Preparing Eolo for Self-Sufficiency

Preparing Éolo

The 2025 season mostly served to get to know Éolo and to discover Lake Champlain. We extended the season as much as possible, putting the boat in the water on May 5 and only taking it out on October 24. We were among the first on the lake and among the last who still had the courage to leave the marina, as the water level began to limit the outings of several boats.

The 2026 season was going to be very different.

With the heat taking its time to arrive, preparation began later and we didn't put Éolo in the water until June 12. This time, the project was much more ambitious: we had to prepare the boat for a long period of self-sufficiency and, while at it, give it a bit of a new look with new lettering.

The list of work was rather long: washing and waxing, new lettering, replacement of the spinnaker halyard, the anemometer and the anchoring and navigation lights, installation of a radar, a new battery bank, two inverters, an MPPT and three solar panels. We also built an arch for the panels, which we would end up replacing later in the season. And of course there was cleaning, organizing and the countless purchases that accompany this kind of project.

Some installations require us to climb the mast. Jonathan is too heavy for me to hoist him up, and I am much lighter, so in the end it's me who finds myself several meters above the deck!

We buy a climbing harness that we attach to the balancine, as well as a bosun's chair connected to our new spinnaker halyard. I normally have vertigo, so the idea of going up there with tools and having to make electrical connections doesn't particularly thrill me.

And yet, as soon as Jonathan starts to hoist me up, I'm surprisingly comfortable. I even like this feeling of freedom. I then realize that what scares me about heights is not really the height itself, but what's under my feet when it lacks solidity. Here, I'm sitting in a well-secured chair and I feel perfectly stable.

So I replace the mast lights, climb to the masthead for the anemometer and the anchor light. Everything works perfectly. Well, almost.

Only the cover for the anchor light remains. And it's impossible to put it back on.

I spend at least an hour up there trying all sorts of things before understanding that the base had simply been screwed in way too tightly. A small problem that, several meters off the ground, suddenly becomes much bigger!

For the radar, it's another story. I try to install it, but after managing to drill barely a hole, I have to admit: I'm not the one who will finish this! Our friend Martin takes over and does practically the whole installation. I still have to go back up the mast to feed the wiring.

And meanwhile, everything else moves forward. Electricity alone represents a huge project: research, planning, trials, errors, purchases and numerous trips back and forth to marine stores. We quickly discover that one small change always leads to another.

When we are finally ready enough to put Éolo in the water, we are very happy. And despite everything that still remains to be done, we decide to enjoy the summer. We discover new places, including Inner Lake and Mallet Bay, while continuing to work, prepare Éolo and make purchases.

When the time finally comes that we tell ourselves we are ready to leave, there are still many things on our list. But we decide not to wait until everything is perfect. We'll do them slowly during the trip.

After all, on a sailboat there is always something to do.