Staying Cozy

Go to Mexico…. End of blog.

A hospital room with a view. "Cain't beat it with a stick!" Room 8, Bella Bella Hospital looking down Lamma Pass
A hospital room with a view. “Cain’t beat it with a stick!” Room 8, Bella Bella Hospital looking down Lamma Pass

For most us who live in northern climes, especially those of us in coastal areas, we’re here for the season despite our most vibrant fantasies about Southern locations. Some of those who read my last blog, and are here for the winter, have enquired about the air exchanger which I built and installed to help keep old ‘Seafire’ drier.

This was once my business, I’ll try hard to not sound as if I’m trying to sell anyone anything. You can build one of these yourself very inexpensively if you are at all handy.

If you want one for your house, go to Home Hardware Online and type in “Humidex” or dehumidifier. If you have a tiny house, an Rv or a boat you may well have a problem with condensation, mould and /or bad odours. I am a mariner and so I’ll explain this with specific nautical considerations but the same physics apply whether in a picnic cooler or any size or type of home..

First, understand that a boat is designed to keep water out. That design also necessarily works quite well to keep moisture in. Next consider these simple principles:

Warm air rises.

Warm air holds more moisture.

Cooler air is heavier than warmer air and tends to sink.

Moist air is heavier than drier air and tends to sink.

These four facts are what creates all the complexities of global weather.

Within an enclosure, in this case a boat, moist stale air will settle into the lowest areas such as the bilge, lockers and cupboards; anywhere there is inadequate air movement. Soon there are copious amounts of water, mould and slime. Many people try to combat this by using heat sources and wrapping the vessel with plastic. It is the worst thing to do, warm air holds more moisture and drives cool, damp air down into non-ventilated areas. The plastic seals everything. If you walk the docks in wet weather you may notice older boats with hatches partially open. This is passive ventilation. Natural air flow definitely helps keep a boat drier.

I’ll mention the crystals marketed as a means of drying a boat and declare them to be snake oil. Yes, they fill with water extracted from the boat’s atmosphere and appear effective. However for every molecule of water absorbed, one more has been drawn into the already damp interior of the boat. If these desiccants are spilled, there is now a toxic, corrosive mess inside the vessel. Dehumidifiers are expensive, power-hungry and often require constant attention and servicing. The drawing below is from a brochure I designed in my business of building and selling air exchangers. It illustrates how air exchangers work. They are very simple, very effective and require no maintenance.

How it all works.
How it all works.

Here’s how you build one from pieces found in nearly any hardware store. The fan is the key piece and is what many folks call a muffin fan, or a computer fan. They are brushless and use miniscule amounts of power and may be 12 volt DC 120 volt AC as you prefer. Ideally choose one with an outer frame size of 5 or 6 inches. You can also find them quite affordably from several online sources. Now find a plastic box or make one of wood to set the fan inside and make one round opening four inches in diameter on either side. Install a round 4” collar into each opening. You will attach 4” flexible ventilation hose onto either piece of collar.

Just a fan in a box with some flex hose...KEEP IT SIMPLE!
Just a fan in a box with some flex hose…KEEP IT SIMPLE!

I acquired my box from the electrical department at Home Depot. The collars were 2- 4” abs pipe couplers which then were welded firmly to the edges of the holes I’d cut with abs pipe cement. Lead the two wires from the motor out through a small hole you’ve made in the side of the box and connect to a power source. Always use a fuse or circuit breaker. You can include a simple switch and /or a humidistatic switch (Often used with bathroom ceiling fans) to turn the unit on and off automatically at a specific humidity level setting.

A typical "Muffin" Fan
A typical “Muffin” Fan

Make sure the fan is extracting air through the flexible tube from a lowest possible point in the boat and that the fan is positioned as close as possible to the intake source. The fan discharge tube can be led to an existing ventilation cowl or ventilator or simply stick it through a port light. You’ll need a little imagination, but that is part of the fun and satisfaction. Folks often ask how these simple little machines work on a rainy day when the outdoor ambient humidity is very high. The answer is that by moving air into an enclosure it expands. The amount of moisture in the cubic mass does not and so the air becomes drier. You may want to provide a make-up air opening or grill to let the unit better pull the air down into the air exchanger but so long as there is negative pressure (or suction) the results of this little machine should be magic.

There need be only a gentle, quiet constant movement of air to make a noticeable difference. These small units work great in Rv’s as well. Have fun! I’m happy to answer questions.

