KNOW THY FAN

On board we have a plethora of tiny fans mounted to ceilings all over the boat.  Can you spot them in the photos below??

Although there is air conditioning on board they are seldom used since we keep the hatches and doors open for the welcome fresh breeze and because, well, it is free.  To use the air conditioning the motor must be on, which is both loud and resource sucking.  But these little fans, they’re the little gems of the boat.  The one in the galley turbo charges the breeze through the tiny open hatches while you’re cooking over a warm stove and the trusty one in the salon, should you be lounging there typing a blog post, points the breeze like a fine laser right into the back of your neck.  But it is the fans down in the berths; those are the treasured fans because not much breeze filters through below deck despite having a large hatch over our beds.  Those large hatches are kept open all the time because fresh moving air below deck is key to a cool bedroom.

All the fans are small but spin with mighty speed and cause the air to flow at even greater speeds and our relaxing smiles to broaden even wider.  The important thing about the fans is that the ones up in the main salon and galley work a little different than the ones below.  And actually, this detail doesn’t really seem all that important—knowing how to turn off the fan—until that is, you are trying to operate these little guys at night. 

This was the predicament I found myself in on our first night aboard.  I’ve used these fans before so their particular operating quirks didn’t really make it on to my mental list of things to get familiar with as we set sail.  The fact that this may have been more important didn’t really come to me until about two in the morning when a mighty breeze kicked up and starting feeling a little too cool.  My predicament then was to either go and find a light blanket or simply turn off the fan.  (And yes, I’m well aware that these are vacation predicaments and not really that distressing on life’s scale of catastrophes.)  I opted for the lazy solution which was to turn off the fan that was right above my side of the bed.  Simple right?  Well yes and all capital letters NO. 

I assumed that the easy procedure for turning the fan off was by flicking the little switch like the ones up in the galley and salon.  So I reached up in the dark, IN THE DARK I repeat, and…WHACK! I catch my finger in the plastic blades.  While essentially harmless, it’s shocking and slightly painful when it happens in the dark.  At two am. 

This is a play by play…

Me blindly reaching for the off switch in the dark…THAWAP!  “OUCH!”

Me reaching again…THAWAP!  “OUCH!”

Me reaching again…THAWAP!  “OUCH! Dang it”

The scuffle with the fan and the fact that my finger was now throbbing slowly engages my sluggish sleeping brain.  I am now slightly alert due to a rush of adrenaline.  The fight or flight instinct has now awakened.  Luckily I am not contending with a bear or lion, just a plastic fan that may end up detaching my finger but at least it won’t eat it.  Thank goodness I have extra ziplock baggies on board in case I’ll need to carry my poor appendage somewhere to have it reattached.  The flight instinct would have compelled me to search in the dark for the carefully stowed light blanket and insulate myself from the chill until the reinforcements arrive in the form of a rising sun and better light to redress the situation properly.  This was probably the least painful and most prudent plan but I am no prude.  I am a fighter and so I choose to fight in the dark with the fan, like an idiot, a half asleep idiot.

One last time I point my throbbing index finger, close my eyes as if its not already dark but as though it will help me brace for impending doom, and then poke it into the belly of the whirling beast.  ZZZZZZZZZTHWAP! goes the blades on my finger but this time I don’t pull my finger away.  I keep it there.  Entrenched in the battle as if covering for my other hand while it searches safely for the on/off switch.  It takes me a while, the pressure against my finger is building but I do not release it.  Hastily I talk my other hand through the darkness, as if disarming an IED, and at last discover how to disarm the ‘dang’-able thing and turn it off.  The pressure on my finger stops and the enemy has been deposed but not without war wounds on my part. 

I fall back asleep, lulled by the rolling tides in the bay without need for a light blanket because the fan has ceased.  But I wake up the next morning wondering why the index finger on my left hand has looked like it got chewed up in a horrible accident I had no recollection of.  But slowly, as I wake to full consciousness I remember.  Then before breakfast, I take a moment to fully study each of the fans in case another lazy night finds me battling the fans again.  This time I plan to know my enemy and come out less scathed.  Or perhaps I should just locate the stash of blankets!