Life, the Last 10 Years, and New Loves.

    It's Thanksgiving today, and the morning broke with a drizzle of rain followed by light snow flurries. Ten years have passed since my last update here. I have done very little with boats since then. I met a girl at Merry-Go-Round Playhouse that first summer back from the Bahamas, and eventually married her.

    I think I was pretty burned out on sailing after the Bahamas trip. Over the summers I would help my friend with his canvas business and doing the odd boat repair or outfitting, but basically didn't take any of my boats out again. 

    The lauan plywood that Hope's hull was built from didn't survive the elements and she quickly rotted enough that it was unrealistic to save her.

    Cassandra sat on her trailer unused for a while and in 2020 I finally decided she should go to someone who would appreciate her. I sold her to a couple in Ithaca who just wanted a nice dry boat to go sailing in. I hope they have been happy with their choice.

    That same year, I quickly patched up the last of the rot on Adra, threw on a protective layer of glass, and put her in the side yard so I could start construction on the fuselage for the airplane I've been building in my garage. (see my other blog: aviationcomingeventually@blogspot.com)

    In the summer of 2024 I finally had some time and an itch to sail again. I pulled Adra out only to find that moisture had somehow made its way under the new fiberglass and worked its wicked magics on the wood underneath. By the time I removed all the wet wood she was left without a bottom, transom, the aft third of the hull, and chines. After 17 years in my life, it was time to say goodbye to my first boat. I had to cut her up and she is currently awaiting a proper viking funeral.

    Around the same time, a coworker mentioned they had an old sailing dinghy in their garage they wanted gone. It was missing a centerboard and rudder, and had a crack in the hull, but if I wanted it, it was mine. I decided "why not?" and brought home a Barnett Butterfly. It took the rest of that summer to repair the crack in the hull, get the woodwork cleaned and revarnished, replace the running rigging, and make new foils for her. Also, having sold my truck some time earlier, I bought and rebuilt a rotten snowmobile trailer to get her to the water. By that time dinghy sailing weather was over for the year.

    The whole time I owned Cassandra, I never really felt like I had a good handle on the basics of sailing. I could get the boat to go where I wanted, but often felt like my self-taught skills left some amount of performance unclaimed. Part of why I wanted a little sailing dinghy was to hone those skills and see if I couldn't pick up some of that untapped performance. 

    Summer of this year was the butterfly's first time in the water under my care. I had her out a couple of times on the Seneca River and Onondaga Lake. She sails well, though I am still learning how to handle her. My family decided to rent a lake house for a week this summer and my brother asked offhandedly if I thought the Butterfly could take more than one passenger. At that point I had only sailed it once and was unsure how it would do with two people aboard, but was pretty sure three was out of the question. That evening I did a Facebook Marketplace search for cheap sailboats. Long story slightly shorter; I ended up buying a 16' Wayfarer in sore need of attention. It was a race to see whether I could get the Wayfarer finished in time for family, and ultimately I was one new halyard short of making that deadline. The butterfly came to the lake instead.

    I wasn't able to stay the whole week, but even so, we sailed that little orange boat all over. I think one day I spent something like 14 hours on the water. My brother and I sailed it the entire length of the lake and anyone who wanted to got a short sailing lesson or a ride. Turns out, carrying a passenger wasn't an issue at all; at one point I even took two. I was also satisfied to find that after six days in the water on a mooring the Butterfly was dry inside. I guess my crack repair worked.

    For now both boats are living beside the garage on their respective trailers. I built weather covers for both, so hopefully that will keep some that wicked water from having it's way with my newfound friends. Right now the hope/plan is to use the Butterfly for the occasional daysail, and the Wayfarer for some overnight dinghy cruising and sharing sailing with friends.

Brief, Bad Poetry

Upkeep
 
I have three women in my life,
Cassandra, Adra, Hope.
They all need more attention than I can conjure up.
Hope is rotten, but Adra nearly fixed.
Cassandra sits and drifts alone there in her slip.
Her lines are slack and cobwebbed,
her motor baking in the sun.
I wonder if I ever will see the poor thing run.
I haven't spent and hour in more that just this month
doing more than making sure the pilings haven't rubbed.
I miss her jaunty burbling,
I miss the feel of wind.
I wonder when I'll have the time to sail my girls again.



Daysail

There she sits, you eye her over.
You know those lines, touched like a lover.
The cool smoothness made you shiver,
in every inch which you uncovered.
You hoped to touch, to love and mind
her every mark and metal fine.
But life and time have not been kind.
You have only now to spend, two hearts, two hands, two faces
then you go off, now on your own, and her to other places.
The moment fleeting, where truth and dreaming mingle,
one moment in a day you didn't feel so single.
You smile without thinking, her visage in your eyes, the adventures you had hoped to have...

But space and time have not aligned and this is all there is.
So take today and sail away and know what it is to live.

Catching Up the Blog

Day off in the Adirondacks.

  Catching up my blog is like trying to catch the bus you missed by one stop. You're behind and can never run fast enough to beat it even though you can see it at the next stop. So little has happened boat-wise this past year and yet it seems impossible to get it all into words. Nevertheless, I will attempt it.
  Last summer after trailering Cassandra home from Greencove Springs, FL she sat in the driveway on her trailer. I had intended to launch her but I was called in to work for a month, almost non-stop at Merry-Go-Round Playhouse, MGR, and then spent ten weeks away in the Adirondacks working at Long Lake Camp of the Arts. I then returned to work once more at MGR. By the time I had any free time most of the summer was gone. I was able to get on the water as crew for a week or two bringing my friend's new-to-him Valiant 40 home. Big boat. Nice boat. I find it intimidating, and I am a little in love with it. :)
  My two dinghies, Adra the puddleduck racer and Hope the pram, spent the summer laying atop one another beside the shed and suffered for it. The gunnels on both are rotten now and will need to be replaced. Adra will simply have her sheerline lowered by 3 inches. This should reduce her weight slightly making her easier to carry and a little faster on the water. Hope, I hope, will just need the old gunnel material removed and new will be epoxied in place, taking care to really encapsulate the pieces and prevent future rot. Pictures of both repairs may follow.

