Sun Safety

 We just learned that a 12-year-old cruising buddy of Maia’s was diagnosed with melanoma (twelve!) something that I find both heartening and terrifying. It’s reassuring because it means the info is out there and people know what to be looking for. It’s scary because, well, it is. (Twelve!!)

If you’ve read this blog for a bit you’ll know I’m a bit obsessive about sun protection. The reason (beyond the fact we’re spending our lives in the tropical sun), is I was diagnosed with melanoma two years before we left--which, while scary for me, also means Maia has a higher probability of getting the disease.

Because of this I’ve spent quite a bit of time talking to cancer researchers and sellers of sun care products and have written far too many articles on the topic. But through all this we’ve worked out a system of sun protection we’re pretty happy with.

So this is what we do/suggest for other cruisers (and anyone, really):

--See a dermatologist for a complete check-up before you set sail. Our doctor walked us through my entire body and showed Evan and I what to watch for and which spots or moles to keep an eye on. Then follow-up annually as you travel. (I’m on a three-month check-up cycle).

--We made sure we had a good bimini/awning set-up that provides plenty of shade in the cockpit and fordeck (while at anchor). Side curtains also really help.

--We avoid the peak burning hours between 10-2. This dovetails nicely with home schooling and lunch inside the boat.

--When we do go out midday we tend to wear sun-protective clothing (either UV rash guards and board shorts for swimming, or long sleeved light-weight shirts like the type made by solumbra, as well as hats and good quality sunglasses (we’re amazed by how many sunglass-free cruising kids we see).

Then there is sunscreen, which is really a post in itself… For us sunscreen (our sunscreen of choice is Ombrelle with Mexoryl) goes on several times a day. But we really consider it the last line of defence. In part because of this:

The Food and Drug Administration’s 2007 draft sunscreen safety regulations say, “FDA is not aware of data demonstrating that sunscreen use alone helps prevent skin cancer” (FDA 2007). The International Agency for Research on Cancer agrees. IARC recommends clothing, hats and shade as primary barriers to UV radiation and writes that “sunscreens should not be the first choice for skin cancer prevention and should not be used as the sole agent for protection against the sun”

And there is the fact that there are stats that show higher skin cancer rates in sunscreen users. This is probably because people over-believe the hype and under use sunscreen. But it may also be that some sunscreen ingredients actually increase cancer growth.

But on with talking about sunscreen… At the risk of boring you with technical stuff, sunscreen needs to protect you against UVA and UVB rays. UVA is what is responsible for wrinkles, and aging. UVB is what causes your skin to darken and burn. While there is conflicting info on the topic, but generally:

UVB (burning) has a wavelength range (in nanometers) of:   

280-320

UVA (aging) has a wavelength range (in nanometers) of:      

320-400

So to protect yourself from the sun you need a sunscreen to contain ingredients that cover as wide a range as possible in the 280-400 spectrum. Here’s how a few of the most common sunscreen ingredients shape-up:

Zinc Oxide 290-380

Mexoryl 290-400

Avobenzene 340-375

Titanium Dioxide 290-340

Octinoxate and Octisalate 280-320

Oxybenzone 320-240

Many sunscreens combine ingredients to cover a wider range of the spectrum. But Zinc Oxide and Mexoryl cover the widest spectrum all by themselves, and they are photo-stable ingredients. This is extremely important, because it means your sunscreen won’t lose effectiveness an hour after you apply it like Avobenzene, for example, which is not photo-stable.

Then there are the issues with sunscreen chemicals themselves. Recently the FDA began investigating a type of vitamin A called retinyl palmitate, which is found in 41 percent of sunscreens. The FDA is investigating whether this compound may accelerate skin damage and elevate skin cancer risk when applied to skin exposed to sunlight—a detail which strikes me as less than awesome… Another well-known problem ingredient is oxybenzone, a hormone-disrupting compound found in about 60 percent of sunscreens…

So it comes down to this: The ideal sunscreen would effectively and comfortably block the UV rays that cause sunburn, immune suppression and damaging free radicals. But there is pretty much nothing that does that. The choice tends to be between “chemical” sunscreens, which are less stable and penetrate the skin, potentially disrupting the body’s hormone systems, or “mineral” sunscreens (zinc and titanium), which often contain micronized- or nano-scale particles of those minerals and can feel sticky on the skin and leave you with a white glow.

