The Zen of Alternate Energy

Of all the wonders presented by our changing world in the last century, none astounds me more than the increase in the amount of energy in various forms that each of us has available for our use and pleasure. Consider that before petroleum products, most of our heat, light, and transportation was derived from plants and animals, dead or alive. I’m sure there are too many of us in the world today to ever revert to those days, but there may be a place for some of the old ways of thinking about energy use. Few lifestyles are better suited to provide a demonstration of the polar opposite to conspicuous energy consumption than living aboard. I know that there are many options for controllable on board power production, but this is a discussion of how to work with the two most commonly harnessed variable resources – wind and solar energy.

I always advocate renewable energy devices with the cautious caveat that alternate energy requires alternate expectations. When connected to the grid, using energy in greater quantities rather than lesser simply means a larger energy bill at the end of the month. This is not in itself a bad thing as long as a balance is maintained. However it is a mindset that must be left behind if you are going to unplug for a while. What I refer to here is not simply a matter of switching off unused lights or lowering the thermostat at night. It is an overall comprehension that once the shore power chord is cast off, every use of energy is subtracted from that which you create and store. With time, the mental accounting becomes subconscious – like knowing when to turn back on a long walk so you can make it home. I am referring here to energy use as related to lifestyle and not necessarily that connected with navigation and sailing. That is a separate and different set of concerns. I won’t get into the plethora of gadgets designed to aid our perception of electrical energy in the manner of fuel in a tank. The matter at hand is the mental process of understanding that flow out cannot for long exceed flow in. For reasons obvious in the American economy, I will avoid any cross reference involving finance.

The most significant step preparatory toward life unplugged is to catalog your energy outflows. This is a highly individual process, so don’t rely too heavily on someone else’s list. You should break your power uses into those which are discretionary, such as entertainment, and those which are relatively constant such as refrigeration and pumps. This will help you to move closer to an understanding of the difference between need and want in your power demand, although the longer you are out here, the more items you will shift from one list to the other. Since you need a starting point, it is only important to understand that larger your list of constant consumers is, the larger you investment in storage batteries and generating equipment will be to feed them.

I will start with one of the most thirsty and insatiable of the energy eaters; the chilly bin. For some, refrigeration is considered an unnecessary luxury and this discussion can be dispensed with. I find this attitude most prevalent in those from cultures which also promote warm beer drinking. Once upon a time, refrigeration was achieved by heating a liquid ammonia compound. Heat source refrigerators still exist, though they are out of favor afloat due to fire risk and a tendency to become vapor locked if not kept reasonably level. These days, we use mechanical compressors to create the desired effect. But compressors must be rotated and that requires a motor of some sort. Often, the duty of cold box sentry falls upon the main engine and so is outside of the realm of renewable resources. This road carries the unpardonable sentence of being aboard for the required number of hours per day to run the engine. For the rest, a balance must be achieved of amp hours consumed in proportion to size of the cold box. Isotherm has created a DC electric refrigeration system based on the theory that it is more efficient to store ‘cold’ in a holding plate when more electrical energy is available than it is to store electricity in a battery. Their voltage sensing units are widely hailed as a boon to small battery bank cold beer lovers worldwide. The poor-man parallel solution on Charis involves keeping a supply of ice in the box and using the old Adler Barbour refrigeration unit to slow its melt when adequate energy is available. Local “ice-capades” are a cultural exchange opportunity and there are always rocks to clink in your sundowner.

**Updates from the Deep:  August 2012
The Isotherm ASU air cooled unit depicted and I have been shipmates for several years since I wrote this post. It is all I had heard it would be and more. It keeps silent watch over my batteries and sips the juice when power is scarce. It automatically ramps up and makes ice when the energy level is high. It has a rather unnerving auto-defrost schedule that can leave me concerned about food spoilage, but it's easily circumvented by powering down then up again. Alas, my "ice-capades" are a thing of the past.

Imagine an existence where your urge to watch TV becomes naturally in tune with the strength of the wind or intensity of the sun in recent hours. It may sound like cruel torture if you are a serial TV addict. On the other hand, if you can see it as the opportunity to work on the “must read” book list, you are getting the point. As an added perk, decreased exposure will alloy you to remain coolly aloof while land dwellers complain about, laugh at, and generally are intellectually twisted by bad commercials. Audio entertainment can be similarly classified, except that it is commonly less power thirsty. In both cases I have noted the critical transition to be that I no longer allow myself to consider them background noise. On board conversation quality has improved as a side benefit.

Some say I have a lighting fixture fetish after spending time on my floating home. There are fluorescent lights, incandescent lights, small directable reading lights, and oil lamps. I learned long ago that one light in the right place is worth 3 in the wrong locations and my power use for interior lighting dropped accordingly. I regard my gimbaled oil lamps as a more seaworthy cousin to candles for mood lighting, as well as good general background light exempt from the electron flow concern. If eyestrain is a worry, consider an LED book light to augment your other sources.