Hope in progress

Adra on Lake Ontario

 That brings me to current day. I have a month long contract with MGR again this summer working on Saturday Night Fever. To fill in the time and the coffers until that job starts I have been assisting a friend with his canvas business. Today was my first day back on the lake in what seems like years courtesy of  a client's boat. Sailboats are once again beginning to fill the docks at the marina; it is refreshing to be around sailors and friends again. Occasionally I am struck by the number of things I know from the obsessive reading I am wont to do. Sometimes it seems I know more than people who have been sailing twice as long as I have. Of course, most of what I know is simply book knowledge and theory, and we all know how much that does in the real world.
  Keep sailing.

Open the floodgate.

This is an excerpt from my personal log on November 23, 2013, this is my second day away from Someday, I anchored alone in Upper Dowry Creek (35.535334,-76.534005 on google maps).

Sitting down to dinner, cheese mashed potatoes, hot sauce, bread, koolaid; and the rain is just starting to patter down on deck. A fiberglass fencing foil sits opposite me, wedged in behind the starboard cushions with the other detritus of my trip so far, tiller pilot, welcome packet, lantern battery, lengths of rope, all tossed haphazardly in exactly the same place every time; in the way, clutter organized only by my memory. I find my self wondering if Don's boat ever looks like this.
I wonder sometimes if Shawna would have enjoyed this. I don't think she would. Today I don't feel so alone as I usually do. I am not sure why. Maybe for the first time in a while I'm excited to be in my own head, alone with thoughts I haven't been able to think or write down in almost four years.

Anger, addiction, sex, emotion,
affliction, reaction, depression, obsession,
novice, expert, what's the distinction?
Distraction, extraction, compensation, too much
too late to save that attachment.
House and Hope, home's a boat
to run and hide from my Hyde
and turn back pages of endless rages
while I look on to where I've gone
and future hides behind my back.
I turn, and turn from where I've turned to
there's another bridge I've burned through.
Body, mind, rebel at self, yet cling
and climb on selfish self
looking for pity instead of help.
Who am I to run away instead
of seeing every Sunday, the face I loved
 and broke and lost for want of
self restraint? I'm gone. I'm lost.
I see only water, leaves, and shore
home is homeless, home is nowhere.
Possessions and professions possessing expressions
trapping our hearts and hands,
turning towards the things of man.
We are lost, I see no hope, save the
symbol I tow behind my boat.
Cassandra, destroyer of men,
followed by tiny Hope again.

No perfection, just direction.
Pointed South but still aimless
they know my boat but I am nameless.
No song, no voice, just rig and hull.
Syrens call; their teeth are dull.
Eyes bright with other prizes I sit by in silence.
I want to want it, the bars and beer,
women, pool, stolen showers, dinghy too.
I can't, they're not for me,
they're idol's food unfit to eat.
I have no place where I belong.
You have kids and I float on.
I'm old. Even strangers see that I am
older than my body's life span.
My beard is grey with lives gone.
My eyes hide, in blue, their storms.
I shiver even when I'm warm
and dream of things I've never known.
The question, it seems, is, "When was home?"

Picking up the pen

  I've been told repeatedly now that the blog needs an update and I know it does, but the ambition to write kept failing me. I guess today is the day it will hold.
   I believe last we left off Tine and I were in Green Turtle Cay, newly checked in and sated with expensive ice cream as a treat.
  From Green Turtle we sailed to Great Guana Cay, stopping along the way in a bay of sea grass. Why would we stop in sea grass you ask? Simple, Conch live there. We spent about 15 minutes diving and pulled up 6 conch, then continued on to anchor in Settlement Harbor. The winds picked up that night and swung our buddy-boat Hermes into shallower water. He had to get into his dinghy at about 3AM to reset his anchors and in doing so lost his wallet overboard. That night we ate out first Conch salads. We took to the dinghies the next morning when the winds died off and managed to get the wallet back minus a credit card or two that floated away.
  From Guana we headed to Marsh harbor, Tine's last stop on the trip. She'd done what she set out to do, she had enough adventure for a while and had seen me across the gulf stream and Marsh Harbor was the nearest airport with service to the US. Tine could tell the story better than I, but I will do what I can.
 On the night we got to Marsh Harbor Tine packed up everything she'd brought onto the boat and a couple of the souvenirs. We left the boat at 4AM and walked to the airport, a lady heading the same way gave us a ride the last half mile or so. There was some trouble finding a ticket agent who could actually sell a ticket for the flights leaving that day, but finally Tine was able to get onto a flight to Nassau, eventually taking her to Rochester where Mom and Dad got her and brought her home.
  I was sad to see my sister go, but I could tell she wasn't enjoying herself as much as she could have. Over the following weeks Don and I were able to have numerous conversations and dinners without me feeling like I should be entertaining my sister. It was a little lonelier without her, and dinners were less exciting (I only made curry for myself once). Don and I spent about a week in Marsh harbor before hopping over to Man-O-War. That, I think is going to be a different post. My pen is starting to run out of ink here.
 Till next time.

Bahamian Towns

Today's post will involve an in-depth description of a typical Bahamian town, hence the brevity of this entry.

Bahamian towns are small.  Comically so.  If you find yourself in the mood to wander for awhile, you best prepare yourself to walk the same block half a dozen times.  If you're lucky, there's a road.  More than likely this road will resemble a wide sidewalk.  It's okay though, because not too many people own cars.  It seems frivolous when it takes longer for us to get to the mailbox than it does for them to get to the grocery store.  This doesn't stop them from owning golf carts though; no siree.  I guess it makes sense for toting groceries and the occassional home appliance, but Brian and I both found it amusing when someone drove by on a golf cart and we passed them in town five minutes later.  I mean, if you can see your destination from your vehicle, you probably don't need to use it.   

Oh, and once you get into town, just walk into a garage somewhere, because more than likely it's a grocery store.  If not, then it may be the customs office, or perhaps the local restaurant.  Because, seriously, they all look the same.  It brings new meaning to "working from home".  This probably explains why they are only open about four hours a day.     

