Hot Water, Cold Water, No Water, Way Too Much Water

Our six-gallon water heater is leaking. The captain tried fixing it, but it’s on its way out. To keep it from leaking too much, we are turning off the water pressure unless we need to shower or wash dishes.

This leaking water heater happened about the same time diesel started appearing in the engine oil, at the rate of about two gallons a trip.

Nothing on a boat is stable for very long. After nearly a year on board (yes, our newlywed year is almost up), I’ve learned not to get excited and not to get upset when I wake up and there’s no water and the floor of the salon is gone and my husband is in the engine room in his underwear with a manual and a bunch of tools. This is life on a boat.


The small things make me grateful. Now that the six-gallon heater is a goner, we can buy a new one – a bigger one – yes indeed, folks, our new water heater holds 10.5 gallons!

And a boat – as Noah knew – may be just the place to be when the world is coming to an end. Last week, as the rest of Chicago was pummeled by wind and rain and funnel clouds, Mazurka floated just fine, protected in this northern pocket of Belmont Harbor, with all her necessities self-contained, including a generator in case we lost power. (While her captain and first mate, however, rode a motorcycle through the second wave of the storm.)

So many of our long-limbed neighbors were not so lucky. The carnage is heartbreaking.

Male-Pattern Baldness

My friend Mark Mershon (also bald) named this photo. I was going to go with something flat and explanatory like, “While Sophie eats, Mark changes the oil with a hand pump.”

Socked In At Waukegan Harbor

This past weekend, the Mazurka party flag was up. Our complement: Mark, me, Mark's brother Scott, his wife Jill (who has been my best friend since junior high) and their three month-old baby Sophie.

The plan was to head north to fish for salmon. Instead, we encountered torrential rain and 20-30 knot winds and spent three days socked in at Waukegan Harbor, playing Risk and Blokus and eating sugary snacks. It was a great trip.

And if you’re going to be socked in anywhere, Waukegan is an interesting town. The harbor has laundry, showers, wifi, free coffee, and a friendly community of boaters.

Beyond the harbor, you have downtown Waukegan, home to Ray Bradbury, Jack Benny, the biker bar Hussey’s serving an incredible weekend breakfast, some interesting fountains, and a whole lot of riff-raff (present company excluded, of course).

At Night, Mazurka Becomes a Death Trap

As a kid, I read that spiders are a Native American symbol of creativity. I decided that I loved spiders and wanted them near me. Big ones, little ones, daddy-long-legs with freaky-long legs, and tiny ones crawling across my ceiling in the middle of the night. I never feared they might drop on my face while I slept – I revered them all.

Good thing, too, ‘cause now, I live with hundreds.

At night, Mazurka becomes a death trap. Spiders are everywhere, inside and outside the boat. In the mornings I inevitably stumble through an invisible sticky net on the way to make coffee. Their wide intricate webs from anchor to dock to fly bridge wave like delicate Japanese ladies’ fans, beckoning come hither with killer lace. At dusk, if you lie on the aft cabin and look up at the sky, all around the mast you will see spiders climbing and falling, tatting and spinning, tiny acrobats more intent on creating art than feasting on flies. In the mornings, their webs are strung with insects wrapped like lanterns, dangling secure in the breeze – a good breakfast after a long night of work.

The Summer Galley

Cooking and kitchen storage is easiest in winter when the cold weather provides extra refrigeration outside. On winter Sunday afternoons, Mark and I cook meals for the week and keep them stored outside under the shrink wrap. It’s a lot harder in summer when, without storage, you’re faced with only preparing what you will eat. And you are limited to eating just what you prepare. So after a long day of work when it’s 90 degrees and the restaurant budget is tapped, here’s how we’ve solved our challenge of the summer galley.

1) Shop Often. There’s really no way to get around this one. I think of it as the European way. Shopping frequently helps you eliminate waste and eat fresher food. It does take more time throughout the week – three trips to the grocery store as opposed to one or two – but it takes less time per trip; you can usually zip in and out with a few things, and we tend to spend less overall when we spend three times a week rather than once. It also helps that you only have to plan what you’re going to eat 2-3 days in advance, rather than seven. When we’re on a seven-day shopping schedule, we inevitably run out of one crucial ingredient and have to make an extra trip to the store, anyway.

2) Keep the Refrigerator Clean. You’d think with a small refrigerator (about the size of the one in your college dorm), it’d be easier to rotate stock and find what you need. Not so. With such a small space, stuff easily gets crammed to the back, where it sits for months. Or else condiments end up taking half the fridge. A good once-a-week cleaning is necessary to defrost the tiny freezer and make sure we’re getting the most out of such small storage.

