Typical Day Aboard "Tuffy"

Article by John Hughes

---

Trying to keep awake

I thought some out there in SCA Land might have an interest in what a typical day aboard Tuffy is like on this trip. Truth is there really is no “typical day”—so many factors come into play that each day ends up quite different. Factors such as weather, sea, tide, geography, animals and people make a huge impact and make every day unique, but there are routines, so let’s “make up” a normal day.

The Get Going:

Swinging the legs out of the bag I put on my Santa Cruz sweatshirt… nice and soft, warm and long… and it reminds me of half my kids and half my grandkids (they have settled there) and that reminds me of the other half. Unless required—for reasons of current, weather or distance, there is usually no alarm set. The sun starts its day so early I leave the curtain open and usually wake up about 6AM. The challenge this far north is getting enough sleep, not waking up on time.

Up into the salon now, I flip on the propane breaker switch and, depending on the morning, light either the Dickinson heater (to take the chill off) or the stove top burner (to start the java process). Returning below I pack away my sleeping bag and comforter, hang them on a corner hook and then, again depending on the day’s demands, choose my outfit. I brew my coffee with a drip filter in a porcelain holder. draining into both my cup (for immediate consumption) and a thermos carafe (which keeps a supply hot most of the day). I used to use a French press, but cleanup is a pain and when the guts head to the bottom with a saltwater swish, well, it’s back to basics. Breakfast is either a bowl of instant oatmeal or some granola (in yogurt if there’s some left from the last grocery store). Usually I’ll read up on today’s destination while savoring my coffee and breakfast. If there is leftover dinner in the cooler for lunch I’m set, if not I’ll make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich (or two) to put away for late morning or early afternoon (or both). I usually check my water bottle levels at this point… if it’s rockin’ and rollin’ out there even filling a bottle can be a messy proposition—infrequent, but plan for the worst and be happy.

Moving outside I’ll free up the burgees to the winds (I secure them at night from flapping because the sound reverberates down into the hull), I deploy the ensign (which I bring in at night because it’s not lit), I’ll give the windows a quick wash (if they weren’t so bad I did them already the evening before) and use the morning dew (God’s gift to sailors) to wipe down the cockpit, bow rail, etc. If I had not done it the previous evening I’ll do a quick engine check (oil, coolant, look/see) and check in with Bob to confirm our planned departure time was still on. Back inside I’ll record the date, the engine hour meter reading, the start time and the location for today in the log and then fire up the diesel. As the motor warms up I’ll usually plot the destination and course on both the IPad (Navionics) and the Chartplotter (Garmin).

The Going:

After a long look around, and a silent goodbye to last night’s home, I’ll cast off the lines—from Bob’s boat if we’d rafted up (nearly always), slip out of the slip (if leaving a marina) or raise the anchor if free swinging for the night. I stow the lines and fenders as I head out of the anchorage slowly and once up to speed I’ll take a look at the gauges to be certain all is well. Then I’ll start looking for “stuff,” be that whales in the water, bears on the beach, mountains near and far, or rocks, logs, bergs, boats and other hazards. If hazards are few I’ll watch the other stuff—especially the eagles at work. I love it when after swooping down to the water they pull up like a ram air parachuter, open up their talons to stall just above the surface and grab some breakfast of their own. I chat with Bob on our little shortwave radios (to keep the VHF clear from our personal conversations), I listen to audio books or music on my headphones and I marvel at where I am and my good fortune.

Tuffy’s gym.

I have a daily workout I’ve developed that takes about an hour. I try to do it in one session, but if conditions prohibit, I’ll break it up throughout the day. Using resistance bands and gravity I have figured out an exercise routine that works most muscle groups and approximates what one might do in a gym. Add the movement of the boat from waves and chop and all the twitch muscles are brought into play as well. I mounted an attachment point before leaving to secure one end of the bands and now, a month-and-a-half into it, I’ve graduated to just the thickest band, so it’s a simpler and less cluttered set-up. I do three sets of 10 reps for everything, usually in a super set combo of two alternating exercises. I don’t do this on days when we’re in a town, because we’re usually walking around a bit and the time just doesn’t present itself, but it has to be pretty nasty for me not to get it in on a travel day.

---

This is my workout routine:

Press (I’m able to lean forward with the bands’ resistance, so it’s really more like an incline press).

Oblique Pull Downs

Double Strap Core Twist

Triceps Push Downs

Curl Pull Ups

Upper Back/Shoulder Pull outs

Toe Touch Stretches

Hip Rotations Stretches

Squats

Calf Raises

Forward Lunge Stretches

---

Usually, after the workout, the lunch, the red dot heater, the early starts and the drone of the diesel, the job at hand then becomes to stay awake. The carafe of coffee helps here, as does opening up the side window or center windshield. If I really have a case, I’ll sometimes head out into the cockpit to stand out there awhile, or open the door and all the windows to let a full stream of northwest coolness wake me up. If it’s the other type of “typical” day, I’ll be deciding on and maintaining the right course to handle the wind and waves, looking and listening carefully to everything around me, keeping tabs on Snow Goose and how she’s fairing and trying to stay sane. No problem staying awake in that scenario.

As the destination approaches I’ll review the literature on it again, determine if there are any entrance challenges, decide if I should top off on fuel on the way in (if available), snug back up close with Snow Goose, communicate with Bob and then prep the lines and fenders for anchoring, rafting up or pulling into a slip as required.

Deploying lines and fenders

The Done Gone:

It’s usually late enough when we pull in that first order of business, once the anchor is confirmed to be holding, is a celebratory glass of wine shared with Bob in the cockpit (or inside his boat if it’s raining). While imbibing (I’m a multitasker at heart) I’ll record the mileage, the engine hours and average rpms, and the finish time and location in the log book. Earlier in the trip I was adding notes about the day’s passage after the fact, but I’ve taken to recording thoughts, sights and conditions in route now. Bob and I will discuss the day’s adventure, decide on our dinner plans, tidy up our boats and then explore the town, cove or whatever. If we got in early enough, and/or the day was long enough, we’ve even been known to succumb to the afternoon nap. Over dinner we’ll usually decide on the next day’s destination, check on the currents and agree on a departure time. After dinner I’ll pull in the ensign, secure the burgees, lay out the bedding and do a little reading or writing before hitting the sack. Then I get up and do it again!

Ruffy on Tuffy

Reporting from Petersburg •SCA•