I suppose the Bahamians know no other lifestyle, and I suppose there are tons of people who like the laid-back island vibe.  Not me; sorry.  I like a nice big sign that will tell me exactly when I can come in and buy Spam and allow me to browse at my leisure without feeling like I need to make small talk.  Anonymity.  That's what I missed about America.  I can do whatever I want and people probably won't notice; but down in the Bahamas if you aren't a local you immediately draw attention.  And being a blatant tourist is, quite possibly, one of the most uncomfortable feelings (besides, perhaps, admitting to the locals at the checkout that you willingly would spend $6.50 on a can of Spam).

So anyway, next time you go to run errands, take time to appreciate your giant strip malls and road signs that remind you that you probably are not following the speed limit (since, by the way, there aren't any of those either).  Savor all the impulse buys at Target and find freedom in the endless aisles at Wegman's, because there certainly isn't any room for that in the Bahamas next to all the golf carts.

Checking Things Out and Checking Us In

So, last we left off, Brian and I had just reached the Bahama Bank.  While making it to the bank was a big accomplishment, we still had about 24 miles until we reached the anchorage for that night at Mangrove Cay (pronounced "key" for those not familiar with Bahama lingo).  After 12 hours of motoring, this was the last thing we wanted to do, but the promise of a full night's sleep was too good to pass up, so on we went.

To celebrate our big push across the Atlantic, we made a big batch of guacamole and some fresh limeade.  We also cut the motor to give our ears a break and tried sailing.  After two hours barely making two knots, we made the command decision to suck it up and motor the rest of the way (having a motor grinding away can really wear at you though, so it certainly was not our first choice). The only positive to motoring at that point was getting some sort of breeze because, FYI, it's warm in the Bahamas!  When sailing properly, there is usually enough of a breeze to keep things pleasant, but trying to sail with no wind in full afternoon sun and three hours of sleep...let's just say our victory buzz wore off pretty quickly.

Fast forward several more hours and the two of us finally spot a little spit of land in the distance.* 
Almost immediately after anchoring off Mangrove Cay we received a transmission from Brian's friend and former co-worker Don checking to see if we arrived safely.  Unfortunately, we were just far away enough that we could receive his call, but he couldn't hear our response.  After a couple of failed calls we turned our attention to our respective cans of vegetables for dinner and resolved to try again in the morning.  

After the same futile attempts the next morning, a larger boat offered to relay a message, counting on his higher mast to get a signal to us.  Success!  And with that we headed off towards Don.  Brian got to sail off his anchor for the first time that morning (much to his pleasure), but the winds starting waning again and we were forced to start the motor.  A little ways into the morning, Luna** started cutting out a bit.  Uh oh.  So we tried sailing as Brian pulled the motor apart.  After a bit of tinkering, Brian managed to get things working again.  He thinks it was probably some water in the gas line which seemed to pass through on it's own.  Now things were (and still are) running like a champ. 

By mid-afternoon we reached Great Sale Cay and Don came over to greet us in person.  After a visit to the beach to explore, the two of us went over to Don's boat ("Hermes") for some fresh snapper.  It was a vast improvement over our cans of vegetables the night before. 

Don's Pearson 33 "Hermes"

The next morning the four of us (Brian, Me, Don and his dog Pubu) headed down to Fox Town where we were to wait out a "cold" front for the next few days.  Brian rigged his Genoa for the journey and with the extra volume in the sail we cruised at about 6.5 knots which was quite the surprise for all of us.  Cassie is a fast little thing when she wants to be!  About five minutes into our morning Don caught another huge snapper which served us well for plenty of future dinners.

Don's snapper caught on the way to Fox Town

Cassandra with the Genoa up

Sunday morning Brian and I went for a swim.  It was nice to move around for awhile after all the sitting that past week.  Brian took advantage of the shallow water and played with his snorkel and fins and Cassandra and I had a bit of a bath; while the salt water doesn't make you feel clean, it beats being covered in sunscreen and sweat.  That evening one of the people in the anchorage invited everyone over to his boat to visit.  Here we met half a dozen people from Australia who had purchased two boats in the U.S. and were sailing them down the coast and then back home.  After exchanging sailing stories and some dinner with Don, we packed it in for the evening. 

The next morning Don and Brian went over to the rocks just offshore to look for lobsters.  About an hour later they returned with half a dozen crustaceans on which to sup that evening.  With that eventful morning behind us, we set off for Crab Cay.  We spent the night in a large bay which we had all to ourselves, and the next morning we started for Green Turtle Cay.  Another front was to come through in the next few days, and White Bay in Green Turtle Cay was a safe spot to wait it out.  Green Turtle is also home to one of the customs offices, so Brian and I took advantage of one of the days there to get ourselves checked in.  During the three mile trek from town back to the dinghy, the clouds started rolling in.  About half a mile from our destination someone with a golf cart took pity on us and drove us the rest of the way back.  We arrived not a moment too soon; almost as soon as we took shelter under a porch the clouds opened up and it poured rain.  I took advantage of the fresh water pouring off the roof and washed my hair as best I could.  Brian decided he would rather be dirty than wet and cold.  To each his own, I suppose. 

Once things started dying down we got a pint of celebratory ice cream to share (for $9 I might add); boy was it good!  Had it not been so expensive we could have easily had another one (calories are not a factor when you live on a boat). 

So there you have it.  After a week in the Bahamas we were finally legally in the country.  Keep checking back to hear more about Green Turtle Cay and beyond. 

*For those who don't know, the islands in the Bahamas are comprised of eroded coral and sand, so they are relatively flat; that means they don't show up on the horizon until you are almost on shore.  This is excellent for those who wander around and plunk their anchor down whenever they see fit, but for those who actually want to know where they are, it's best to have some fancy charts or a gps handy.

**The proposed name for Brian's new motor.  Since Jackson got him all the way to Jacksonville, we figured Luna will either get him to the moon or it will never die.  Either outcome seems favorable at this point.        

Crossing Over

*Since WiFi hotspots are few and far between, rather than getting a post from Brian, the next few updates will be from his sister, Christine, who just returned home after living aboard for the past month.

