More Laundry

We can think of many reasons to like Cognac; not the drink, the city.  For one thing it straddles the Charente river so you can visit Cognac by boat.  It is possible to follow the lovely Charente all the way from the sea to Cognac and beyond.  We dubbed our cruise up the slow moving river the Charente chateau show because its banks are lined with one elegantly large house after another. 

When visiting Cognac, its most famous drink can't be overlooked.  A pervasive scent of liquor hangs in the air and many of the buildings are covered with a black fungus caused by the spirit's evaporation during its aging process.  The locals call the fungus "the angel's share."  Distillers are glad to give you tours showing how their product is made--although, when we were there in 2002, the larger distilleries were quite happily charging five euros to show you around.

Charming Cognac is the birthplace of Francis I, one of the more reasonable French kings.  After wandering through a couple of distilleries, you can tour the grand house where Francis was born a Count....instead of a baby like the rest of us.  Mostly though, we like Cognac because of its people.

It was laundry day for us when we arrived in Cognac.  After securing our boat, we asked the marina staff for directions to the closest laundromat.  Naturally, our journey began by walking uphill away from the river.  Our wheeled grocery cart stuffed full of dirty laundry made the climb a little easier than carrying a duffel but the walk proved to be longer than we'd expected.  After trudging over a mile, despite our shyness about using our poor French, we asked a lady walking toward us if we were headed in the right direction.  "Ah, oui," she replied pointing the way.  We thought she told us to go another few blocks and turn right.  Of course, we were wrong.  Frustrated at being lost and tired after walking miles from the river, we were about to give up.  Just then our lady-of-the-good-deed came whipping around the corner in her car and ordered us to get in.  The laundromat was a few more blocks.  We hadn't understood her directions.  She knew that, so she went home, got her car, tracked us down and delivered us from failure.  


We never learned her name or where she lived but we always will remember her kindness.  See what we mean about the citizens of Cognac?

The Traveling Laundry Bag

No matter where we are in this world, our clothes get dirty.  Sometimes getting the laundry done not only becomes urgent but just a little difficult.   We've been lucky, though, to find washing machines everywhere.  Apparently everyone has the same problem that we do.

 
This little lavamatica is on a hill overlooking the anchorage at Turtle Bay, Baja, Mexico.  It's relatively simple to get there.  First, of course, you have to sail to Turtle Bay.  Then you collect all your dirty clothes in a waterproof duffel, remembering to put detergent in the bag in case there isn't any in town.  While you're doing that your partner is pumping up your inflatable dinghy.  When that's done, it takes both of you to safely lower the outboard motor and attach it to the dinghy's transom.  Now you're ready to go find a laundry.  You drop the duffel into the dinghy, climb over the rails, seat yourself, pull the starter rope on the dinghy motor a few times until it coughingly starts, putt-putt to the beach, step out into the water before the bottom scrapes, lug the dinghy high up on land to keep it safe, throw the heavy duffel over your shoulder and climb the hill.  When the clothes are clean you repack the duffel, walk back down the hill, put your clean, dry clothes under a seat in the dinghy where they will be less likely to get splashed on the ride back.  You push the dinghy out through the gentle waves and climb in, hoping your wet feet won't drip salt water into the laundry bag.  Once back at your anchored boat, you very carefully lift the bulky duffel into the cockpit, although, if you are smart you tie a line around the bag before you lift it over your head.  Que milagro....the clothes are clean again.

My best trip to the laundry was in Ft. Meyers, Florida.  We didn't have a wide inflatable dinghy then, just a little fiberglass boat with a well-rounded bottom.  Dwight decided to stay onboard to do some routine engine maintenance, so it was me and the laundry heading off in our tippy little dinghy which was very soon surrounded by a few playful dolphins.

As I cautiously motored down a little canal, one dolphin after another would push against the boat making it rock precariously from side to side.  The laundry duffel rolled from port to starboard and back again, each time getting awfully close to going in the water.  I was busy steering and holding on myself but I finally got the bag tucked securely between my ankles.  I could picture our dirty laundry floating all over Ft. Meyers.  My dolphin buddies were having too much fun. 

My friends didn't wait for me to get the clothes done, though.  They were long gone by the time I loaded our clean, dry clothes into the dinghy.  I was kind of lonely on the way back to the boat.

