Leaving On A Jet Plane: Medical Emergency

Hi all!
I’m sorry that I’ve been delinquent in posting but I have a really good excuse. About a month ago, I jetted the Cap’n out of here on a turbo-prop to West Palm Beach.

It started out as a normal day with the cap’n not feeling too good which we just attributed to the fun the night before. Throughout the day he felt worse and worse, I didn’t learn until later when he confessed it to the doctors that he’d been having tightness in his chest for 10 days. I finally convince him that we call BASRA (Bahamas Sea and Rescue Association) http://www.basra.org/. This is a totally volunteer organization that receives no funding from the government that needs and deserves your support. You never know if your going to be next one calling them so here is their website, if you’d like to assure that they are there for you. I am not implying that they won’t help you if you don’t donate, they help everyone in need, but like everybody in these trying financial times they need your support. This story is easier told by saying things we were fortunate in doing or having and things we wish would have had in place or done differently.

We were lucky that we were in a familiar harbour with established friends and contacts available. We were able to hand Stanley, the killer bichon, off immediately to trusted friends, Phyllis and Neil on Chapter X . I had never even considered what I would have done with a pet in the case of an emergency like this. I had barely hung up the mike from calling BASRA before a dock friend, Mads was there with assistance and an offer of a defibrillator from his boat (thank God we didn’t need it) and within minutes a member of BASRA, Chris Prewitt, whose sailboat was moored right behind us was knocking on the hull to transport us to the main dock where the boat that would transfer us to Marsh Harbour was waiting. We were fortunate they were already responding to another emergency and were at the ready. I thank God that we were not at some uninhabited cay with no one around.

It was unfortunate that we did not have an emergency bag ready just in case this should happen. Even so, I thought I did pretty well, throwing in passports, all the cash we had, (including the money our friends on Exit Strategy had given us to relay to their mooring ball owner since they were leaving for a few days), our wallets, checkbook, cell phones (but no chargers) and 3 pairs of underwear apiece. The cap’n managed to throw in a couple of packs of cigarettes. Unfortunately, I forgot extra clothes (that was solved by a scarey, creepy public bus ride to a Dollar store 5 days later. Who but sailor trash goes to a Dollar Store to shop in West Palm Beach?), cruising permit, which caused us to have to buy round-trip airline tickets when we were lucky enough to fly back to the boat. And scariest of all I forgot my make-up and toiletries. After we got back, our friends Amy and Pete, from Double Vision told us they always keep a ditch bag ready, even though they no longer live on a boat, great idea for everyone.

We were fortunate that we had established friends in Marsh Harbour who met us at the clinic and helped hold me up. Chris and Tara from OII (Out Island Internet) stood by and made Cola runs for me and used their own personal cell phones to call our family to let them know what was going on because my fingers wouldn’t work to dial and they also started to arrange a charter for us out. In the end this was unnecessary because the doctor said the cap’n would require a Medevac. Brenda from Tupps Wine and Liquors, who was worried about losing her most loyal customer (just kidding, Brenda). She gave us immeasurable support and even told me I looked great even though I knew different. And to our magical friend Patti Toler who did things that I’m sure we’re not even aware, plus she loaned me a hairbrush and some lipstick.

We were fortunate that Dr. Schwerna and his staff were on duty that night. Under their hands the cap’n became stable and I became less afraid. The emergency staff at West Palm Beach were very impressed with his treatment. We are thankful to Dr. Boyce for loaning a necessary medication from his private clinic and for his staff for bringing it over on what was now becoming a late evening.

We were unfortunate, that we did not have Medevac insurance. In fact, I have actively pooh-poohed it on several message boards, saying , “Who would want to wait 8 hrs. for a Medjet to arrive when you could charter a plane in minutes. . There was no way I would have been comfortable flying alone with the cap’n on a charter that night. He required medications and constant attention, and while a charter might be okay for a fracture, it was not appropriate for this situation.