So much has happened since last updating, so it will take a few posts to get everyone caught up.  Rest assured, we made it to The Bahamas and have been cruising around happily, but let's rewind a bit...

The last few days motoring down the intracoastal were the same as ever. Long, droning hours with a motor and multimillion dollar waterfront homes.  Eventually, after one final push we made it to Lake Worth- a common jumping-off point for The Bahamas, and our last stop in the U.S.  We got in Monday night, February 3rd, which gave us a full two days to prepare the boat (and ourselves) to cross.  Tuesday was spent in town traipsing around Palm Beach trying to find everything we needed.  By mid-afternoon we were both worn out enough that salads from Publix, a quart of chocolate milk and a bench in the shade were an oasis of relief.  By nightfall we had a dinghy full of provisions, and Brian had to make multiple trips in some pretty choppy water to get everything back to the boat.  It's a good thing I trust him, because sitting in the bottom of that dinghy seemed [as Mr. Samuel Arrow would say] "definitely unsafe."

The next day we moved from the anchorage in the northern part of Lake Worth, to one a bit further south, and within spitting distance from our exit point.  That night we had a pleasant surprise.  Our Dad just happened to be flying in to Palm Beach that evening, and we watched the sky until he flashed the lights on the wings.  It was the best way anyone could have seen us off that night.  After that, we managed to get a few hours sleep, and then at midnight we set off across the ocean.  As per our parents request we were armed with life jackets and harnesses, though it was hardly necessary.  The water that night was as calm as ever.  It was more treacherous navigating through weekend speed boat traffic than crossing the ocean that night. 

After several hours in the dark, Brian and I noticed that splashing through the waves made the disrupted water glow- a phenomenon, I believe, called "bio-luminescence."  I didn't even know such things were possible.  It made me feel like all the little plankton in there were saying hello and wishing us well, and it made watching the dark water a bit less frightening. Also around that time we entered the Gulf Stream and noticed a subtle change in the air.  Instead of smelling like dirty water and city, it was warmer and sweeter, and every few hours we would notice it getting fresher and fresher. 

Sunrise the morning of the crossing

Twelve hours after leaving Lake Worth, Brian and I reached The Bahama Bank.  All of a sudden the ultramarine blue turned to aqua blue, and instead of being in hundreds of feet of water we were in twelve feet.  It's hard to describe the feeling when you witness something so amazing, somehow it puts into perspective the sheer vastness of the world.  Being in such a small boat and floating around on such a huge ocean...it made the momentous moment seem almost inconsequential (though perhaps if you asked Brian he would disagree).

 

 

Arrival on The Bahama Bank

 
 So, that takes us up to The Bahamas- February 5th.  There's obviously more to come, but hopefully this will appease any anxious followers.

Until next time,
Your guest blogger, Tine
        

Living Aboard Comes to a Head

    It has recently come to my attention that people (generally non-sailors) Don't entirely
understand what it means to live aboard a boat while cruising long distances. I shall attempt
to enlighten on the realities of my particular brand of cruising. As I'm going long distances
on little money I am afforded fewer conveniences than many other cruisers choose to enjoy.
    For starters, everything you bring aboard must be carried back off the boat when it's done.
Everything. Groceries? Yep, the wrappers get trashed, the rinds get trashed, the rest,
digested, and then guess what. It all has to go somewhere, you can't just dump it into the bay
you're anchored in, or the river you're motoring down. Some boats have holding tanks which you
can pump out every so often like an RV. I don't have that. I have a porta-potty. So when it
gets full you have to find a bathroom, dismantle the thing from it's mount on the boat, carry
the tank in feeling awfully self-conscious about the treasure you hold in your hand, and you
get to dump it into the toilet. All five gallons of putrid stank gets to flood past you as you
pour it in, and you hope to God it doesn't splash.
    I don't have much money, less than I thought even. So I don't get to stay in marinas very
often. $1.50 per foot of boat length, per day has been pretty standard for a slip going down
the Intracoastal. Ritzier places get more, I've seen up to $3/foot. For my little 25 foot
Cassandra that's on average $38 a night or $1140 for a month of travel. I obviously don't have
that kind of money. Because of this I anchor out. You study your chart to find a little section
of water, between 8 and 15 feet deep with land on whatever side the wind is/will be coming from
to block the waves. When you get there you verify that it actually is the size and depths the
chart said it would be, let out your anchor with the right ratio of rope to water depth, and
get to enjoy the results of your chart ponderings, hoping you chose well when the tide goes out
and the wind pipes up.
    If you need to stop at the grocery store, or grab some propane for your stove (no microwave
or oven folks) or anything on land that little anchorage needs to be near those amenities and
have someplace you can tie up or beach your dinghy. So, you get into your little, homemade 8
foot water-taxi, row yourself over to that beach and walk wherever you need to go. If you're
lucky you're in a city with buses, and if you're really lucky they had a free dock you could
tie up to for a night instead of anchoring. These are few and far between. Once you buy your
70pounds (10gal) of gasoline and two bags of canned goods (no refrigeration either, can't
afford to install it or the power generation to keep it running if there was even enough room
for it.)
    Then, once you've rowed all this out to the boat it has to find somewhere to live. Dried
beans under your bed (which is also the couch) shelf-stable milk, for a treat, is kept in the
wonky shaped cubby in the counter. Cans fill the space under the steps down into the cabin, and
pancake mix and powdered milk keep the beans company. Everything winds up everywhere. Fresh
foods need to be stored where they can breath so they don't go mouldy. Right now that means in
wicker baskets in the way on the counter. All water comes on in gallon jugs filled in a
bathroom or a potable water spigot somewhere. In the us this is free. In the Bahamas water is 
$.25 per gallon.
    Then there's hygiene. Since you have to bring all your water on by the gallon there is
little you would want to use for washing. Seawater is ok for dishes, but they need a freshwater
rinse so they don't stay wet and the pots don't rust. Salt holds dampness in just about
anywhere it goes, so if you go for a swim to get clean you'll want to rinse yourself too.
Mostly I take sponge baths, admittedly not often enough. Water is precious, and the weather has
been cold, not much fun to stand naked in what is essentially your living room, shivering as
you sponge away days worth of grime. Real showers only happen at marinas, fitness clubs, or
occasionally the sympathetic friend's house. Laundry likewise happens when you bite the bullet
and pull into a marina. Otherwise you head to a laundromat like everyone else, except your
clothes get to make a dinghy ride with you both ways; the clothes in the machine beside yours
are always jealous.
    Your bed is 2" of thirty year old foam topped with a summer sleeping bag and whatever
blankets you might need to keep some shivering. Did I mention there's only 5'8" of headroom and
I'm 6'2? No? Well, just throw some stiff spine into the calculations for living comfort while
you're at it.
    That's most of the day-to day that I deal with. Sailing is still sailing, motoring to make
miles is still just motoring. It takes a special kind of person to sail with nothing. 'Special'
sounds a bit like it means 'not too bright' sometimes, but I still enjoy it.

