Karma

September 3, 2014.

            So I'm sitting in traffic waiting at a red light waiting to turn to port.  There’s 2 lanes dedicated for port turns and 1 lane for going either straight or to starboard.  I'm the fourth vehicle in the left lane amongst a shit ton of cars.

            The light changes to green and the first 2 cars in my lane move along.  The guy in front of me is just sitting there.  After a few seconds I give one of those polite little bips on the horn.  You know, kinda like “pardon me my fellow traveler, the traffic in front of you has departed and I'm not sure why this wasn't obvious to you but perhaps now you might endeavor to get along as well so we all don't have to sit through this fucking light again”.

            I can see his eyes rise up to the rear view mirror and then drop back down towards his lap.  Either he and his penis are deep in a very important conversation or hes texting.  He either didn't notice that the light has changed and the cars in front of him are long gone or hes just an asshole.  Either way, the lights green dude, lets get moving.  So I lay into the horn in one of those prolonged blasts as are the people behind me.

            Its about this time that I realize that one of the cars in the lane next to me has stopped abreast of me.  I look over and its a uniformed cop in a marked car.  Right at this moment the genius in the car in front of me sticks his hand up through the sunroof and flips me off while still clutching his cellphone as he pulls away.  I turn my head and pull my sunglasses down on my nose and stare over them at the cop.  He kinda smirked at me and pulled ahead of me as we made our turns.

            He then proceeded to pull Mr. Cellphone over.  While being fortunate to witness Karma dishing out a dose of cosmic justice I still had to gloat a bit.  As I slowly rolled by Mr. Cellphone I gave him another bip on the horn and when he looked up I held my hand to my head and gave him the international sign for “call me”.  

September 1, 2014.

Yeah, I know, its been a while. Things are going really well here as we make our transition back to dirt life. Christy has been busy with house hunting and the girls weddings while fixing other peoples broken boat shit has kept me out of trouble. Mostly.

Recently I had to add 50 amp service to a customers catamaran. The owners will be living aboard here in Annapolis this winter and decided to add some serious auxiliary heat so additional amps had to be made available to them. I installed 3 outlets for radiant heaters and added an auxiliary heater to their new marine reverse cycle system.

This boat has always been a pack rats wet dream so I was really glad to get the bulk of the work done before the owners scheduled move aboard date. Unfortunately, the new electrical panel wouldn't be arriving until after they and the balance of their crap were on the boat.

A few days after they moved aboard I showed up with the new panel in hand to finish the installation. I took as many tools as I could carry down to the boat and knocked on the hull. The only answer was a barking dog inside the boat. I made another trip to the truck for tools and after piling them on the dock, once again rapped on the hull with no reply. I phoned my boss who assured me that he had talked to the husband, who was at work and that the wife knew I was coming. While I was on the phone I made my final trip to the truck to grab my vacuum cleaner.

Vacuum in hand I started to step aboard when I heard a voice behind me say “What do you think you're doing?”. It was the wife. She was a boat length behind me walking down the dock. I turn and start to explain who I am as she backs away while rifling through her shoulder bag. I have an appointment, I'm wearing a clearly marked company shirt, hell, I've met the bitch before and she's digging through her bag looking for a weapon.

Fortunately for our hero its only a can of pepper spray. I explain that I'm here to install the panel that we've been waiting for while the trigger happy bitch is deciding whether or not to blind me. After a beat or two something clicks in her tiny brain and she realizes that I’m supposed to be here. She tells me how lucky I am that she didn't spray me. I reply with “you're lucky you didn't or you'd be installing your own damn panel”. She points out that “people just can't be too careful”. I'm still holding the vacuum which I raise to eye level and point out that yes, after I stole her valuables I was going to tidy up. With the introductions done, I loaded my tools aboard.

The boat is piled high with garbage bags of stuff and there is barely enough room to stand inside the boat.

The starboard hull is packed waist deep.  The V berth on that side is packed to the ceiling and the head is chest deep.

I laid out my tools on the cockpit table and got to work. Shes satisfied that I'm not the devil and evidently we're now best friends. As I start to work she gets down on the only open spot on the floor and starts to play with her small dog. She's got this extended baby talk thing going on. Nummie, nummie, nummie, biddle, baby biddle nummie..... For like five minutes. Now I realize why she needs the pepper spray because shes driving me crazy. Then, out of nowhere she announces “we've been together since 1986”. Math pops through my head pretty quick and I know there’s no way that the dog is almost 30 years old but I can't help myself and I say “Wow, he doesn't look that old”.

She fixes her dull witted eyes upon me and says “No, my husband and I have been together since 1986”. Okay, good to know. Maybe she prefers to communicate in random blurts so I reply with “Wouldn't it have been horrible to have witnessed the Hindenburg disaster?”. I know that shes wondering whats wrong with me while I’m wondering how long the umbilical cord was around her neck during the birthing process.