We were fortunate that we had enough credit on our credit card to pay for the evacuation ($8,400.00 plus change) because it is required upfront. I don’t know what they do if you don’t have the money to pay. I strongly suggest you sign up with http://www.medjetassist.com/ or http://www.diversalertnetwork.org/ or another like service. The plane was Beech B-1900 with two pilots, a doctor and two EMT/nurses. They also arranged transport by ambulance to the hospital. The eerie thing is I had just asked the cap’n during our last flight over that I wonder what they do in reference to customs and immigration when you are flown in on a medical emergency. Now I know. In our case, we first had to land in Fort Lauderdale to clear in because West Palm’s customs had shut down. I was right about waiting for a jet for 8 hours, it was now the wee hours of the morning and the ordeal had started about 3:00 pm. All of us except the patient and one nurse disembarked from the plane and walked across the tarmac to the immigration office. As always there was no hurry and another Medevac plane was clearing in at the same time. There was some problem with the manifest and no one seemed to be concerned that my cap’n was having chest pains out on the tarmac. We finally cleared and then the nurse that had remained with the cap’n had to go in and clear. I was able to present the capn’s documentation for him. Finally, we were back in the air on the way to WPB.

We were fortunate that we had changed our international medical insurance (which required us to be out of the US for 6 months of the year) before we got back on the boat this year. When I couldn’t find other things to keep me up nights worrying, I worried about this requirement since we hadn’t been able to fulfill it last year due to my dad’s illness. Turns out I was right to worry.

We were fortunate for the good care at Good Samaritan Hospital in West Palm Beach. We were fortunate that the cap’n did not have an MI (heart attack) but an arrythmia that was able to be treated with meds and a change in lifestyle. We were fortunate that the docs insisted on a heart cath because we were coming back over here and they didn’t want a repeat perfomance. We were fortunate that the heart cath showed no damage and that it, according to the doctor, “looked a hell of a lot better than it deserved to” given the capn’s lifestyle. After the capn had been off cigs and rum for a week., we were fortunate that there were still a few nurses willing to take care of him.

We were fortunate to have the support of our friends who called or sent flowers when we were in the hospital and when we returned to Hope Town , several of whom were on the dock to greet us with applause and hugs.

Yesterday, we were fortunate to volunteer at the Hope Town Fire and Rescue Fair, http://www.hopetownfirerescue.com/ who shares its funds and people with BASRA.

We are very thankful to The Great Navigator upstairs for a wake-up kick in the head. I can’t brag that our new leaf has remained completely turned over. I myself, as some of you know, have never been a poster child for moderation and the cap’n is my worthy counterpart, but be reassured we are trying and will keep on trying. Believe me, it's harder than it looks.

Sorry, The Great Navigator does not have a website...

So go on up to high power now, if you feel like it, and keep us in your prayers

Boat Best Friends: Pets on Boats

I'm woosing (?) out again and pasting an email that was sent to me from a very good friend who lost her best friend about a month ago. The email happened to be very timely because some other friends on the boat "Second Look" lost their mate "Mandy" last week. I keep trying to think of a better term than "lost" but none of them fit. And after all, maybe lost is the most appropriate term since we hope we will find them again someday. Thanks Patti, Matriarch of the Abaco Cruiser's Net.

This explains why I forward jokes:

A man and his dog were walking along a road. The man was enjoying the scenery, when it suddenly occurred to him that he was dead.

He remembered dying, and that the dog walking beside him had been dead for years. He wondered where the road was leading them.

After a while, they came to a high, white stone wall along one side of the road. It looked like fine marble. At the top of a long hill, it was broken by a tall arch that glowed in the sunlight.

When he was standing before it he saw a magnificent gate in the arch that looked like mother-of-pearl, and the street that led to the gate looked like pure gold. He and the dog walked toward the gate, and as he got closer, he saw a man at a desk to one side.

When he was close enough, he called out, "Excuse me, where are we?"

"This is Heaven, sir," the man answered.

"Wow! Would you happen to have some water?" the man asked.

"Of course, sir. Come right in, and I'll have some ice water brought right up."

The man gestured, and the gate began to open.

"Can my friend," gesturing toward his dog, "come in, too?" the traveler asked.

"I'm sorry, sir, but we don't accept pets."