In the US they are particularly unfortunate. Two of the best sunscreen ingredients Mexoryl SX (ecamsule) and Tinosorb S and M are either extremely expensive or not yet available. And as far as the SPF level goes—we agree with the researchers that it’s a bunch of bunk—and simply by 30 SPF and reapply frequently.

For more guidance on choosing a sunscreen I love the sunscreen guide at the Environmental Working Group.

But what ever you choose, don’t forget to get a good hat.

Healthy Cruising

 We’ve been asked a few times about what we do for medical care while we travel. The short answer is we keep up with all the regular preventative care—and see doctors and dentists when needed.

What this really means is that on the cruising circuit there are countries, towns and doctors that become known for providing excellent and affordable healthcare. And while we do carry evacuation insurance, our day to day healthcare costs are out of pocket.

Mexico is one of the countries that is considered great for healthcare (another we've heard raves about is Malaysia). And both La Paz and La Cruz are popular for check-ups. In the past year we all visited local dentists—basic cleanings were around $30, fillings another $30 and Evan’s root canal ended up in the $600 range.

We have heard that some Mexican dentists are over-enthusiastic when it comes to fillings—they rarely use x-rays, so rely on physical signs of decay. So our rule of thumb is to visit the same dentist at the same time as another family. If too many cavities are found we know we’ve hit on someone who’s too enthusiastic with the drill and we all move on…

While we’re in La Cruz I’ll also check in with the same dermatologist who found my second melanoma last year (and drag Evan in for his own check-up) and then I'll head for a mammogram and see a well-regarded gyno for the rest of my annual check-up.

Between preventative care, prescriptions, two eye doctor visits and glasses, surprise skin-cancer treatments and a surprise root canal our healthcare expenses were about $1000 last year. Which is the same as our health insurance costs at home… Technically we could go home for check-ups (and we do know many cruisers who do) but we’re confident enough in the Mexican system that for preventative care and day-to-day follow-up care we’re happy here.

The Office

 It was while I was in my office of the day (beachside palapa with free wifi and $1 Margaritas) that I came across a story in the New York Times about the value of play for children. And how, between lessons and organized sports, play (defined as activity initiated and directed by children) has become crowded out of the average kid’s schedule.

 The timing was kind of interesting. Over the past few weeks we’ve received dozens of Christmas letters—and each one described a dizzying number of activities and events that each of the kids were involved in. And with each letter—as they described piano and language lessons, art and ballet classes, soccer and swimming meets, girl guides and choir—I started to wonder if Maia was losing something irreplaceable by not belonging to enough stuff.

 I only went to a few organized activities when I was growing up. Most of the time we sort of just roamed the neighbourhood—making our own fun, while occasionally getting into trouble. I loved the groups I belonged to—but most of my memories are of the worlds that were created when we played on our own: the forts and treehouses, invented games and theatrical events.

 But as I watched the kids of friends get older, organized activities started to take the place of neighbourhood play. Keeping kids busy keeps them out of trouble, was the mantra. Then it became even more intense—why not involve our kids in lessons and teams, and give them the opportunity to learn as much as possible while they’re still young, and have the time?

 The answer, we’re learning, is kids need to play. They need to roam in feral little packs and create amazing worlds for themselves. They need to imagine and explore and sometimes get in trouble.

  And so, thus reassured, I settled into my beachside office and worked, while Maia did the work of growing up: play.

Underway

enroute from Isla Isabela to La Cruz

We've been asked how Maia passes the time on passages.
If she enjoys them.
If she gets bored.
She tells us she loves her ever changing view of the world and the simplicity of life when it is just her, us, and the ocean. She says she loves having time to think, and draw, and read.
I guess she's a sailor.

Isla Isabela

yes, mum, their feet really are blue

 I’m a terrible one for developing expectations of a place. I can’t say I ever end up really disappointed—but it’s just I have a really vivid imagination, so very few things live up to my own mental hype.

landing our dingy in the fish camp

 Isla Isabela looked like it might be one of these places. The guide books call the National Wildlife Preserve Mexico’s version of the Galapagos. And everyone we’ve spoken to has really loved it. We, however, have sailed by twice--both times unable to stop—either because of the weather or the hour (it’s not an anchorage to enter at night or in bad weather.) But this time we timed our arrival perfectly, we were early enough to hike the island and then have dinner before continuing south.

look for the little white-headed chick under the mama

 Isabela looks like a barren rock on approach. A barren rock that’s lousy with birds… In this respect it doesn’t seem much different than most of the islands we’ve visited this year. But once we were ashore we saw it was unique. I have never seen (or smelled) so many Frigate birds. They filled the trees, filled the sky and walked around on the ground beside us.

