The sailing season in Newburyport is short. Crocuses spear the surface bringing hopes of warmth as early as March, with blooms in April, sometimes to be covered with snow. May starts somewhat bleak though the branches are red in the light. By the end of May, green returns with tender new leaves capturing the abundant sun. June is the official start of summer, but it isn’t reliably hot until the 4th of July. I always try to have the boat ready and in the water by early May.
The boat yard workers avoid me in those weeks as I seek signs of hope that the other boats crowding me in could be moved or launched. Somehow they manage to get it all done and I’m often in the first five on the mooring field. I battle the birds who leave half-tide rocks with each flood and seek a place to descend and soil. The seagulls, cormorants, and occasional osprey cover the decks and rails of some unlucky boat deemed to be the high tide roost.
Eventually there are more boats on moorings and they leave me alone. I have a mooring that is well placed to be too far from the rocks to remain an obvious choice for the flocks. I can welcome guests aboard with little preparation and not worry about odd smells or stains. But all that seems a long way off.
It’s bleak at this time of year. My wife was born and raised in Southern California. As a writer, she has many memorable and quotable sayings. One of my favorites is that she didn’t know she was born in the winter until she moved to Boston. She was born in mid-February. LA at that time of year is not too different from LA at any other time of year. You can leave your home without a coat and drive around without sliding or returning with a coating of salt and grime. But not so here.
She calls winter in New England monochromatic. She’s not wrong. As I look out the home office window I see a grey sky bordered by naked black branches yielding to a white field of snow. There are a few evergreens amidst the dark trucks and branches, but with little sun, they appear more black than green.
On my desk there are reminders of what’s to come. A chart book is littered with hopeful bookmarks. A worn main reef sliding cheek block sits awaiting a delivery of its replacement. Old charts, with their odd intersecting angles, serve as wrapping paper for my wife impending birthday. Ponce De Leon Inlet shows prominently on the corner of the largest box holding… I’ll have to keep that a secret for a few more days.
The basement is where the summer’s aspirations take shape. The dinghy is partially inflated against a wall. I’m trying in vain to find the slow leak in the forward chamber. The mooring ball is on the floor next to the batteries and crates filled with the flammable or freezable chemicals. The sails are neatly folded and bagged, except for the Main which is awaiting its turn at the sewing machine for a few minor repairs.
The power tool room is a bit cramped with a sheet of plywood set like a table top near the middle of the room. Tightly rolled cylinders of foam line the back wall. Odd shaped triangles and long rectangles of offcuts of foam are jumbled along another wall covering tools. On the table is a roll of seafoam colored Sunbrella upholstery cloth. A length has been unrolled to the full extent of the plywood table and drawn with shapes for V-berth cushions. Later on today or perhaps tomorrow, I’ll cut out those shapes with a hot knife with a 48″ metal ruler underneath to protect the plywood and to let the knife slide more smoothly.
Yesterday I made about thirty feet of piping. It involves cutting 1 1/4″ wide strips of cloth. Diagonal is what people in the know call across or with the bias. I’m not sure which. What it means is that the edges don’t disintegrate. Inside the cloth strips I sew 5/32″ diameter cotton line. The cloth is folded with the line inside and made into long strips. That’s piping.
After I cut out the shapes, I’ll be careful to lay them out, one at a time, with the outside up. When working with oddly shaped cushions, it’s critical to remember what is the top, bottom, inside, and outside. The V-berth cushions are long wedges with a notch cut out on the straight side. The hypotenuse is cut at an angle such that the top of the cushions is wider than the bottom. That way it lies against the side of the boat, which in the forward compartment, it flared up and out towards the wide deck from the pointed keel.
The side pieces are called the box. They are pretty easy to figure out as they are just a long thin rectangle that is 1/2″ taller than the finished height of the cushion. The side with a zipper is cut 1 1/2″ taller and just slightly longer than needed. There is a time consuming set of folds, cuts, and seams to secure the zipper but I’m getting pretty good at it.
With the outside top laid on the table, I’ll put a 1/4″ wide strip of double sided basting tape around the edges. The piping will then be carefully placed on the tape with the corded side in and the edges out. In the tight corners, I’ll make relief cuts in the piping so that it can bend around the corners. Another layer of basting tape is placed on that. Then the box or sides are painstakingly stuck on with the outside down so that the outside faces of the top and sides are facing each other. Once complete, I’ll slowly sew it together.
I’ll repeat the exercise for the bottom piece with basting tape and piping. The assembled top and sides are then basted to the bottom with all outside panels facing each other. That will be sewn and then voila, the cushion cover is done. I’ll unzip the long side of the box and turn it all right side out.
Next is the moment of truth as the foam is jammed in. I wrap the foam in a noiseless thin sheet of plastic which allows it to slid into place better. Once in, I squeeze and stretch and push and pull until it all lays in nicely. If there are imperfections such as an open seam, I take the cover off, fix it, and put it back on. There’s no use in taking all this time and money just to have a major imperfection glaring at me in the years to come. Minor imperfections I ignore. No upholstery is perfect. Once these cushions have been sat, slept and ground upon, the little bits of exposed thread, or slightly uneven edges, won’t be noticeable. Besides, it’s a boat, not a work of art.
The old cushions are original to the boat. The boat was built in 1979 and is a Tartan. I’m amazed how well they have held up, but they are no longer, shall we say, crisp. Nor are they particularly comfortable. They also hold that old boat smell. None of these features are enticing to my wife.
My wife is not a sailor. We met in college decades ago and went our separate ways raising families and building careers. We met again less than ten years ago and were married seven years ago. We dated at first. Facebook had helped her find a good friend of mine and it was through him that we reconnected. In seeing what she had been up to, I found her Facebook page. Her motto was “I love not camping.” I’m trying to make Resolute not seem like camping on the water. I’m hoping these new cushions will help.
I usually sail alone. It’s not necessarily by choice, but I don’t mind it. It gives me time to move at my own pace and let thoughts meander where they may. Sometimes I’m frenetic and project oriented. Sometimes I read. I’ve been known to nap. On long afternoons with slight winds, I can get lonely. It’s in those hours that I look around the boat trying to see what I could do to make her more comfortable and appealing. The brown, white and orange tartan pattern on a coarse, heavy cloth shout out to me as the most obvious choice.
I’m not a stylish person. I don’t understand that some colors go together and others don’t. I’m confused as to how the rules can change in different seasons and decades. I still wear some clothes I had in college. I have a pair or two of rag wool socks from high school. My gym sneakers were purchased before my kids were born. Those kids have finished with college and live far away. The sneakers still fit well. As gym sneakers, they don’t get dirty. They are comfortable. Tuesday we are going to but new gym sneakers. I admit my current ones lack tread and are a bit slippery as I walk quickly around the track. I dream of running, but after three back surgeries, I simply can not run for any amount of time without severe spasms. Will I be able to find a pair of sneakers better than the ones I have? I don’t know. But I do know these new cushions are better looking, more comfortable, and smell much better.