Update 01/21/2014

    Okay, so, here's the deal: Jackson, my 35 year old outboard given to me by my grandfather, has died. The splines on the driveshaft and the crank have both been stripped out. I have a new lower unit and crank coming in the mail, hopefully tomorrow. In the meantime I bought a '91 Nissan 8hp outboard which I, so far, love. It's quiet, beautifully maintained, lighter, and more powerful. So I'm stuck with the dilemma of which to keep when (if) I get Jackson the mighty Mercury up and running again.
    My sister, Christine, has joined me for at least the next month of this adventure. She and my mother came down from Baldwinsville for a few days and rented a car so we could run whatever errands there were, including the picking up of my new Nissan. Mom has since gone off to visit My brother in Atlanta and my grandfather, leaving Christine and myself here in Jacksonville killing time waiting for engine parts.
   Yesterday started off on a rather interesting note. After having both slept in late we were treated to the continued dronings of Sports-bikes revving their engines not far off in the city. Then there was the rap music, and marching bands. You may have figured out what it was by now, the MLK Day parade. So we abandoned the boat for the afternoon and went to the movies and saw Frozen and Hunger games: Catching Fire. We already had watched The Hobbit: Desolation of Smaug when Mom was here. Today we're killing time at the library since the wind has kicked up a rather uncomfortable chop through the marina where we're staying. It's looking like maybe Thursday or Friday we'll head out.
    'Tine has already got me eating fresh fruits and veggies and tonight is going to be a stew night. Yay for culinary ambition! Not sure what else to update y'all on. I suspect we'll be in Lake worth in about ten days and then make the hop to the Bahamas when we get a good weather window.

Jacksonville claims one of it's own.

    Bad news. Jackson, my '78 Mercury 7.5hp outboard bit it hard just 21 miles out of Jacksonville. I was just motoring out of my anchorage beside the Kingsley Plantation (which I toured in semi-period dress, just for fun) when suddenly the rpms shot up and I lost all propulsion. I was able to re-anchor safely and tore into the outboard. It seems the splines of the driveshaft where it goes into the powerhead stripped out leaving me with nothing. I called a towboat and managed to get a tow under my Boat US coverage, getting pulled along at up to 9kts into the free docks in Jacksonville. So now I have 72 hours to affect some sort of repair or get a new motor before they theoretically kick me off the docks. We'll see. I have a lower unit from a '75 Merc. 9.8 on order from ebay. If I'm correct about the models it will fit my engine. If I'm not, well, let's just hope I'm right. Meanwhile I'll be trying to find a machine shop or something which might be able to re-machine the splines for me. That might take too long though, as they'll have to weld new material in, machine the grooves, and then re-harden the shaft.
     And that's all assuming the socket on the crankshaft is still good. I have to tear into that tomorrow, maybe tonight though it's getting late. I'll try to keep everything updated. If I can't do full blog posts check the twiter feed in the right column.  ==>

And a Happy New Year.

Very little has happened since Christmas, at least as far as distance traveled is concerned. I'm less than twenty miles past Savannah. New Years was spent with my friends Dan and Hannah whom I met last summer on the West Marine store build in New Hampshire. They'll be getting married in March and I wish them all happiness. I'd like to join them for the event, but I have no idea if I'll even be in the country yet. The following day was rainy and cold, so Cassie and I stayed tied up to the dock in Savannah. I spent money I shouldn't have on touristy things, and then had dinner at an Irish pub; Irish stew and shepherd's pie. It was delicious, and there was a live Celtic band which I sat and watched for at least three hours. That's another highlight of the trip so far. The next day Cassie and I ran for cover in a little river past the next bridge out of Savannah so we'd be protected for the gale force winds forecast for that evening. Nature did not disappoint, nor did my trusty Rocna anchor. We had gusts up to 40mph and sustained winds of at least 30 but didn't drag at all. Yesterday I spend the day huddled in my sleeping bags waiting out the freezing winds on the tail end of that arctic cold-front and reading the collected works of Sherlock Holmes. Today we jumped to the next river so I could stock up on food and fuel so we can make some miles tomorrow. Tomorrow it's supposed to be in the sixties, and then drop back into high fourties the next day, so I may be hunkered down for a few more nights again. We'll see what comes of it all.

Merry Christmas!