At least the conditioner will be a snap to install.  The access is great once I move some stuff.

She was making lunch here in the galley when I left.  How, I don't know.

After a short while she announces that her chore for the day is to wash the boat, including the cockpit. So now I have to bring all my tools inside the already claustrophobic boat. Its so tight that in order to open my drill box, I have to close up the Fein saw, etc. So the boat is closed up, its over 90 degrees, I can't turn on a fan because I’m cutting fiberglass and I don't want to blow glass dust everywhere. Its easily over a hundred inside the boat and I’m starting to sweat. Profusely.

So the dog and I are both trapped inside the sweltering boat and I realized that if PETA showed up they would rescue the dog. Isn't there any group that champions the rights of Broken Boat Shit Fixers? Wheres my PETA? And then the dog started to lick me.

I'm standing at the panel and this foot tall dog has started to lick my shin and is working his way around my leg until he gets to the calf where he switches legs and starts on the other one. The sweat is rolling down my back, traversing the crack of my ass, running down my legs and Fido is lapping it up like its prime rib. Bill au jus. Its salty, its cynical but it needs a little something....I dunno, maybe some pepper spray.

July 19, 2014.

We've all seen those little white stickers people apply to their vehicles rear windows. It shows the Mommy, the Daddy, then the kids and even the pets all in a little row. I always find myself thinking “Wow, they have 4 cats” or some such nonsense. While driving to Pasco to pick up batteries the other day I was stopped behind this car for a while at a red light.

This was a new one for me. It looks like Daddys in jail. If the facial expressions on the Mom and daughter stickys are any indication, they're not too upset about it. Heck, thats probably why Mom put the stickers on the car. Just to let everyone know shes available again.....at least for the next 3 to 5 years.

July 4, 2014.

A very sincere birthday wish to the United States of America.  I know your nation of birth is pretty much the luck of the draw but I'm really glad I was lucky enough to have popped out here.

Hi, my name is Bill and I'm a World Cup junkie. The US Mens National Team was able to advance from the “Group of Death” before succumbing to a superior Belgian side in the round of 16. Only 32 teams from the entire world make it into the World Cup. So to get into the tournament and to be able to compete at a high level against the best teams in the world is a major accomplishment. It's wonderful to witness the support that each team garners from their loyal and sometimes lunacidal fans. Just because the U.S. is out of contention is no reason to stop watching the remaining games. Besides its a great excuse to go drinking and yell shit.

Now that the Veranda is gone things are settling into a manageable routine. Works been going well and the summer is flying by. I had a personal milestone the other day. I was doing a custom installation of 2 Balmar alternators on a catamaran. There was a bolt broken off in a mounting hole in one of the engine blocks.

The accepted way to remove a broken bolt is a tool called an “Easy Out”. Its a misnomer. There’s nothing easy about it. You're supposed to drill a small hole right down the center of the broken bolt. Then you screw the Easy Out into the hole. Because Easy Outs have a left hand thread the theory is that as you tighten the Easy Out the remnants of the bolt will magically unscrew itself from its hole.

Easy Outs are tempered to be incredibly hard so their sharp edges can “bite” into the broken bolt like a Uruguayan striker bites into an Italian sub. In my experience the Easy Outs tend to shatter. Whenever I have needed one I've always had to buy it because the one I used last time, broke. Bolts usually break when you try to remove them because they're corroded in place. Expecting a thin, glass hard piece of steel to force a bolt ass out of its hole seems to be a bit of a stretch.

To make matters worse, the bolt I had to remove was in a bad spot. Which on a boat is pretty much normal. I had to use a right angle drill with my left hand to try to drill down the centerline of the bolt. I couldn't really see the spot but I thought I hit it pretty much dead on. When I apprehensively inserted the Easy Out imagine my surprise when the bolt gave way and slowly unscrewed. It's the first time I can ever recall an Easy Out being easy. Gooooaaaaaaaal!!!!

A tale of 2 engines....

June 17, 2014.

Predictably enough, a tale of 2 engines begins with an engine that won't start. The owner said that he just brought the boat up from Saint Johns where he's lived aboard it for the past 3 years. He told me that somewhere along the line he dumped a few jerry jugs of fuel into the tank and the engine hasn't restarted since. Both engines are plumbed to the same fuel tank and the starboard side still runs fine. So call me a little skeptical. He changed filters, said he found a ton of water and bled the engine to no avail. Since I believed the owner wouldn't mislead me with his event history I also jumped into bleeding the engine.

This catamaran is powered by a pair of tiny 1 cylinder Yanmars sitting atop saildrives. Miniscule single cylinder engines trying to push a 35 foot catamaran across the water seems like a pretty big design shortcoming to me. But whatever...

While the owner turned the key I bled the small Yanmar and was struck by how little compression the engine seemed to have as it spun quickly at the turn of the key. I engaged the compression release and there seemed to be no difference in the quickly spinning engine. Ut-oh.

