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2020-10-08

Catching up and not coughing

Not a bad moon rising across from the National Yacht Club back in June.
Well, that was a rather significant pause in new posts. It's October 8, 2020 at time of writing and we started sailing on our voyage of discovery, COVID-19 and repair around July 15. The prep for leaving was retarded by the sense that, once the St. Lawrence Seaway had opened in late June, that we should prudently stand by for a couple of  weeks to see if the dreaded "second wave" manifested. Alas, that didn't happen until we were in the Atlantic Bubble, but I digress. Digression will follow, trust me.
The end of June saw our boat club launch, finally, and our return to our dock instead of the convenient seawall
The weather improved sufficiently to get multiple small jobs done and to plan out where I wanted to take this "repair and refit" blog in light of plans to debut a new, more voyage-focused blog. Now, given the axiom of cruising as "boat repair in exotic places", this does not mean the retirement of this elder blog, but I will be posting more rarely and with a goal of showing what actually living aboard takes out of a boat and how to order the necessary labour effectively to continue moving and remaining functional...and what you can safely leave for winter.
Rooms with views and a mission attic probably aren't great for restoration purposes
Speaking of living aboard, the vagaries of Toronto real estate were revealed, and I mean revealed, in our former house and its mate on the other side of the firewall. The person who bought first our side and then the other obviously has plans, likely of the "fashionable restaurant" variety, but leaving the roof off and the back exposed to the weather for months at a stretch seems counter-intuitive. Luckily, I am more utilitarian than sentimental on subjects like real estate, but it seems a little wasteful. But then I lack the nous of developers.
 
Two Honda 2200s, for when you really need 27 amps of AC and there's no shore power.
 
Back at the lived-aboard, we were testing various systems for soundness. The Honda gensets worked like champs, and, now in our Nova Scotia winter digs, we've got one ashore in case of a power outage over the winter (a distinct possibility, we've been told, as is the need to bring in rum and storm chips).The other Honda is staying with the boat so we can have power at the boatyard to which we are going tomorrow morning...in case power goes out there...
And it was moving steadily to the SE. GOOD JOB, BOYS!
Meanwhile, back in June/July before we left, we had time to observe the state of marine expertise far from the ocean. This is a warning buoy to delineate the crumbling end of the seawall. Note that it isn't actually at the crumbling end. We saw the City of Toronto workboat (or a subcontractor) screw around more than once getting this nav aid in place correctly and watched them leave bow paint on another part of the seawall on a dead calm morning. The further east we've subsequently gone, the greater the level of seamanship we've observed.
Yeesh.
Solstice 2020, observed with a measure of social isolation, and a measure of rum.
Huzzah! Sumer is icumen in!
Meanwhile, living aboard at a COVID-affected boat club meant we were left largely to our own devices until the launch process happened. Mrs. Alchemy and myself have enjoyed for many years "kicking off summer" by watching the sun rise after the shortest night of the year. This year, despite daunting circumstances and no guarantee we would dare to leave, was no exception.

In the meantime, boat life continued. We got to see a lot of these sights...

A cliche need not be ugly.

...and a mother canvasback and her brood of curious offspring were a feature of morning coffee on the aft deck...
Once there were eight, but my biologist wife suggested five was fine parenting.
The watermaker can't be really started in fresh water. This is no longer a problem.

Boat jobs accomplished included a partial installation of the watermaker, mainly to get it out of the portside seaberth. These RO tubes went over the port water tanks and the rest of the pieces, which are modular, will go starboard side.
Brown feet are inevitable in this lifestyle.

The liftraft, which I didn't like on the starboard aft deck rail for reasons of scraping while docking and the weight of the thing, went snugly on the cabin top a little in front of the mast and between the saloon hatches. This I greatly preferred.

The drogue was repacked and stowed at the aft end of the sailing helm footwell, bagged against UV. It could work on the aft bollards, but the goal is to install chainplates on the stern this winter and then never use it!
Nephew No. 2 Ryan Dacey

Goodbyes were made and signals hoisted...
Thank you, everyone who helped us begin the voyage
...and we were off! And I finally got the solar panels tied into the batteries. Behold, free amps!