August 28, 2009.

September is already almost upon us. I can practically smell the end of October and the beginning of our next trip south. The oppressive heat seems to have broken and there’s finally some breeze although accompanied by a bit of rain at times.

I’m still working a lot and now that the weather is lightening up we’ll start to take care of our own list of boat chores. First up for Saturday will be the ceremonial “flipping of the anchor chain”.

Our anchor chain is 240 feet of 3/8th’s inch galvanized chain. I don’t remember ever having deployed more than 120 feet or so of chain at any one time. So that means that the first 60 feet of chain has spent in excess of 1000 nights on the bottom. So what we have is the first 60 of feet of chain that’s been heavily used followed by a section of 30 feet or so of more lightly used chain with the rest of the chain being pretty much unused. So we’re gonna pull all the chain out onto the dock, flip it end for end, remark it every 30 feet and pull it all back into the chain locker. I know it sounds easy but I’m confident that it’s going to be a huge, dirty pain in the ass. The chain is sure to be full of twists and walking the twists out of the chain is never fun.

While the anchor locker is empty we’ll give it a good cleaning and maybe even a nice new coat of battle ship grey paint. It’ll also be a good time to take apart the windlass wiring and give all the connections a good cleaning. It all starts with something as simple as flipping the chain and before you know it, the projects all start to snowball on you.

Christy has been busy on her new favorite website, Allrecipes.com. I’m not a big believer in the whole “following a recipe” thing but I have to admit she’s added quite a few meals to our regular rotation that are simply out of this world. So, she was due to stumble and stumble she did.

I think it was called Asian Fiasco Wraps. While she was cooking, the smells from the galley had me salivating. I had seen a large portion of ground turkey going into the pan so I assumed we were “doing Mexican”.

I set up the table in the cockpit and Christy started handing up plates of food. The first plate was covered in cut vegetables and I quickly realized we weren’t anywhere near Mexico. I recognized a few of my old friends but there were some things on the plate that I wasn’t even sure they were food.

Next up from the galley was a large bowl of warm water. WTF? After that, a large bowl of cooked ground turkey, and then a bowl of rice. Okay, I thought, it’s starting to look like a meal. Next came a package marked “Rice Paper”. They looked like corn tortillas but were so thin that you could read through them. What? Are we making an art project, collages for two?

It turned out that we had to dip these “Rice Paper’s” in the warm water and then flop them on the plate. From there on it was a lot like building tortillas. The texture of the dipped rice paper was extremely sticky and these Asian tortillas looked a lot like food stuffed in a condom. Most importantly, they tasted good and Christy seemed to really enjoy the look on my face as I surveyed the pre-meal table. It’s good to see her laugh.

She seems determined to have an arsenal of 800 recipes aboard when we leave this fall, I asked her to make this one number 801.

August 21, 2009.

It’s been a week since I’ve written, so let me bring you up to date. My body is once again processing food as it was designed to do, so that’s a good thing. The insurance company finally decided after 5 days, that yes, they did approve the tests the doctor ordered, so that was a good thing as well.

Work has been interesting. I’ve come to realize that most people view their boats as toys, just like when they were kids. You know like when they left their new tricycle out in the rain, their skateboard in the driveway or their Matchbox Cars where they could be stepped on, they just don’t take care of their boats. I mean there are the rare exceptions, but most guys just show up at the boat, twist the key and expect everything to be as it should.

When they turn the key and the right things don’t happen that’s when you really find out what type of person you’re dealing with. Some guys stand there and freely admit that they don’t know when their oil was last changed, but they’re still pissed that the boat has let THEM down. We had a guy the other day whose engine had been immersed in salt water, LAST YEAR! He didn’t do anything about it and he couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that his supercharger was now one giant glop of rusted, non moving parts. He was practically acting like I had taken it apart incorrectly and had caused instantaneous catastrophic rust to form. The entire outside of the engine was one giant brown block of shit.

When you finally get these people to comprehend that these things happen because they don’t take care of their toys, they just fall apart. But, but I want to drive my buh, buh, boat. The, the, the other guys are all going out to play today. Sobbing like toddlers right down to the heaving shoulders, tear streaked cheeks and the little bubbles of snot when they breathe.

Dealing with the über rich is always interesting. Most of them are in a big hurry, gotta go, gotta get outta here, can you please doing anything for us? Of course they’re the first ones to bitch about the bill. Time and a half? You charged me time and a half because I called you on a Sunday morning and you were on my boat in 30 minutes just like you said you would? Really, when’s the last time you had a plumber come out to the house on a weekend and only charged straight time? I guess bitching about the bill is how you actually become über rich.

My favorite broken boaters are the people that appear interested in what happened and why. Some people want to be there just because they can make sure you’re actually working, while others “hover” because they want to learn a bit.

I had to replace the batteries in a woman’s boat the other day. She watched over my shoulder and commented “I could have done that”. I assured her she could have and suggested a few really good books that would walk her through several repairs that are sure to be in her future. The company charges a 2 hour minimum and I was done quickly so I spent over an hour talking her through changing her own oil, changing filters, bleeding her engine and adjusting her alternator belt.
But enough about work……

Christy has been hit pretty hard by this whole “change of life” thing. She was tempted to go visit friends for the next few weeks in an effort to get out of this oppressive heat and humidity. I needed to get to a dock so we could run the A/C for a couple of weeks.

Tonight we decided to pull the hook and go up and take a spot at my bosses dock. I got off work at 1700 hours so we started the boat and started to pull in the anchor chain. We pulled in about 5 feet of chain and……nothing. We were stuck on something, something big and solid. The windlass wouldn’t budge whatever had a hold of us.

We tried going forward and back for 10 minutes with no luck. The anchor chain was straight down and piano wire tight. Shit. Christy got my mask and snorkel and I went in to check out the situation.

Spa Creek is a murky, chocolate brown stream. At the surface visibility was literally 4 inches, at the bottom visibility was zero. I followed the chain to the bottom expecting to find our chain tangled on a sunken log or perhaps the bloated dead body of one of the local crabbermen. I was relieved yet sorely disappointed.