    Good day to all my readers. I'm currently sitting on my brother's, Andy's, couch just outside Atlanta, GA. Cassandra is safely anchored in Factory Creek near Beaufort, SC for the week while I go visiting. I'll be back aboard on the 26th. Most of you know my laptop gave out on the way to Georgetown, but I didn't mention that my cellphone also stopped being able to send of receive texts. Luckily, I was able to get on ebay and order an identical replacement phone and a new keyboard for my lappy (that's laptop for those of you not familiar with the Strongbad-ism). Both came in shortly after I got in at my brother's and my electronics are all up and running again.
    In some ways I liked being without texting or gps. I felt like I was truly exploring new areas. I got to skirt around hidden mud shoals by the ripples on the water and a careful eye on the depthsounder. I got to guess the tide state and range by the docks, other boats at anchor, and direction of the current. I got to feel lost on occasion. As a member of the PDRacer forum, John Wright, once said, "Without the element of uncertainty and even danger... there is no adventure." Without my nav. computer there was definitely more uncertainty, and somehow it felt more like an adventure. Amazing what 'old' guys know.
    I'm trying to make myself useful while I'm here. I tore apart a bread maker, but couldn't get it to work. I spent a few hours pounding dents out of my brother's wrecked car. There's more work there than I can accomplish in the next day which I feel a little bad about. I did manage to fix their entryway lamp, but that seems to pale in comparison to the food, lodging, and touristy things they've shared with me these past few days. I feel like I've been taking much more than I've been receiving on this trip. So many people have been so kind to me, and it feels like I haven't been able to return the favor, or pay it forward. I hope to remedy that in the coming months.
    So, the plan is to shoot through Georgia and on into Florida where my sister and I will try to connect somewhere so she can come along on this unusual expedition. Hopefully I'll also be able to meet up with my friend Don and do a little cruising. Last I heard he was in Palm Beach. I'd also like to meet back up with Impulse if possible; I'd like my anchor back someday, and it's been a while since I've seen them. Incidentally, you can follow them over on lifeforsail if you want to know what they're up to. I'm always amused, and starkly aware of the difference of experiences for a boat of three and my boat of one.
    So there it is, my life in a nutshell. I feel a little guilty for not having more to tell you yet.
Happy Christmas, Merry New Year and Slán for now.
 -Brian \|/ 

Goldilocks

    One of the things that has always somehow attracted me to living on a boat is that it's an exercise in the extreme of 'just enough'. You find the boat that is the biggest you can afford to maintain and dock, but not so small it's unlivable. Then you pare down everything you own to fit in that mould. You find just the tools that you need and try to figure out just which spare parts you'll need when who knows what breaks down. You install only the systems you can't do without. Do you need pressure water? Do you need a refrigerator? Do you even need an ice box? What food do you need? Do you go with steaks and a three burner stove, or do you boil up rice over a tea light? The funny thing is, everyone comes up with a different answer to these questions. And it's a happy little surprise when you come across someone who came up with some of the same.
    The other guy on a 20-something footer makes you feel more comfortable. The person turning beans, rice, and lentils into tasty soup on a little propane stove makes your Ramen and eggs seem like an acceptable meal. Those retirees on their 47 footer with watermaker, radar, shower, icebox, heater, full enclosure... sure they seem to have it great, but everything they own will break eventually. And while they're shoulders deep in the bowls of their behemoth (which they can't manage to fit into a slip without help from the dockhands) tearing into their $1000 refrigeration system so the 50lbs of food won't rot before sunset, you're anchored a few hundred feet away, nibbling away at some rice and beans smiling smugly to yourself, just like they'd been when they motored past you three hours before while you were getting soaked in the rain.
    Some people will tell you that they "can't live without" their, whatever. Some people tell you that the minimalist experience enhances the beauty, the connection to the trip. Seeing as how I am, indeed, on the more minimal side of the spectrum, I do believe I've gotten more out of the experience than those 35-50 footers. I've been forced to figure out what is just enough for me. Some things aren't enough; I wish I had more tools. Some things are too much; I haven't worn a third of my clothing and I feel crowded by some of the general clutter. But, I've seen the edges of what I need to survive. Enough keeps me content, more will never make me happy. Then again, that was part of the whole point of this trip, to live with less. The folks with everything aren't out here for that experience (but if they are, someone should tell them they're doing it wrong). There are things I miss. I miss my LEGO, my car, my modeling area.
    Of all of it, only the tools I've left at home have really impacted how I live day to day. I live by my hands. I craft things because words are sometimes meaningless. When I try to write it feels like a shallow mockery, like a kindergartener trying to write a sonnet. Without those tools I feel lost, I can't turn imaginings into anything more than strings of characters on damp leaves of paper. Some people craft in words, some craft within people. I'm only able to turn out rude facsimiles of the visions I wish I could create, even with all my tools. But time, practice, and patience may change all that. Only time will tell. Until then, I will take what I have and use it to the best of my abilites. I will turn enough into more than it seems.

Expariencing some ttttttttttechnical difficulties

So, due to cicumstances beyond my control, my laptop is out of commission. The supposedly waterproof keyboard got wet and stopped working. I have a new one on order but have to meet up wih my brother to get it possibly in Savannah, though that is currently questionable. Hopefully I can spend Christmas with him as well. We'll see. Anyway, not having a computer means my navigation is all paper charts and all internet must go through my aging itouch. I'm currently anchored just outside Charleston, SC. I don't know when my next update will be, but I wish you all the best of fortune until then. - Your humble correspondant, Brian \|/

Traveling in Time and Space.

    Where do I begin... I'm currently in Southport, North Carolina waiting for SomeDay to catch up. They should be in sometime today. I got my hair cut and shampooed, a treat I can tell you. And I also picked up some copper wire and jewelers' pliers so I can start making some pendants and things that maybe someone will buy. On that note, I was doing the math last night and my student loan payments till May almost equal the amount I have in checking. Pinching pennies will become important quickly; gotta stop eating out.
    So where did we leave off? Oh yes,  I was leaving Elizabeth City. I got a head start on SomeDay who left a day after I did. The couple on Permission Impossible stayed to sell off their small outboard for food money. It was three days or so to get to Belhaven where SomeDay and I stopped to wait out heavy winds. From there I went on to a beautiful marina at $1.50 a foot where I had my first shower in a week and enjoyed a sort of Thanksgiving dinner of Roastbeef, gravy, mashed potatoes, and corn. The following day we pulled into Oriental where I met an older Canadian couple headed south on their Catalina 37. They had leftovers from a Thanksgiving potluck which they gladly shared as we talked into the night about boats, scale models, and film careers among numerous other things. So far that has been one of my favorite interactions of this trip, one of those moments you treasure up in your heart, as it were.
   From Oriental it was a short 25 mile hop down to Moorhead City, then 30 or so a day to Swansboro, Sloop Point anchorage, and finally Carolina Beach where I spent last night. SomeDay was a day behind again and I took the opportunity to stop in at a bar and grill which was having an open mike night. It was a long but pleasant row from the boat to the town docks at the far end of the basin, and even more pleasant on the trip home. The water was glass smooth, rumpled only briefly by the passage of Hope and steady strokes of  my oars, the stars glimmering above and again beside me in a breathtaking dual-sky mingling with pleasant self-reflection and passing melancholy. Days like that sum up my existence. A lone soul of happiness and helplessness lost into itself amid the bright bustle of the "normal" lives of everyone around it. Content, and still wanting; a living contradiction.
   So that's the news from Lake Woebegone. I know I've glossed over some things and completely forgotten others. If any of my readers (strange that I actually have readers) want to hear more about anything leave a comment and I'll try to do a post on whatever it is you're interested in hearing about. Salud!

