Also, Don will move Sabbatical from her current slip to another location for the actual painting. The painters are worried that a little overspray of paint might not go well with my yachtie neighbors.
One thing they are NOT going to paint, unfortunately, is our rusty bow anchor (in the photo) that looks a lot worse than it really is. Mostly it needs some cleaning up and then a coat of good rustproof paint. It's on Don's agenda, he says, after he gets done supervising the deck project and gets his own teak fix-up finished.
Sunday a weather phenomenon called the Pineapple Express rolled in -- right when we went to the beach for our dose of physical therapy (boogie boarding). One minute it was bright sun and hot, the next, the cloud cover looked like Cleveland when the fog rolls in of Lake Erie. (God, was that a grim comparison or what?) We had stopped work on the deck of Sabbatical (getting loose things cleared off for David) because it was soooo damned hot with the sun beating down on the deck. Several of our sailing colleagues were leaving the beach as we arrived to surf, because they feared a storm approaching, and, well, they had left a few hatches open to cool things off. We had a 10-inch diameter hold in the main cabintop open, too, the hole from the chimney Don removed. But we decided that a little freshwater was not going to hurt the inside of Sabbatical.
No rain fell, of course, but the waves were magnificent, several being of the bone-jarring variety, smashing both Captain Don and myself into the sand beach numerous times (we are slow learners). I took a very long hot shower to get all the sand out of my bathing suit.
Tomorrow (Tuesday) I board an America Worst (sorry, America West) flight to San Diego late afternoon and then a Southwest Airlines flight to Sacratomato, where Admiral Fox daughter Anne and granddaughter Samantha await. The time change makes the trip pretty easy (my flight leaves here at 4:35 and gets into San Diego at 5:35). But I expect to get in at least an hour or so of boogie-board action in Tuesday morning before I leave for the airport, surf willing.
mjf
PARADISE VILLAGE MARINA, Nayarit, Mexico -- The painters are supposed to arrive any minute to start dressing up Sabbatical for its new coat of topside cabin paint and green non-skid paint. I've already been to the ATM, trying to coax as many pesos out of it as possible because in Mexico, people work for cash, not checks or credit cards, and they always need money upfront to buy the materials. In this case, materials is about half of the total cost of the project.
David Barba, the foreman/owner on the job has said he can do the impossible -- paint Sabbatical's cabin top and decks without removing a single fitting, winch, window, or hatch. Don Tiffin, who built Sabbatical from dream to reality, is more than a little skeptical, but willing to see how they do it. I'm skeptical, too, but knowing that David will only be holding the money for the materials until the job is done to my satisfaction gives me a certain amount of serenity. Thanks to Don, I will miss all the gruesome details of the project: sanding, scraping, taping and eventually spray painting. Also, Don will move Sabbatical from her current slip to another location for the actual painting. The painters are worried that a little overspray of paint might not go well with my yachtie neighbors.
One thing they are NOT going to paint, unfortunately, is our rusty bow anchor (in the photo) that looks a lot worse than it really is. Mostly it needs some cleaning up and then a coat of good rustproof paint. It's on Don's agenda, he says, after he gets done supervising the deck project and gets his own teak fix-up finished.
Sunday a weather phenomenon called the Pineapple Express rolled in -- right when we went to the beach for our dose of physical therapy (boogie boarding). One minute it was bright sun and hot, the next, the cloud cover looked like Cleveland when the fog rolls in of Lake Erie. (God, was that a grim comparison or what?) We had stopped work on the deck of Sabbatical (getting loose things cleared off for David) because it was soooo damned hot with the sun beating down on the deck. Several of our sailing colleagues were leaving the beach as we arrived to surf, because they feared a storm approaching, and, well, they had left a few hatches open to cool things off. We had a 10-inch diameter hold in the main cabintop open, too, the hole from the chimney Don removed. But we decided that a little freshwater was not going to hurt the inside of Sabbatical.
No rain fell, of course, but the waves were magnificent, several being of the bone-jarring variety, smashing both Captain Don and myself into the sand beach numerous times (we are slow learners). I took a very long hot shower to get all the sand out of my bathing suit.