We were entangled in an abandoned mooring. I could literally see nothing at all but what I felt was a steel post jutting up 18 inches from the bottom with our chain wrapped several times around it. To make matters even more interesting, there was a 10 foot length of chain still attached to the mooring and it was thoroughly tangled with our chain. On top of that were the remnants of several anchor rodes that were lying on the bottom and were firmly wrapped around everything. There was even a piece of clothing wrapped up in this giant wad of shit. Crap.

I didn’t have any choice other than to cut it all free before I could even begin to think about untangling the chains. Every time I went to the bottom I cut a line or three free from the tangle. I had to dive on this mess at least 50 times to clear all the crap that could be cut away. Fortunately, I only cut one chunk out of one of my fingers. Once that was done I was able to find the end of the moorings chain and unwrap it from our anchor chain.

Once free of the “post of permanency” we idled up alongside the dock and tied up, plugged in and luxuriated in some A/C. She’ll stay….

August 15, 2009.

One of the biggest adjustments that we had to make when we sailed away was not having the comfort and convenience of seeing your own doctor. We had both been seeing the same physicians for several years. We were comfortable with them, we trusted them. So it was a big adjustment when they weren’t just a short drive away any longer.

As a result, whenever either one of us needs to see a doctor it’s pretty much a crap shoot. Who’s a quack? Who’s any good? Who’s accepting new patients? Can I get an appointment before the end of time? Then throw in the all important insurance question and we might as well go see a witch doctor in the Congo. I know he won’t accept Aetna either, but leeches are only like a dime apiece in the Congo, so we can pay cash.

I had been having some stomach “issues” off and on for about 10 days. On Thursday I got out of work early and felt lousy so I went right to bed. Christy informed me that I had 101 degree fever. Whatever. I woke up Friday with abdominal pains severe enough to keep me from going to work. Christy started the process of lining up a doctor’s appointment. We needed a place that allowed “walk ins” and that accepted our insurance. After some internet research and several phone calls we had a plan. Oh, what a plan it was…….

We got to the clinic at 1030 and sat there for over 4 straight hours. At 1445 we were ushered into one of the examination rooms. At 1530 the doctor finally graced us with his presence. After I explained the problem, he preformed an examination and decided that I needed a CT scan of my abdomen. The doctor was concerned that I might have a “back-up” so to speak, in my plumbing, since things have been going in, but not coming out. But before that could happen I had to go over to the hospital and have blood work done. Luckily I hadn’t eaten or had anything to drink since the night before.

The lab at the hospital closed at 1615 so we had to hurry. We made it with no time to spare. We had a giant hassle with the staff about our health insurance as the minutes ticked by. Finally we signed papers which said to we would be responsible for the bill since the FREAKING HOSPITAL doesn’t accept AETNA! Are you kidding me? Finally, the blood was drawn. After that it was back in the car and off to the imaging center.

So, when we got to the imaging center, imagine our surprise when they told us that Aetna hadn’t approved the procedure. Apparently, the receptionist at the Dr’s office did not get prior approval and then she went home, and so did everyone at Aetna, who could approve the test. So we needed the crack staff of in-house doctors to decide if the procedure was required.

So I’m supposed to wait while the “doctors” at Aetna decide my fate. But oh no, that won’t be today, because it’s already 1700 hours on a Friday afternoon. I guess that sitting in the doctor’s office for the better part of the day really didn’t help matters much. So we asked the girl if there was a chance that they would have an answer by the following morning. Well, she’s never actually had a situation like this rectified over the weekend.

So, it was back in the car and off to the original doctor’s office. Christy raised holy hell and we got in to see the doctor in about 15 minutes, this time. He did a good bit of tap dancing while trying to explain our options to us. Basically he said “Hmmmmm, this is a dilemma, what do YOU want to do?” I could head over to the emergency room and probably spend another 10-12 hours with the Friday night drunk rush, trying to get a CT scan. Or I could start taking some antibiotics and go home and see how that worked. If it did get worse once I was home and I had to go to the ER hopefully it would be in the middle of the night, after the Friday night rush. Oh yeah, there’s a bright spot. I’ll take curtain number two Monty……..drugs and a trip home.

So now it’s Saturday afternoon and I am feeling a bit better. If the trend continues I should be fine by morning. When I do finally take a shit, I think that I’ll box it up and send it off to Aetna. Doctor’s often need a stool sample to make an informed decision.

So when all is said and done, we jumped through their hoops, and at the last possible moment the insurance company that we pay thousands of dollars to every year decided that real doctoring can wait til Monday, if at all. What a crock of shit. Yet some people still try to convince me that health care reform isn’t warranted. That’s officially the end of my 2009 politically themed post, so don’t be afraid to come back.

On a more nautical note, I’ve got a new Boat Name of the Day.

Baycation…..It was a big sportfisher. I just thought it was a great attitude to bring to the boat with you. “Miss Smithers, hold my calls, I’ll be on Baycation”.

August 9, 2009.

On Wednesday the youngest girlchild graced us with her presence. She's been away, backpacking through Europe for a month so we were really happy to see her and hear about her trip. She’s been pretty busy between screening for a new roommate, working and getting ready for her last year in school. She was debating going back to Jersey to see people or trying to squeeze a visit in with us. She kinda just called up and said “hey, can I?” and the next thing I knew she was here. She and Christy did some fun stuff together during the day. It had been brutally hot so when I got home from work we opted to take the dink down the creek and into town for dinner.

My favorite place in town is kind of a working mans pub called the Armadillo. It’s kind of dark and a little seedy but serves the best damn food in town. The menu is kind of limited but the servings are copious and really good. It also doesn’t hurt that there’s an ice cream parlor right next door. So after dinner we walked further into town and stopped in for some ice cream on the way home for the dinghy ride back to the boat. It’s really nice to have Ashlee spend the night, especially since it usually ends with ice cream.

On Saturday I had to work for just 2 hours to finish up a job and get a guy underway. Until the phone rang that is. We got a call from a guy we fixed a few days ago who had a different problem and just HAD to have us there ASAP. Fine. While we were on the second boat the marina refered a third guy to us and as we’re taking care of him a fourth guy showed up and begged us to come over to his boat when we were done.