While in most instances I have been able to use latitude and trade wind for my air conditioning needs, small electric fans have produced notable comfort at times. My favorites are small swivel mounted fans made by Hella. Their electrical consumption is almost unnoticeable and they move plenty of air with little noise. As with lighting, placement is significant and power use will generally be inversely proportional to the number installed.

Life conspires to keep me from always choosing my geographic home, so I sometimes list heating on my necessity list. It was a long search to find a solution which fit my energy creation and storage capacity, but a huge lifestyle improvement when I did. (See Living Aboard January/February 2006.) I am fortunate in that the colder cruising months for me bring stronger winds, generally allowing the wind generator to compensate for the seasonal increase in electrical use. Now and then though, a movie is postponed in favor of a book and push button warm air.

For most, pressure water, sump, and bilge pumps are on the constant and necessary list. I do know some very well adapted liveaboards, however, who use gravity and muscle to power these needs. I will only say that I envy them every time I have to service one of my electric pumps. It can be difficult to estimate the thirst of these devices, and only experience is likely to teach you how much you will need to put back into your energy ‘tank’ to break even. Since you are assumedly also working on a similar thought process conversion relating to water use, this item tends toward its own solution. Less water use means less pump run time, and therefore less energy needs to be created to keep up.

Computers are our modern day Man-Friday. It’s not easy to imagine life without them anymore. I’m sure there is a specific state of Nirvana reserved for those who find a way send “Windows” out the porthole, but sadly, most of us will never reach it. In the mean time, only you can decide where your electronic brain weighs in on the necessity scale. In the tropics, I have reached an easy compromise. It’s too hot at midday for maximum outdoor enjoyment, and my solar panels are generally making more electricity than my batteries will accept. Therefore I have reversed the whole siesta concept and find I now do my best work from noon to 1 pm while goofing off most of the rest of the day. It’s a compromise not entirely out of line with the reasons why I went cruising in the first place.

There will always be the odd incidental small power uses such as the propane gas solenoid and maybe a kitchen appliance or three. The reality is that these will either be fairly low in their demands for juice, or highly intermittent in their application. The compromises required to keep them fueled will be small if you are already making some of the bigger choices discussed. Again, the significance of the issue is that you are aware of both the result of pushing the on button and the cost in terms of energy consumed.

There is a slow but noticeable shift in perspective beginning to occur even among conspicuous consumers. Gradually we are waking up to the reality that we must be more accountable for our personal energy appetites. The change has to take place slowly to keep our economy rolling along in the immediate, but it must certainly occur to keep it alive in the long term. As liveaboards we are afforded the opportunity to lead in the thought conversion that will allow this to occur, while improving our own lifestyle. It isn’t inexpensive to outfit your floating home with wind and solar power collectors, but it is a long term investment partially offset by absent monthly energy bills and otherwise justifiable with lifestyle improvement. The key to fully appreciating your return on the investment is to learn in advance how to feel comfortable within the varying range of energy your system will deliver.

The author’s Alberg 35, Charis, employs two Siemen’s M55 solar panels (flawless) and a SouthWest Windpower wind turbine (loud but productive) to channel renewable energy to a battery bank comprised of 3 group 31 batteries. The installation of numerous electric lifestyle gadgets is tolerated by the system since most of them are on the discretionary use side of the list.

The Most Useful Gift….

…..of living aboard is perspective. It is true that one cannot usually see the forest for the trees. Panorama is polar opposite to macro.

I enjoyed many things about a recent sustainable living festival. And I saw at the same time how very far we have to go. Coming to alternate energy use from the position of having cut land ties has caused me to see implementation of renewable sources from a very different perspective from land users.

I am entirely grateful to my friend Carol Steinfeld, (http://www.carol-steinfeld.com/) environmental author and purveyor of real working solutions, for persuading me to get out to this event. The bike ride there was great fun and, so was the lift home as it was a long day. I’m also grateful to the organizers as it was an inspiring venue with great entertainment. Attendance, I’m told was less than hoped. Here are some thoughts from the experience and maybe some ideas for how to make it more interesting.

It seems that land application of renewable energy still lacks an important element of considering the balance of use and production. It is convenient that grid connection allows us to overlook discrepancies between what we consume and what we make, but that makes it paradoxical. The incentive to achieve balance is diminished if the only consequence to excess consumption is a higher monthly bill. I’m speaking in general terms of the difference between on and off “grid.” The festival offered an ideal setting for a balanced off grid demonstration, but relied on portable generators for power needs and left massive solar arrays displayed for sales purposes connected to nothing. Authenticity and purpose would have been enhanced were this not the case.

