POWER SHOPPING

Annapolis, MD -- As we stood at the gate of the Annapolis sailboat show this morning, I felt overwhelmed by how very far we've come in one year. When we entered the show last year, sad and wistful, Isabella, our old boat, was back in the Outer Banks having her belly repaired. We were living in a small apartment with no viable prospects for the business, wondering if the waiting would ever end.

Last year, we watched with aching hearts as a long line of sailboats headed south from Annapolis, their bows pointing toward the Bahamas.

This year, we enter the show triumphant, no longer dreamers but cruisers, inexperienced, yes, but ready to take our place in line heading south as soon as we return to the Outer Banks.

Our shopping list for the boat show was titled "Mission Critical." This was not intended to be melodramatic but rather was descriptive of the contents:

1. Life Raft
2. Life Jackets
3. Foul Weather Gear
4. Anchor

We were waiting at the gate at opening time with our friend John, who came along as part moral support, part sherpa, part tempering agent and part court jester, all well served.

We were among the first 20 people to enter the show (nerds) and were escorted out at closing (nerds). In the meantime, we snagged an amazing deal on a Revere life raft and two Mustang harness life jackets, all the while trying on every major brand of foul weather gear.

Mission accomplished.

One amazing year. One amazing shopping trip.

One happy toast to good times -- despite the fact that the bartender was pissed at the world as embodied by Chip, and dumped half a bottle of nutmeg in his painkiller. Look at that!

HOME IS WHERE THE BOAT IS

Last Sunday when we arrived in Rock Hall, we carried the Froli bed springs from the car, up the ladder, over the transom and into Good Company. Frolis are plastic springs made to go under the cushions on a boat to take the place of box springs. You assemble a base that adjusts to the odd shape of your bed, and then attach the springs, different colors represent differing firmness, so you make it soft under your shoulders (me) or firm under your hips (Chip). It's sort of the cheap, marine version of the Dial-a-Bed.

Since we bought those springs -- at the Annapolis Boat Show in 2007 -- we moved them into Isabella, out of Isabella, to the beach apartment, to the rental house, and now, finally, into Good Company.

And Sunday, as I was hunkered down in the v-berth, hooking little plastic pieces together, I asked myself, "Why am I so friggin' happy?"

My self snapped back, "Well, duh! You've been totally disassembling your life for the last three years. Now you have finally started rebuilding."

And, damn, if my self wasn't right. I was experiencing utter joy at having turned the corner and plopped right down in my new life. My days of tearing apart and breaking down are behind me.

Now, I am home. Cleaning, building, nesting. Finally.

And when I finished assembling little plastic wheels and springs, I had exactly one left over. A perfect fit.

THE BACK FORTY

After the Annapolis Sailboat Show, we took a side trip to Rock Hall, Maryland, to look at boats (just like we did last year). We plan to buy an Island Packet, but since we don't have a cool $300K, our pocketbook (packetbook?) limits us to used ones.

Island Packet has seven boats between 35 and 40 feet (not counting the new Estero). The differences between the various models gets tedious and just plain confusing. Chip has made charts to help us track the differences. Our goal was to narrow down our choices by seeing some of them side-by-side. We wanted to answer a few questions:
1. Are we sure we don't want a bigger boat, maybe a 40? Do the features outweigh the cost?
2. Should we spend 50-75% more for a 380?
3. Is the 37 different enough from the 35 to warrant spending 30-50% more?
4. Do we still like the 35 best for the money?

My next few posts will capture our thoughts and answers so we won't subsequently forget them (!). Since the 35 (not to be confused with the 350) is our front runner for now, I'll compare each boat to the 35. Today, question number one.

Island Packet 40:

The IP website has more info if you want to check out IP40s.  The one we looked at is a 1996 and is listed for $179,500 as compared to IP35s starting below $100K.

The layouts amongst the 35, 37, 38, 380 and 40 are very similar, but the extra feet on the 40 are used to add another bathroom in the bow. The unexpected consequence is that the salon is compressed. The settee angles out into the salon floor adding to that closed-in feeling. We didn't take a tape measure to it, but the salon feels smaller on the 40 than on the 35, and isn't it really about the feel?

Having that extra bath by the companionway would be awesome for use as a wet locker, but is it really worth an extra $70-80K? Besides, you trade one large bath for two small ones. The additional four feet of waterline adds comfort, but again, $70-80K worth?

It's more expensive to operate, maintain and even travel in a larger boat. The tradeoff would need to be substantial to make it worthwhile. The 40 didn't win us over.

SEW AND SEW

A friend of mine in New Mexico refers to homely women as "girls who make their own clothes."

I wonder how that applies to sailors who sew their own canvas?

We bought a Sailrite LSZ-1 at the boat show. It's a monstrously heavy, marine grade sewing machine that can sew an apron or a mainsail.