The last guy had just come into port and his A/C wouldn’t work. The catch was that he had 2 bigass Detroit twin turbo diesel engines crammed into his engine room. You know, the same place his 4 air conditioner units were. He had a thermometer on the wall in the engine room that read 128 degrees. It was humid as hell in there and the engines were so hot that you couldn’t touch them. The companionway between the engines was only a few inches wider than I am. As the boat gently rocked it was pssst, a burn on my left shoulder. Pssstt, a burn on my right tricep, pssst, another on my left forearm, back and forth repeatedly. It royally sucked.

Fortunately, we were able to find a burned out board that controlled the A/C water circulation pump. We couldn’t get a new board until next week so the owner opted to have us hotwire the pump to run continuously. So, he had A/C for the weekend and we were soon on our way home.

So since I had some time for myself on Sunday I spent it, how else, that’s right, fixing the generator. Armed with the newly purchased service manual I was able to successfully set the timing. I did have to remove the head to make sure that I didn’t bend a valve or damage the piston. It all went well and was back together in a couple of hours. When I was done I cranked the engine through by hand and all appeared to be good. I forgot to bring my torque wrench and feeler gauges home from work so I’ll have to put the finishing touches on it tomorrow evening after work. But as of right now things are looking pretty good.

It was pretty damn hot today and as a result the local Mexican crabbermen were pretty drunk by the time afternoon rolled around. There was one guy that obviously gave up on crabbing so he could dedicate his attention to drinking. You never go swimming after eating but after drinking……nobody ever said anything about that. He was swimming along in the slowest dog paddle/ breaststroke I’ve ever seen. He was going from one anchored boat to another and hanging from the anchor chain to rest. So inevitably, he got to our boat. I was sitting in the cockpit with my post generator celebration cocktail as Miguel Phelps swam up and started hanging on our chain.

He was not hurting anything but I have every confidence that this WILL become a problem. I was sitting there trying to remember my high school Spanish. I can remember “Donde esta el banõ? (where’s the bathroom?) and “El pluma esta en le tabla”( the pen is on the table). But when it came to “get your hands off my boat before I have to choke you” I was drawing a complete blank. I must have been absent that day.

Both dogs were standing directly over him looking straight down at him. I briefly considered flashing my wallet and screaming “Immigracioń” to watch as he set a swimming record on his way back to the woods. Then slowly but surely I watched as the dogs made their way back from the bow, still looking over the toerail as Seńor Phelps made his way aft. Is he kidding?

I got up, strapped on an attitude and made my way aft. I lookd over the stern and was met by the grin adorned face of a slobbering drunk. This guy was completely shit faced and hanging on our swim platform. He couldn’t speak any English and I didn’t need to use the bathroom, so we were at an impasse. The awkward moment was broken when I realized that not only couldn’t he speak English, he was so drunk he couldn’t speak Spanish either. He had little drunken eyes rolling in his head, a flat out stupid grin on his face and sounded like a baby with a spoonful of carrots in his mouth as he attempted to speak. How am I supposed to cop an attitude with that? I looked at him and said “Adios senor, tu familia esta en la tabla” (Goodbye mister, your family is on the table). Hey, it’s the best I could do. His eyes kind of clouded, his grin widened, he waved and swam slowly back towards shore.

With an international incident averted Christy and I decided to take a dinghy ride down the creek to try and beat the heat or at least feel some breeze. We were almost a mile away when my phone rang. Our friend Jeff was on the line and he asked me “Bill, are you aware that you have a Mexican hanging from your bow?” So I turned the dink around and headed back. Then Jeff told me that the guy had once again made his way to the stern and was now attempting to get up on the swim platform.

So we made our way back to the boat and as we came around the last bend in the creek we were met by the sight of this guy hanging from our swim platform. He had one foot up on the platform and was hanging by both arms from the dinghy lifting lines. His head, ass and the rest of him was down in the water with both hands and one foot up in the air. We pulled right up to him without him realizing that we were there. Christy announced our presence by screaming at him “hey, get off our boat!” while I removed his hands from the lines. She was so loud that I was even startled. He swam slowly away from the boat out towards the middle of the creek. He looked back like a sad, a very sad puppy that’s been sent on its way.

I dinghied over to the other crabbermen and their families. I explained that Senor Phelps was pretty drunk and shouldn’t be out in the river clinging to the boats. They thanked me profusely and called Miguel back to shore. As I made my way back to the boat I passed Senor Phelps and he had his drunken grin back on and waved as we passed. Puppies evidently have short memories.

August 4, 2009.

I was able to order my generator parts, including the service manual through work so things are looking better on that front.

I thought that I would post a few pictures of how the “other” half lives. No, not my other half, rich folks. These are a few pictures of an Oyster 68 that I have to fix, what else, the generator on.

The thing is driven by a pair of 135 horsepower Mercedes diesel engines. That’s right twin engines. It also has a 15 KW generator and a 7.8 KW generator which is currently on the fritz.

The salon area is to is to die for with comfortable seating for dominoes.

The inside helm station is pretty nice and would be pretty comfortable in the event of bad weather.

There’s a nice sized galley with breakfast seating for 4.



Up forward there are 4 bunks for crew with a huge master stateroom for the owners aft. The boat is really nice but I gotta say that I was pretty disappointed with the smallish size of the master bunk. Although they do have a full sized couch in the master stateroom. There is however, a single bunk back there as well, I’m not real sure what the hell that’s all about.

The massive cockpit has room to easily seat a dozen fat folks. The decks are covered in teak and the duel exhausts just look kinda cool.


The boat is for sale because the owner wants something a little smaller. I’m thinking that a straight up trade for a nice Pearson 42 would be a pretty good deal for all involved. As a matter of fact, its fair right down to the fact that we both have generators on board that don’t work. I hope he doesn’t fall off the dock laughing when I ask him……

August 2, 2009.

Guess who! That’s right. Guess where! Right again, Spa Creek in Annapolis, Md.