UNPLUGGED I found this electrical cord on the dock still plugged in on the other end! Sea water and electricity make a poor mix.
UNPLUGGED
I found this electrical cord on the dock still plugged in on the other end! Sea water and electricity make a poor mix.
Ugly Punt Competition Eat your hearts out Bella Bella. I found this one in Nanaimo. Clearly, someone knows exactly what they need.
Ugly Punt Competition
Eat your hearts out Bella Bella. I found this one in Nanaimo. Clearly, someone knows exactly what they need.
UGLY TRUCK A Shearwater . Yes it still runs. Think of the captions: She's almost paid for. Ford Tough. Hydroponic Windshield. Complete with hair bags, Home of the organic mechanic.
UGLY TRUCK
A Shearwater Icon. Yes it still runs. Think of the captions:
She’s almost paid for.
Ford Tough.
Hydroponic Windshield.
Complete with hair bags,
Home of the organic mechanic.
The elegant punt. a clever local has used a fish tote and a truck canopy into a wheelhouse . Glass windows and an opening windshield with wiper must look real good,from inside, on a snotty day like today.
The elegant punt. A clever local has turned a fish tote and a truck canopy into a wheelhouse . Glass windows and an opening windshield with wiper must fine,from inside, on a snotty day like today.

Good old CBC Radio occasionally has an outstanding story. Last week, in the wake of Fidel Castro’s death, an interview with his sister, Juanita, was aired. She had joined him in the revolution but after it had succeeded she abandoned him and fled the country. She accused him of betraying the democratic ideals of the revolution and of founding a new dictatorship as cruel and insidious as that of Batista’s. Living in Florida she was also ostracized by her fellow Cuban refuges. She had not seen her brother in fifty-two years. For the last two days, CBC has been off-air; storm damaged we suppose.

A Big Sniff. We all know bears can't read. Right?
A Big Sniff.
We all know bears can’t read. Right?

Another tragic story, to me, came from Ocean Falls; a few miles up the inlet from here. This community is the site of a former company town built around a paper mill there. The entire location is abandoned with only a few fringe-characters clinging to life in this macabre setting. Two young cougars had been allowed to frequent the town site and after they’d killed a seal on a dock it was decided they had become too familiar with the small community to not be considered a hazard. Conservation officers were called and the beautiful cats were shot. I make no judgement on this story, I don’t know the details. It does seem interesting that almost invariably, when raw nature and civilization interface, the creatures which conservation officers are sworn to protect, will likely be shot.

Hanging Bear...the legend! That's one helluva lawn ornament. In for the winter in the carpenter shop.
Hanging Bear…the legend!
That’s one helluva lawn
ornament. In for the winter in the carpenter shop.
Hey hey, Hey hey Bang! Some wit has expressed their regard for the Great Bear Rain Forest.
Hey hey, Hey hey Bang!
Some wit has expressed their regard for the Great Bear Rain Forest.

I have written this blog while sitting in my room in the Bella Bella Hospital. The view is spectacular. It is easy to imagine that I’m in a grand hotel except for the tubes and wires. It’s more heart trouble and it ain’t no fun. I’m being shipped to Vancouver next week for treatment, another session of electrically stopping and restarting my heart. I should soon know how to do this myself by now. The staff here are wonderful and have helped ease me through a grim ordeal. As night began to fall and the few buildings on Denny Island which I could see began to light up, it was dramatic to realize what a wilderness we live in. Just miles and miles of miles and miles. So few people. Then the wind-driven sleet and rain slammed onto the window and shrieked under the eves. Isn’t it funny? I used to pass here regularly on the tugs. I once started a story called “how many shades of blue.” Now here I am, sitting in the biggest, bluest building in town watching tugs and barges go by.

A northbound tug in Lamma Pass. It is a view of how I first discovered Bella Bella sliding by the wheelhouse windows. The R. W. Large Hospital was the biggest building on the foreshore. it still is.
A northbound tug in Lamma Pass. It is a view of how I first discovered Bella Bella sliding by the wheelhouse windows. The R. W. Large Hospital was the biggest building on the foreshore. it still is.