The man thought a moment and then turned back toward the road and continued the way he had been going with his dog.

After another long walk, and at the top of another long hill, he came to a dirt road leading through a farm gate that looked as if it had never been closed. There was no fence.
As he approached the gate, he saw a man inside, leaning against a tree and reading a book.

"Excuse me!" he called to the man. "Do you have any water?"
"Yeah, sure, there's a pump over there, come on in."
"How about my friend here?" the traveler gestured to the dog.

"There should be a bowl by the pump."

They went through the gate, and sure enough, there was an old-fashioned hand pump with a bowl beside it.

The traveler filled the water bowl and took a long drink himself, then he gave some to the dog.

When they were full, he and the dog walked back toward the man who was standing by the tree.

"What do you call this place?" the traveler asked.

"This is Heaven," he answered.

"Well, that's confusing," the traveler said. "The man down the road said that was Heaven, too."

"Oh, you mean the place with the gold street and pearly gates? Nope. That's hell."

"Doesn't it make you mad for them to use your name like that?"

"No, we're just happy that they screen out the folks who would leave their best friends behind."

Soooo...

Sometimes, we wonder why friends keep forwarding jokes to us without writing a word.
Maybe this will explain.
When you are very busy, but still want to keep in touch, guess what you do? You forward jokes.
When you have nothing to say, but still want to keep contact, you forward jokes.

When you have something to say, but don't know what, and don't know how, you forward jokes.
Also to let you know that you are still remembered, you are still important, you are still loved, you are still cared for, guess what you get?

..... A forwarded joke.
So, next time if you get a joke, don't think that you've been sent just another forwarded joke, but that you've been thought of today, and your friend on the other end of your computer wanted to send you a smile.

You are all welcome @ my water bowl anytime

I have a lot of things ping-ponging around in this old noggin of mine right now. We went to Mexico to explore an alternative winter residence and found the most gorgeous house at an obscenely low price (compared to the Bahamas)and then we came back home to our friends and an unbelievable 50th birthday party for our friend Doris on "Exit Strategy" and the next day met up with one of our best friend couples, Janet and Gary of "LeeAnn" and we are wearing ourselves out trying to decide. House or Friends? In today's economic climate I think I'd rather invest in friends. I'd love to hear from friends that gave up boating to see what they think. Norm and Ami?
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Boat for sale

No it's not mine, but we have extended our visit here in Mehico for a couple of extra days just to look at additional winter accomodations. Notice I said additional, not alternative. I just can't get away from the tortillas and frioles and cheap beer.

Some friends of ours have turned into CLOD (Cruisers Living On Dirt)and are looking to give away their boat to a good owner. JUST KIDDING! Whooee! I bet Pat blew some blood vessels on that one. Some of you might have sailed with Pat (Paco) and Dori over the years, if you have you won't forget them. They are now selling Sol Y Mar. They are the only owners and I can vouch that you won't find a better maintained boat. I know she just got new batteries, like last week and they are now in Bequia waiting for a window to bring her to the states. Anyway here is the link for all the info. Hey Paco, do I get a finder's fee?

http://www.sailboatlistings.com/view/11648
It seems blogger no hablas English. It keeps saying,"No se encuentra el blog que busca" so let me know if you guys can't link to the site. And hey swab, bring me another Mohito.

Hi guys,
I've jumped ship! But just temporarily. We are taking a short vacation from the boat to visit Jeff's brother in Playa del Carmen, Mexico. We have been having a blast exploring Mexico and I can't wait to tell you about it. If you think there is no more undiscovered beachfront in the Western Hemisphere, you're wrong. We found a place with gorgeous untouched beachfront on the gulf and they are only using it to to beach their fishing boats. Can you believe it? The locals kept asking us how we found the place, at least that's what I think they were saying. We were the only non-Spanish speakers in the whole village.

