Helping Hands

Our engine/transmission repair has been in progress for more than a week, and finally, the fix arrived special delivery from Orlando. Our buddy Elmer, who is THE mechanical genius, figured out what 3 or more "professional marine mechanics" could not, and we are ready for a test drive in the morning. A real knuckle buster, but we are all glad to have that done.

That spells relief!!

This afternoon, the computer genius in the anchorage, Mark of sv Rachel, was kind enough lend a hand in the adaptor/software/firmware/propogation world (yeah right) in order to get the Sailmail functional. This was confirmed true when test message was reported sent to sister Clare in Chicago via Panama station.
Amazing.  Now if we could just clean up the spaghetti on the navigation station.

On to Miami...

Where is 2011? And to where was it taken?

Do you ever pine away for the past? Wax sentimental to have it the way it used to be? Well.....you can get there, just get in you car or boat and drive there (here)!
We are in Belhaven, NC.
If you notice a paucity of phone calls, or that email I promised you never arrived, that would be because it (they) are stuck here in 1975. Belhaven now has cell phone service. They got it in 2009 when US Cellular finally came to town and monopoloized the market. Now people who buy Various roaming plans are doing battle with their cell companies over using the US Cellular tower. Elise and I went to a 1980 grocery store yesterday. No, we didn't get in on the hog knuckle sale. It did make us a little nervous to drive the golf cart on a numbered US highway on the way to the store, but the mayor told the town cop to let people do it in a special arrangement with the marina, "so you'll be all right."
I saw blatant racism in a car parts store when the young white man wanted to help me ahead of the black guy who had been standing there when I entered the store. When I pointed out that the other fellow was first, he helped the black guy, but asked me, "Where are you from?" in a "get with the program" sort of inflection to his voice. The black man was stone silent and didn't make eye contact with either of us. I so desperately wanted to answer, "2011."
I spoke to Someone at the dock about the job as Pamlico County Director of Public Health. She told me that she believed I was capable of the job and could do good work there, but that I wouldn't be permitted to and that, as an outsider, I wouldn't ever be trusted and wouldn't be accepted until I saved someone important, "and that might be a while because people in the network don't go to the health department......for ANYTHING." I asked what the network is, and she smiled and replied, counted off slowly on her fingers the three components, "Good, Old, Boy." OMG.
The mosquitoes are the worst I've ever experienced in an inhabited place in the daytime. They are as bad as Florida at sundown in the rainy season in mid-afternoon. No sentinel chickens needed here, the people themselves can have their sera tested! But they have beautiful churches and a nice library. And the Election Day barbecue outside the polling station sponsored by the mayor smelled delicious as was rode by in the golf cart. "The mayor wants you to fix yourself a plate when you come out from voting," I thought I heard someone say.
Notice there will be no pictures with this blog entry. We couldn't figure out how to get Kodachrome to upload.

Linda Petrat

While we are in Annapolis we've met several other cruisers. One is Linda Petrat.
Linda is nearly Social Security age and a lifelong mariner. As a child, she sailed with her parents and 6 younger siblings on a 70 foot wooden Alden schooner. The Alden had an 8'9" draft and plied the East coast of the US and the Bahamas (!). She has worked as a finish carpenter and has raised 2 daughters.

After divorcing some years back, she began sailing her Pearson Ensign 22. When the transport company dawdled this autumn, she left on her own to sail the boat from New Hampshire to Annapolis on the way to her new home in Sarasota, Florida. She regularly gets seawater baths and has virtually no protection from the elements. This boat is smaller than the boat Washington crossed the Delaware in, and has no fixed instruments, no heat, a 4hp outboard engine, a single bunk with a leak over it, effectively no tankage, a bottle of rum strapped in for emergency fortification, a cuddy cabin so small that Linda can't fully sit up in it, and one INTREPID captain with the gritty resolve to beat winter down the coast. After inviting her to dinner aboard our boat and hearing her story, we won't bet against her success.