Much later I’ve finally been allowed to go, with a pocket full of pills and instructions for a hospital in Vancouver next week. I stand alone on the sea bus dock waiting for the last boat back to Bella Bella. It is very dark and a penetrating wind tears into my no matter where I seek shelter. My wife is tending to family business on the other side of the planet. I have not felt so cold, bleak, hungry and alone in fifty years. Dark memories crowd into my head. Finally back on the boat I arrive to hear the gale alarm bleating. It certainly is an ugly night. Before dawn, two parked helicopters will be blown about and smashed into each other. I make a mug of tea and turn on the radio to sit and defrag a little. I learn that Andrew Sachs has just died. He was 86. He played Manuel on the BBC Series ‘Fawlty Towers.’ I smile as I remember him and his famous line.

Que?”

The Real Thing Surf Bird, Prince Rupert. Wooden hull, aluminum topsides. A true beauty passing by.
The Real Thing
Surf Bird, Prince Rupert.
Wooden hull, aluminum topsides. A true beauty passing by.
Tough Bird Edgar the Eagle sits in the early morning rain, inches from death in the power lines, looking as bedraggled as I feel. There's a long winter ahead.
Tough Bird
Edgar the Eagle sits in the early morning rain, inches from death in the power lines, looking as bedraggled as I feel. There’s a long winter ahead.

The intuitive mind is a sacred gift and the rational mind is a faithful servant. We have created a society that honours the servant and has forgotten the gift.”

…Albert Einstein

BLOG 100! Reboot My Heart

SQUINT! Another cell-phone photo of daybreak in Dogpatch
SQUINT!
Another cell-phone photo
of daybreak in Dogpatch

Here’s how my luck has been going. I bought two lottery tickets at the local grocery store. As usual, the clerk, after checking my old ones, asked me if she could chuck out them out. By mistake she must have chucked the new ones, which I didn’t discover until several days later. So, bin divers, there’s a 99 trillion dollar winning ticket floating around out there somewhere. Yeah right! I was at the airport when my ship came in. And then I found myself in the hospital. After going to visit the surgeon who “hacked” my leg, I answered a call from my GP. My pulse rate was stuck well over 130 and I was persuaded to go to the hospital for a “couple of hours” to get things checked out.

Moon Bombing Dogpatch
Moon Bombing Dogpatch
Another Fawn Lily
Another Fawn Lily

I swear that the only thing done in a hurry at a hospital is how they manage to get you into one of those open-backed bum flapper gowns and to get an intravenous needle jammed into your arm. Then they’ve got you! The first night was spent in a corner of the Emergency Department on a rickety gurney with a severely worn-out mattress. I lay and waited and waited for doctors who never came. Nurses stood in small groups chatting and joking while I felt like yesterday’s roadkill mouldering in the corner. Other inmates groan, cough, weep and bleed. Your personal plight seems to be the least of priorities and of course, you are the most important, don’t they know that? Eventually I complained gently and endured an explanation of why I should write a letter to the government. It is all their fault.

I’m sure everyone who chooses a career in a hospital must start out with the best of intentions. Some just become a bit jaded along the way. It certainly takes a special courage to put in daily long shifts inside those beige walls breathing that stuffy beige air and becoming imbued with beige thinking. (I can hear Billy Connolly shouting about “Feckin’ Beigists) I know I could not do it, my brand of courage lies elsewhere. The complex infrastructure from maintenance people, cleaners, porters, technicians, dieticians, nurses, doctors, to desk pilots and all the others is stunning. I can’t really comprehend the parameters of even one hospital which, to my sentiments, is as complex the Battle Star Galactia. “Gravity engineer please call the switchboard.” The staff is all there to ultimately serve folks who are mangled, slashed, terminally ill, mortally worn-out and infectiously diseased. (And those are just the visitors) Truly, I was generally treated with compassion and respect but I sure am glad to be writing this back at home. At least here the walls are not bloody beige!

I‘ve cooked for a living at times but can’t imagine what is involved in preparing meals in a hospital. It must be horrific. There is a school somewhere for hospital cooking. There must be. Every meal I’ve ever had in hospital, anywhere, all tastes the same, if it has any taste at all. Bleech! If the food is not bad enough, it is delivered in dung-coloured plastic containers which really gets the palette twitching with anticipation. But I can’t imagine how else anyone could do it three times a day. “Ward C, please proceed to the buffet area for your daily gourmet lunch.” Not likely. Good food is a foundation of cheer and well-being and even a little garnish on top of your chunk of rubbery farmed fish would certainly help. I suppose a sack of parsley just can’t fit the annual budget. And wait until someone decides that all that plastic-infused food we eat is a major cause of cancer! That’s another subject. Eh wot, no wine!