A notable lack of technical expertise has also invaded the sales arena of renewable energy materials. I know that not everyone is interested in numbers, but it seems something other than vague concepts of benefit and easily manipulated statistics should be at hand when an innovative idea is offered up. I’m not speaking of knowledge of product on a molecular level, but I would expect more than to have a tape measure produced in response to a query about solar array size… or a voltage meter in response to the clarification that wattage was my interest. I suppose that buying a solar array to replace energy formerly schlepped aboard or to provide comforts focuses one’s interest on what the product can achieve. I’m reminded of a shop front in Brooklyn which installed solar panels on their sun awning. The two that are installed directly under a fire escape equal my entire array, yet will never produce a Watt. Their only achievement is to advertise the good intentions of the shop owner. Yet their cost in human and fossil energy to come into existence was the same as those which would give back for 20 years and more. To me they represent, like the ill informed purveyor, how many false starts a good idea must survive before it provides the service for which it was designed.

It was inspiring to meet and talk to lots of folks who want to learn how to do something, regardless of what it is, to lessen impact. But it was equally disconcerting to find still a large number who would reject solutions that required them to do something. Yes, a composting toilet requires more direct responsibility than the flip of a lever. There is a price to be paid in personal energy if society is going to be relieved of expenditure of other forms of energy. The lesson was that it’s still a long road to the realization that we will need to ratchet down expectations of convenience to truly make a difference. Again, I feel fortunate to have made choices many years ago that make convenience a gift and not a birthright to me. As the great sailor and mountaineer Bill Tillman said, “One cannot miss what one has not become accustomed to.”

There was a miracle machine truck that supposedly ran on garbage on display. I hope I’m mistaken, but the vague and general process explanation, coupled with the maze of PVC pipes masking taped together and spray painted flat black, screamed of snake-oil to me. I have been called a harsh critic, but the utterance of even one phrase familiar from my thermal dynamics classes would have granted the benefit of doubt. Instead I could not get the image of the crystal-ball wielding carpetbagger from the “Wizard of Oz” out of my mind.

I liked the fuel cell hotrod. Here was a working application of the early phase of a promising concept in a package to grab the attention of a boy of any age. Its huge bank of batteries, though, were a reminder that we still really don’t have a clue how to store energy unless it is in the form of fossil fuel. As well, our appetites for energy are poorly suited to the slow and steady production of renewable sources after a century of taking for granted the instantaneous and large energy release of petroleum sources.

There were many, many other ideas and concepts present. There were also many people present who genuinely wanted to find inspiration to move in the right direction, and I’m certain, some who did find it. For me the question arriving and leaving was the same. How can one life’s experiment with finding balance and a form of sustainability, albeit in a unique choice of setting (living afloat) be carried ashore to help land based folk in their quest for similar solutions? I guess the answer is just to get out there and connect and hope to eventually find the sort of collaboration that opens doors.

Lest those living in (fiber) glass houses be accused of throwing stones, I will admit to copping out, staying late for the best of the entertainment venue, and bumming a lift home in a fossil burner!

Stay or Go?

On the dock late one summer I was confronted with a question that had become a standard greeting after a couple of winter cruises to warmer places. “Going south this year?” I was feeling a bit sarcastic, and more than a bit tired of the question, so my response was “No, I’m taking this year off.” Subsequently I noticed that the few remaining acquaintances who believed there was more to my lifestyle than madness began drifting away.

I’ve lived aboard for sixteen years now and feel quite fortunate to have escaped New England winters for four of them. I suppose the common three-season query of “Isn’t it cold in the winter?” would indicate that many land dwellers think I should instead begrudge the twelve northern winters. It’s taken a while, but I feel like I’m finally reaching the point where I can see the silver lining and the cloud both in staying and in voyaging. As crazy as it sounds, I actually enjoy looking ahead toward a season “off.” I didn’t decide to live aboard simply as a prelude to the ‘event’ of a tropical cruise. It’s a lifestyle I arrived at eyes open (and then I realized I needed glasses.)

Boldfaced self justification is probably the verdict many are passing at this point, but maybe I can explain myself. I won’t deny the challenges that the winter months present on board, headed I suppose by fresh water acquisition. But then these challenges are as individual as the people who pursue this lifestyle. It took a last minute cancelled cruise for me to sit down and quantify the pros and cons, so to the detractors I at least award recognition of the inception of these thoughts. In a particularly active early winter storm season a few years ago, I was faced with challenging arguably suicidal weather or tying to the dock. The list helped me quantify the collateral damage in terms of lost preparation costs. I didn’t start out to rethink the philosophies surrounding my choice to live afloat, but that’s exactly what happened.