Well, I got my new parts for the generator and installed everything. There was to be a bit of irony though. You see, at work I’ve probably fixed a half dozen generators in the last 2 weeks. So it was ironic that when I cranked our newly reassembled generator over I found that I had screwed up the timing. The way that the incorrect timing made itself know to me was by the top of the piston coming into contact with one of the valves and bending the shit out of one of my pushrods. F*%k. I can’t believe this shit. Of course, it was on Saturday morning so I got to stew in my own juices waiting for Monday morning so I could order new parts. So it seems that I can fix other peoples crap but I screwed up my own. Ironic, moronic…..whatever. Damn.

Right after the generator “event” my boss called and asked if I could put in a few hours. So I dinghied in and found myself tasked with installing a new stackpack on a small sailboat. It all went pretty well and the new stackpack looks pretty sweet on the guy’s boat.

On Sunday Christy and I were supposed to go pick up a catamaran that had been hit by lightning and bring it in for repairs. But at 0835 on Sunday morning “Bob” called and asked if I wanted to put in a few hours as 2 boats had broken down in the city marina and were referred to us. So at 0900 “Bob” and I drove down to the marina and headed to either boat.

It turns out that the boat “Bob” went to was in the care of a new captain / engineer and he might not be as familiar with his new command as his resume might have led his new employer to believe. It seems that they had come in from Baltimore, docked for the night and when the boat was started in the morning it soon died. These bigger boats all have several fuel tanks and it turned out that they had run out of fuel in their selected tank. The captain was certain that he had 75 gallons of fuel in that tank before the beginning of their short trip to Annapolis. “Bob” had to explain to him that in a boat this size 75 gallons is nothing. So after changing to a full tank and a bit of bleeding they were up, running and on their way again.

My boat for the day was an 85 foot monster. They were also having fuel starvation issues. The engine room was massive and housed two 12 cylinder twin turbo diesel engines and a pair of generators that were each bigger than my boats propulsion engine.

The captain said that the port side generator failed, followed shortly by the other generator and then this morning during warm up both main engines died. He also assured me that nobody had been in the fuel system. So I was left to ponder how the hell all this air got into the system. Its gotta be sucking air somewhere. I crawled through the engine room and all the way to the bow tank, which was their chosen tank, looking for evidence of a leak.

There were 4 different fuel tanks, 2 main engines and 2 generators. None of them would run because of air in the fuel lines. The boat has a huge manifold system and I was able to determine that they all only had one line in common. The main fuel line from the number 1 tank. So I switched the selector to tank number 2 and isolated the port engine. Then I started to bleed it. The system is so big that it took me an hour to bleed it but viola, the port engine started right up and purred like a 4000 pound kitten. Then I did the starboard engine with the same results. It was when I was bleeding the port generator that I realized what the actual problem was.

You see, it’s a good habit that whenever you change a filter on an engine that you use a marker and date the filter so you can tell at a glance just when it was last changed. As I was sitting there pumping fuel to the generator I noticed the date on the spin on fuel filter and it was 8/1/09, yesterday. So it seemed that someone HAD been into the fuel system. Oh look, and they were in there on the same day the problems started. Coincidence? I think not.

When the port generator died the captain / engineer decided to change the filter and evidently screwed it up bigtime. Some how he got air into the entire system. The only thing I can figure is that he had the other generator running while he opened the fuel system and he sucked air into it as the other generator drew in its fuel. That would explain the starboard side dying and then there being air in all the lines when it was time to fire the main engines in the morning. So once realizing that there probably wasn’t any leak at all things went like they were supposed to and everything was soon running.

The owner was aboard and was pretty happy that we had come out on a Sunday and he was psyched that I got him running. As a result I got the first tip I’ve seen since working in Annapolis. But its already spent......new pushrods.

When I got home to the boat there was a bit of entertainment going on in the adjacent mooring field. It seems that someone brought their wee powerboat into the river and dropped the hook and then dinghied in to town. Then their wee powerboat dragged into the mooring field where it came to rest against one of the empty moorings. If you look closely in the picture you can see his tiny rope anchorline pointing almost straight down. And they'll be wondering why they dragged....

July 25, 2009.

The Generator Chronicles.

Hello from Spa Creek. I’ve been working a lot and I generally get home in time to eat dinner as it gets dark. As a result I really haven’t had the time necessary to take our generator apart.

I was able to determine that a small adjustment screw was stripped. Unfortunately, the screw is captive in the generator and the only way to access it is to split the case. It’s not something I wanted to do but it is what it is.

Since I have Saturday off I brought all my tools home from work and went to work on the genny. The first thing I had to do was drain the engine oil. While the oil was draining I started some peripheral disassembly. When I pulled the injector pump from the side of the case I was heartbroken as I peered inside.


There in the bottom of the now empty crankcase was a large piece of the generator adjustment casting. Damn. I got it all apart and the screw that I thought was stripped, was indeed. But now instead of drilling it oversized and retaping the hole I’ve got to order the entire arm on Monday. Crap. At least the casting for the arm also includes the screw assembly so it’s like 2 birds with 1 stone. I hope it’s in stock. But then again Fisher Pandas are such unreliable pieces of shit that I’m sure the parts department is well stocked.

The weather here has been partly cloudy with a chance of thunderstorms every night for the last week. We’ve been without a generator for over 2 weeks now and the solar panels have just been able to keep up with the demand. Lately though the sun just hasn’t been cooperating and we need some generating.

Fortunately for us, our magical, jet setting friends from Inamorata are about to head out to do another show. This means that they’ll be gone for several days and their brand new Honda portable generator will be home alone. With an extreme stroke of luck, Christy called them just as they were heading out the door. They had a quick stop to make at the boat and then would be gone until the middle of next week. Christy asked to borrow the Honda, they said “sure, no problem”, I dinghied ashore, jumped in my work truck and met them at their boat.

Of course, as soon as I got back to the boat with the generator we had small craft warnings and a brutal front come through. It started to rain like hell and I didn’t want to run their new generator in the rain so we’ll have to wait until morning to make some power.