Quick update 11/21/13

    Just a quick update for everyone: We're in North Carolina. Cassie and I met back up with Dan, Scott and SomeDay in Portsmouth, did the Dismal Swamp Canal, and are now tied up to the free docks in Elizabeth City on the Pasquatonk River. Laundry, showers and supplies are on the list of things to do and tomorrow I think we might take off for the Alligator River on our continuing trip south.
    We also met up with a Canadian couple from Halifax who bought a Tanzer 22 in Norfolk and are sailing to Guatemala with almost literally no money. I'm sure we'll be helping them out along the way, just as we've helped each other in a scrape. Small boat, but they seem happy. In some ways I envy them. They have companionship and only room for the essentials. Some days Cassandra feels too big, but she's actually just about right I think.
    Anyway, I got a couple pictures from along the way they'll probably go up in a few days, whenever I get internet again. I forgot to bring my camera to the library today.

Spending-Time in Maryland

Impulse at anchor in Cape May the day I arrived.

    Again I sit, somewhat contented and lulled into a feeling of false security by the whirling, self-absorbed world that is the internet.
    I could write paragraphs on just how crudely mundane the internet feels after being away from it for some time. Memes, and rants, and all the things you were doing wrong but never knew. But that's not what my blog is about. If, perhaps, after a longer break from the inter-webs I feel more strongly I will go into that myriad of feelings and opinions, but not today.
    Today I'm here to tell you about Maryland. Hmm... Maryland... Well, we can start with facts. As of today I've been in Maryland as long as I was in New Jersey. I've spent more money on food and sancks in all of Maryland than I did the month before. And I've felt largely less hurried in leaving than I did New Jersey. Of course, with the cold we've had the past few days, I'm beginning to think I should pick my heels up a bit more.
    Last night it was 33°, today the high was 40°.I bought a propane heater to keep the chill off at night, but it'll eat through a bottle of propane in six hours if I let it run, so it's not a permanent solution. I've taken what towels and blankets and foam I have to block off non-living areas and stop up drafts. This has been relatively successful. In fact, it was almost enough that just burning a large candle and my oil lamp all night would keep me from shivering in my sleeping bag on a 40° night. Almost; hence the addition of the heater.
    Let's see, I suppose you'll want to know where I am. Since I last posted I managed to sail down to Annapolis where I stopped in at Bacon Sails and picked up a few things I've been needing at discount prices. Bacon is a marine consignment store, and someday I'd like to run one. So many do-dads and gizmos for cheap. Marine cheap anyway. Nothing quite excites the creative juices like a rack of bins full of rigging hardware. Bought three pounds of fudge, because, I don't know why. It was quite good though. I also picked up a new pair of sneakers since my old ones were falling apart on my eight mile a day walks to various shopping centers. I need to get an alternate mode of land transport, my feet are still killing me. I have a small kick scooter, but it's almost useless. Thinking of modding it with a longer handlebar and bigger wheels, but we'll see, it's not as urgent as getting somewhere warm again.
    After Annapolis I set off for Solomons where I was to get a package from home. About three hours out, after having gone nowhere fast, the wind began to pipe up, and even though it wasn't bad, I decided to throw a reef in. Just as I tied the last lashing on the main the wind gusted up and heeled us over a little more than 15 degrees, and held us there. So, the jib came down and just as it was packed away the wind blew harder. I tried to sail towards the windward coast to get behind the cliffs where the wind couldn't build up a chop and I could keep on to Solomons. This was not to happen though. I was too far out already and in what seemed like minutes the waves were no longer small, and getting bigger. I couldn't make Solomons before dark anyway, and I decided my best bet was to run with the wind and waves until I could duck behind a point on the opposite side of the bay and hide in some anchorage. So on we went, skidding downwind under a reefed main at an average of 5.5knots. If I remember correctly Cassie has a theoretical hull speed of 6.4 knots. There were times we were doing all of that, surfing down waves we hit as much as 7.5kts. It was a physically demanding and mentally intensive experience, one where I didn't have time to be afraid, I had to be steering, watching for the next big wave, seeing where the wind might shift. At times I did look back at think, "wow... those are big waves... I hope they don't get worse." From the time I took in my reef to the time I anchored, cold, exhausted, and not a little happy to be safe, was probably four hours, the last hour of which was spent tacking against the 25mph wind between attempts to start my outboard so I could motor into my anchorage. I hid there two days waiting for the wind to die down, and when it finally did I motored the remaining 30 miles to Solomons. And here I sit still. I had to wait for my package since I got in on Saturday and the post office was closed through Monday for Veterans Day. The wind has picked back up again, blowing a steady 10-15kts and gusting higher last night. Thursday looks like the next day I can get out onto the water again, and maybe, maybe Make it to Virgina.
I never did meet back up with SomeDay. They decided to do an overnighter and passed me while I was in Annapolis. I suspect I'll see them again though.

New Jersey Gets Old.