Trails crisscross the island and we headed through the jungle to the old volcanic crater (the source of the fresh water that supports the huge population) then around the crater lake and out to the bluffs.

Along the way we were treated to the sight of baby frigates peering out from their nests at us as well as the male frigates in full courting mode.

 Out at the bluffs we encountered the blue footed boobies. We understood there were some chicks around—but only saw the nesting birds and the courting males. Perhaps the fact the frigates were dive bombing the nesting birds was keeping the chicks in hiding.

We got a bit lost on our return hike and came across one of the many teams of researchers that have visited the island since Jacque Cousteau first made it famous—as we spoke briefly to them (and were set back on the trail) I wished we had longer to ask questions and really learn about this wondrous island.

A frigate going after a booby

 There is a wildness to Isabela that reminds us of all that is good in the world. And as we made our way back to the boat Maia spoke for all of us, “I’m so grateful we came here.”

Laughing All the Way (La Paz to La Cruz)

surfing

We set off from La Paz in a norther. It was supposed to be a little norther—sort of trade wind strength. We decided it would be a good 400 mile downwind sleigh ride in preparation for the upcoming 2700 mile one... A final shake down to test a few modifications.
The wind was under forecast though and came in somewhere in excess of 25 knots—which wouldn't be terrible except for with the heavy currents found in the Sea of Cortez the steep, square 6-8' waves were turbulent, at best. So it wasn't the 'one horse open sleigh' variety of sleigh ride. It was more like luge, or bobsled—kind of a breakneck hurtling down the mountain (we surfed at 16 knots, for longer than we'd like) where the mountain smacked us, regularly and our sail was just a bit bigger than a handkerchief.
Normally we wouldn't have set out in weather like this. But we have guests arriving in PV in a few days—and the norther was only predicted to keep building. I know most people argue that we should never change our schedule and set out in bad weather for guests. The saying is that guests can choose a date or a place to meet, but not both. The problem with this idea is that in the real world, is unless our guests have a long window to visit, it doesn't work. And we love having guests. So we sailed out in crappy weather.
The good news is the boat handled the conditions beautifully. Nothing went flying and nothing broke. The bad news was I was a sick as I've ever been. It may have been the combination of antibiotics (the reason we were late leaving La Paz was my persistent cold had morphed into pneumonia), anti-nausea and cold drugs caused an unexpected contraindication. Or it may have been the simple fact I should still be in bed. But I was barely able to keep water down or give Ev more than a few 45 minute breaks here and there...

when I have a choice I'll take this, over that first picture...

 But the bad weather passed in a foggy dream for me—and this morning I woke to a pretty sunrise and the ability to eat again. Evan is napping and we have long pacific swell sliding under our hulls. We're dashing all the way to Isla Isabela today. There's a chance that that anchorage won't be tenable (we still have that norther--it's just somewhat moderated on the mainland side). But if that's the case I guess we'll dash on past—laughing all the way...
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To Do Lists, Shopping Lists, Chores Lists and More Lists

 Usually New Years is the time when I look back over the year, or decade, that has passed and feel gratitude for it all: for the friends (so many awesome people entered my life in the past ten years and joined the dear ones already there) the family (amazing to think that 10-years-ago this month I learned Maia was on her way) and the adventures that have enriched us. But this year, after a quick nod to the past, my focus has been entirely forward.

I guess it’s because we’re in countdown mode. In roughly three months we’ll be departing Mexico and heading across the South Pacific—an adventure I’ve dreamed about for as long as I’ve had dreams. Between now and then we not only have over a month's worth of visitors to look forward to, but we also have to get ourselves, and the boat ready.

Setting off to cross an ocean tends to be the big deadline for many cruisers—all those niggling chores that have been put off for months (and years) suddenly seem pretty vital. And they probably are. Although we know of the sailors who stock their simple craft with a case of peanut butter and two cases of rum and set sail…

The flipside is we also know (or know of) the boats that didn’t make it, and when you’re crossing an ocean with all your dreams, and your kid, being the boat that doesn’t make it just isn’t an option.

