Not every day is sunsets and cocktails. Sometimes it’s sunsets and sprains…requiring cocktails.

The Highs and Lows of Cruising
One day we were on top of the world at the peak of Mount Coronado. Two days later, Brian woke up with severe knee pain. He had felt fine during the hike and the day after, albeit sore like the rest of us. But after two days, his knee hurt so badly he couldn’t walk. I know when he’s asking for more than a single ibuprofen, something is wrong.

Sprained Knee?
His tendon, strung drum-tight, refused to relax. Bending his knee was impossible, as was bearing weight. Climbing normal stairs with one rigid leg is not easy. Climbing up and down Indigo’s nearly vertical companionway steps, something we normally do countless times a day, became excruciating. And try scrunching into an elevated and cramped V-Berth with one straight leg. And a straight face.

Beware: Mt. Coronado Causes Weak Knees
We don’t know how it happened; suddenly he woke up and his knee was killing him. NOOO, I didn’t kick him while he was peacefully slumbering. He loves to tell people that. But, it WAS my fault. Remember my last post Conquering Mt. Coronado? That strenuous hike just 2 days prior probably severely weakened his knees, enough so that he tweaked one just so while sleeping. I wanted to climb that stupid Mt. Coronado so bad…and Brian paid for it.

Useless Med Kit
We have pain medicines up the yin yang, heat/cool patches, splints and wraps and bandages galore. Wrapping it only put more pressure on the affected area and made the pain unbearable. Patches didn’t help. I have decent pain meds on board but he refused everything but the low grade stuff. All this med gear and there’s nothing we could do except wait and see. In the end, he kept it cushioned and immobile on a pillow, icing it with frozen water bottles. Talk about low tech healthcare.

7 Days a Boat Prisoner
We were hoping it was just a little sprain, that it would go away in a day or so. But Brian remained a prisoner on the boat for the next several days. In the morning, he’d limp up the stairs and rest outside in the cockpit; at dusk, he’d make the agonizing descent back into the cabin. I think he went through a book a day. Whenever he tired of reading, he alternated between high-tech ipad games or no-tech birdwatching. Fortunately, the weather remained ideal (in the cool 80’s, no hurricanes on the horizon) and we weren’t under any travel deadline pressure.

No Doctors in the Desert
For those seven endless days, we worried… OK, I worried…not knowing how long it would take to heal… or if it would at all. After 20 years of mandatory Marine runs, knee surgery has been a predicted consequence, but one we wished to avoid as long as possible. I hoped this injury didn’t put him over the edge. If it didn’t get any better soon, we would have to go see someone. But we’re anchored in the remote bay of San Juanico, far from civilization. It’s a minimum ½ day sail back to Loreto or a 24hr overnight to San Carlos. We realized just how far away we were from healthcare…any healthcare. It felt like we were on the moon.

50% and Still Trapped
After day 4, his knee felt a little bit better. We managed to motor Indigo up to Bahia Concepcion but we still didn’t leave the boat upon anchoring each afternoon. We didn’t want to risk ruining it again. We could certainly throw the kayak overboard in a jiffy (which is why we use it 90% of the time). But he could easily re-twist the knee grappling in or out of the snug, bobbing, slippery vessel. What about the dinghy? Way worse.

Avoiding Dinghy-Yoga
Prepping the dinghy involves the two of us flipping it upright from its cruising turtle-position on the bow, hoisting and pushing it overboard, then mounting the unwieldy outboard motor. (One person stands at the stern rail, lowering it with our manual pulley system; the other stands in the dinghy below, catching and affixing it to the transom). This 10-15 minute workout consists of heaving and manhandling the substantial, slimy beast, stepping up and down from the cabin roof numerous times, plus copious amounts of twisting and turning, bending and balancing. And you wonder how we get our exercise on the boat? I could just imagine the strain this torsion-filled process would put on a bum knee. No way. Amazingly, raising anchor, motoring, even sailing Indigo is far easier on the knees than depositing our car in the water.

Freedom!
Seven days later, Brian finally felt stable enough to tackle the car. We left it in-water, towing it behind Indigo from anchorage to anchorage. Normally, dinghy towing is one of our big no-no’s. Yes, I know, lots of people do it. We don’t. While it’s incredibly convenient to have your dinghy ready to go upon arrival, too many things can go wrong. But Bahia Concepcion was flat as a pancake and we only traveled, literally, a couple miles each day. Occasionally, rules should be thrown out the window. For knees sake.