    Finally. After weeks slogging down the coast of New Jersey, and days waiting for the weather, we've done it. The three fates have conspired with our three sirens and brought us up and out of that purgatory of a state.
    Monday saw SomeDay's engine part come in, by noon it was installed and the old OMC Zephyr was purring like a kitten. Or, perhaps more accurately, growling like an overweight house cat who is trying to eat. We settled up with the yard for dockage, then headed out, through the Cape May Canal and into the Delaware. The day was largely uninteresting and not too long. As night approached it was clear we wouldn't make it out of the bay before the tide turned, so we navigated our way through crab pots into the Cohansey River, and Cohansey Cove. All in all, a nice, quiet anchorage with decent holding, but no real measure of wind protection and no wave protection from the South. Luckily it was a light-air night from the north.The next day we left just ahead of the incoming tide hoping to ride it into the C&D canal to Chesapeake City. I was about half an hour early in my estimation, so most of our travel was at slackwater. We pulled into the free docks at Chesapeake City MARYLAND just after dark and set about finding something to eat. As the little town of Chesapeake City is nothing but touristy historical homes, everything was closed and being young and foolish we decided to walk to the nearest McDonalds, about six miles away in Elkton. After having devoured nearly a dozen sandwiches between the three of us we called a cab and got a ride back to the boats.
    The following day my sister, Christine, stopped by for a few hours. She'd been visiting a friend in New Jersey and had a little time to kill before going home. Much to my surprise Tuesday was to be a day of chance meetings. Just as Tine and I decided we'd had enough of the cold and wanted to get into the car to get warm I heard a familiar voice referring to the port of call on Cassandra's stern.
 "Hey, I was just in Baldwinsville"
It was the voice of Ken, an affable and charismatic individual whom we had met in Castleton. I forget if I mentioned at the time or not, but he was the person who paid our dockage in Castleton in exchange for helping him rig his boat.
    Ken was there to meet another cruising couple we had met along the way. Steve and Nancy if memory serves. I'd only met them in passing, but they were on their way up the C&D that very day to meet Ken in Chesapeake City. He took Tine and me to breakfast while we waited for the other boat, and we chatted. To make a long story shorter,  I got to see my sister, whom I missed more that I realized, I got to catch up with a friend I thought never to see again, and made two new friends in Steve and Nancy. SomeDay and Cassandra spent another night on the wall so we could leave alongside our newly refound friends, but that was not to be either.
    Jackson chose that next morning as a day to be stubborn, it was six hours of troubleshooting before I found the cause, the kill-switch had filled partly with seawater and weakened the spark enough that he couldn't run. So I stayed another night on the 24 hour limit wall. SomeDay took off sometime that afternoon after I'd assured them I wouldn't need a tow and could certainly have Jackson running in no time. Their engine also chose to sputter out along the way, and they had to pull into a marina not 5 miles from where I was. They reolved their issue and I mine, and when the rain and wind let up I left Chesapeake City, motored nine miles and tied up at the very marina I am writing this from. I have the place practically to myself. Showers, wi-fi, lounge, electric, cable, and all for $30 a night. I couldn't say no.So here I sit, content after downing an antipasto salad, and a dozen wings while I while away the evening catching up on the bits of internet I may actually care about. SomeDay will likely catch up sometime tomorrow if the weather cooperates and we can move on again.
    I have to replace the 12v plug on my solar panel when I find the part, coming up the Delaware it put out too much power and blew the 1Amp fuse, also melting the interior of the plug's housing somewhat.
 So, those are my adventures for now. I'll keep going, becoming more confident in my boat and myself as I go. I never imagined I'd actually sail in the Chesapeake Bay, and now here I am. Life is interesting for certain.

Weather to go.

    Just thought everyone would appreciate an update of where I am and what's been happening. Days a blurring together, so please forgive me if I don't mention when exactly something happened.
    I managed to get a new, group 31 battery from Bennett Batteries in Atlantic City. The guy was great, gave me a great price, let me pay cash, and delivered the battery to my boat. I recommend anyone in the area look him up if you need a new battery.
     Once I got my battery I still had to wait a few days for a weather window. Impulse took off the day after we'd arrived, someday left the following day, so I was alone to wander around Atlantic City for a few days. I made it down to the Casinos and boardwalk every night, just for something to do. The library had Wifi and I could check up on weather. Spent some time looking for a book exchange, but no luck there. Finally it looked like I'd have the wind I needed, but it was a cold miserable day. I didn't want to go out in it, but it was the only day for a while I'd have the conditions I needed. So I bundled up the best I could, raised main and jib in the channel, and set off for Cape May. The sail was a wet and dreary as I'd expected; every five minutes or so I'd clench my hands to wring the water from my gloves, and suppress the shivering.All went well, and as the winds picked up near the end I tucked in my first reef and at one point Cassie and I were skimming along comfortably at six knots. That was a nine hour sail with only a little respite provided by my autopilot.
    When I reached Cape May I found Impulse and Someday comfortably anchored a little ways in where I joined them.Someday was attempting, unsuccessfully,  to repair their engine, which conked out on them just as they had reached Cape May. That evening there was more excitement. Someday's anchor was rather poorly constructed, so that under sustained load the retainer for the shank bent and wouldn't hold the anchor or the boat in place. The winds picked up overnight to a sustained 20 knots or so. I got a call from Impulse asking me to contact Scotty and let him know Dan didn't need a ride back to the boat that night. When I looked out my hatch for Scotty, however, he wasn't there. Nor was Someday. They both had drifted downwind and were in danger of being blown into the large wall in front of the yacht club. It was tense for a while, but Scotty managed to get a second anchor out to stop the boat, then they jury rigged their companionway stairs as a mount for their dinghy's outboard so they could motor out and re-anchor, not realizing that their 22 pound danforth was now bent and useless. They managed to pinball off my boat at around 2am, and then subsequently ram Impulse. Steering a 4ton boat in 20 knot winds with a 6hp outboard is tricky after all. Givng up, they woke up the crew of Impulse and both decided it best to raft up for the night. The following morning Impulse towed them to Utsch's Marina where they are stuck waiting for, what I believe to be, the part that will fix their engine.Impulse spent a night at Utch's as well, then moved back to anchor with me, and took off the following day as I helped Someday diagnose their engine troubles.
    Cape May is a beautiful place, full of kitschy tourist shops and absolutely picturesque historical buildings, part of me doesn't want to leave, but the rest of me is cold and wants to just get on with it. Today may be the day, but its looking like Wednesday is more likely, and SomeDay should have their engine up and running to join me by then. We'll see and I'll take whatever weather window I can get. Until next time, live living.