But before I blog about our trip, one of my new readers, Mike from Ohio, wants to know how we (I'm including the rest of you first mates and captains in this)jumped the hurdles to go cruising. One of his questions is about health insurance and since, as our fellow cruisers in the Abacos know, we had to Med-evac the cap'n out a couple of weeks ago to West Palm for an all-expensive, no frills stay at the elite Good Sam hospital, I have a few suggestions. And I hope we get some suggestions from others. Thanks for getting me back on track, Mike. When I started this blog the purpose was to answer and get suggestions from other first mates but my readers appear to be shy. Now keep in mind, I know quite a few of them and they're not shy at all. I still want to know how to keep my dishrags from stinking to high heaven since I can't just throw them in the wash machine if any of you have a suggestion.

Hopefully, I'll be back chewing your ear off on Monday.

P.S. We really need to import good tortillas to the Bahamas.

All Creatures Great and Icky! : Boat Critters

We arrived back on our boat after our Christmas vacation in the land of paychecks. Agur’s Wish was pulling gently at her docklines and all looked to be well. We extracted our key from the top secret hiding place that everybody on the dock and quite a few people in the settlement are aware of, just in case someone needs to save her from sinking or burning to the waterline. Or, God forbid, there might be a real emergency like a shortage of rum, in which case the residents of the dock and town know we have enough emergency rations of rum to “float” a small island nation for the foreseeable future.

We descended the companionway into the gloom of the shrouded boat. As we uncovered the hatches, we gasped in horror. Strewn about the boat were remnants of cigarettes chewed down to the filters. The strings of fake plastic limes and lemons that I had hanging in the galley had multiple bite marks in them.

The cap’n and I looked at each other. Which one of our nicotine fiend, tequila deprived, lime-sucking dockmates was to blame? It could be anyone of them.

“I smell a rat!”

Yeppers, in our absence a transient hobo-type critter of the rodent kind had set up camp and was now plotting to hold me prisoner on my own boat. Think Nicole Kidman in the movie “Dead Calm” or Melanie Griffith in “Pacific Heights”. This intruder was hell bent on incessantly teasing, taunting and torturing me.

There was the night I was laying on the settee reading a book, listening to Stanley, the killer bichon, chomping away at his dinner in the galley. But wait a darn minute, Stanley was laying right beside me. That’s what I call teasing and taunting.

Trapping a rodent phobic, incurable insomniac with frequent nocturnal urinary urges in her bunk all night….that’s what I call torture.

Luckily, the cap’n wasn’t as easily cowed and he set to work setting a trap. Later on that night, let’s just say, our uninvited guest found himself in a sticky situation. The cap’n gave him the old “heave-ho”.

And now Mickey, the Mouse, sleeps with the fishes.

Although no worthy first-mate, except me, would lay claim to having such commodious quarters for the formerly described unwanted guest, rodents are actually your common, garden-variety type of vermin that might be found on your boat. Now let’s talk about some of the more exotic varieties that may take up lodging.

I was introduced to one such creature on a bright sunny afternoon while I was diligently cleaning the cockpit and the cap’n was diligently throwing back lethal adult beverages at the Jib Room at the Marsh Harbour Marina..

I was busily scrubbing away, whistling a happy tune when I happened to open a cockpit locker. Staring back at me from the depth of the locker were two bulging yellow eyes.(I swear he had yellow eyes). A viperine (look it up, as Sister Irene used to say) tongue darted at me. There squatting atop the debris was a big, fat, slimy, day-glo lime-green frog.

“Rrrribbett”, it said.

“Eek!” said I, as I slammed the lid and awaited the cap’ns return from his arduous duties on shore.

Once again the cap’n gave the old “heave-ho” and the culprit swam merrily to shore.

Unfortunately, now my fear of opening the cockpit lockers is akin to my fear of highway rest stops. You see, for some reason every time I go into a highway rest stop I fear that I am going to see an amputated body part floating in the toilet. I try to not even look in the toilet. I have no idea where this gruesome irrational fear came from. Believe me, I’ve never seen an amputated body part floating in a toilet. Maybe I’m a little bit crazy. Normal people don’t think about things like that at rest stops. Do you? Ha! Ha! I bet you will now. Gotcha! Anyway, that explains the sorry state of my cockpit lockers.