Tomorrow (Tuesday) I board an America Worst (sorry, America West) flight to San Diego late afternoon and then a Southwest Airlines flight to Sacratomato, where Admiral Fox daughter Anne and granddaughter Samantha await. The time change makes the trip pretty easy (my flight leaves here at 4:35 and gets into San Diego at 5:35). But I expect to get in at least an hour or so of boogie-board action in Tuesday morning before I leave for the airport, surf willing.
mjf
Saturday, January 29, 2005
Life on the radio in Paradise
30 January 2005
PARADISE VILLAGE MARINA, Nayarit, Mexico -- It's called 'lurking' and it's similar on a boat to the kind of lurking people are most used to in chat rooms on the internet. On a boat, however, the lurking is listening to people's conversations.
Here in Puerto Vallarta, when you want to contact someone on another boat, you hail them on Channel 22: 'MoMo, MoMo, MoMo, Sabbatical.' Then, provided MoMo has her radio on (and wants to answer your hail) she comes back and says 'Pick a channel Sabbatical.' And when we pick that channel and move off to say, Channel 21, Channel 23, or Channel 68, a lot of people sitting at their radios on their boats, (bored or just nosey) follow you from 22 to 21, 23 or 68.
Moments ago, I heard two Paradise Village boats chattering about mounting a bus-ride expedition to La Cruz to hear some local band. Then, perhaps completely coincidentally, another boat called and asked if they were doing anything tonight, like, um, going to listen to any music anywhere.
The lurking is so commonplace, that you have to assume that someone is listening to your radio conversations, however banal they might be. Hmmm. Kind of like in the U.S. with the federal government.
As I write this, two more boats (besides the three I already mentioned) are now talking about the possibility of (this is SUCH a surprise) going to La Cruz to hear some local band. Oops. Just now someone just came on and said 'Attention the Fleet, Attention the Fleet, does anyone know if there is any music playing in La Cruz tonight.' Nice try, but we all know they were lurking and are trying to wangle an invitation to jump in someone's car instead of having to ride one of the buses that could have been used in the filming of Night of Iguana in 1954.
Sabbatical's crew is staying home tonight after a string of social engagements (no potluck on the boat tonight, either). Steamed vegetable and tamales from the local market are on the menu, in addition to a fine Mexican white wine -- Calafia blanco.
But then, the music doesn't start until 9 p.m. and it's only 7 p.m. and the vegetables are ready to serve and we don't have the cable tv hooked up anymore and...
Hmmm.
'MoMo, MoMo, MoMo, Sabbatical. Any music in La Cruz tonight?'
mjf
PARADISE VILLAGE MARINA, Nayarit, Mexico -- It's called 'lurking' and it's similar on a boat to the kind of lurking people are most used to in chat rooms on the internet. On a boat, however, the lurking is listening to people's conversations.
Here in Puerto Vallarta, when you want to contact someone on another boat, you hail them on Channel 22: 'MoMo, MoMo, MoMo, Sabbatical.' Then, provided MoMo has her radio on (and wants to answer your hail) she comes back and says 'Pick a channel Sabbatical.' And when we pick that channel and move off to say, Channel 21, Channel 23, or Channel 68, a lot of people sitting at their radios on their boats, (bored or just nosey) follow you from 22 to 21, 23 or 68.
Moments ago, I heard two Paradise Village boats chattering about mounting a bus-ride expedition to La Cruz to hear some local band. Then, perhaps completely coincidentally, another boat called and asked if they were doing anything tonight, like, um, going to listen to any music anywhere.
The lurking is so commonplace, that you have to assume that someone is listening to your radio conversations, however banal they might be. Hmmm. Kind of like in the U.S. with the federal government.
As I write this, two more boats (besides the three I already mentioned) are now talking about the possibility of (this is SUCH a surprise) going to La Cruz to hear some local band. Oops. Just now someone just came on and said 'Attention the Fleet, Attention the Fleet, does anyone know if there is any music playing in La Cruz tonight.' Nice try, but we all know they were lurking and are trying to wangle an invitation to jump in someone's car instead of having to ride one of the buses that could have been used in the filming of Night of Iguana in 1954.
Sabbatical's crew is staying home tonight after a string of social engagements (no potluck on the boat tonight, either). Steamed vegetable and tamales from the local market are on the menu, in addition to a fine Mexican white wine -- Calafia blanco.
But then, the music doesn't start until 9 p.m. and it's only 7 p.m. and the vegetables are ready to serve and we don't have the cable tv hooked up anymore and...
Hmmm.
'MoMo, MoMo, MoMo, Sabbatical. Any music in La Cruz tonight?'
mjf
Time to varnish? Or time to run for cover?