Guidebooks

May fortune smile on all authors of guidebooks.  From Marco Polo to Rick Steves we owe each one big thanks because without their sagacious advise about all things local, we would not know where to look.  Without Hugh McKnight’s book, Cruising French Waterways, we certainly would have missed one of the high points of our trip through the European Waterways. Possibly because this particular sight has nothing to do with boats or canals.

We were two days out of Paris, traveling toward Belgium along the river Oise.  Dwight was piloting the boat while I leafed through our guide trying to find something interesting to see on a drizzly day.  And there it was, the town of Auvers-sur-Oise, where Vincent Van Gogh went for treatment with Dr. Gachet, where Vincent shot himself and where he and his loyal brother, Theo, are buried.  Stop the boat, it's time for a pilgrimage!  We tied to the town's good solid dock, made sure the cat's bowls were full, put on our foulies and set off for the cemetery.

Not even the light rain that day could take away the town's charm or our delight at being there.  Although it was late in the season Auvers was filled with flowers; overflowing baskets of geraniums and petunias hung from every light post. The wet streets even managed to glisten in the afternoon light.  It was a quiet day with few cars or people around to disturb our romantic vision of the place.  The road to the cemetery took us right by Vincent's church; a treat that nearly brought tears to my eyes. 

 

Past the church a two lane road led out through wheat fields with each upright stalk looking like an artist’s brush stroke. We were in a Van Gogh painting. The damp, black tarmac was framed by the golden wheat with a dreary gray sky as the background.  Dwight, walking ahead of me was a burst of color with his bright almost fluorescent yellow foul weather jacket damp and shiny as we approached the small, walled cemetery at the top of a slight incline.

Vincent and Theo are buried side by side, next to the cemetery wall.  The French planted ivy that covers the two graves; brothers under the same blanket.  I wonder, if as little boys, they shared a bed and a blanket.  Now they do--forever.

Just before we left, I remembered the old Jewish custom of placing a small stone on graves as a remembrance.  I found two pebbles, one for Theo's headstone and one for Vincent's; my small salute to talent, loyalty and love.   

Panama

Our longest voyage was on our 30 foot sailboat, We Three, when we sailed from Seattle, Washington through the Panama Canal to Key West, Florida.  Dwight, myself and our Cap'n Kitty saw wondrous sights throughout that 7500 nautical mile journey; live volcanoes burping smoke puffs as we sailed out to sea from El Salvador; fish-tank clear tropical waters with tiny florescent blue fish swimming beneath our keel in Grand Cayman; joyfully energetic baby manta rays somersaulting out of the water one quiet morning in Mexico; and an enormous pod of smiling dolphins racing by our boat as we sailed into the morning off the coast of Southern California.

For me, the San Blas Islands were, by far, the prettiest sight.  Lying off the east coast of Panama, they are so gorgeously perfect that you could almost believe a Hollywood set designer had a hand in their creation. On the larger islands in this archipelago, you'll find tourists and tour boats and cruise ships but on some of the smaller islands the Kuna people stubbornly maintain their old ways.

We anchored for a few days at Chichime (chee-chee-may), between two small islands with a barrier reef protecting us from ocean swells.  While the men of the small island were off fishing during the day, the women packed their open dug-out canoes and paddled out to the private cruising boats anchored in their bay trying to sell their traditional molas or embroidery, while secretly hoping to be invited aboard for a cup of coffee.  They would smilingly hold up their wares and ask for "ten-dollah" or "fi-dollah" while the older children bailed out the water seeping through the metal patchwork in the bottom of their canoes.  Sometimes a kicking baby would be dangled up high toward our cockpit so that we could see how cute they were.....and they were adorable.  Their mothers had strong hands and tight grips on them, nevertheless a baby over water made me a little nervous. Those babies never even slipped, their mothers knew what they were doing.