Linda is a very nice person and an inspiration to all of us making the trip in more substantial circumstances. As I type this Captain Petrat is braving 50F rain at the tiller with no self-steering as she pushes down the bay. We'll report back on our blog what becomes of her.Pictures to follow when we have a real computer to send with.

Maryland holds on to us

Nephew Elliot and niece Emily at their cross country running championship meet.  They won!

Maryland has a way of hanging on to us.  There is a perpetual social calendar of family events, then there is the weather, now a series of mechanical glitches.  The latest caused us to be towed into Annapolis where our mechanic, Nick Vernon, is back on our boat for the third time to straighten us out (we hope).  Our alternator is not working properly and we gave it to him yesterday to get it tested at an alternator shop.  Also, he is replacing the drive shaft coupling bolts that sheared off in the first 4 hours of use.  And, now, he is going to realign the engine and raise the engine on its mounts on Thursday.  We hope for a Friday 10/28 departure for points south......fingers crossed as it is getting cold. 

Maryland Autumn

Being towed into Annapolis

On top of Sugarloaf Mountain

But, just when we are feeling sorry for ourselves, we meet inspiration at the Chick & Ruth weekly cruiser breakfast in Annapolis.  We met a woman today who is single-handing a 22 foot sailboat that she can't even fully sit-up in from New Hampshire to "South."  She has no heat and she gets a seawater bath every day she sails.  She's made it to Annapolis and is an INTREPID SOUL.  Her smart phone is not working and she is bundled up in foul weather gear most of the time.  Makes us feel like wimps for complaining about ANY relative hardship we've encountered.  After meeting her and hearing her story, all we wanted to do is help her in any way we could.  Autumn has had a beauty to it, even if summer and autumn weather has caused muted colors and mostly just green or brown leaves to fall off the trees this year.  Flocks of geese are honking overhead and we know what season comes next.  Time to get! 

The RIght Tool for the Job

In a joint iinitiative, NOAA and the EPA  promote a voluntary incentive based program known as the Clean Marina Program. After developing environmentally sound programs for fuel and waste management, marinas may apply to become recognized as environmental stewards. Once recognized, they are more likely to avoid EPA fines, sustain improved water quality and habitat for wildlife and customers, plus,they gain rights to the official clean marina logo and complimentary marketing under the Clean Marina byline.  It appears the federally legislated Clean Water Act of 1972 and revision of 1978 needed an updated approach which requires less administration and more active engagement by those in strategic locations to source pollution.

With all this green attention, it is really surprising to see what still washes up. Honestly, it's such a sin; the mess actually stirs recollections of the anti-pollution PSA of the 1970's featuring the crying American Indian.

And just when I thought a net might be in order, the cavalry arrived to save the day. 

How did I miss this invention? It's the closest thing to a street sweeper you'll find on the water. This device has big arms in front that essentially sweep the debris off the water surface, then collects and stores it. I'm presuming there is an environmentally sound endpoint for all that rubbish too.
Not perfect, but there was much less visible pollution in the post-sweep vs the pre-sweep view to our stern.

BTW, Seven Seas Cruising Association, at SSCA.org, for the last 60 years has embodied he tradition of leaving a clean wake long before it was fashionable. Actively respecting others and the shared environment is a most cherished attribute of the organization which warmly welcomes active cruisers and armchair sailors alike.The annual dues are an excellent value (check out the site), but the members are priceless.  

A Successful Labor Day

Any hard working galley wench will recognize this beauty...

This raw water foot pump at the galley sink is the latest improvement for SeaSpan.
While I would never consider using this in the harbor here in Balto, I am sure in clear Caribbean waters, it will almost make doing dishes fun (right.)
We "labored" over the installation, but it is now 100% functional.
It is time tested as well, which is to say, we picked it up at a chandlery consigment shop.  Those of us who have classic plastic, read old fiberglass boats, visit such haunts when in new ports for spare parts and miscellany. During our stop in Oriental NC, our new friend Doug gave us a lift to the chandlery, where a treasure hunt yielded the pump, port and starboard running lights, and a hard to find downwind pole. All in great condition at competitive pricing. Doug was even kind enough to return us, the 13 foot pole and other finds back to our dock in his truck.  Aren't sailors wonderful?