Until then Christy and I will sit here with Molly and Tucker and our 2 house guests, Jake and Gus watching it rain. Jake and Gus are a pair of Westies that belong to our friends on Alibi II who are out of town for the weekend. Until they get back and pick up their dogs I shall be known as Noah.....

On a semi interesting side note. Yesterday I got to work on a Downeaster named Alexis that supposedly formerly belonged to Billy Joel. Ya know as in the song, Downeaster Alexis. I was unable to detect any scent of Christie Brinkley. It might have been the same boat or it could have been a powerboater bullshit story, I dunno, either way it was a gorgeous boat.

Post Edit: I just googled up the Downeaster Alexis. It turns out that Billy Joel did have a boat of this type but it is called the Downeaster Alexa not Alexis. F#*king bullshit artist powerboater.....

The mooring balls are a little close together.......

July 19, 2009.

We’re still here in Spa Creek. Being so close to the park gives us an opportunity to watch as others spend their weekends communing with the water.

On most weekends a bunch of newbie kayakers will show up and be led through a series of kayak safety lessons.
It’s pretty interesting to watch as the class is taught to flip themselves over and then right themselves. There seems to be a lot more to the whole kayaking thing than I had realized.

There was some type of big family gathering up in the park and one guy spent the better part of the day taking small kids out in a canoe for a trip along the waterfront. It was kinda cool as he taught each new canoeist how to handle their paddle. If you look closely you can see that had flotation attached on either side of the canoe to make things safer.

Another fairly new trend on the water is kind of a Polynesian based water sport. You stand on what amounts to a large surf board and use a long handled paddle to propel yourself along. Some people look really at ease while others seem to be a little more hunched over and

concentrating on staying balanced. I guess it would be a good workout.

I finished a big project the other day. A guy’s 400 pound generator died recently. The engine side of the generator had failed. There was no room to separate the generator side of the unit from the engine while it was still down in the generator room. So I had to build an arch over the generator so we could use a come along to lift it out of its hole in the middle of the salon.
After we got the generator out, we split the engine off and one of the other guys drove it to South Carolina. There’s an engine place there that stocks this same engine but needed ours as a core trade-in.

So we had our brand new engine in just 2 days. The first thing I did was to paint it white so it matched the rest of the generator.
Then it was off to the boat to mate it back up with the generator so I could drop it back down into place. It was a bit of a chore to get the thing out of the truck and carry it down the damn finger pier and
onto the boat but “Bob” and I were able to pull it off without any major injuries. It took the better part of the day to put it all together, drop it into place and then reconnect all the associated hoses and wiring. It all went well and the guy is back in the energy making business.

In an ironic twist of fate, our generator is once again giving me fits. It wouldn’t start and I traced the problem down to the fuel shut off solenoid. We ordered the part and once it arrived I installed it and met with limited success. The engine now starts and runs, but it runs in an overspeed condition. When the generator runs at too high an RPM it generates too much voltage and can quickly destroy your electrical system. The generator has a governor that controls the speed of the engine. We’ve had problems several times in the past so I’ve become somewhat of an expert at setting the governor. But try as I might, I cannot get the engine to run at the correct speed. Its driving me crazy…….

July 9, 2009.

This evening a guy stopped by the boat in his dink. His boat is anchored nearby and he stopped in to say hello. It turns out that he’s also from New Jersey and had met us just before we departed 3 years ago. He and a buddy boat are here in the Chesapeake for a 2 week cruise. Back in Barnegat Bay we kinda stuck out like a sore thumb. We’re a fairly large boat with a lot of solar panels and a wind generator. Not a very common sight back on the bay. Anyway, he remembered the boat and stopped in for a quick hello. It’s hard to believe that we’ve been gone for 3 years already.

As for us, life’s been treating us pretty good. Christy’s been taking care of a lot of our boat chores and I’ve been working. Work has actually been a pretty good gig. I like the fact that it’s always something different.

It’s also been eye opening. No matter what kind of boat maintenance woes we might have it seems that somebody else has something worse going on. I met a woman the other day whose father died and left his sailboat to her and her husband. They love the boat and are using the boat as much as possible. Unfortunately, it seems that Dad didn’t actually believe in taking care of his boat.

It’s a bit Spartan but nice enough. Unfortunately the boat needs thousands of dollars worth of work to get it back in normal running condition. It needs belts and hoses, an oil change, a raw water impeller and a new transducer for the depth sounder. An external oil line is rotted to the point of leaking. The raw water sea strainer actually has a hole rotted right through the bottom of it. There are literally 20 things on their immediate “to do” list. When presented with the estimate for the list of repairs she never broke her smile and said “great, when can you have it taken care of”. She obviously still in her “new boat” infatuation stage.

I usually bitch about people who come in and drop the hook like they don’t have a care in the world. This couple was from the other end of the spectrum. When they dropped the hook they didn’t


actually set it but they did spend over an hour at the bow monitoring the situation. They alternated between gingerly touching the anchor rode to “feel” if the anchor was dragging and looking all about. It seems that they drag fairly regularly. I guess they didn’t get to the page about actually setting the hook but at least they’re conscientious in their ineptitude.

The other night Christy made some cookies that looked less than appealing. I forgot to put on my poker face when I saw them. She was a little disappointed in the fact that I might find something unappealing just because of the way it looked. Alright, she was pissed and forbade me from having any. After a day or so I was finally allowed to partake in these treasured little gems of culinary delight. Looks aside, these are the best damn cookies I’ve ever eaten. Ever. I’m not just saying that because I want more either. I even served them to friends the other night (after dark) and they thought they were fantastic as well.

July 4, 2009.

First off, Happy Fourth of July. We hope everyone had clear skies and an unimpeded view this evening.

Jerry Lewis used to do a huge telethon every year to raise money for finding the cure for Muscular Dystrophy. I’m not really even sure what Muscular Dystrophy is but Jerry seemed pretty sincere and worked very hard to help in its eradication.

The whole pink ribbon thing has really taken off. Everywhere you look there’s a walk or a cycling event or some other well attended function looking to raise money for the fight against breast cancer. It seems that great strides forward have been made in survivability and a cure is surely in the near future.