Southern Hospitality

                     

Pleasant surprises happen when you travel, especially when you travel by boat.  Four years ago, we were navigating our way south toward Florida along the intracoastal waterway on a small sailboat.  It was November, the weather was miserable and so were we.  The cat couldn't even find a dry, warm place in the boat.  Cold with rain, then cold, then rain, more rain and cold rain.  Why we weren't farther south in our journey was a dumb decision on our part, we had simply started too late.  We had been warned but hadn't listened.  So it was a relief to tie up at the docks at Elizabeth City,  North Carolina.  At least we would be able to stay fairly warm and dry inside the boat.  Stores and restaurants were within walking distance of the docks and small craft warnings were flying out on the water.  We considered ourselves lucky.  With Thanksgiving a just few days away, we were looking forward to a nice restaurant dinner.  Not so, said the citizens of  Elizabeth City.  We, along with other cruisers at the dock, were invited home for Thanksgiving.  We were picked up, driven to a spacious, comfortably warm, dry house with a fire in the fireplace, delectable smells coming from the kitchen and large glasses of wine waiting for us.  The owner of the house was a woodworker and when I admired a small book rack he had built, he gave it to me.  It holds my cookbooks now.  Whenever I take a cookbook down, I am reminded of the generous people who took in slightly bedraggled, damp, probably musty-smelling sailors and gave them a lovely American holiday.  May their turkeys always be tender.

That wasn't all Elizabeth City offered to cruisers.  The Rose Buddies, a local club gave a wine and cheese party for all the cruisers, and on our last night at the docks, we were fed and serenaded.  Our dinner host got out his guitar and sang "May The Good Lord Bless and Keep You" especially to us and for us.  He meant every word of that song.

Nothing could be finer than to be in Elizabeth City, North Carolina at any time of the day.

                                                     BB III, not in Elizabeth City but close.
                                                                                            

Land Cruising

We often wonder why we seem to be the only people in the world who regularly get their comeuppance.  Could be that the angel-of-humble really has it in for us? Some years ago, we pulled a fin-keel 24 foot sailboat across the United States from California to Florida.  It wasn't easy because the boat and trailer weighed about 6,000 pounds and that along with its overall height and pulling it with an older truck dictated that we concentrate on the road.  No cruise control for us on that trip. Stopping for a coffee break at our first Texas Welcome Center, we were asked by one of the staff if we had come to Texas for some lake sailing.  "Sure, if you have a lake big enough for that boat," said I, pointing at our largish-looking boat sitting way across the parking lot.  "Lady," the host replied, "we got stock ponds big enough for your boat."

Teachers

My edition of  Roget's Thesaurus gives the word teacher two and one-half inches of alternate words.  One of the more interesting is moonshee, meaning a native interpreter or language instructor and which comes from a Hindu word, munshi.  We are going to be moonshees.  Is there a plural for that word?  If not, then we will have to be either instructors, tutors, dons, coaches, expositors, pedagogues or preceptors.

This started as an exercise in writing.  Could I write a convincing, literate letter to a college suggesting a course about the European Waterways?  I guess I can because the program coordinator for adult programs for our local community college emailed that she would like to talk to us about our idea.  Before we could change our minds and decide that neither one of us could teach a duck to swim, our course was approved for a 4 week period beginning late January 2010.  All we are waiting for is approval from the Board of Directors.  Elisabeth, the discerning, clear-sighted and intelligent program coordinator, even complimented me on my letter.

Now the challenge is to write convincing, succinct scripts for us to follow in our classes so that we don't bore our students.  We must keep moonshee in mind because isn't that what we will be doing, teaching the language of the waterways?  Of course, we will forgo any reference to the "avast there, matey" school of nautical talk and concentrate on uplocking versus downlocking and how to tell the left bank from the right bank.

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We Must Do Our Exercises

Both of us need to make sure we are in reasonable physical condition and have the necessary stamina to run a boat on the European waterways.  That means some kind of physical training.  Well, at least gentle training for the elderly.  There is no need to get carried away, is there?  The trick to any training is motivation. Fortunately for those of us who are lazy, Plus3 Network’s web site can provide plenty of motivation.  This web site has sponsors who will donate money to worthy causes for each exercise session that you log.  Nifty.  You get your exercise, a charity gets money and a business gets recognition.  

For those who would rather exercise their brains, take a quiz.  Free Rice will give 10 grains of rice to the United Nations for each correct answer you give.  Improve your vocabulary and help solve world hunger at the same time.  Or if all you want to exercise is your mouse finger go to The Hunger Site and just click away.