Waning Summer

The days are gradually getting shorter.  The skies more cloudy, and the temperatures are cooling.  Summer has been fun, but it is waning in the mid-Atlantic states.  Time for us to think about what's next.

What's next is a lot of boat work in order to be ready to move on!  The next few entries in our blog are likely to show us head-down in a compartment or bilge space, a troubled or worried look on our faces.  Let us tell you, it has been a LONG LONG time since Elise and Jeff have worried about a coming winter. It has become, already, the start of a race against time! We won't panic until the geese start flying in vees overhead; when does that happen??  

Alas, it is still summer, and we are going to hang on to it as long as we can.  This weekend we enjoyed a sunset at the lake in Columbia

                                            Wilde Lake, Columbia

 Jeff made a trip with his sister-in-law, niece, and nephew to Hersheypark to celebrate nephew Elliot's 16th B-day in style with a posse of Elliot's friends.  I'd post a pic of Elliot and the boys, but we never saw them all day at the park!

Emily, 13, prepares to ride the Comet

CHICAGO

Jumped in Elise's little red roadster and took a little trip to Chicago a couple weeks ago to see Elise's sister Clare, and her husband, Bob.  They were throwing a big Saturday night party to celebrate their 30th wedding anniversary and we were going to get to see their beautiful new (to them) Lakeview East home.  We had a great time and Clare and Bob couldn't have been better hosts -- they are great family!  Guests from Florida came, too, and we enjoyed getting to know Bob and Clare's newer and long-term friends a little better.  Thanks for including us!

One watches the people in Chicago on TV in the winter time; in a penguin huddle waiting for the "L," or some poor sap harpooned on the sidewalk by falling ice from above, pedestrians in danger of being blown into traffic by the whipping snowstorm.  Why do they live there by the millions?  The answer is summer!

Chicago seems to be a GIGANTIC small town.  Festivals, activities, school and the action draw the young to live there in great hordes.  Public transit is fantastic, arts and culture are world class, and it is quite scenic.  OK, we can see the vision now.  We'll visit in summer, may even get a place and stay for summer some time.

Imagine our surprise when we found the Pride of Baltimore II making a weekend port call at Chicago while we were there.

To Bermuda AND BACK in 5 days!!!

Norman and Sylvia Hazzard

The folks were married on August 12, 1961, so this month they've been married for 50 years.  We cruised to Bermuda together on an ocean liner and threw a big party. 

None of the 2300 passengers on that enormous ship were more grateful than the two of us to be able to turn off the lights, tuck into bed, and sleep for 8 hours uninterrupted as the ship made 160 miles good for Bermuda through the night!  A 500 mile day at sea; can you imagine??!!??  "Rough seas" made some feel ill as we crossed the Gulf Stream; Elise and I shared knowing smiles in public and giggles in private at the notion that we were experiencing rough seas.  Let's summize there were no lee cloths, no wetted table cloths, no spilled dinner wine, and no crawling on the cabin sole necessary.  We can now attest that 1000 foot long ships steaming at 22 kts shoulder 7 foot seas with aplomb. 

Dock Yard, Bermuda

Hamilton, Bermuda ferry landing

Horseshoe Beach, Bermuda

Looking southwest from Horseshoe Cove Beach

Evening in Victoria Park, Harmilton, Bermuda

New York Roots

New York is not just the Big Apple.  There is another part; upstate, agrarian, and bucolic.  That's the part Norman, my (Jeff's) dad, hails from.  A hidden gem nestled in the very southwest corner where the natives like to say they have 4 seasons  -- June, July, August, and winter! 

