I’ve become spoiled, I suppose.

For years, I’ve been amassing equipment to make boating in the Northwest a little safer and more comfortable. For example, I rarely leave port without at least three ways to make coffee—a electric coffee pot, a stovetop espresso maker and my favorite, a stainless steel French press.

I’ve always tried to apply that same sort of back-up to back-up mentality to other non-caffeinated types of safety and comfort items. For example, I always have two GPS units aboard, in case one fails. I keep paper charts to back up my electronic ones. I leave the good old puffy orange life vests onboard even after switching to the much more comfortable inflatable variety.

But now, I face a huge challenge. We are about to head down to Mexico to sail in unfamiliar waters on an unfamiliar boat using unfamiliar equipment and sailing in unfamiliar weather (well, sunny and 80 degrees in November is sure unfamiliar to a native Northwest sailor).

So the question is—what do I need to bring with us to make our new boat both safe and comfortable during our nine or so days cruising?

My beloved coffee pot.

Now, don’t get me wrong. The 1988 Island Packet 38 that we bought a few months ago in San Carlos is in great shape and very well-equipped. It has relatively new top-of-the line electronics from Raymarine, including a chartplotter and radar. The boat has a nice VHF radio, an older single-sideband that works and even a satellite phone and EPIRB. There is oversized ground tackle and a beefy windlass. The RIB dinghy is in great shape. Lots of spare parts for the engine. There is even forward-facing sonar among the many goodies aboard.

I know, cry me a river, right? But let’s face it, there’s a lot of important stuff missing from what I would consider a safe and comfortable boat. Bedding, for one. Utensils. Paper charts. And a working stereo.

Oh, and did I mention that we have to decommission the boat after the cruising portion of our trip is done and get her ready to be loaded on a truck for her journey to Seattle?

So this weekend, I finally got around to cleaning our garage and digging through the neatly stacked plastic bins of equipment I took off our beloved Camelot before she was sold in April.

The challenge was to pick out the nice-to-have things from the need-to-have—and then to fit it all into a single bag for the trip to Mexico.

The limit is necessary because space is tight and the logistics of our trip to San Carlos are far from simple. The first leg is a flight to Phoenix, Arizona. So checking a half-dozen heavy bags these days would pretty much put us in the poorhouse.

Next, we are renting a car for the drive down to San Carlos. But first we have to stop in Tucson to pick up the boat cushions we had recovered and some new house batteries for the boat. And while we are there, we’ll probably stop off at a Target for pillows, sheets, comforter and a few other basics.

So let’s just say the car will be crowded.

After an hour of sifting through my boat gear, I had assembled what I thought are the gear essentials for this trip down.

First and foremost is my boat tool kit. I’m sure I’ll get some nasty looks at the airport when my soft-sided yellow tool bag lands with a 30-pound thud on the baggage scale. But let the airline agent stare. I’m not setting foot aboard a boat that doesn’t have a decent set of screwdrivers, wrenches, sockets and pliers. I haven’t been on a cruise yet that wasn’t saved by having the right tool at the right time, and I’m assuming this one will be no different.

Next up is personal safety and comfort. I laid out two sets of foul weather gear, a pair of inflatable PFDs with tethers, sailing gloves for me and Deborah, a mask and snorkel,  a couple of riggers knives, and my favorite small flashlight and headlamp.

Next was navigation. I included a handheld GPS and a handheld VHF with extra battery pack. (I remember almost leaving my GPS at home when we chartered in Croatia a few years ago. Never could get that boat’s chart plotter working, and my back-up really saved the day for us). I also am packing my favorite plotter, pencils, calculator and other navigation necessities.

Several veteran Sea of Cortez cruisers have warned me that the official Mexican charts can be off by as much as two miles, and even Raymarine and other electronic charts aren’t to be trusted with the finer points such as rocks and reefs. So I got in touch with Gerry Cunningham of the much beloved Gerry Sea of Cortez Charts and bought what he recommended for the areas where we plan to cruise.

Looking at the gear spread on the garage floor, I felt more prepared. I also figured I could fit most, if not all, of it in a large duffle bag—with the exception of the tool bag, of course. But I had a nagging feeling that something critical was missing. Something that if forgotten could spell disaster.

Crap. The cribbage board!

So there you have it. If most of this stuff stays in the bag, it will be a good trip. But I’m pretty sure I’ll find a use for almost all of it. The unexpected is a constant companion onboard a boat. And the hassle of picking, packing and lugging this pile of gear down to Mexico will be worth it in terms of both comfort and safety.

And if I’m really lucky, there will be room for one more piece of vital equipment in the duffle bag—my beloved stainless steel French press and a pound of Caffé Vita French roast.

Any coffee lover who has traveled in Mexico knows how difficult it can be to find a really good cup down there.

And the thought of going without my daily coffee leaves me feeling very uncomfortable indeed.