3) Follow the Collegiate Theme. Along with the dorm-sized refrigerator, every boat’s galley can benefit from the other staple of the collegiate kitchen: the hot pot. Use it to boil water for tea and coffee (and get rid of the coffee maker), and any number of foods.

4) Grill It or Go Raw. Mazurka has a great stove – with three burners, all functional, and an oven. But when the cabin is 82 degrees, a pot on the stove can bring it over 90. Therefore, in summer, we use the grill off the fantail almost exclusively – or we eat raw.

Here are some of our favorite summer meals:

Asian Spring Rolls
These are a great hot weather meal, and fun to assemble when you have guests, too. With a hot pot to boil water, you can avoid turning on the stove entirely. The trickiest part is finding the spring roll wrappers (flat disks made of rice) and the rice sticks (which look like thin pasta). Asian stores stock them, or you may have to specially order them on line or at your grocery.

Arrange plates and dishes with: shredded lettuce, grated carrots, scallions, crushed peanuts, thinly-sliced red pepper, fresh basil and cilantro. Shrimp is the first choice on Mazurka, but any meat (or tofu or no meat) will do. Prepare the rice sticks by placing the noodles in a pot and pour boiling water over them; let them sit for about ten minutes before draining. Prepare the rice paper by putting boiling water in a wide pan and dipping the disk into the water until it becomes soft and malleable. Place the paper on a plate, fill it with a little bit of everything, roll it up and eat it. Peanut dipping sauce (I make some with peanut butter, water, soy sauce, apple cider vinegar, fresh cilantro, and chili paste) is a great accompaniment.

Mark experiments with fillings – he stuffs them with olives and artichoke hearts for Mediterranean spring rolls, and a mango/cucumber/red pepper/coconut dish for dessert.

Mediterranean Tapas
Humus, Tabouleh, Baba Ganouj, fresh tomatoes, artichoke hearts, cucumber, feta, black olives, spinach, red onions, lettuce, sprouts, some grilled chicken, and some pita bread. Spread them out on a table, assemble at will. ‘Nuff said.

Mango Black Bean Salad
This is a variation of a recipe my friend Anne makes. Take 1 mango, 1 can of black beans, chopped red onion, chopped fresh cilantro, fresh grated ginger, a little lime, a little chopped red pepper. If you like it hot, add some chopped green chili. Mix together.

Caprese Salad
You can’t go wrong with fresh tomatoes and mozzarella, basil, olive oil, salt and pepper. (Especially when you grow the tomatoes and basil on the dock!)

Mazurka Salad
This salad didn’t originate on Mazurka – but we eat it so often that it’s become our house salad year-round. Romaine lettuce (or spring mix), garbanzo beans, walnuts (or pecans), dried cherries (or sliced green apple or pear), bleu or gorgonzola cheese (or not – depending on how healthy you’re feeling), balsamic vinegar and olive oil.

A Few Things I've Learned About Entertaining

In his bachelor days, Mark threw a lot of parties on Mazurka. He says that having a boat in Chicago means taking people out to show them a rare view of Chicago.

In his bachelor days, he also entertained like a bachelor – meaning there wasn’t a whole lot of clean-up before the party, a whole lot of preparation at all….

Things are different when you’re married.

All summer, we’ve had guest out on Mazurka, but in the past few weeks, we’ve had a half dozen parties. All different mixes of people; all different outcomes. As the wife, first mate, and hostess, I tend to stress about preparing for these events.

Here are a few things I’ve learned about stress-free entertaining on the water:

1) 12-14 guests are optimal. Mazurka can host up to 30, but it’s damn uncomfortable trying to squeeze through the walkways, and you end up parking yourself in one spot all evening just ‘cause it’s easier than trying to maneuver through crowds. A dozen people means everybody can move about freely, mix and mingle, and even escape to a quiet area if they need some alone time on the water.

2) Pump out before and after each party.

3) Don’t apologize for the diesel smell – or any other strange smells; it’s a boat; there’s nothing you can do.

4) Give guests the tour and explain the plumbing first. Then tell everybody where the life jackets are. In rough water, allay people’s fears by telling them what the captain has told you: there is no way this boat is going to tip over.