Farmland all over the country is reverting to forest and the family dairy farm is mostly a museum exhibit.  But also, the "plain people" (Amish and others) continue family farming and are buying up farmland in sizeable numbers. 

family barn (now sold)

Our family is still there, as is the land.  From my cousin Randy and Aunt Audrey's yard, you can see the family farm; the barn still stands across the road.  The house where my grandparents lived and died is within sight on the crest of the next hill.  On the knoll beyond that house is the house where my grandfather was born.  And over the next crest is the homestead of great great grandparents.  Returning there, to the Town of Busti, gives me a since of belonging, connection with our past.  And on that rare summer day, when the breeze blows clear from Canada across the lake, there is no better place to be. 

Norman and Randy run the tractor

Amish family at the village crossroads

So Long Irene

Earthquakes, Hurricanes...all in the same week? Yikes.
What are we doing here??

Thanks for the texts, calls and emails of concern. All seems essentially well at slip P58. Great. Now we can move on to "the list."  Anyone have experience replacing a mast boot?

Sorry for the quality of the video clip, it was still pretty breezy creating lots of motion on our floating dock Saturday morning.
I will never complain again about slogging to weather again; this poor guy had a tough day too.

Baltimore Renaissance

When Jeff moved away from here in April, 1987, the city was in perilous decline.  Jeff's brother, Frank, described it as being "in the big swirl" and little hope was held out for the city to be anything more than a larger version of Camden, NJ.  But, a miracle has taken hold since then.
 Honest-to-John literate taxpayers with real jobs and aspirations for the future have moved to town.  Canton, the "Harbor East" neighborhood, as it is chic-ly known now, is thriving.  Federal Hill, Locust Point, and the near south neighborhoods are quickly gaining ground, too.  Talk about a Lazarus of a city!  Baltimore still has 40,000 vacant rowhouses, and a serious drug and crime problem, but for the first time in 40 years, it has hope!  Down, but not out, Baltimore is making a comeback.
 Very nice to see from the cockpit of our boat.

Never too old to be parented

Dad cutting my hair after 7 weeks, here is the pile of hair he cut off my head.  It is better than ever to go home again, I think you appreciate it more when you are middle aged yourself than when you are a boomerang 20-something.  It's been great to sleep in air conditioning with a real bed and to get served meals as only your mom can make.  Hope the boat is ok on its own!

Think Baltimore, think red bricks!

We made it!  We arrived on July 3rd, Pete and Jeff sailing up the harbor for a grand entrance.  The city is celebrating the very patriotic story of Francis Scott Key writing the words of our national anthem while held captive on a British ship in the harbor.  Ft. McHenry stood sentry for the city and faught off the fierce bombardment, the American flag still streaming in the dawn's early light.  Just as we neared the fort, the staff fired off one of the cannon.  WOW!  The flames errupting from the gun and the noise you felt in the chest, along with the pall of smoke blowing downwind were very impressive.  No wonder the British were stopped short of Baltimore.  Ft. McHenry saved the largest port in the Americas, and the people never forgot it, resisting all attempts to use the land for anything else over these 200 years.  Pete said the cannon salute was for me, returning to my hometown after nearly 25 years.  Yeah, right...I don't think so.  The pictures are of the marine buoy marking the exact spot Key was during the battle, the fort still guarding the entrance to the harbor, SeaSpan at rest in her Baltimore slip, and the red brick rowhouses that start at the harbor and cover the city.  Baltimore is a BRICK city.  Nearly every building and some of the streets and sidewalks are made of red bricks.  Hundreds of millions of bricks; how cool is that??

Annapolis...sailing central

Annapolis street scene

St. Petersburg has about 3,000 sailboats.  Annapolis has 30,000.  Pete and I were astonished at how many boats were here.  The crowds of tourists, and the opulence of "Ego Alley" where boats are paraded and shown off was quite a shock after the backwaters of North Carolina and Virginia.  But....we adjusted after a few minutes and did what all sailing-afflicted neurotics do....we looked at boats until our eyes hurt.  We had a wet 4 mile dinghy ride in from the anchorage, but what fun, and dinner at a street cafe wasn't bad either.  Later, we returned for crab lunch at Buddy's.  We love this town.  For sailing afflicted it is like Christmas morning every day.

looking South down "Ego Alley" in Annapolis.