Both of the previous experiences pale in comparison to what happened to our friends on the s/v Just Dreaming. This happened a couple of years ago and I wrote about it on some of the cruising boards, so if you’ve already read it I apologize. This is what happened.

We received an interesting vessel in distress call to us via VHF yesterday afternoon. I don't know why they thought we could help them with the nature of their distress except it happened to be one of those rare days when the water in Marsh Harbor was clear enough to see the interesting array of nature on our bottomsides.

It seems that the admiral of the distressed boat had been diligently (Ah-ha, a fellow member of the diligent cleaner club) scrubbing the head when she noticed what she thought was algae poking out from under the rim. She immediately armed herself with toilet brush for the attack and the enemy beat a hasty retreat. She decided to flush the area for more traces of enemy insurgents and sure enough more little legs poked through.

Dispersing with the usual regimen of interrogation she went straight to the torture stage and started gingerly tearing off limbs. When the captain and admiral had torn off a respectable amount limbs without gaining any useful intelligence they decided to call us. They now had their own little P.Y.N. (pinch your nose) camp set up in the intake of their head and they had removed all means for their prisoner's escape. You think the Abu Gahraib (sp?) scandal caused a stink.

My captain had indulged in his usual breakfast of Kalik's followed by a nutritious brunch of Rum-N-Ade’s and for some reason couldn't come up with a solution. I muttered, "You suck." My captain replied, "I besh your parshon!" I replied, "Tell him to disconnect his intake hose and apply suction." Sure enough, after just a few seconds of militia strength ShopVac to intake hose and the enemy lay legless and quivering on the floor.

A 3-4 inch slimey Jabba the Hud squid in his last throes. Of course, my captain took all the credit for the successful mission.

So, if some dark, .dark night you find yourself on the throne trickling and you feel something tickling....... Sorry Denny and Diane this one's going 'round the world wide web.

Whatever You Want To Put In It Pop-overs

I took these over to sundowners on JilliQ the other night and was told that I have to put the recipe in my blog and in return Jill will add her made-in-the-pie-plate pie crust recipe. Jill, you are within dinghy distance now and I can come over and wring it out of you. Actually, the pop-overs start with a basic cream cheese pastry that is very easy to work with and you can do anything you want with it. First the pastry recipe (Not for the lite-hearted diet types)

Cream Cheese Pastry

1 8oz. pkg of softened cream cheese
1 cup of softened butter
2 cups of flour
1/2 tsp salt

1. In large bowl cream together cream cheese and butter

2. Slowly add in sifted together flour and salt.

3. Shape into two balls, wrap in plastic wrap and chill for at least 3 hours.

4. Roll out to desired thickness (1/4 inch or so for me) cut with desired size of round cutter (I use a Guana Grabbers cup which is about 3 inches diameter).

5. Fill pastry round with about a tablespoon of filling (sample fillings down below) if your using the Grabber cup, fold over and seal edges. Crimp sealed edges with a fork.

6. Place pop-overs on greased cookie sheet and bake at 400F until nice and golden brown. In my oven you never can tell how long this is going to take and I'm still usually crouched down next to the oven beast with flashlight in hand 15 minutes after happy hour has started. I also usually have to turn them over to brown them on both sides. So do them the day before and reheat.

Fillings I have used:

Italian:

Slosh some olive oil in a frying pan and heat, drink a glass of red wine, add a brick of cream cheese, drink a glass of red wine, add chopped onion, green pepper, pepperoni,mushrooms, or whatever you have, and drink a glass of red wine. Heat until the mixture and you are toasted and bubbly.

Mexican:
Same as above except use hamburger and Sangria.

*This pastry also makes a delicious quiche pastry. I have used it for mini-quiches by lining regular sized muffin pans with the pastry dough and filling with an egg mixture of eggs (duh), heavy cream (or whatever dairy product you have onboard), scallions, shrimp, asparagus, and swiss cheese. Just bake until pastry is brown and egg mixture is set. Yummy! And can be frozen and reheated later.

Bon Apetite! Slosh! Slosh!

