On laundry

One of the many things I miss about my house is my washer and dryer. They are lovely, time-giving appliances which toil away down in our basement. The washer, a new front loader, whirls things around quickly, the dryer works like a charm. Both sit down there every day waiting for me patiently to load, unload, load unload.

On our trip I have become something of an expert on laundromats and machines as well as how to do hand laundry using as little water as possible. Not to mention losing my inhibitions about hanging out my underwear and over-the-shoulder-boulder holders (as Scott likes to affectionately refer to my lingerie).

In the United States, most washing machines cost around $1.75 to $2 a load. This means hoarding quarters, sometimes raiding the kids' wallets. Sometimes the pricier machines work better, so it's usually fair no matter what. The dryers cost about a quarter for 10 minutes so it takes about four quarters for most loads but then you can fiddle with the loads and spread out towels and flannels for better bounce as they dry off. This is the part I call managing the laundry.

In the States, laundromats are pretty common, they're in almost every marina and every small town on the way, so it's pretty easy to keep on top of, really. I try to enlist family members for the haul-in but often they are more cheerful about loading up my backpack and my dolly and letting me go off for my hike to the nearest one. I get a chance to check on daytime TV - none of you are missing anything by the way - and maybe sneaka chocolate  bar or junky magazine or book.

In the Bahamas, it's a bit different. The cost of laundry is actually a line item on our budget. Here at Treasure Cay, I just spent $46 on four loads. That includes a folding service but still. That's why the free laundromat at Emerald Bay made me so delirious with joy.

Really it's kind of a chore but then sometimes you meet the most interesting people and the flavour of the community in these laundromats. In Georgetown, the central laundromat had a bank of lawn chairs, a 14-inch colour TV blaring above dozens of ancient machines and Trevor, a 6 foot 2 administrator decked out in camoflauge gear (including a cap) manning the machine. He didn't really rule the place though, that was for the intimidating lady behind the counter who barked out each customer name in order. It was hot too, with a giant fan valiantly trying to keep a breeze flowing.

In Cocoa, Florida, a lady in the upscale marina laundromat gave us good tips on going to Universal Studios. A lady I met in the downtrodden Spanish Wells laundromat is a volunteer turtle tagger with the University of Florida and in between loads lined up giving me all kinds of educational materials for the kids on the marine life in the Bahamas which she did later in Staniel Cay.

I also came to appreciate the availability of laundry and services though when I was forced to do hand laundry a few times to keep the loads from piling up or as a desperate bid to keep us in clean underwear. After my morning coffee, I sort emergency items from the rest and toss things up through the hatch. I then drag out a trusty plastic bucket and a bottle of ammonia, clothes pins and sunscreen (for me).

Messenger only has capacity for 80 gallons of fresh water plus another 5 or so in the hot water tank. We carry two (used to be three) jerry cans with 10 Canadian gallons for refill.

My friend Heather gave me this tip: fill up half a bucket of fresh water, put about 1/4 cup of ammonia in the bucket and let the clothes sit for about 15 minutes.

I tip the jerry can and let the sweet water spill in. I toss a few things in and knead like bread.I sit and wait, watching boats come and go in the anchorage or watch for fish under the boat. Then I squeeze and hang to dry (I did lose some underwear this way) and the smell evaporates. The sun and wind dry the clothes. This method came in handy a few times.The clothes take on a soft, outdoorsy smell, much preferable to their odour before the dunking.

This is the way life can be so much simpler on a boat. Fresh water is a precious resource, something I hope we never forget when we return to our Great Lakes.