29 January 2005
PARADISE VILLAGE MARINA, Nayarit, Mexico -- There is nothing like teak on a boat to both make the boat look absolutely beautiful -- and drive boat owners mad with the never-ending maintenance.
When we had the boat in Mazatlan last spring we sanded all the varnish off the topsides teak, with the idea of going 'au naturel' with the wood. It's very stylish for cruising boats to do that. And in fact, in Mexico, you can tell the new cruisers. Their teak looks way too shiney and kept up. By their third season, they give it up and strip the wood, sometimes going bare, sometimes putting on a touch of oil to keep the wood from cracking, or in extreme cases they paint the teak over with some kind of marine enamel. That solves the problem and you can always take the paint off and revarnish.
We never got to the paint stage -- though it was an option -- but now that Sabbatical is on the market (http://www.mazmarine.com/) the varnish is going back on, thanks to Captain Don Tiffin who insisted on tackling that particular job. It begins with cleaning the teak with some products that clearly are not good for human beings. Then a layer of stain is applied, followed by a final glossy-looking coat that most people associate with well-maintained vessels. Most new boats from the factory have very little teak above decks, opting instead for stainless steel in most spots.
In the photo with today's blog, you can see the chemically-cleaned dorade boxes on the stern, along with the handrails. Later in the day Don applied stain to some of the boat, with the hope of putting on the sealer today. Besides dressing up Sabbatical for some state-side buyer to ooh and ahh over, the sealing of the teak will mean that Monday when the painters start work on painting the cabin top, there will be less likelihood of damage to the wood.
We hired David Barba, a local painting contractor, to paint the cabin top and green non-skid, a project we considered doing before we left the U.S. in 2001 for Ensenada, but it was waaaaay too expensive, at least at Baja Naval, the boatyard where we were berthed for several months. The price here in Puerto Vallarta is about one-third of what we were quoted previously and David's reputation as a painter and businessman suggests he will be canonized some day.
The surf was up yesterday afternoon and after a morning of wood work, I talked Captain Don into taking some time off to go to the beach where the waves -- and the good rides -- have returned.
It was good salt-water therapy for my cold. Far better than Sudafed, I think. Probably another therapy session is called for this afternoon.
mjf
PARADISE VILLAGE MARINA, Nayarit, Mexico -- There is nothing like teak on a boat to both make the boat look absolutely beautiful -- and drive boat owners mad with the never-ending maintenance.
When we had the boat in Mazatlan last spring we sanded all the varnish off the topsides teak, with the idea of going 'au naturel' with the wood. It's very stylish for cruising boats to do that. And in fact, in Mexico, you can tell the new cruisers. Their teak looks way too shiney and kept up. By their third season, they give it up and strip the wood, sometimes going bare, sometimes putting on a touch of oil to keep the wood from cracking, or in extreme cases they paint the teak over with some kind of marine enamel. That solves the problem and you can always take the paint off and revarnish.
We never got to the paint stage -- though it was an option -- but now that Sabbatical is on the market (http://www.mazmarine.com/) the varnish is going back on, thanks to Captain Don Tiffin who insisted on tackling that particular job. It begins with cleaning the teak with some products that clearly are not good for human beings. Then a layer of stain is applied, followed by a final glossy-looking coat that most people associate with well-maintained vessels. Most new boats from the factory have very little teak above decks, opting instead for stainless steel in most spots.
In the photo with today's blog, you can see the chemically-cleaned dorade boxes on the stern, along with the handrails. Later in the day Don applied stain to some of the boat, with the hope of putting on the sealer today. Besides dressing up Sabbatical for some state-side buyer to ooh and ahh over, the sealing of the teak will mean that Monday when the painters start work on painting the cabin top, there will be less likelihood of damage to the wood.
We hired David Barba, a local painting contractor, to paint the cabin top and green non-skid, a project we considered doing before we left the U.S. in 2001 for Ensenada, but it was waaaaay too expensive, at least at Baja Naval, the boatyard where we were berthed for several months. The price here in Puerto Vallarta is about one-third of what we were quoted previously and David's reputation as a painter and businessman suggests he will be canonized some day.
The surf was up yesterday afternoon and after a morning of wood work, I talked Captain Don into taking some time off to go to the beach where the waves -- and the good rides -- have returned.
It was good salt-water therapy for my cold. Far better than Sudafed, I think. Probably another therapy session is called for this afternoon.
mjf
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