The Adventures of Green Eyes, Cruising in the Time of Covid with a Cat-- Chapter 7, Lists!

     

If you're going to cruise with a pilot, or a pilots wife who is slightly (or a lot, depending on who you ask) compulsive, you are going to see on our boat checklists, lots of checklists, organized in a ringed notebook called,     

         "GREEN EYES CHECKLISTS- DO NOT REMOVE FROM BOAT- OMNI ASSIGNMENT BOOK"

     It also contains the notes I took when we and the previous owner moved the boat together in Texas from one marina to another, two full cruising days away: How to change the oil and filter, how to measure the diesel in the fuel tank, how to fill the three drinking water tanks, two pages of notes on how to prepare the boat when we are away from her for more than a week, how to pump out the holding tank --that's the tank that holds poo. It holds twenty-one flushes EXACTLY--, and how to take a shower (you don't. You pull in to a marina and use their showers.) But the most used checklist is the one titled "Pulling Away From the Dock." 

 

    The most important item on this list is Unplug Shore Power Cord. This is a task usually done by the Captain, a last minute, last item thing to do. We haven't inadvertently left our shore power cord connected to the dock yet, but we've heard it happens: While the captain tries to reverse out of the slip, but something keeps him from leaving, so he yells at the Admiral, "Didn't you untie the lines??" and she, yells back, "Of course I did!" so the Captain keeps giving it more juice until there is an expensive repair to be made, either on the connection of the cord to the panel on the dock, or, worse, into the side of the boat. When the Captain still can't leave the dock and after accusing the Admiral a second time that she has NOT untied the dock lines, the Captain looks out the window and quietly says, "Oh. The power cord is still attached,"  Anyway, that's the most important item on the checklist. Like pilot and co-pilot, one of us reads each item on the list and the other says, "Check!" This is done every time we leave the dock, which is not every day because we are Slow Loopers. If we get to a place we like a lot, or the weather is turning sour, we'll stay for two or three days. If we are waiting for a package from Amazon, we stay until it arrives. 

     Some checklist items aren't written down. They are embedded in my muscle memory and they all involve Pika, our doted upon ship's cat. Every morning, I clean Pika's porta potty and tell her she is a "Good Girl!" and that she did "A good job!" You can skip this next part if you don't have kids. You see, if you want to have your pet, or kid, on a boat, you have to do a daily check on their health. I don't know about pediatricians, but the first question veterinarians ask is, "Is Pika using her litter box regularly?" 

     I don't think I've ever told you about Pika's litter box. It took us a good month to find the perfect container and the perfect location to put it on the boat. Shouldn't be that hard, right? But in a 26' long, 9.5' wide boat, with a total of 150 square feet of living space, most of it sloping upwards from a narrow hull, finding a litter box that would fit, that would be out of the way, yet easy to clean was one of our biggest get-the-boat-ready-for-cruising challenges. Her litter box from home was too big. We bought two others from pet stores, but those didn't fit either. I cut one down to fit in the bookcase, but it was hard to get to. Not by Pika, the user of the litter. By me, the cleaner of  the litter. Scott, the keeper of aesthetics, wanted her porty potty to fit in with our bedroom decor-- nautical-looking rope baskets that hold our clothing. Then one day, we were at Sam's Club in Traverse City, Michigan replenishing supplies. In a remote corner of the store is a catering supply section. Why we were drawn to that section, I'll never know. We spied, at the same exact moment, the perfect litter receptacle; a jumbo stainless steel salad bowl. "I think it will fit perfectly in that extra rope basket we have!" said Scott. "I think it will be easy to clean!" said I. We bought it. It did fit in the basket and it is easy to clean. I'm leaving out the part where Scott had to build a custom shelf on the bedroom floor at the bow of the boat for the salad bowl to sit upon, and that one of us stepped in it (only once though), but it works a charm. She only uses it at night after Scott and I are tucked in bed. Usually, we don't know when she uses it because we are sound asleep. But once in awhile, we hear her, and, since it's a stainless steel bowl, it sounds exactly like a chef tossing a Caesar Salad. So now, when I wake up in the morning I greet Pika with "Did you make a salad? Good girl! Good job, Pika!" Then I feed her a triangle of Fancy Feast.