5) Tell guests a dish to bring. This is a tricky one – especially because I’ve always thought if people are coming to my house for dinner, they should not be obligated to bring anything to eat. But going out on the water is different – and preparing the boat, plus dinner in a small galley, will take all day and wear you out before anybody arrives. It’s better to have too much rather than not enough, but having too much on a boat with little storage means sending food home with people, or taking it to coworkers the next day. Also, be explicit in telling people what to bring; at one party we had three desserts (and way too much left over for me and the captain), at another, there was no dessert at all. Don’t assume: guests will just bring wine, and then you’re left with a dozen bottles of wine and no side dishes. Which brings us to Lesson 6…

6) Keep the alcohol to a minimum. I know boating and drinking go together. On our small dock alone, there’s the Absolute and Cranberry, Rolling Rock II (in green font just like the label), Bumpy Night (flanked by two martini glasses), and Aquaholics. Somewhere in Chicago, the Betty Ford is cruising. Every weekend, we watch boats return to the harbor with half-naked guests staggering and reeking of beer. The captain and first mate should do not drink at all (yes, you can get a DUI on the water); but guests should also know they can go overboard on the tiniest wave – or slip, fall, and hit their head on the deck. It’s hard enough trying to keep your balance and your wits about you on a boat when you’re sober.

7) Let people help clean up. I’ve been amazed at the deft organization skills of our guests on board. Before I even know it, the fly bridge is clean and people are hauling out garbage bags. Use paper plates and let everybody take a garbage bag to the dumpster on the way to their cars. The raccoons will be glad to see them.


(Thanks to all our guests this summer – and especially to Jeff and Gail and their crew for the most fun Sunday afternoon!)

Well, That Answers That Question

We have some interesting wildlife out here in Belmont Harbor. Hordes of raccoon families, for one thing, led by parents the size of small grizzlies. The other night Mark and I came home and parked the motorcycle beside the dumpster where a family of seven was feasting on pretzels. The little ones climbed the fence as we neared, but their mom stayed put, munching away, keeping an eye on us. Pretty soon her babies returned. “Welcome to Flood Bros. Family Dining,” Mark observed.

Tonight I was out watering our garden (we have a garden on the dock – six tomato plants, basil, sage, dill, parsley, cilantro, and chives), when something resembling a small shark swam underneath me, between the dock and the boat. I looked down, thinking it was a large carp. But it was hairy...and swimming above water. And there were two.

A few nights ago one of our Venetian Night guests told us she saw something strange swimming in the water. “Not a raccoon,” she said, “not a rat, not a beaver – but like a beaver – they have them at the Shedd Aquarium.” “An otter?” I asked. “Yeah! An otter!” she said. We all told her there was no way there were any otters living in Belmont Harbor. But I tell you what – I saw them. Two of them. They were swimming side by side, and I followed them all the way to the end of the harbor, where they swam around a bit. The security guard came by. “What are those things?” I asked her. “Ducks,” she said, smoking a cigarette, not looking where I was pointing. “No,” I told her, “THOSE things.” “Oh my God…” And we stood together for a long time, watching the otters, trying to convince ourselves maybe they were beavers – but no, they were otters. Furry, long, with narrow heads and small teeth. (Note to Reader: they were not otters. They were muskrats. Mating muskrats. Cue "Muskrat Love.")



We walked with them as they swam back along the boats. I stopped in front of Mazurka and picked up the hose to finish watering the plants. Hunter and Leo had come out by that time and were roaming around. “Don’t you worry about those cats?” The security guard asked me. “That they might fall in?” “No,” I told her. “They’ve lived on the boat for a year – they’re pretty agile.”

Cats falling in the lake was an early concern. I knew from childhood (and mean boys throwing cats in the Mississippi River) that cats are good swimmers. We had a rough plan that if one of the cats fell in, we’d throw them a line or a hook or get the net or steer them toward the swim deck. Then rinse them off real good.

I finished watering the plants and took my bags inside and came back out in pursuit of Leo, who was making his way down the dock. The last I saw of Hunter – who is unfortunately the clumsy one – was him standing on the Harbor Dog, ready to jump on the Mazurka. The next thing I hear is him miss the boat – I turn just in time to see him miss one of the ropes and land in the water. He could swim all right, but he also cried like you’ve never heard a drowning cat cry in your life. I screamed for Mark – who was on the phone inside – and rapped at the door for him, running to get a hook. Hunter is swimming in circles and crying and gurgling water. I had half a mind to jump in for him, right where the muskrats had been. I extended one of the gaffes into the water, and Hunter grabbed on, but as I lifted him out he fell back into the water. I’m screaming to Mark, who is oblivious. I throw Hunter a rope (who knows what I expected him to do with the rope). He’s trying to climb up the flat walls, and slowly swimming toward a nearby swim deck. Just then, Mark emerges with the giant fishing net (it was hidden at the bottom of the lazarette), and fishes out the poor cat. He stumbles around a bit, then lets me pick him up, take him inside, and rinse him in the shower.

Oh, Huntie. Huntie-runtie. A little slow, he’ll probably forget this by the morning. For now, he’s got some bathing to do.