At best, the offshore passages to the Caribbean from New England and back occupy one to two months on either end of the cruise. Ridiculous! Even a thirty five foot sailboat is good for 100 to 120 miles per day. Yes, but the crew has learned over time that just the right weather window is well worth the wait. Time is a principle safety factor in small boat ocean voyaging. And then there’s an island nearly on the rhumbline that makes visitors feel more welcome than any other I know. It’s always a challenge for me to leave Bermuda without an immigrations extension. So all told, there’s a healthy chunk of a given year’s cruise dedicated to the priority of getting to the other season. Since exposure to Caribbean strength hurricanes is as unthinkable as forfeiting a New England cruising summer, there’s no mid solution for me while I own one boat.

The question is, what one would be doing otherwise during those months? Before reliable central heat and breathable foul weather gear, probably not much. Before boomtown real estate prices and shifting waterfront property control banned summer access to many peaceful spots, why would one challenge the volatile weather of the cusp seasons? But things have changed in sixteen years and now the nicest sailing of all seems to work around the peak crowds. This sort of sailing is a big plus on the ‘stay’ list.

Family is a double edged sword in all of this decision making. It’s priceless to share dolphins and sea turtles with nephews a thousand miles away while they are swimming around your home. Realizing you have to carry the experience through to completion by finding and bringing home both in stuffed animal form is the downside. Complete abandon of consumerism is far more elusive than one thinks. Being present at the ever dwindling number of Holidays when Santa Claus is real and playing with the toys is as much fun as giving them are the corresponding plus in the cold winter column.

The issue of anxiety inflicted upon loved ones seems almost a wash. On the one hand there’s intense worry from land folk about the voyage on each end. Rightfully so I suppose – we all fear most what we understand least. Over time this has improved with my ability to explain my decisions more fully in terms of weather and other factors. Communication has allowed me to be in almost daily contact, though I sometimes think those ashore never quite believe it’s really me sending the e-mails. But then there’s the long period where I’m assumed to be lounging at a Club Med and therefore obviously quite safe in between. How could there be another side to such intense periods of anxiety you ask? It’s related to the assumption that anyone who would winter on a boat in a place where the ocean freezes solid must be a lunatic. This sort of realization about a loved one has to be hard to take. I’ve devoted unusual energy to this lifestyle, even to the point of earning a relatively rare degree in naval architecture and marine engineering before trying it. Yet somehow the assurance that “it’s OK, I’m a professional,” offers no relief. After all, what blue blooded American boy didn’t try to make his bike fly after Fonzi jumped his motorcycle over the barrels on “Happy Days,” in spite of the “don’t try this at home warning?”

Making friends underway is not much different than dockside for the winter. Mostly what changes is the topic of conversation. Away, talk centers inexplicably often around what commodity is available and where. In a dockside New England winter community it invariably involves heating schemes and gadgets. Either way, there is a tendency to form the elastic bonds that bring you back in contact repeatedly with the same few people.

I suppose I’d be run out on rails if I didn’t mention cost. Frankly it’s so individual as to make my observations seem almost pointless. I’ve seen many happy cruisers with little more than an iron will and a sound boat. I’ve even one or two without the latter. What you “need” is no more absolute afloat than ashore. What it takes to complete your personal level of preparation is, thankfully, one of a few remaining personal freedoms. So the purists will scoff and the belt- and-suspenders crowd will dismiss me as foolhardy, but my preparations are the best I can manage and consequently personally costly. There is a life raft repack which can be painful every few years. There are offshore flares, EPIRB batteries and ditch bag bits to assemble and renew. The satellite phone must be activated for at least a year. Provisioning is never trivial if you do it as well as know how to. Weather guidance is worth the cost to me and has been both educational and probably lifesaving over the years. Insurance for extended travel is difficult to obtain and expensive. Lest we should forget, for those planning to stop along the way, there are expenses associated with entertaining ourselves. At least we’ve brought along our own efficiency motel.

Clearly the ‘stay’ column is less costly. On the short list are items like winter dockage (I rarely use marinas when cruising,) auto insurance, heating energy, and a gym membership. This last is my alternative to installing an anchor windlass in the spring, aside from its other benefits. Time and world events seem to conspire to make the subtotal of the short list rise to meet that of the longer ‘go’ list. I had a hard time answering someone recently who asked me to compare my winter heating costs to my overall cruising budget.

Anyone who has been out and back will agree that there is a genuine hard work aspect to cruising, particularly in preparation. Even underway there will be opportunities to wonder if farming might not have been a wiser choice. The real reward of many years of living aboard has not been the few of voyaging. It has been all of the experiences along the way. I love to be warm and swim in clear tropical water. But I love to be free to live as I choose even more. The time spent wherever you are is special if you are in it for the lifestyle and not for some one time travel experience or perceived escape. The perspective that you are seeing the world but sleeping in your own bed when you do cruise won’t happen if you don’t make your boat your home. Wherever it is......