     That is not the only cat-related task that must be done before we cast off. After I make the bed, Pika's scratchy thing and kitty carrier (where she stays safe in rough weather) are moved to the bed, and lids go on her food and water dishes. Her daytime soft blankie that sits on my chair in the nav station while we are docked gets moved too.

Just before I start the engine, I put her in her scarlet bed in the wheel house. Starting the engine used to freak her out, but now she's used to it. At first Scott always started the engine. Pika would run away in terror and try to hide.

Because of this, she started being afraid of Scott, which made him feel bad and was very inconvenient because it took time to calm her down. So I began starting the engine and she doesn't freak. I guess the giver of the Fancy Feast can start the engine but the person who yells when cords aren't unplugged can't. Or something like that. I've started backing Green Eyes out of the slips too, because I like to. And I docked one time so far. In Chattanooga, boats headed down river, as we are, have to make a u-turn and come back up river, against the current, to dock at a long pier, one boat behind the other. We also had a bit of wind that day, so it was going to be a challenging docking. For whatever reason... oh I remember now. I was back seat driving a little too much. Scott was at the helm and turned to me and said, "Go on, you do it then." So I did. Nicely too, if I do say so myself.

     Mostly, we have a clear division of labor and tasks around the boat. Scott drives the boat. Even if it is an eight hour cruise, he drives 99% of the time. We have an auto pilot, but he stays awake and alert to make adjustments to course and watches for logs, rocks, barges, or shallow water. I so appreciate that he does this. While he is steering, I read aloud from our Cruising the Tennessee River book by Fred Myer and point out historic sites, or navigation tips, or I plot the course for the next day on the iPad, looking for good anchorages or marinas along the way. (A good marina is one that offers a courtesy car, laundry, and has a restaurant on site.) I bring treats to the Captain, and to Pika, make lunch when it's time, check the weather forecast, and search for answers to important topics on the Internet.

     The other tasks I happily volunteer for include topping off the water tanks, keeping the ship's log up to date, feeding and watering the cat and crew, menu planning and preparation, all the barbecuing, vacuuming the bedroom, washing the windows, sweeping the wood floors, making the bed, doing laundry, dusting the navigation components, making the coffee, and hosing off the boat. Cleaning the exterior of  the boat is a task I enjoy but which is usually done by men. Honestly, other Captains of boats we see seem to hose daily, their absorbent mops proudly standing at the bow like some sort of hood ornament. I enjoyed cleaning Ndoto, our Land Rover in Africa, too. Not unusually, really. When I was a kid, I regularly washed the family car and wanted to own a car wash when I grew up. So, I like washing the boat.

     Scott does all the things that I wouldn't dream of doing. He installed a new Garmin Radar, and solar panels on the roof. He bought and installed our own wi-fi system and an antenna booster for the TV. We get Neflix, Prime, Hulu, PBS.... any channel we want, even at anchor. He keeps the Orca Cooler on the patio topped off with drinks and ice, he operates the dingy. He calls the mechanic when our auto pilot gets squirrely, or when the impeller needs changing. He orders lots of parts on Amazon. And he does all the time at the wheel so that I can watch the scenery go by, tend to Pika, or make snacks. Even Steven, I'd say.

     Pre-flight check, or pre-cruise check, checklists are a good thing. Oh, and headsets are a good thing. We bought a pair several months ago. Called "marriage savers" by many Loopers, they enable quieter debates over who did or who didn't unplug the shore power. We love them. "Do you read me?" asks Scott. "I read you loud and clear," I whisper. "Um, is the shore power cord...."

     Tris and Scott, aboard Green Eyes in Scottsboro, Alabama