Boatwork with a Bum Knee
We did another week’s worth of uber-relaxed gunk-holing and crossed the Sea of Cortez overnight, once his knee felt a bit better. We put the boat away over the course of 12 days of hard work. It wasn’t easy on him, but we did it. One month later, the knee works, but it's still not 100%.  

Medical Preparedness
How prepared are we? We are equipped for medical complications in the outback with a variety of meds for colds, pain, nausea, antibiotics, etc. Heck, we even have malaria pills. We have a suitcase-sized professional medical kit for treating mild to severe burns and wounds. We even have gear for splinting a broken bone and sewing stitches. (Let’s just hope Brian doesn’t need stitches – knowing my sewing skills, THAT would be a catastrophe). But with all this stuff, we could use none of it in his situation. What is the moral here?

Cruising Law #1:
As Captain Ron so casually counsels: “If anything’s gonna happen, it’s gonna happen out there!”

Cruising Law # 2:
When it does happen, all that special equipment you purchased will doubtless be inadequate.
Do you still buy the stuff? Yep. You or someone else might need it someday!​

I quit.

Five years ago I gave my notice and no one took me seriously. It's hard to believe it’s finally here. I have now been jobless for a week and I love it!

After feeling like it was a normal boat-work weekend, on Monday I got to sleep in ‘til 8am, yeah, that’s right… and we went to a matinee movie, I repeat… on a Monday. I then proceeded to go grocery shopping on a Tuesday at 2pm. Blasphemy. I feel like I’m playing hooky, not jobless.

Initially hired in 1997, it’s been 17 long years. It is incredible to me that almost half my lifetime has been in this one place. Through all the triumphs and heartaches and changes, I am grateful to have had the opportunity to learn so many different aspects of a business.

But most importantly, I have had the honor of working with some of the smartest, capable, most genuine people. I will never forget their role in such a significant part of my life.

I'd like to thank first and foremost, Cindy and Jerry Troyer who started it all. Cindy actually created a job for me the second time I was hired and was (still is) always there with a listening ear and good advice. We love you guys!

To Bob Walker, my first supervisor… For 17 years you brainwashed work ethic, perseverance and a bizarre sense of humor into my cheese gum brain. You tackled everything they threw at you and then some. Your perseverance under impossible circumstances is inspiring. You deserved that parking spot and a gigantic share of the credit for the company's success.

To George Bosson, my boss and mentor for 11 years... We had such a great partnership didn't we?  . Through success and severe stress, through laughter and tears, through fake-arguing just for fun and real arguments, was it all worth it? Well, it sure didn't end how we envisioned, how it should have. But despite everything, yes. We built a successful company, dammit George ;), and what I gained is to have had the honor of 11 years worth of learning from you... that is priceless and worth all the lumps. Your depth of caring for both your people and your product is unsurpassed. Thank you for instilling that into my psyche. And thank you for putting up with me all those years.

To Sherrie, Luis, Johnny, Daisy and Marissa... for what it's worth, I appreciate you and your efforts... your support and friendship over the years kept me going.

To Molly for being my sounding board and friend and for regaling me daily with your wacky stories. I will miss you the most.

To Tammy and Tom for keeping me sane. To Gabe for throwing me an awesome good-bye party. To Justin for making me laugh and being my substitute wordsmither. To Ron for giving me perspective, being bad cop to my good cop, and letting me keep my job for one more year.

To Jennifer, Pizzo, Shannon, Jason, Wayne, Meghna, Rick, Debbie, Denise, Leslie, Alice, Armando, Fran, Rob, loud Dave, irritable Dave, Daniel, Angella, Ed, Doris, Jackie, Jeff, Lauren, Janet, Tony, Tom, Brian, Mike, and so many others...wherever you are now…thanks for being awesome co-workers.

But my most gratifying accomplishment was hiring Steve. My diabolically evil plan from the beginning was for him to take over my job as marketing manager. Turns out, he's a graphics genius and I could not have gotten through these last years without his help. His balancing presence and willingness to dive in when I was ready to throw down was a lifesaver. I fully expect Steve to someday start his own company and I've already threatened him into hiring me when I can't stand living on a boat any longer. Truly, I owe you (and Celia) way more than I can put into words.