But, what about stupid? There are no telethons or marches to raise money in an effort to fight the plague of “stupid” that ravages our nation. Do you know why? I do. You can’t cure stupid. Try as you might…dress em’ up , send em’ to school…they can earn diplomas, degrees and honors of all types and still be stupid as a stone. (a quick apology to all the stones that I’ve lumped together with that unfortunate bit of stereotyping)

Through exhaustive research into “stupid” I’ve uncovered a chink in the DNA of stupid people. They seem to completely lack or at least have an undeveloped “common sense” gene. The lack of common sense seems to be at the root of the epidemic of stupidity running unchecked today.

Yesterday we met stupid head on, or should I say bow on. We’ve been anchored in Spa Creek in Annapolis for 2 weeks now. With the advent of the holiday weekend the river has been getting increasingly more crowded with both anchored boats and boat traffic.

There’s a constant parade of powerboats taking a slow river cruise. Most boats have several people on board as the local boat owner takes his “out of town” company for a quick “Gilligan”. (A 3 hour tour, a 3 hour tour) We’ve had no less than a half dozen boats sporting “Annapolis” as their home port try to anchor near us here in the river.

It seems that being from Annapolis and having a boat does not actually make you a mariner. I guess living here with your boat at a dock, going out for a sail and coming back to the dock doesn”t get you a lot of anchoring practice. I know I’m a bit of an anchoring snob but I gotta say, most of these people couldn’t drop and set a hook to save their lives. I mean its truly pathetic although quite entertaining. This has nothing to do with stupid, it was just an observation, the stupid part is coming up……

I had yesterday off because of the holiday. We spent an hour during the afternoon jerry jugging water out to the boat. It takes me about a minute to drive the dink to the water dock. Once there it takes about 5 minutes to fill the 2 jugs and then it’s another minute back to the boat.

I was on my sixth trip when I arrived back at the boat and I could tell Christy was pretty pissed. (It’s an awareness I’ve developed) It seems that the 40 foot powerboat that’s floating 60 feet off our starboard side had just hit us. Christy had just poked her head up from below figuring that it was time for me to be back with the water. Instead of me heading her way she was shocked to see a forty foot piece of shit powerboat 3 feet away and broadside to our bow. There were 4 adults and an older teenager on board and none of them had any idea that they were even near us.

Christy screamed out “hey!” and they all jumped an turned just as our second anchor sitting in its bow roller started to dig a very satisfying gouge into their port side. The “captain” started to yell at Christy to fend him off as his “crew” sat there dumbstruck. Christy was already on her way forward, grabbed the boat pole and was able to clear him from us as he drifted down our starboard side. She was also able to give him a good reaming and to point out his shortcomings as a mariner.

He was screaming that he had one engine out and was unable to maneuver. Oh my God, only one engine, how will they ever survive? He almost hit the boat behind us before he decided to use his remaining engine and move off into the clear. Once clear of the anchored boats, his boat was facing down river so he took off. The f*#ker just hit and ran us.

At about this time I got back to the boat with our jugs of water. Christy filled me in on what had just happened. I pulled the dink around to the front of the boat and checked for damage. Fortunately we were unmarked. Christy assured me that he has a ten foot long reminder of our encounter along his port side. The 45 pound CQR is a decent anchor and makes a hell of a ball point pen.

I know that I promised to leave out the names of some boats in an effort to protect someone from embarrassment but in this case I think that it’s warranted. So if you are ever anchored anywhere in the Chesapeake and return to find that your boat has been damaged by another boat that did not stick around to make amends…….. It was probably the Pussy Cat, a 40 foot older powerboat with a 10 inch tall faded pink cove stripe out of Severna Park, Maryland.

The fun didn’t end yesterday. This morning we woke to find a small powerboat anchored in front of the sailboat ahead of us. After a getting our shit together we were headed to shore in the dink when I realized that the powerboat had moved dramatically closer to the boat in front of us.

We swung by the sailboat and asked if that was their perception as well. The woman on board replied “ Oh Christ, yeah, he already dragged between all of us earlier this morning and it looks like he’s moving again”. This is like a 19 foot cuddy cabin, tiny assed powerboat. There’s literally 5 knots of breeze…...if that and he’s dragging. We moved alongside him and rapped on the hull. He popped up and said “Oh no, not again” and went about fixing the situation.

I wonder if I could start a grass roots movement, maybe even a telethon in an effort to do some stupidity research. There’s gotta be a cure. Hmmm, maybe I can get a government grant.

June 30, 2009.

There’s been nothing of note to report as of late, unless you want to read about work. Works been pretty good. There’s been something different every day, which is good.

It’s especially fun being here in Annapolis because so many cruising boats are coming through. I had to cure a starting problem for a cruising boat just yesterday. The cool thing about it was that since they were on a mooring down in the basin I got to take the bosses Boston Whaler down to the mooring field to do the repair. It was the furthest I’ve ever driven a powerboat.

Before noon today I had to go about 20 miles out of town and fix a fuel delivery problem and then take the boat out for a test drive. It was a little disconcerting to be taking someone else’s boat out without them being on board. The guy didn’t have a GPS and his depth sounder wasn’t working. So I’m on an unfamiliar boat, with no depth sounder, no chart, in waters I’m unfamiliar with and hey look, is that a storm cell headed my way.

Fortunately the boat was a smaller Beneteau and handled like a dream. I backed it out of the slip and smartly down the fairway. She spun around nicely and I made several passes up and down the vaguely marked channel. I had no idea if I had 6 inches or 6 feet under me, it kinda sucked and my ass was sore from being puckered until I once again approached the sanctuary of the slip. I just got the boat tied up, closed up and was unloading my tools when the small front hit. It only poured for a few minutes and it wasn’t as bad as it looked.

In the afternoon I installed a FRESH water anchor wash down on a large powerboat. I can’t even begin to imagine having enough fresh water that I could afford to rinse the mud from my anchor in fresh water. It’s funny to me just how much my definition of “decadence” has changed since we’ve been cruising. Oooh, unlimited fresh water, how decadent.

