This is one of the five new lights. If it weren't for the mark left from the old teak pad, it would look like these lights were built for the boat. Fortunately, in removing the teak pads, we learned that we may be able to remove this popcorn finish on the cabin top as easily as wallpaper--we just need to have it tested first to be sure it isn't asbestos.
Lighting a boat isn’t like lighting a home, the needs are different.
Three identical lights sharing a power source. From left to right: no tape, three layers of tape, one layer of tape.
So I’ve been playing around with LED lights, and I discovered something. I don’t know how useful it is, or whether it will diminish the life of the bulb, or cause a fire, but that is all beside the point.
This is Del Viento's new covered wagon look, at least while at anchor or at the dock. It keeps the cockpit dry in the rain and will keep the boat cool in the Mexican sun. It is a Shadetree awning passed down to us from our friends aboard Dreamweaver, who got it from our friends aboard Principia. It gusted 40 knots in the marina a couple days after we set it up and it did remarkably well.
While many aspects of a "stationary" cruising life are the same as regular life, mornings aboard Del Viento are never a mad scramble, the days are never a pressure cooker.
Here is the movie set; Del Viento is just visible in the upper right, with her beige mainsail cover. The film is called Stonados and is "an epic disaster flick about the devastation caused by rock-spewing tornados." Apparently, the story takes place in Massachusetts and our little place is doubling as Boston's Harbor Walk.
"They’re announcing an evacuation of the marina. It is not a drill.”
To get to Victoria, we had to come up the relatively desolate Washington coast until we could make a right turn into the strait that separates the United States and Canada: the Strait of Juan de Fuca. This is all new and exciting geography for the crew of Del Viento.