March 30, 2005 -- SIMPLE THINGS MAKE LIFE EASY
by Michel & Jane DeRidder

	Michel playing carthorse, pulling our trolley up "Cardiac Track" as it is locally known. The simplest gear can make the greatest impact on our lives!

We are often asked how it is that we can have stayed on our boat for so many years, forty in all come May 2005. The unorthodox comfort afforded to us by our way-out vessel may explain it - that, and the many simple features that have made life easy. For instance, tiller steering has worked well for us on our forty-foot sloop for all these many years. It has many advantages, one being that we can lift it up out of the way. No wheel and pedestal underfoot. No hydraulic or cable failures to worry about. Another benefit is being able to hook the tiller to various automatic steering devices with no muss, no fuss.

When MAGIC DRAGON was in her infancy, we could tell landlubbers from sailors by their comments when they came aboard. "Just like a small apartment," Earth People might say. But anyone used to boats of the 1960s would inevitably express amazement at her spaciousness. The cockpit offers sheltered comfortable seating and the flush deck is a broad platform to tend sails, stow dinghies, or lounge in the shade of our big awning. The 12'x14' open plan salon-navdesk-galley-cum-dining main cabin that can sit seven comfortably at the table is ample for the two of us. With two sleeping cabins, one forward and one aft, we even have a choice of staterooms. With LPG hot water heater for showers, an oven cookstove, a refrigerator with freezer, pressurized running water and a cabin heater, we do not have to miss out on modern comforts. We could have TV also if we did not have an aversion to it.

It's a big help to have adequate stowage in drawers and other easily accessible cupboards, a hold to keep big things like a motorcycle and an outboard. We find that a house-sized double SS sink is better than counter space many times over. We don't have to dry dishes with a tea towel, we simply spray rinse them and let them dry in a rack in the sink even at sea - especially at sea! We tend to put loose objects in a sink to keep them safe. Deep fiddles in the galley, on the salon table, cupboard shelves and elsewhere also makes for trouble-free sailing. We are usually able to keep whatever safely on the table. For safe dining when hoons go by at maximum wake, or when the weather makes up, they are a crockery saver and spill retainer.

	Magic Dragon's double sink.

A stable seaworthy speedy tender has meant that going ashore is usually an easy proposition. But eventually we were forced to devise a means of putting removable wheels on our fourteen-foot dinghy when it became heavily waterlogged and beyond our strength to deal with. After all, we built it in 1967 in the Virgin Islands, and it's been in full time use ever since (except for our occasional camping trip or flight elsewhere). We'd always rolled it up and down beaches on rubber fenders, but as the years went by we could no longer lift it. Now we use husky wheelbarrow tires on screw-on axles. But it is dangerously heavy to hoist aboard. On our TO BE DONE job list is 'Build a lighter dinghy' - this to be accomplished before our next offshore voyage. Having a second dinghy is like having a second car - if only a rowing one - and the Honda Trail Bike has been our little SUV.

But it is the truly simple things that really make the difference. For instance, we have low folding reclining chairs that we put on deck for breakfast, for naps, for chats, or for sipping sundowners. We take them onto beaches for picnics. They add immeasurably to the enjoyment of small boat dwelling. They sleep in the hold, readily available, held by straps against the hull.

A collapsible trundler found a home with us in New Caledonia a few years back, taking a great load off our backs. We load it with all manner of gear and provisions to move to or from the vessel. Now we don't know how we ever managed without it. We even chose to have it re-galvanized last time our chain was done. Nothing's ever perfect. They glued it rigidly open, so had to re-dip it to free its frozen joints.

	Jane sews cushions with the ancient Singer sewing machine.

Simple can be fun. We have managed to keep amused with an ancient hand-operated Singer sewing machine of the rugged variety that cost us thirteen dollars in 1963. It has sewn up all our upholstery and cushion covers, as well as articles of clothing like shorts, hats, bikinis, and also place mats and cockpit cushion covers (these often out of curtain samples). For repairs and mending of all sorts, it's a winner. We team together to do emergency sail repairs, and to make our own sail covers, convertible tops, awnings, and covers for most everything. It's a bit of a challenge to do such large things without zig-zag and reverse, but with four hands and patience, it can be done. The old Singer is a sturdy, simple and invaluable piece of gear we'd hate to do without. It's been a time-user, a money stretcher and a giver of great satisfaction.

For the first few years we had no means of collecting rainwater easily. It did not seem to matter in British Columbia, though in places like Mexico it meant measuring out careful doses of bleach, and filtering gritty deposits from shore water, or buying agua in five-gallon glass galifones. Then we met up with long-term cruisers who hadn't taken on shore water for years, relying on rainwater collected from their cabin top. We devised a dam from a bit of PVC pipe cut to fit the deck on the starboard side. (We board on the port side.) After sluicing the deck with buckets of seawater, then letting the rain rinse that off, we snug the dam close to the toe rail, wedge it in place under the lifeline, and let the rainwater course into our tanks through a purpose-installed deck fitting. A water maker wasn't an option way back when, and we've seldom felt the need of one, though it would be great to be able to use water more lavishly. One day we may consider putting up with the bother and expense of one. Meanwhile, rain is more a blessing than a curse. We bail our dinghy into buckets - 'dinghy swill' we call it - for use in deck washing, laundry, or to fill a pump-up herbicide sprayer for after-swim fresh water spray rinses. It has a dark plastic coat on, so the water is sun-warmed. How simple can plumbing get? Nevertheless, we must fill our tanks with shore water now and then when the gods fail us.

Our mast steps were the first we'd ever seen. We've never been into ratlines and baggy wrinkle, have never done things in the time-honoured way. We devised our mast steps and built them out of bent aluminum tubing with flaps flattened to allow for pop rivetting onto the alu mast. Fabricated and affixed in a matter of hours, they were on when we launched MAGIC DRAGON in 1964. We still have nearly all the same ones, having had to replace only two that got caught by the jib and wrenched off before we learned to string lines to shrouds as preventers. For coral navigation, the combination of polaroid sunglasses and mast steps have enabled us to go into places we'd never dared go otherwise. Hal Roth saw them, liked them and had Moonlite Marine of Newport Beach build him a version in SS. The rest is history. Today many cruising boats have mast steps in some form or another.

Last but not least, a docile MAGIC DRAGON that lets her wind vane and auto pilots do the steering, and her engine make up for lack of wind, means that we have not felt the need for crew on passages. We've got the privacy and freedom to come and go as we please, with only the weather and the seasons as our guides.