Out of the wilderness, into the cities

Large tug on a small canal

Indefatigueable Pete steers us through the North Carolina back country

Pete and Jeff had a transitional day today.  Pete took Elise's place on the boat when she had to return to St. Petersburg to work for a week.  We have been snaking up the ICW for 3 days, rarely more than a single home in view at a time, and most of the time only each other and the endless Eastern North Carolina to keep us company.  Today that all changed, after starting out from Centerville Turnpike, Virginia, we went from rural, to suburban, to urban in the course of a few short hours, hard to do in a 6 MPH sailboat.  Great barges passed us on the canal, and then, suddenly, was the huge port of Tidewater (Norfolk, Chesapeake, Portsmouth, and Hampton Roads), Virginia and we were spat out like a seed into Chesapeake Bay.  One more overnight trip, a good wind, a flood tide, and a little luck, this will all be over in 24 hours.

Beautiful homes along the river in Virginia.

Cypress stands less than a day from Norfolk

Oriental Redux

So, the upshot is that no where in America is socially isolated anymore.  Cable TV and the Internet have brought remarkable homogeneity to us all.

  Second, Oriental is not an isolated NC hamlet as you would expect elsewhere, it is a few life-long residents and a lot of relatively affluent Northeast retirees thrown together.  Many are educated and ran successful businesses and have escaped to a serene and bucolic life on the shores of Pamlico Sound.  The yankees are paying the taxes, by and large.  Sailing has brought a recreation/tourism dimension to the town, also

  If it were warmer in the Winter, it would have an appeal to us.  There are, on the other hand, difficulties with living in a rural place that are foreign to us....the remoteness from services, shopping, transportation, associations would be disconcerting to us.  But the thing we feared the most, provencial thinking leading to brain rot of all who move there is not a worry. 

  Last night we were given a treat.  We were picked up by Paul Mascaro and taken to the home of Doug Daniel.  We had a great Italian dinner together, and great company.  These pictures are of the outside of Doug's house.  Paul showed us a patent he holds for improved engine efficiency.  Maybe we'll help him market it. 

  What we've learned so far is that all people share more than things that divide us. 

  Elise flies out on Monday and Pete flies in on Monday to take her place.  Then the journey restarts in earnest Tuesday for the last push to Maryland.

Universal Sailor

In nursing theory there is a concept of mutuality. It has two parts. First, it describes other people acting on one's behalf because they would do the same thing for themselves. The second part describes a health professional doing what a patient would do if they had their faculties....sort of doing the right thing for a patient even if the patient is currently antagonistic. An example might be keeping a self-destructive person from acting out and harming himself.
We didn't need the second type of mutuality, but benefitted greatly from the first part. Today we met an older sailor named Doug Daniel and he sort of took us under his wing. He provided transportation to the boat chandlery, helped us negotiate a good deal on a whisker pole, and brought us back to the boat; then he counseled us on trouble shooting the alternator, and gave us a lot of advice. No expectation. No payment in kind demanded or even considered. We did take him to dinner, which was wholly inadequate.
We come to realize that this is the crux of cruising sailors. We are all vulnerable and subject to the complexities of trying to keep modern systems running on our boats. The knowledge and scope of the work often exceeds the man or woman. So, akin to pioneers on the prairie or an Amish community, mutual aid is given and accepted. Strangers do the mundane to help each other out, but also go to heroic and extraordinary measures in a crisis. Because we are all nomadic the reality is that you can only pay it forward. This HUGE mutual aid society or compact is the best of cruising. Thank you, Doug. We will pay it forward in full, we promise.

Jeff and Elise's very looooong day

Thursday, June 16, 2011 will be astericked.  It is the day we took our final exam in sailing.  The day before we had left Cape Canaveral and were motoring well off shore for North Carolina on a flat sea.  Neptune had other plans for us.