June 27, 2009.

It suddenly came rushing back to me just why I always looked forward to the weekends. No work. Anyway…..

On Thursday evening we were pleased to be able to host the youngest girlchild and 3 of her friends from school. It was brutally hot but the girls were good sports about the heat. After dinner and a few drinks they even got into the nautical spirit. It was good to have them aboard and we look forward to seeing them again later in the year.


Today we decided to try a different bus line and a trip to a different grocery store. We walked into town and found ourselves in the midst of a cross country bicycle race finish line. I can’t imagine riding a damn bike all the way across the entire country.




So we got up to town just in time to miss the bus we wanted to take. The next one was due to arrive in an hour. We decided to take an alternate bus so we tried to chat the driver up as we boarded in an effort to make sure we would end up where we wanted to. Evidently actually having to interact with the public wasn’t in this guy’s job description. Talk about a nasty little power tripping piece of shit. In our 12 second interaction I started to understand the “other side” of those “deranged man kills bus driver” headlines.

We got where we wanted to go and after shopping we waited over an hour for the next bus back to town. This driver was a woman who was courteous to people’s faces but had nothing but snide remarks to make about the patrons after they exited the bus. Oh yeah, these buses don’t have air conditioning and are hotter than hell. We left the boat at around 11am, dinghied, walked, stood around waiting for buses, shopped for about 45minutes, and reversed the trip and got back to the boat at 3pm. Next time we will walk.

I really don’t understand how something as simple as a bus ride can be such an ordeal. We’ve ridden the bus in Miami, Vero Beach, Charleston, the Florida Keys and Washington, DC. We’ve been on buses in the poorest parts of huge cities. We’ve ridden buses where we’ve been the only English speaking people. We’ve ridden buses where we had a difficult time communicating with the driver because of a language barrier. But until today every bus driver we’ve met has gone out of their way to help us learn the ropes of their bus route. Every other bus line that we’ve ridden has always been a positive experience. Cleanliness, promptness, courteous drivers and a schedule that seems to make sense all have been common, except here in Annapolis. Don’t get me started about the traffic……

June 25, 2009.

I’ve completed my first 3 days on the new job. The first day was interesting to say the least.

I headed out with one of the bosses to knock out a few repairs. The first boat of the day was at first glance, an easy one. The boat was having starting issues and needed their hot water heater replaced. The boss, who I’ll call “Bob” went below to start troubleshooting the engine while I slipped into a cockpit locker to replace the hot water heater.

Unfortunately the holding tank, the completely full holding tank, was in the way. A plan was formulated where I was to put some straps around the tank and winch it to the side about 4 inches enabling me to get at the hot water heater. It worked like a charm and the new hot water heater was soon in place. That is until things all went to hell.

I had the engine water side and the electrical connections completed and was just starting the fresh water side when I noticed a slow drip from one of the bottom fittings of the holding tank. I though “ut oh, that’s not good”. I was only looking at it. I never touched it, I didn’t poke it, fondle it or encourage it but all of a sudden the entire fitting fractured and popped apart. I guess the 25 year old hard plastic fitting didn’t have the elasticity to flex at all when I pulled the tank aside. Shit. Literally, everywhere. A 2 inch gusher of the unimaginable, flooding the locker, going down the limber hole and filling the bilge. Crap. Again, literally.

Of course, the owner was there but fortunately she was pretty cool about the situation. “Bob” finished the engine repair and he and I methodically cleaned the locker and all of the several contaminated bilges. After the bilges were clean the owner continued to flush the nether regions of the boat with fresh water while I finished up the hot water tank and “Bob” took the holding tank down to have a new fitting plastic welded in.

The holding tank was promised for later that day so we headed off for the next job. It turned out to be a straightforward remove and replace job. A 50 foot powerboat needed new trim tab actuators. Simple, quick and not involving fecal matter of any type……perfect.

The third boat of the day was a work in progress. We got there and had enough time to install a new flywheel, damper plate and bell housing. We got the starter in and mounted the transmission and it was time to go. On the way back we picked up the repaired holding tank and stopped in and reinstalled it.

It ended up being a 10 hour day but in spite of the shitty start, things went pretty darn well.

Day 2 was another 10 hour day, the last 3 of which I spent installing a pair of solar panels on a cruising boat. Of all the things I’ve done so far this was definitely my favorite.

The highlight of day 3 was fixing an overheating powerboat and getting to take it out for a test spin. I monitored engine temps at the heat exchanger until we got out to the Severn River where we got to open her up. The thing did 33 knots and left a wake about the size of a dinghy. I even got to drive the thing back to its slip…… Yeah, it was a glimpse into the dark side and I gotta say "I just don't see the allure".

June 23, 2009.

While we were headed to Annapolis our friend Bess (who should be a Headhunter) was already here doing some legwork for us. She works at a local chandlery and had her antenna up for a job opening for me.

She told me of a friend who was the service manager at one of the local marinas. I went down and applied and had a pretty good interview. I left with the promise of a phone call in a day or two. On Wednesday the service manager called with a half dozen more questions. He told me he had to discuss me with the 2 guys he works for. By Friday I was done waiting for the phone to ring so I headed down there in the dink.

As luck would have it, I walked in while both of the bosses were in the office. While we were discussing my possible employment an employee walked in and started to discuss a problem he was having while attempting to paint a boot stripe on a boat. They both threw some possible solutions at him and he assured them that he’d tried them all. They told him they’d be right down as soon as they were finished with me. I interviewed with each of the guys separately and aced both interviews. They told me that they had a few fires to put out and after they talked to each other they would call me in an hour or so.

I walked out psyched. I aced the interviews, the phone call was just a formality…or so I thought. The phone call did not come that day. The next morning I called the service manager who told me that the employee that couldn’t handle the painting has been with them awhile and they’re going to give him the job that I was applying for and then use the opening to hire a professional painter. Shit. Talk about crappy timing.

On Saturday we were boatbound by the weather so job hunting was a no go. This enabled me to stew in the juices of my recent employment failure. On Sunday, nobody in charge is at the local marinas so I spent some time embellishing, er, updating my resume.