When we get to the boat, we will have plenty of exercise just climbing on and off it.  That, and riding bikes to and from grocery stores and constantly taking the dog for walks should keep us in shape.  Just to make sure, I asked Yogi E of Yoga Pura to teach both Dwight and I to do a good Salute to the Sun.  I hope I have enough pull with the good yogi and he won’t forget.   I can picture Dwight and I outside the boat in the mornings, our bones creaking as we try to make our salutations.  Wish us luck!

Rules and Regulations

Because it’s been 4 years since we’ve owned a canal boat, we are a little fuzzy about inland waterways navigation rules.  We hope to be on our boat around the first of April 2010 so we have six months to familiarize ourselves with them again.  With the help of the internet and the U.K.’s Royal Yachting Association, we’ll be able to do just that.  After all, we did it in 2 weeks once before.

When we bought our first canal boat, Chapter III, we didn’t realize that France required us to have a license to operate our boat.  As usual, we’d leaped before looking and found ourselves owning a  French boat and unable to operate it on the French waterways without a license.  With an inspector coming in 2 short weeks to give us a written and on-the-water test…..all in French….we did some scrambling.  Did we speak French?  Nope, it didn’t matter.  We had to pass the test, period.  We ordered a guide to the CEVNI from the Royal Yachting Association, bought one in French and started learning.  Yes, it was difficult but we passed and we were proud of ourselves for doing it.  We can do it again

From what we've read, a license to operate a boat isn’t compulsory in the Netherlands unless you are piloting a boat larger than 15 meters.  It is, however, mandatory to know the rules of the road.  

CEVNI (Code Europeen des Voies de la Navigation Interieure) unifies signs and signals and standardizes procedures on the European Inland Waterway system.  "Normal"  vessels, anything over 20 meters long,  have priority over small craft so some of the CEVNI rules might not apply to you as the operator of a small craft.   So, in order to understand what is going on around you and to take evasive action if necessary, learning all of the rules of the road is necessary.

Pets On Board

Yogi is almost ready to fly to Holland to live aboard a boat for a few months.   He just doesn't know it.  Six months ago we started our Yogi-dog on the path to international dogdom by having him microchipped and having blood drawn so a rabies titer test could be done by Kansas State University.  Now  an international health certificate is all he needs to enter the Netherlands but if we take him to England he will have to be treated against ticks and tapeworm--even though he doesn't have either one.

During the long, boring hours of an international flight Yogi might regret coming to our house to be our dog.  We will make him as comfortable as possible.  His kennel is big enough for him stand up and turn around, we will line it with adult-sized diapers for absorbency in case of accidents, he will have a wet washcloth to lick when he gets thirsty and he will have one of his favorite toys to keep him company.  Other than making darn sure we are all on the same plane, that is about the best we can do for him....well, a little worrying never hurt.

Two years ago, we adopted a 6 month old Affenpinscher mix pup from our local no-kill shelter, The Animal League of Green Valley.   He was--and is--adorable in a funny looking way.  We can say funny, everyone else must say adorable. 

In spite of the fact that he isn't a water dog and he doesn't swim well, he will be a boat dog.  Be ready to adapt, Yogi.

The last animal we dragged all over the world was our sweet Capt'n Kitty.  He left us on December 6, 2006.  Poor boy, his kidneys failed, he was dying by inches, so I held him in my lap while the vet gave him his last injections.   We still miss him

Capt'n visited 11 countries during his 11 years.  He did not like the process of traveling but loved the results.  If actions speak louder than words, we know that Capt'n loved the canals of France best.  And it's a mystery to us what Friskies does differently in France because that cat nearly swooned with delight when you showed him a can of cat food with a French label.  We didn't know he could read.     

Yes, you can travel with your animal, it's no more difficult than traveling with children.  Having an animal with you leads to pleasant conversations with locals who really want to meet your companion. 


Pets are welcome more places in Europe than they are in America.  You can even take an animal on a train.....try that with Amtrak.   The smaller, local stores still welcome dogs but the bigger, more modern mega-stores only allow service animals, just like here.

Each airline has specific information about their regulations for your pets. We suggest checking  your airlines web site for their rules about traveling with animals.   For more general hints on making your pet comfortable and keeping it safe, we recommend Pets Welcome or Pet Travel, the Humane Society of the United States and the ASPCA.