At 0552 hrs (5:52AM) our day suddenly began. The winds went from the predicted flat calm to the predicted 5-10 knot southwesterlies --perfect for us to sail on; we were just about to put up our sails.  The predicted winds lasted for less than 2 minutes before there was an unpredictd 45 to 50 knot wind from the Northeast.  How interesting.  The north-moving Gulf Stream doesn't take nicely to wind blowing from the opposite direction and the mill pond turned into a cauldron and then a tempest in about the time it takes for me to type this paragraph.  OH MY!!

What followed was a harrowing reminder of how frail terrestrial hominids are, how unforgiving the ocean can be, and the value of a well-built boat.  We faught for steering control for 5 1/2 hrs before the squall finally passed.  Elise gamely did her part despite intense mal de mer; she really showed her mettle--I've got the best wife!  The cabin was askew, but we were glad to have escaped.  Suddenly safe haven ashore looked like much better an idea than North Carolina. 

We knew about the prodigious tides in Jacksonville.  We also knew about the wide open pass into the St. Johns river which makes Jax a bustling seaport and Navy town and a safe haven from storms.  From noon to 10 PM we sailed 71 miles to arrive at the mouth of the river 20 minutes before high tide.  Another round a intense thunderstorms and gusty winds was blowing off the coast but, quite simply, missed us!  After riding the flood tide up the river we searched for an anchorage in the smoke.  The acrid smoke was hanging in the air from brush fires all over Georgia and Florida.  It was thick enough to be visible in the cabin lights down below. I had a fever with developing bronchitis, and the current made anchoring nearly impossible.  I lowered the anchor to 30 foot depths and raised it back up manually 5 times from midnight to 2AM. We then ran aground on a falling full-moon tide.  We had no idea if this was a perigean spring tide or not (it wasn't) but the ripping current told us we had only minutes to free ourselves or risk having the water level drop to the point of our boat tipping over!  We ran the engine at highest RPM in reverse; at first there was no response, then gradually we began to just inch clear and we were floating again!  The engine overheated but we were free.

One more attempt to anchor was made.  My muscles were aching by then, and the fever was sapping my strength.  The smoke was making it hurt to breathe and difficult to see Elise as she steered at the back of the boat from where I was standing at the front of the boat.  It started to drizzle.  The anchor held on the 6th attempt at a new location, although the chain was at a 60 degree angle to the bow in a 3-knot ebb tide.  The day markers swung like metronomes in the current as the water sluiced by us.  We watched the anchor in the smoke and drizzle until we were sure it was going to hold. I looked at my watch.  It was 5:52AM.  Our day was done.

Hung by a cord

We are now lying Hobe Sound. We're sure the residents of Hobe Sound hate to look out the windows after the maid finishes with the Windex to see the likes of us anchored in their sound. Surely they are plotting how to stop such floating trailer trash from tarnishing the landscape. We'll enjoy it until they buy a change in the law.

The reader of a blog doesn't often like to read recounts of happenings; there are exceptions, and this is one of them.

The other night we were sitting on a dock bench considering our options. We had just finished the late night laundry at the Ft. Lauderdale municipal marina. Elise finished gathering the last few items and I went out to the dinghy to get it started and put the rest of the laundry and groceries in. I pulled the pull cord of the outboard. It didn't start, but I remarked to myself that it was starting to fray and needed some preventive maintenance. The next pull snapped the cord and the remaining length of cord wound up around the spring out of sight. Ut oh!
Tere was one dinghy left at the dock. It was mid flood tide with a 2 knot current. All was quiet. Slack tide would be 2 hours, and the owners of the dinghy might be back....when the watering hole went dry.

