Surveying the risks

"Non-compliant": yes, we know. We haven't used it since shortly after getting the boat. Probably is empty. Photo (c) Peter McGuire, Fastnet Yacht Surveys.

Had a survey for insurance purposes last Sunday, something our insurers haven't asked us to obtain  A couple of things we knew (Mrs. Alchemy was present as a learning opportunity), such as the superannuated propane tank and the propane hose that needs replacement after 10 years, and that the inline filter for the air condition seawater circuit was not ABYC-approved. Both are easily fixed, and the last one can find a use for a salvaged little Perko-type strainer I already have stowed.

It's an Octopus, but not the breaded kind.

We also know we need an isolation transformer. It's on the list. What I didn't know or noticed was that the hydraulic hose going to the pilothouse helm pump is starting to "sweat", meaning Its Time Has Come. As I am planning on installing a hydraulic autopilot this summer, I think I'll buy the replacement and the "new" hose and fittings at the same time. Still unsure of which autopilot brain box I'll install, but I'm leaning toward this. And this display. While we intend as a matter of course (nav pun) to steer to a heading, rather than to a waypoint, so as to reveal set, drift and leeway, etc., we are going to preserve the option of interfacing with the existing plotter. But mainly, it's about robustness.

So is risk assessment. A lot of decisions on the boat are driven less by what we think we can "get away with" and more by "if we do these things and follow these practices, we will lower our chances of catastrophe". That's more than wishful or magical thinking, it's prudent seamanship, which is something even a land lubber can practise. We try to follow the precepts of "renovate, repair, and, if possible, improve". It's why the failed Schedule 40 galvanized steel pipe nipples topped with bronze ball valves have been replaced with Schedule 80 (beefier) stainless steel pipe nipples with Marelon ball valves.

Before...

And after...still to do, the reconnection to the respective drains.

Was I always this cautious? No, but near-sinkings and hanging from tethers over a wild sea will sharpen one's sense of the transitory nature of life and boats, and suddenly backflow preventers and gas sniffers seem like sound investments. This was brought home to me, again, just 12 hours ago.

You'd be melancholy, too.

This fine old fellow is "Doba". How he ended up on our ratty couch at 0300h is a cautionary tale. Doba is an elderly Dogo Argentino, a large breed of hunting dog, allegedly, but he is possibly the mildest-mannered beast I've ever encountered..."big suck" only approaches his degree of stolid amiability. Last night, circa 2 AM, I was fighting with a reinstallation of Google Earth when I heard barking and shouting from the street. Now, as we live way downtown; sonic shenanigans of this sort are not unusual of a Friday evening. I would have ignored it and turned in had I not heard the loud arrival of a police car, followed by that of the first of many fire engines.

One of the rowhouses across the street was on fire. Which one was not immediately clear, but I could see loads of smoke from my second-floor window and, briefly, flames curling up above the roofline. I woke the missus and went outside. Sure enough, Doba's owner, Paul, one of the two tenants in the building, and Franco, the building's owner, were on the street, with Franco clearly in shock. The speed with which the place had burnt was alarming: the second, top floor was effectively burnt out, but the four fire trucks on scene had knocked it down rapidly.

Turns out Franco on the top floor had left a cigarette burning on an ashtray that may or may not have been on the bed while he went to the bathroom. The bed caught fire and then the room caught fire. Everyone got out, save one of two cats (we've just learned that Cat Two was found) but I suspect the building is effectively condemned. Or so it looks.

We learned from Paul that Franco has had a loose relationship with risk management: while he owned the property outright, he carried no home insurance (unmortgaged houses are not, in fact, obliged to do this, which was news to me...and to our real-estate agent). He also had, as is required by law in our province and presumably in others, no smoke/fire detectors on each floor. Whether this would have helped is unclear, but it might have been possible to put out a smouldering bedding fire before it really took off had an alarm sounded. The house was from 1890 and that dry hemlock wrapped in horsehair was like an oil-lamp wick, unfortunately.

We loaned Paul and the basement tenant a couple of coats and had them in for tea and brandy. When the "warming bus" arrived, we offered to take Doba overnight. He did whine a bit, understandably, but he settled on the couch to sleep and was otherwise the perfect guest. Around 10:30 AM this morning, Paul came by to pick him up to shed elsewhere. I wish them good luck. They'll need it.


I relate this tale not to point blame at Franco or at any home or boat owner with a non-rigorous approach, but to illustrate that three people now homeless (plus three pets, including the vast Doba) and, probably, with a few hundred items destroyed or damaged possessions, might have avoided this outcome with some pretty basic forethought. What the surveyor pointed out by way of needing attention needs attention (although my insurance company took this year's cheque without complaint), but a shortage of alarms and extinguishers aboard weren't among the remedial aspects covered. Same with the house: we had tenants for years and there's smoke detectors on every floor with a CO detector next to the furnace, plus more fire extinguishers than are required in various potential problem spots. We have full house insurance, including coverage should I be unable to work from home, as it's my usual spot. These things are stated not to seem smug, but to indicate habits of mind. I have commented in the past (and recent events in the sailing world have kept it top-of-mind) how viewing the universe as more or less indifferent to one's well-being seems realistic, as do clear-eyed assessments of risk in one's environment, particularly that of the sea on small boats. There are parallels to small houses on land. You may think because you've never screwed up, you are an expert at something. This may be the wrong approach.

Prudence only looks like paranoia to the unprepared.