So we research, and make lists, and ask questions, and do stuff, and buy stuff.

Our main, we decided, needed a 3^rd reef for balance in blustery winds, and our tillers need beefing up, and the interior needs ventilation from something other than hatches, and it’s looking like our copious solar panels may have trouble keeping up with our power needs when we are pointing south for weeks on end. And we’re sorting through our charts and assembling cruising guides and reading through provisioning lists and studying up on food preservation.

And every now and then I imagine those early boats that travelled with no cruising guides, no GPS, no AIS, and no long-life milk. And I think that what they did was amazing and dream that maybe someday I’ll be the type of sailor who takes to the ocean on a moments notice—as though sailing to remote islands is no more than a drive across town.

But I’m not that sailor yet. And I still think sailing to the South Pacific is huge—and life changing (hopefully in a good way). And knowing of no other way to prepare for huge, and life changing I make lists: of food to can, lockers to empty, supplies to find and websites to read, of stuff to build, and things to fix.

And rather than imagining where I was a year ago (in San Diego—chomping at the bit to reach Mexico), I imagine leaping off from land and sailing across a vast ocean toward a dream.

On the Third Day of Christmas

Or maybe the 4^th, you play jokes.

In Mexico the Christmas season doesn’t wind down after the big all-you-can-eat turkey blow-out on the 25^th. It keeps going. In fact, Christmas is just The First Day of Christmas. Or maybe Boxing Day is the first, it depends on who you ask…

But whichever day counts as the first day of Christmas, the fact remains there are still twelve more to follow. In Mexico, Boxing Day, or the Feast of St Stephen, appears to be celebrated by taking your new bicycle, skate board, roller blades or roller skates to the malecon and using them for the first time, dangerously (how I wish I brought my camera…). This is followed by a big seafood feast and loads of Mariachi music.

Yesterday, the 2^nd (or 3^rd) day of Christmas, seems to be a day of rest. But today the party is back on. December 28th is the Feast of the Holy Innocents. It’s pretty much the equivalent of April Fools Day, which means Maia was all over the concept and spent much of yesterday contemplating plans to dupe a few inocente palomitas.

The day itself commemorates the death of the baby boys who were slain by King Herod in an attempt to assassinate Christ—which isn’t terribly jolly. But somewhere along the way it became a day of pranks in Spanish speaking countries.

Maia decided that Evan would be the victim of her prank. She let him in on her plan to do ‘something’ just to give him cause to worry. Then I gave her a bunch of jobs to do—tasks like washing and putting away dishes, cooking breakfast and sweeping the floor—where she could potentially play a joke on Evan.

Evan spent the morning on edge waiting for the trick. He was concerned about every glass of juice Maia offered him, every dish she washed and was suspicious of the yummy breakfast she made. Eventually she did get him (going with the old shaving cream in his shoes standby), but in truth it was me who was laughing. My inocente palomita happily did chores all morning in an effort to fake out her father, while not realizing that as she did them that she was the victim of MY joke.

A Traditional Christmas

 Maia bounced into our bed at 6am. In a loud stage whisper she let us know, “Santa Came!” She turned on the light and showed us her stuffed stocking. Evan shut it off. “It’s not Christmas until the sun comes up,” he told her. “When will that be?” Maia asked as she turned the light back on, “What time zone is this?”

My perpetual question, in this nomadic life of ours, is when does our dream start to detract from Maia’s childhood? At what point do the constant goodbyes, our regularly re-imagined holidays, and the far away relatives offset the goodness of our life?

Before we left, I thought about this a lot. I tried to create traditions that were ours alone and that we could carry where ever we went. What I didn’t realize is that the places we’d arrive at would come with traditions and demands of their own. So those days when I plan to bake a Christmas favourite (if I can even find the ingredients—we were out of luck finding what we needed for a gingerbread house this year…) might end up being cancelled because of a stormy night at anchor. And an afternoon of gift-making might lose out to the arrival of a longed-for new friend.

Christmas this year doesn’t look at all like last season, and it seems even less like the year before that. And Christmas Eve (which has always been a time we’ve spent with close friends) was most unique of all.