So now what do we do with our time? Watch sewing videos. We've fallen deep into the nerd well and can't get out.

STARING @ ESTERO

A new boat from Island Packet! So what if it costs 3 times what we can spend, that didn't keep us from window shopping.

The new Estero is a departure for Island Packet in many ways. At 36' feet it's dwarfed by their previous boat, the 460 (46'), which won Cruising World's Boat of the Year last year. The Estero is a sloop rig unlike most of IP's boats, which are cutters. The cabin layout is a huge departure from typical IP interiors. They went to the Gozzard-like layout with a settee in the V and the stateroom aft.

In my little opinion, here are the pros and cons:
PROS:
--It's got almost NO TEAK on the outside -- including the eyebrow. (Have they been reading my blog?)
--The finally quit using those light fixtues I hate!
--They made it look sleek and elegant on deck without teak.
--It's self-tending (sloop instead of cutter, with self-tending jib).
--A nice little swim platform off the stern.

CONS:
--It's got an unattractive snub nose and sheer line. In the first photo, the first two boats are Esteros. Look at its bow compared to the others on down the line. It just looks clunky in the water, especially in underway photos.
--The cabin layout is awkward and feels cramped.
--The galley and head are straight across from each other.
--I've always disliked drop-leaf tables that won't fold completely away. It has one smack in the middle of the V.
--The galley takes up too much central space and has almost no counter space.

My rating on a five-star scale: 2 stars. But what do I know? The Estero's nominated for Cruising World's Boat of the Year.

There are photos and layout drawings on their website. Judge for yourself.

HEAD-TO-HEAD COMBAT

The competitive spirit at the sailboat show bordered on brutal. It was nasty head-to-head combat, a veritable pissing match.

But this was not for Boat of the Year, it was for composting heads. Really.

Composting heads are brilliant. They are self-contained toilets that take otherwise icky contents and magically convert it to dirt -- almost odor free. You just dump the dirt, no search for pumpout stations, no messy connectors, no holding tank.

But the two producers of these composting heads were at the boat show and engaged in a stinky, junior-high style competition over who has the better product. One, who claims to be the original, has an entire sheet outlining the unpleasantness, including statements like, "they just can't have the breadth of understanding that I have" (about poop) and "I have made countless changes that really aren't noticeable to people." SOLD!

Ours has a remote fan!
Ours has an internal fan!
Ours has no dangerous separate seat!
Theirs has no separate seat!
Our seat is bigger!
Our seat is fine, but we made a bigger one just in case!

It's enough to make your head spin.

MISSED OPPORTUNITY

The sign read, "Marriage Savers!"

One of the vendors at the Annapolis Sailboat show was selling headphones designed for onboard communication. So, for instance, when your spouse is at the bow dropping the anchor and you are at the wheel, the headphones amplify what your spouse is screaming -- straight into your ear.

This is not a product I need.

The product I need is more of a United Nations variety where some calm, sane intercessor translates what my spouse is saying into soothing and sensible language I understand.

Here's how it would work:

Husband at the bow: What the $&*@) are you $*%*ing doing?!?! You're coming in too #*&$#( hot!!

Wife hears: Sweetie, you need to slow down a little.

Wife says: The #&#ing engine &$#$& up. You better (&#(*@ get your &$#ing *&#$ in the water and $&(*#&) the &*(#$^ line you kicked in the water off the &*(#$&$ing propeller.

Husband hears: I believe the engine has seized up, honey. Would you mind diving on the propellor to see if there's a problem? Maybe something to do with that little line you knocked into the water? Or maybe it was me that kicked it in. Yes. It must have been me. Wait, I'll go in. I'm a better swimmer.

Husband says: Mmph, nnh your mother zhen phflt.

Wife hears: This could be the best week of my life. All this togetherness just gets better and better.

Wife says: Zhenf eoridr, over my dead phenfnen.

Husband hears: Sweet Pea, after I chip all the barnacles off the bottom and wax the hull, I'll fix you a rum drink and your favorite dinner. You just relax.

Just think how smoothly this conversation would have gone with the headphones.

Translation headphones. There's a product that would save a marriage.

WE'RE OFF

Our past boat show visits have been fun but dreamy. We could only walk about and think wistfully of cruising sometime in the distant future. This year, with cruising so close at hand, there will be no wistful walkabouts. No, we're shopping.

Since we don't have our cruising boat yet, we're looking for all the accoutrement that is not boat specific: foul weather gear, solar panels, composting toilets, watermakers and harnesses.

On Monday, our broker has scheduled seven boats for us to look at. Seven in one day. What a luxury. It's almost time to decide between the Island Packet 350, 35 and 37. We get to see all of them side by side.

As a bonus, we can take a break from watching the stock markets plunge, watching our house sit idle and keeping the beer festival bandwagon on track.

Other forces in the universe are moving. More on that later . . .