Throughout the years, the company has saved my bacon multiple times. I was granted a lot of leeway: I was officially hired a total of 3 different times, learned 5 decidedly different jobs, and even got to work from home for several, wonderful, drama-free years when we moved across country. So it is highly appropriate that my "golden parachute" is a lifeboat. Yes, my going away gift after 17 years, is not a Swiss watch (thank goodness), it is an inflatable Viking life raft (a thousand times more useful than a stupid watch). This is a very expensive piece of cruising equipment mind you, and, as such, its purchase would have been a very difficult decision for a jobless couple. I guess it’s my last get out of jail free card, courtesy of the board of directors. Thank you. I hope to never have to use it.... but for those worry warts out there (mom), now you can relax a bit.

So my exodus, while prolonged, (remember-5 year notice), was not very emotional, as I have had years to process. I am more than ready. There have been bets placed against me as to when I will ask for my job back. I assure you all... I will win that bet. :) While I am sad to leave behind years of hard work and my peeps, I am ready to move on. It’s time for Brian and I to finally live what we have been planning for so long.

Marya-
What's a WFA?
This past weekend we took a 2-day course on Wilderness First Aid. Operated by NOLS, a leading outdoor education school, the WFA course teaches first aid from the standpoint of being far from help... hours, if not days. They show you how to treat wounds, tape sprains, splint fractures, fix dislocations, recognize dehydration, shock, hypothermia, etc. 
Each day is an exhausting 9 hours with a lunch. They intersperse classroom lectures with real scenarios. Students take turns being the victim, each time briefed as to their dilemma, and the team of 2-3 rescuers must approach and help. Once I was bouldering in Joshua Tree, lost my handhold, fell 15 ft and hit my head on a rock. Another time I had hiked 15 miles on the Pacific Crest Trail in 8 hrs, only had 1liter of water and felt dizzy and nauseous. Hmmm, dehydration? We even get fake bruises or blood makeup.
As the responders, we are taught to assess the situation, check for airway, breathing, bleeding, pain and circulation issues. We learned how to ask questions about what happened and extract pertinent info like medications, food and water intake, allergies, etc. Finally, we practiced calling in a report for the professional rescue team. 
Now, not that I remembered half of what I saw, but I learned a couple important things. 
1. I did not go into the medical field for good reason. My bedside manner is lacking, to say the least. In fact, notice above that I call the patient "victim". That was my brain not even trying to be funny. Because God forbid I'm the one who happens across them. It takes a real innate ability to exhibit a calm, easygoing, bedside manner. I'm not one of the fortunate, good thing my only patient will be Brian who is used to me poking and prodding and peppering with questions... Does this hurt? How about now? Ooowwwww!
2. Although hiking is the typical scenario, we took this course because we'll be far away from land often. Things can happen, you get whacked by the boom, break a toe on a cleat, get burned by boiling water in a rolly sea... So I think Brian is slightly more reassured that I can temporarily "fix" him if something happens. I did say slightly. He has lots of training from the military about shock and dehydration and wound care and such, but I have had zero. I could apply a bandaid. Period. The fact that I can now treat a burn, or remember how as long as I have my handy dandy field guide, and I won't be so nervous about it, puts me one step closer to both of us being confident we can take care of each other. 
3. No joke, I have seriously always wondered about how to fix a dislocated shoulder. I've never had it, but in the movies it looks horrifically painful and the actor always seems to whack their shoulder on something immovable to violently shove it back in. Luckily, I learned all you have to do is dangle your arm while laying on a table, strap a 10-15 pound weight to your arm and gravity will do the rest.  I don't know why this makes me feel better. It just does. It's literally the best thing I learned. I'm sure our highly competent instructors would roll their eyes at me right now. Seriously? Out of everything? 

As a side note...
Most of the participants were hikers, some climbers, but quite a few were planning on hiking the Pacific Coast Trail. One younger couple just quit their jobs and are planning on through-hiking the entire thing, from the Mexican to Canadian border - this not-so-small undertaking is a typical 6-month stint. Very cool... and impressive.