 We spent the evening at a cruiser’s potluck. 100 people, only a handful known to us by name. We had tequila shots (for us) with old (by cruising standards) friends we first met in Coos Bay, and Maia set off fireworks with a gaggle of teens. Then we went to a Christmas Eve carol service—opting for the English version that was put on by a roving band of 60’s-era style missionaries who were throwing a b-day party for Jesus (heck, it was in the marina). Back on the boat we listened to the VHF radio as a fellow sailor read, “Twas the Night Before Christmas” and then settled in to watch “Alastair Sims—A Christmas Carol” (something we always did in my family).

 As we snuggled into bed and waited to hear Santa’s sleigh bells, I was content with our odd version of Christmas Eve, but wondered if it was traditional enough for Maia.

 But then she bounced into our bed and opened her stocking in the dark. And we gathered around our tree, exchanging gifts while listening to our favourite Christmas carols. And we waved at neighbours, and ate our breakfast in the warm Mexican sun. And I realized our current traditions have little to do with making the right food, or doing the same activities year-after-year. Our current tradition is learning to accept and enjoy the unexpected—and feeling the magic when it finds us.

 And so this morning, as we admire our gifts and giggle to the Christmas stories on the Vinyl Café, we’re enjoy a traditional Christmas, one that’s unfolding in ways we can’t quite imagine yet but that is a happy one.

We wish you and yours all the joy of the season.

Working and Cruising FAQ

I've received a bunch of questions lately about the fact that Evan and I are working while we cruise--I'm guessing because I've mentioned it a few times in blog posts and in our "About Us" section. I'm currently on deadline so doing a quick FAQ is a nice distraction from real work. If I miss question you have, or you want to know more about Ev's job (it always disappoints him that people ask about my job and not his...) let me know:

What do you do?
I'm a freelance writer and Evan's a naval architect. I write for a variety of national an international pubs and Evan does the occasional contract with his old employer. Most recently I’ve been working on a series of stories for Reader’s Digest Canada--like this and this, and Evan did a couple of reports for his old company.

 I want to be a travel writer, how did you do it? It seems like the perfect job for a cruiser...
I've worked as a freelance writer for about five years and the past three were spent expanding my travel markets. Becoming an employed writer was a goal I set when we went cruising last time. I took a few magazine writing classes and actually went through all the steps (developing a story, finding the right magazine to pitch, sending off a query and following up) over, and over until I had regular work coming in. There's no magic formula, just steady, hard work.
As far as being the perfect cruiser's job, it is and it isn't. It's still a job—which means I’m often at my desk when I’d like to be playing. But it does blend my natural curiosity with my need to write.

Do You Write For Sailing Magazines?
I do, but I couldn't make a living just writing for boating mags. I also write for a variety of websites and custom publications. Writing for a large number of different types of publications has helped me weather the economic downturn without too much difficulty.

How Do You Stay in Touch?
I've written a few times about communication--but the gist is this: We use an amplified wi-fi antenna for wi-fi when it's available, plus we have a 3G cell modem. When out of range for those I can get basic email through the SSB with Sailmail. Needing to have internet does place limits on our ability to disconnect for long periods, but we find the sacrifice works for us.

 Do You Earn Enough to Live On?
Yes. We don’t actually know how much we spend in a month—it can really vary… And working does add some significant additional costs (for example we recently upgraded our professional camera gear, we have higher than typical travel and communication expenses, and I need to maintain a decent work wardrobe…) But after the initial costs associated with getting out cruising were covered our bank balance stabilized. So we’re bringing in roughly the same amount that’s going out.

 How Much Do You Work?
I have kind of a feast or famine job. When we were in Vancouver, I worked about 20-hours a week, which is probably more or less the same as now. I just do it differently now—I squish all my work into the periods when we are in towns. So I’ll work non-stop (or what feels like non-stop) for a few weeks, then do very little for several weeks. Evan has worked less than me. Probably only about 100 hours or so this year.

What’s Your Opinion On Working and Cruising?
I actually enjoy it. Last time we cruised I felt like I wanted to be doing more—either volunteering or learning. Working lets me feel like I’m doing something meaningful and gives us an excuse to really explore each place. It does dictate some of what we do and where we go, but I like the structure.
Beyond the intrinsic value of work—we like having money. We have enough saved that if  we were really frugal we could go for a couple of years, but we don’t like being that frugal and I like having money in the bank.