Reefer Madness: Boat Refrigeration Gremlins

That title should garner some interesting hits to my blog. (*Note to self: Look up the definition of “garner”)

The captain and the boat are driving me crazy today. Or maybe it’s just the captain on the boat and it’s not the boat’s fault at all. Yeah, that’s probably it. Anyway this is kind of like one of those letters you write when you’re afraid to tell your spouse he’s doing something that drives you crazy so you put it in a letter to an anonymous newspaper column hoping he’ll read it and recognize himself. Then he’ll recognize how ridiculous his behavior is and beg your forgiveness and swear to change his evil ways. My problem is the captain doesn’t read those columns and the other problem is I’ve told him repeatedly, sometimes loudly and profanely, every little thing that he does wrong and he keeps on doing them.

You must understand that the cap'n didn’t develop these annoying little habits only when we moved on the boat. He’s always had them. They just seem amplified in the limited space and magnified expanse of time we spend together on the boat.

Now which one is my very least favorite? The one that has me gnashing my teeth and muttering words that would have my mother washing my mouth out. Hmm. Let me think. Ah yes, that’s the one. The diabolical refrigerator or to be more specific the captain's neurosis about anyone opening the door to get things in or out of the refrigerator.

As I said, he’s always had this particular neurosis. The kids and I used to time him and it usually only took about 2.8 seconds after hearing the refrigerator door open before the captain would espouse the same wise words.

“It’s not a TV. Get in and get out,” he’d bellow.

This isn’t such a big deal when you have a side by side with about thirty shelves and see-through bins.

Since buying the boat his repertoire of sage refrigerator advisories have grown. Let’s see there’s…

“What are you looking for?”

As if just by the act of answering this inquiry the sought after item will magically levitate through the layers of jumbled containers and decaying produce to the top of the refrigerator.

Oh and then there’s…

“Do you need a flashlight?”

Let me think. Not unless it has an x-ray beam that can see through the questionable contents of those jumbled containers and decaying produce.

There’s also this one…

“You know the cold just pours out when you use the front opening instead of the top one.”

Since I can’t get to the bottom compartment without using the front opening I guess I could stop storing food in the bottom compartment but with the captain's penchant for provisioning for a non-stop round the world cruise every week, that’s out of the question.

Here’s my favorite.

“You need to organize it better.”

I would be overjoyed to do this if I could have at least twenty seconds in the fridge to put things to rights and then another five seconds each time I put something in it to put it in its place. The current practice of gathering all the refrigerated items together, opening the door, throwing them in, and then slamming the door doesn’t lend itself towards organization.

Oh yeah, I almost forgot this one…

“Is that the freezer running again?”

Which translates into, “You’ve been in there long enough. Get out!”

On most sailboats power conservation ranks right up there with water conservation. You don’t have to be planning an ocean crossing to be concerned about conservation. A week of gunkholing can put a serious drain on your batteries, especially if your trying to get away from it all and swearing off civilization and marinas, or if you just dread docking like this first mate.

On a sailboat without a generator the production of power is limited to solar panels, wind generators, or your engine’s alternator and a reliable battery bank. Solar panels and wind generators are great adjuncts to your engine’s alternator regenerating capacity but they cannot be relied on as the primary source of electricity for most modern boats. Eventually you’re going to have to run your engine to recharge your batteries. This unfortunately increases your engine hours along with wear and tear on your engine. The longer you can manage your power usage with just your battery capacity, the better off you are. So what does all this have to do with the previous diatribe on marine refrigeration? Refrigeration is a big consumer of electrical power and that is the reason for the involuntary sphincter reaction of most captains I know every time the fridge door is opened. But there’s help on the way. Here are some tips that might help keep the air in the refrigerator a little colder and the air between you and the captain a little warmer.

Tip One: If you’re an American or just can’t abide the thought of drinking a warm beer, keep a separate ice chest with your favorite beverages in it. This saves space in your fridge and saves multiple trips in and out of it. Ours fits right under our salon table so it’s out of the way. Of course, you still have to buy ice which can be expensive.