Turning a Boat into a Home in Holland

Now that we have a summer home, we have to furnish it.  Our floating house needs all the things that make a basic shelter a home; we must buy bedding, dishes, pots, silverware, towels, cooking utensils, trash cans, etc., etc.  Thank goodness for Ikea, in more ways than one.  Using Google Earth, we discovered that the Ikea store in Groningen is a short walk from Veha Motor yachten BV where our Orca is berthed for the winter.  Oh, whoppee, is this a sign that we are doing the right thing?   A friend of ours once said sometimes what you think is a sign is really a stop sign.........nahhhh!

After we finish our Ikea shopping, we will take our boat to Spaarndam to see the statue of the little Dutch boy who stuck his finger in a leaking dike to prevent a flood.  The statue was erected in 1950 after American tourists complained that they couldn't find the dike or anything pertaining to the story about a noble little boy saving his town.  The story, well known in America, was first published in 1865 in a book written by the American author, Mary Mapes Dodge.  Although the legend was unknown in Holland, the agreeable local tourist bureau, knowing a good thing when they heard it, erected the statue and Spaamdam became famous.  Good on them. 

The inscription on the statue reads:
Opgedragen aan onze jeugd als een huldeblijk aan de knaap die het symbool werd van de eeuwigdurende strijd van Nederland tegen het water.
Dedicated to our youth, to honor the boy who symbolizes the perpetual struggle of Holland against the water.

Seeing Europe by Canal

Do you know that in just five European countries there are approximately 25,700 kilometers of navigable inland waterways?  France has over 8,000 km; Germany, more than 6,900 km; Belgium has about 1,600 km; tiny little Netherlands, as expected, has 6,200 km; and don't forget Poland with its 3,000 km.  We haven't included the U.K. with its charming canals and great rivers.  Anyone would need a couple of lifetimes to cruise it all. 

We were lucky to have cruised the French canals for three summers, 17 months total, following narrow canals and wide rivers through the backyards of France.

Where do we want to go next?  Everywhere!  Come along with us as we get ready to cruise the European inland waterways.  Actual cruising begins in the spring of 2010.  In the meantime, there are preparations to make.

Have a hankering to see someplace?  Let us know and we will try to get there for you and then report back to you.  

Money and Purchases

The exchange rate is killing us. The U.S. dollar is shrinking just about as fast as our bank account. This certainly isn’t like the last time we bought a boat in Europe. Then, in 2002, the euro was worth less than the dollar and buying our first canal cruiser, Chapter III was easy, although we really didn't know what we were doing.  It's a different story this year.  Buying Orca is almost painful.

As it turns out, buying a boat in Europe means that we are transferring dollar assets into euros, which is probably not a bad idea right now. Which leads us a conundrum--do we hope the euro stays stronger than the dollar to protect our investment or do we show our loyalty by rooting for our country's currency?  A stronger dollar will make our summer trips easier.

Either way, we have our summer home now.  There is so much to see, so many new waterways to explore and, perhaps, some old favorites to revisit.

How different are the two canal cruisers?   No doubt that Orca is a better all-round boat; roomier, more seaworthy, with the ability to cross the English channel--on a very calm day.  It has both inside and outside steering and wider decks.   We like it!

We also like the people of Holland.   Dwight was helped by a very kind couple in the small town of Beetsterqwaag.  Henk and Hetty Vlasma, who own a shop specializing in clocks, watches and barometers and apparently thought that the strange, elderly American wandering around their town needed all the help they could give him.  They let Dwight use their wireless connection to the internet so that he could tell me about his progress.  When the yacht broker we were trying to work with kept ignoring Dwight's calls and emails,  Henk took time off and drove Dwight to look at quite a few boats.  The Vlasmas went way above the call of hospitality.  Henk even bought charts for us to use on our new boat and mailed them to our home.  We don't know yet what we can do to repay them but, golly, we gotta' think of something.

A LITTLE QUIZ

Do you know the average lifespan of a  U.S. bill?  See if you can match these up:

                       Denomination                       Lifespan
                       A.  $ 1                                     1.  89 months
                       B.  $ 5                                     2.  18 months
                       C.  $10                                    3.  21 months                          
                       D.  $20                                    4.  55 months
                       E.  $50                                    5.  16 months
                       F.  $100                                  6.   24 months

(Hint: F = 1)

Data taken from the web site of the Bureau of Engraving and Printing

                                                             

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