Layaway Plan

Longtime cruisers like to say they don’t have plans, they have ideas. We say it to remind ourselves there’s much we can’t control, a superstitious sailor’s talisman against hubris.

I have lots of ideas. They look a lot like plans.

Last October, when I flew to Ecuador to steal my own boat, I figured I’d be home in a week. Six months later, I’m still on SV Hanalei in Panama. That’s not even a cautionary tale these days, just regular cruising.

Here’s where we left the not-plan:

• Get vaccinated. 

• Go to the US for six months.

• Leave for New Zealand In January.

Panama or Mexico?

A month ago, the only pressing question was whether to leave the boat in Panama or Mexico.

As usual, reality looks different.

Vaccine dates were pushed back. Then there were more repairs.

Remember the sea water incursion that turned our generator engine into the Runaway Energizer Bunny? It wasn’t done throwing salt water on our plans. A few more parts disintegrated and needed repair.

Vaccine dates changed again.

No problem, we had to finish repairing the generator .

The sea water pump wasn’t the only thing throwing salt water on the Mexico option.

Now that vaccinations are scheduled for late April, we either wait here eight more weeks, sail to Mexico unvaccinated, or leave the boat in Panama.

We choose Panama.

We’d like the boat to still work when we return. So, how do you lay up a boat for six months? 

Tied, watered, powered, and armed.

 Tied Carefully

Hanalei is at Vista Mar marina, forty miles south of Panama City. The marina features a mighty Pacific surge that chafes dock lines and could wreak havoc. 

• Dock lines. Instead of looping lines in a figure-eight loop over anvil cleats on the dock, the Chief Engineer secured them with pieces of chain, like this:

• Chafe points. Old hoses will protect lines on deck.

Clever Chief Engineer.

Watered

• Salt-water intake lines. We flushed lines to toilets, air conditioning , chain wash pump, and engine cooling systems with fresh water. That will kill salt-water organisms that stink up pipes and keep a lid on our gastropod population. 

• Watermaker. If it were working, we would have pickled it; instead we’ll bring back new desalinization membranes.

• Fresh water. Swimming-pool chlorine crystals in our tank to throw a damper on algae growth.

• Battery water. A dry battery is a dead battery. We checked them and left distilled water for refills.

Powered

• Battery banks. Not using could mean losing them. Batteries slowly discharge all by themselves. We left them trickle-charging while plugged into shore power.

•  Starter battery. A discharged starter battery means the engine won’t run. We have people for that.

• Well-oiled machines. The Chief Engineer added a dollop of automatic transmission fluid during the generator’s last hand-crafted oil change to help with the seawater-incursion sludge. 

Armed

It’s not only sea creatures that we worry about. Land vermin can be a nightmare, too.

Except geckoes. They think weevils and mosquitoes are delicious. A gecko with an all-you-can-eat appetite would be a nice surprise, like a pet.

• Weevils. I added bay leaves to ziplocks full of grains and pasta to put them off. I’m still holding out hope for a gecko.

• Rats and roaches. Bait and traps should deter any potential stowaways.

Outside Help

We’ve hired people to oversee the boat’s wellbeing every month.

•  run the engine and the generator

• check battery water

• clean the bottom to prevent barnacle re-colonization

• daily check on dock lines, fenders, and power cords

In case of lightning strike or sinking, we should get a phone call. 

Chief Engineer raiding the fridge? Nope. Prepping to defrost and leave it wide open.

Okay, we’re out of here.

Hasta la vista, Panamá. See you soon.

Fair winds,

Christine

P.S. Wait, did I leave the gas on?

Do Tell

How long have you left your home without being there? What did you do?