Tip Two: Do try to keep the fridge somewhat organized. I try to keep routine items in the same place every time. You’ll also have to layer your foods according to their squishability. Meat and cheese and hard vegetables and fruits will survive on the bottom of the heap but more vulnerable fruits and veggies that bruise easily will have to go on top. I also keep my bread products in the refrigerator because out of the refrigerator bread products don’t last more than a couple of days for me. The squishablility theory applies here also. Pizza crusts and tortillas go on the bottom with loaf bread and hamburger buns on top. Remember though, no matter how well you accomplish this you’re still going have to do some excavating when you’re looking for items but at least you’ll know which way to tunnel. It also helps to keep a list of what items you have in the refrigerator and freezer because, as mentioned, things can get buried. Of course, this only works if you mark off items as you use them.

Tip Three: Cut a piece of foamed plastic insulation to fit over the top of the refrigerator/freezer area. When my captain suggested this I fought it tooth and nail. I didn’t want to have to remove some ugly piece of silver insulation every time I got into the refrigerator. As usual, I lost and he did it anyway. And boy, it was ugly! Thankfully a friend, that has all the decorating genes I was born without, suggested covering it with contact paper or wallpaper and it actually turned into an attractive workspace. It is lightweight really not all that inconvenient to take on and off.

**I promise all first mates that if you make this suggestion to your captain he will be eternally grateful and then he’ll immediately claim it as his idea.

Tip Four: Buy smaller containers of products. I’m not a big believer in keeping food products that say “refrigerate after opening” out of the refrigerator. I figure there’s a reason for that warning and it’s probably because someone died or got really sick. I know there is lots of literature out there that says if I use a clean spoon in my mayo every time or if I turn my eggs every week I don’t need to refrigerate them. Well, if you saw some of the water conserving methods we use to wash dishes on our boat you might question the cleanliness of that spoon and if there ever was a universal inexpensive food it has to be eggs. Why would I risk salmonella because I forgot or was too lazy to turn my eggs one week. You can probably tell I’m not a big fan of food poisoning although I have considered it as a diet alternative. Seriously, I would rather throw a questionable item out then risk it. I also buy smaller containers of my favorite condiments even if they are more expensive and keep them in the refrigerator after opening rather than larger containers that won’t fit in the refrigerator. I‘ve found that even when I refrigerate larger containers of perishables I end up throwing half or more of the product out because I don’t use it fast enough and lose faith.

Tip Five: My captain should probably patent his latest “keep the cold air in and keep the first mate out of the refrigerator device”. It is a kind of thermal blanket for the freezer. Hmm…a blanket for the freezer. It didn’t make a whole lot of since to me. He couldn’t find one, go figure, so he had to design it himself. He bought a small silver tarp and some bubble wrap. He then made a template of our freezer using newspaper and using this template cut two patterns out of the silver tarp and two out of the bubble wrap. He placed the bubble wrap (with bubbles together) between the tarps and glued it all together with contact cement. It now resides on top of our frozen goods. It manages to keep me out of the freezer because it is a little unwieldy to get the “blanket” in and out so usually I just grab the first thing I feel under it. “Oh look, lobster again. I wonder how all those little buggers got to the top of the pile?” The captain swears it has noticeably reduced our refrigeration running time and, for once, I’ll admit he’s right. Ouch ! That hurt.

Tip Six: Almost any book about cruising (ECGIER) will have tips on how to reduce your refrigerator’s power consumption. Find the ones that fit you and your boat and use them. Every little bit helps.

Final Tip: I saved the best for last. This is the one that works best for me. If you find you really do need to get into your refrigerator for some mundane reason such as sustenance, plan ahead carefully. Figure out everything you need out of the fridge and its approximate location then boldly make your move. Just make sure the captain is off the boat.

Epilogue: I wrote this article when I actually had refrigeration and my most heart-felt back-thumps to you that live without it. I went all last year without it and the only good things I can say about doing without it is that I helped the Bahamian economy by eating out a lot, and buying a lot of stuff that I would have to throw out and replace on a day by day basis. Oh, the other good thing was that the cap'n didn't yell at me every time I opened the refrigerator (hatch,door??? what do you call it?).