Just then a peculiar, slight man walked up without us noticing him. It was Dale, and he turned out to own the dinghy. He offered his help and our spirits buoyed. He said I would have to pull his outboard cord for him as he had fallen on the corner of a dock and, he was sure, broken several ribs. "I can feel the ends of the ribs grating on each other when I move or breathe." Soon we surmised that our choices were 1) swim 2) row across a fierce current 3) have impaired Dale ferry us across. We needed to get to our boat; Dale was on.

Dale had to wake Pogo to get the deadman switch key for his dinghy back. Pogo assessing Dale's faculties for sobriety is like having a kindergartener clean up watercolors. Dale passed Pogo's test (!), and we were off. I held the tow rope and Elise held the other end. Dale twisted the throttle with a wince a nod, grimace contorting his face. He soon was running headlong into the fenders of the bridge and we were in danger of being swept away. I yelled to Dale of the danger, but it didn't register. Far too late, he noticed the impending impact and quickly gunned it. The tow rope crossed over Dale's head several times violently as he steered to and fro, clearing his head several times by mere inches....drunks and fools, right?

As we approached our boat, still at full throttle long after necessary, Dale passed under a fisherman's four lines, snagging them all in his dinghy and snapping them off. The fisherman said nothing but got up and called it a night. Elise and I apologized profusely, Dale never noticed. The next day we saw one of Dale's pontoons softer than the other but no hooks in his inflatable. Elise assures me that next time I will be riding in the towed dinghy as she swims the channel!

Ft. Pierce or Vero Beach tomorrow.
Ill

Dockside Fury

We skipped over a few steps in our story; we were too busy to start our blog until just now, so now we'll give some background.  Don't feel it necessary to read this background information, but it may be of interest to many of you dirt dwellers, and sailors, too.

When we finally left our jobs, we worked FURIOUSLY for 3 weeks.  We put piles of stores on the boat....and probably needed to paint the water line higher than John recommended (picture above)!  SeaSpan already underwent a significant refit over the last year, but one is never quite done with boat projects, we know all too well.  We had a lot of help from Lyman Bocock, John and Roberta Nunemaker, Tom Conway, Lynn Miller, Pete Petersen, Bob Bennett, John Tokarz, and many others.  THANKS to you ALL!

Just before we left we had a galvanic corrosion specialist check our boat, had the fuel polishers come and make sure our diesel tank was clean (Robert, in the picture, said the fuel was pristine), rechecked all the rigging, installed a few more systems, put the new traveler and sails on the boat, and cut our ties to the power grid to make sure the wind generator and the solar panels were doing their jobs.
Then Elise and I learned to use our dinghy, remembered how to sail our boat, figured out where to put our stuff, and we were suddenly GONE!

Hurry Up and Wait

Overdue entry.  Our cruising life FINALLY started on May 26th.  We left the dock of Cathy and Pete Petersen.  It was like leaving the nest...two better support people don't exist anywhere.  THANkS SO MUCH, Cathy and Pete, for getting us "out there." 

Our first jump was to Boot Key Harbor, Marathon in the Florida Keys, 200 miles in 48 hrs.  Soon after arrival, we were stopped by weather.  See more below.  While in Boot Key, our longtime friend from SSCA, Capt. Marti Brown, came for a visit and made our marine single sideband (SSB) radio work.  She spoke to a man in Western Colorado and another man in Memphis with our radio.  It worked!!  Marti literally wrote the books on marine SSB, and signed our copies which we'll treasure.

As many of you know, we are on a passage from "home" to Baltimore.  Usually a passage has a start and an end.  This one has had several starts and stops; we are only 1/4 of the way to the Chesapeake, lying Ft. Lauderdale.  The weather and winds have not cooperated.  We spent a whole week in Marathon, and another 4 days now here at Las Olas Bridge.  Headwinds have caused us to "sit" as much as sail.  Hopefully in a day or two our luck will change, and we can jump off for North Carolina.

For our next leg we have the good fortune of having our sailing friend Lynn with us.  Standing watch through the night is much easier with extra crew.  We're making busy provisioning and taking on water, diesel, fixing things, and temporarily installing the radar before putting some real sea miles under the keel.