The winter of our content rent

 

He's got a fine head of hair, my nephew. And a very nice wife, too.

Time certainly flies when one is having boat. It's been a rather busy time aboard, abroad and ashore, with blogging updates deferred...but no longer! First up was nephew Ryan's wedding to Alex. Despite a bit of drizzle, a very good time was had. Logistics were tricky for us, however, what with retrieving dress shoes from Trenton and me needing a smaller suit thanks to The Boat Diet Plan: Eat less, move more, preferably on a 32C vessel.

A rare shot of Alchemy's two skippers, not giving conflicting orders.

After that pleasant duty came a scramble to secure a winter berth; to secure insurance for said berthing; to secure shoreside accommodation; and to feel more secure about some neglected sailing skills. So we buggered off to Niagara-on-the-Lake, as one does.

Foofy wind, however.

 ...and to Port Darlington for dinner with sailing pals Matt and D-L...

Sunset and rum, a good combination.

 On a rainy day, I even fit in another trip to see HMCS Haida, of loving memory...

In case one wishes to construct a WWII destroyer.

But other needful things beckoned. Our friend and agent for our now-sold house Suzanne Manvell found us a boat-club-proximate flat in late 2018 in which we stayed for 11 months until we moved aboard in June, 2019. Faced with an unexpected winter stay-over here in Toronto, and not Halifax, we asked her again if she knew of a downtown apartment in which we could stay short-term (we expect to move back aboard Alchemy at the end of March, 2020 with the goal of [finally] leaving Toronto circa April 15).

Unexpectedly, she said "how about my house?" Suzanne had a tenant leaving a first-floor flat and we could start renting October 1, which suited us perfectly. Her house is only slightly farther away from our winter berth than was the last place, and there's a corner of the garage suitable for sailbags, bicycles and dinghy sail rigs.

From stair to door is sufficient for clearing out most of the forepeak, plus bikes.

 The place is spacious and bright. We'd best enjoy it as it's likely to be our last "house" for some time.

Available spring 2020!

 Even the Cabin Boy got his dungeon, suiting his slightly Gothic bent.

He eventually got a bed, firm not cruel.

Meanwhile, we had to wangle insurance. Our carrier insisted that "floating, non-liveaboards" needed a canopy, tent or other covering to cast off snow and ice and discourage top-heavy turtling. Now, we have never done this for Alchemy: we've just shovelled off the decks when needed. But I knew where to go: the good crew of the steel ketch Goshawk, Jay and Rob, who live on Frenchman's Bay and who know their business as they are winter liveaboards.

This is from where I took my design cues, but, as will be seen, I didn't go to quite these sturdy lengths.

Jay and Rob do an impressive, generally bulletproof job because they would know right away were it to fail and because a proper covering makes for a warmer boat.

They run PVC tubing to the decks and packing tape as transverse supports. Then they shrink the cover on with a propane torch both impressive and, if not wielded carefully, destructive. See next post...

The bow of the boat need not be covered.

Everyone has the approach that works for themselves.

This "boom attachment point" I pretty well copied directly.

Having received the collective boat-cover wisdom while we were still at National YC (we moved gradually into the apartment during October as we wanted to sail as long as we could)...

Cobourg looking like a mill pond after a fairly gusty passage and a decision to bail out of a straight shot to Waupoos.

...we learned we weren't going to get approval to stay in the water at our club (it was a longshot) and so confirmed our berth at a nearby marina. 

The weather held until late October, save for some weirdness.

 Our slip was wide, but short. Good thing we had plenty of lines.

This was actually helpful when constructing the boat cover. I put together the Portabote and worked around the perimeter.

We also had an unusual 50-foot powerboat in steel from the 1960s opposite, cutting the breeze somewhat.

I don't see many steel boats on Lake Ontario larger than ours that aren't on the job.

 After some exotic maneuvering, we were ensconced.

Note the sails, bagged, tagged and garaged for the winter.

 This was Hallowe'en. The next post reveals what came next.

Have you never seen a horny teenager?

.And it was scary!