Monday morning I got a call from Bess. It seemed that some guy with a marine repair service was in to buy some supplies and she chatted him up. Turned out he was looking for somebody, Bess thought of me because I am somebody. She excused herself from the conversation and called the boat and told me to call him in 20 minutes.

We looked his business up on the internet and emailed him my resume. I waited a half hour and rang him up. He said he’d look at my resume when he got home and give me a call later.

5 o’clock came and went, 6 o’clock as well. Shit, another dead end, or so I thought. At 7 o’clock the phone rang and Christy went below to answer it. The look on her face was a little confused at first as she ascended the companionway steps.

The caller said to her “Is your boat white with blue canvas?”
She warily said “yes”
Then he asked “Did you have to go below to answer the phone?”
Now she’s a little freaked out but answers “yes”

It turned out that he’d just gotten home and was out on his deck, having a beer and was reading my resume when he decided to call. By a stroke of dumb luck, we’re anchored directly behind his house. He invited me up to the house to interview right then and there.

I hopped in the dink and headed right over. I had another good interview and was hired and told I could start the following day. I was having conflicting emotions. I was glad to get a good opportunity but after 3 years of not having to get up first thing in the morning for work I was a little frightened by the prospect of waking at dawn. That was when he told me that they usually start at 0900. He thought I was smiling at the thought of a new job, yeah that’s good, but starting at 0900 is awesome.

June 22, 2009.

We’re still here in Annapolis and the weather has finally broken. We were pretty much stuck on the boat for several days. It was either blowing like stink or it was pouring buckets.

On Sunday we finally got off the boat to do a little walking around. We also decided that we better get out and do a little food shopping while we had the chance. We definitely needed some fresh veggies before the onset of scurvy. There’s no grocery store in downtown Annapolis so the trip to the store involved a bus ride.

Instead of walking to the nearest bus stop we did a little walkabout in an effort to loosen up the old legs. It was fortunate that we did because we walked right into an Irish Festival. It was a couple of blocks long and had food, shopping and loads of entertainment. There were Irish step dancers, a kilt wearing Irish rock band and of course the obligatory fife and drum corp, oh, and beer.

The Irish were out in numbers and I even saw my first Irish Wolf Hounds. I had never seen one before and was pretty surprised at just how freaking big they were. Back in the day, before the Irish invented binge drinking, they were a pretty violent people. They often used these huge dogs in battle. Now I understand the whole "kilt thing". You see those bigass dogs headed your way you could probably run a hell of a lot faster unencumbered by pants.

After walking through the festival we were on the bus and off to the grocery store. I’ll spare you the details of the food shopping but it was pretty standard. Lotta isles, lotta stuff, as always, that stuff turns out to be pretty darn heavy, lotta lugging, bus ride, dinghy ride and back to the boat to put it all away.

While putting the groceries away we saw something completely new to us. Mexicans fishing in the wild. Actually, they were crabbing. It’s just that the technique was something that we had never seen before. They would wade out into the water and press a stick firmly into the bottom. They’d tie a string to the top of the stick and a piece of chicken to the other end and throw it into the water.

Then they would walk a short distance away to watch and wait. When a crab would come along and grab the chicken they would try to walk away with it. The string would go taught and the crabbermen would be happy.
They would take their dip net and sneak up to the stick and try to slowly draw the crab in until they could thrust the net upon them. This technique was new to us and very exciting. I watched them crabbing for an hour and then I realized that this new technique was also pretty stupid. They didn’t catch shit. When a crab is in the water, he’s in his element, what are the chances of actually sneaking up on a crab. Every time they’d pull that crab close they would thrust the net into the water and only come up with a piece of chicken tied to a string.

Of course the next day 2 women showed up and tried the very same technique. They also didn’t catch shit. Although, I think they just wanted to spend the day in thigh deep, murky river water chatting about whatever mindless crap, unsuccessful crabberwomen talk about.

June 16, 2009.

After an oil change we decided to get out of Solomon’s and head for Annapolis. The forecast was for 5 to 10 knots out of the southeast, so of course, we got pretty much the opposite. So we sailed close hauled into 5 to 10 knots out of the northwest. By noon the wind died and we had to crank up the engine.

As the day went on the wind did finally swing around and start to come out of the southeast. The wind was light enough that I was getting pretty jealous of the boats that were flying spinnakers. Unfortunately, the wind was so light that they weren’t really going anywhere either. By 1500 hours the breeze did start to fill a bit and we shut down the engine and slowly sailed north.

We did see a bit of big
boat traffic on the bay but we didn’t really have to avoid anyone. Later in the day we had a pretty violent storm blow across our bow. So we got the benefit of some 15 knot breeze that we were able to put to good use for the last 10 miles of the day.

We arrived in Annapolis at 1730 and decided to take a mooring ball for the night. The area where we usually anchor along the naval academy was just too rough. The next morning we slipped the mooring and headed up Spa Creek.

There’s a small lift bridge at the mouth of the creek. Once through the bridge we were disappointed to find that Spa Creek was literally paved with mooring balls. We took our time heading up the creek and considered dropping the hook here and there. It’s just so tight here in the creek that it seemed that no matter where we dropped the hook we would at some point be encroaching on the channel or sitting too close to someone's dock.

Finally after about 3/4’s of a mile we found a little room just past the last mooring in the creek. We’re next to some kind of state park so we snuggled up close to that bank of the creek since there were no docks sticking out into the river.

Last night we met some friends in town for a couple of hours of catching up before heading home for dinner. On the way home we received a call from the Alibi II's who were on a friends boat, anchored near ours. So we swung home and dressed a little warmer and headed over to Krasna to see Bill & Bess and meet Krasna's owner Lee. It turned out that we had briefly met Lee down in Elizabeth City. We happened to be walking by when he arrived and we caught his bow lines as he pulled into the slip. Small world, had a great time, laughed for hours, went home way too late.

The weather is kinda crappy so we’re probably going to be spending a good bit of time sitting here on the boat.