At least they fixed me. Apparently electric shock is used to stop the heart, then again to restart the old muscle. I had a vision of jumper cables hooked to each nipple, a horrific zap, then a quick reversing of positive to negative and another Duracell moment. Actually a very large electrode was stuck to my chest and another to my back. That’s all I recall. Thankfully, I was knocked out for the procedure, I don’t remember a thing. It’s rather like defragging and rebooting a computer, all in one swell foop, but it feels like the timing was reset and new spark plugs were installed. I’ve been rebooted. There IS a smell of burned bacon. Whatever transpired, my pulse is back down to a normal rate and I’m beginning to feel like life is worth living. These dreamy pills are intereeesting…..

Abandoned locomotive in Ladysmith. The promise of a working steam museum and a tall ships yard drew me to Vancouver Island in the mid-80s. It never happened.
Abandoned locomotive in Ladysmith. The promise of a working steam museum and a tall ships yard drew me to Vancouver Island in the mid-80s.
It never happened.
Spring morning light at the roundabout at the foot of the main street in Ladysmith
Spring morning light at the roundabout at the foot of the main street in Ladysmith. The monstrous anchor was dredged out of the harbour.

The only other note I’ll offer on ending up in the “horspital “ is that one needs to be aware of the moment. It is all you have. There is no “In a minute,” no “Tomorrow,” no “Maybe next year.” This is it. This very moment is all you’ve got and no one knows what’s coming down the pipe. We DO NOT know what the next moment will bring. It is a thought I often express in this blog but I’m beginning to feel hypocritical spouting about it out. This is blog 100 for me… and I’m still tied to the bloody dock! I can offer whinges about poor health and the resulting low finances but I feel that would be just making excuses. This is the year.

It has to happen within the remaining three quarters of 2016. No more piddling about. Old ‘Seafire’ either finds her way to Southern waters or has to be put up for sale. I want to be writing blogs from within the shade of a cactus or a palm tree. One way or another. It’s got to happen. Somehow!

I know I don’t want to end my days shuffling down a beige hall in a puce bum-flapper pushing a trolly with an IV drip on it with flakes of dried rubber salmon clinging to my beard.

Unwittingly I recently wrote this little bit about exactly that.

RUM AND TEA

Some drink dark rum straight down

others stir weak tea round and round

wondering ten lumps or twelve.

Some cling to the bottom

feeding on whatever drifts by

others soar in the cold dark sky

exploring their passion to fly

so absorbed with life

they have no thought about when they’ll die.

Some worry about dying so much,

they never live.

Some worry about tomorrow

always missing today

some only work

having forgotten a gift called play.

We only have this one moment

and can only regret

what we don’t do.

The Nurse Stump. Life goes on.
The Nurse Stump.
Life goes on.

Slumped in front of the television last night I watched a silly program about a California couple who had won $180,000,000.US in a lottery. After the IRS was done with them they probably had to scrape by on the remaining half of their winnings. A realtor was leading them around by the nose showing exotic properties. Eventually they settled on a decadent shack (16,000 square feet) on a mountainside to the tune of $5.6 million. All the while they were orgasming their way through this ridiculous faux palace, wifey kept complaining they were over-budget! They finally bought the place, then the bison ranch below them and ultimately all the land to the summit of the mountain above them. It totalled 800 acres. Mother’s final complaint was about the winding steep road. These were the same two hefty folks who were living contentedly in an average suburban home before their windfall. The area surrounding their new dream home sure looked like one of those Californian infringements that loves to explode into flame. I wish them bliss. Yes, I’m jealous, at least for the potential of all that cash.

I know that if I ever found myself immersed in unaccustomed wealth, sure as hell-in-a-handbasket, I might easily wander astray. For the moment, I believe there are people I’d help and causes I’d support, others whom I’d make a point of ignoring and quite probably there would be another certain boat I’d acquire. That is the true value of a lottery ticket, all those dreams to keep you going through an existence such as working in a hospital. Lotteries are indeed the poor man’s tax. To put our Western lives in perspective, there are billions who’d love the decadence of knowing where tomorrow’s groceries are coming from and that the shooting will stop. The notion of going to a hospital for any reason, incomprehensible. Not having to worry about the cost, beyond belief.

We just don’t get it. Do we? I know I don’t, even when I write about it.

Jack out standing In his field. Dogs can teach us so much.
Jack out standing In his field.
Dogs can teach us so much.

DO NOT REGRET GROWING OLDER, IT IS A PRIVILEDGE DENIED TO MANY.” …anonymous