We discovered early on while sailing in San Francisco Bay that it wasn’t what you flush down that creates the off-smell in the boat, but what one flushed with – seawater. Seawater is full of organisms that once sucked into the hoses, quickly die and give off a sulfur-like smell. Flushing with fresh water eliminates this, and in our experience, the need for using chemicals in the head.
No one on this boat likes to do dishes. Cathy feels strongly about not using disposable plates or cups. So through the day, we seem to accumulate a sink full of dishes. If we’re underway and the seas are calm enough, we try to wash up after every meal, even if it’s just 2 bowls, 2 spoons, and 2 cups. But after dinner, if we play some cards or watch a movie, once you’re tired, the thought of doing dishes before going to bed is too much to bear. And we usually just leave them until the morning.
Living onboard a boat with our daily activities, in an environment with daytime temperatures usually well into the 80's, and between 40 and 90 percent humidity, it gets hot. We look forward to arriving at our destination, a quick dive to check the anchor, a cool shower, followed by drinks in the cockpit (if the sun is low enough). However, there are days when no matter how few clothes you have on, you simply cannot cool off. Doug has taken to just living in his “pajamas” (Hugo – you know what we mean), and Cathy wears quick-dry Capri pants and the largest t-shirt she can find. She also keeps a moist bandana around her neck for the evaporation value.
We drink lots of water – desalinated water. If we’ve anchored out, even on the hottest days, once the sun is down and the land starts to cool off, the breezes turn coolish, and with the help of our 12volt fans, we are able to sleep in the V-berth somewhat comfortably. In anchorages, we can jump overboard and take a cool swim – and then rinse off with fresh water using the spigot in our cockpit. But in a marina, for two reasons – both health related – that is not a possibility. First of all, no one seems to use the pumpout stations here. In fact, some marinas don’t even have operational pumpout stations. And secondly, many of the marinas are built in natural estuaries, and at these latitudes, that means crocodiles. The first sign we saw alerting us to this was in Puerto Vallarta. And we actually saw a crocodile swim by our transom in Ixtapa just after sunset.
Actually the hardest place for water management is in the marinas. At least we don’t use as much, since for example we shower on shore. But we cannot make water in the marina since the water is generally too dirty and would gum up the membranes quickly. Is the water at the dock potable? In Cabo the marina office told us “well I drink it, but you probably shouldn’t”. While in La Paz we were told “it’s drinkable – but I wouldn’t drink it.” So we don’t. We use it to flush the toilet, wash down the boat, rinse out salty clothes (salt attarcts water, so clothes will never dry if the salt water hasn't been rinsed away) – but use our watermaker water for dishes, showers, and drinking.
Our water tank holds 170 gallons. With the watermaker, we really don’t worry that much about how much we use. And we carry 10 gallons of emergency water in 2 liter jugs and are never very far from land. I can’t tell you how much per day we really need – but I guess I could go back and calculate it from our records of watermaker usage. Our Ventura model watermaker will make about 8 gallons per hour.
No comments:
Post a Comment