I pulled the miniature valve cover off and realized that every time the owner started a sentence it should have begun with “Once upon a time....” because this guy was a story teller. The valve cover was full of goo and after wiping a good bit of it away I could see that both of the valve springs were broken. The broken springs explained why the engine wouldn't start but what really surprised me was the amount of sludge that had built up inside the valve cover.

I went and bought new valve springs and retainers and returned to install them. While I was gone the owner left and won't be back as the boat now sits with a local broker. After removing the valve assembly I got down to cleaning everything before reassembly. Thats when I realized just how an accomplished storyteller I had been privileged to meet. What I had taken to be a build up of sludge was actually grease. I guess that when the first spring had broken someone thought it would be a good idea to pack the valve cover with grease to keep those pesky broken parts from making noise.

Did he think I had a magic wrench and the engine was going to miraculously start? Did the guy really think nobody was going to find the broken bits? I just can't believe that he went out of his way to waste both our time. Douchebag.

The second engine of the day was a Perkins 4-108. The owner said he saw some black smoke, hes had the 30 year old boat for 13 years and since hes leaving on a cruise he'd like to get the injectors rebuilt. I headed there picturing a thirty year old rust covered engine with ancient injectors firmly wedged in their ancestral homes.

Imagine my surprise when I got there and found a perfect scenario. The engines location allowed complete and easy access to the injectors. Its nice when the sweat runs down your body rather than up into your hair. The engine was as clean as if it were new. I put my wrench on the first banjo bolt for the return lines and …..it cracked loose easily. Actually, everything I put a wrench on came apart so easily I wouldn't have been surprised to find out that the engine had been assembled only yesterday. In no time I was out of there with the injectors in hand.

So the catamaran with the nefarious owner is listed with a broker for resale. Supposedly the price will reflect the fact that its going to need 2 new engines. Even at a discounted price could a boat formerly “maintained” by this guy ever be worth it? A valve cover packed with grease just makes me wonder about everything else he might have touched. Conversely, the Bristol 45 with the aging Perkins appears to be in magnificent shape. If it ever shows up on the market, well, I don't think you could go wrong. Two different people are going to buy these boats and the new owners are surely going to have different versions of the dream.....

June 8, 2014.

Wow, where has the time gone. Contrary to what people might be thinking we are not dead nor have we fallen off the edge of the earth. To say that we've had a lot going on is an understatement.

First off, we're both healthy and happy but my buddy Tucker has had a bit of a relapse with his Vestibular Disease. He's still alert and has his appetite but hes stumbling around pretty badly. Last time it took about a month before he regained his form. Its been about 2 weeks, we'll have to see how it goes. We're trying to remain positive but hes definitely in his twilight years so its only a matter of time. It just doesn't make it any easier.

A couple of months ago I wrote about us deciding to sell the Veranda. After cruising her for a season after the major refit we decided that now was the time. The Veranda is in great shape and the previous years upgrades had proved to be spot on. The Pearson 422 is fairly rare and a very comfortable cruising boat.

There’s a mini cult following and we had the names of 3 couples that were looking for a 422 so we decided to forgo using a broker. The broker would take 10% so we just asked 10% less than we would have so the buyer would have a built in savings right off the bat. They pay less, we still get what we want for the boat so its win win.

One couple was only a 20 minute drive from Annapolis so we contacted them first. Phil & Kathy have been looking at 422's for 2 years and have even had 2 previous boats surveyed in the search for their cruising home. They're intimately familiar with the 422 and spent about 4 hours that first day going over the boat from stem to stern. They verbally committed to buying the boat on that first visit so the gravity of what we were doing hit us. We've got no place to live. Crap.

During the middle of all this the Blue Angels came to town for the first time in years and as always the airshow was spectacular. There were at least a thousand boats anchored out in the harbor for optimal viewing.

Why take pictures when I know John Kelly will be there and he'll do an outstanding job of it.

Also stolen from John Kelly and no, its not photoshopped.  Hes just awesome.

I left work early and gathered up Christy and a cocktail and headed out to watch. We might have won an award for smallest craft as we anchored out in our dinghy but a couple of folks in kayaks showed up.

Feelers went out and Christy started looking for a place to rent. There were hints, rumors and close calls but it was a cruising connection that finally came through. Di, formerly of the Far Niente, let us know that a friend of hers in Annapolis has a huge house and she always had room available for a sailor in need. Perfect.

We drove over and met Carol. We hit it off and now shes got roomates. Christy spent days packing up our belongings. We spent the Memorial Day weekend moving a pile of boxes off the boat. Carol had several rows of shelving available for us to store our stuff on. She hasn't said anything but I wonder what she thought when she saw our 12 rolls of paper towels, 2 dozens rolls of toilet paper and hundreds of cans of beans, corn and anything else you can think of show up on those shelves. She must think we're pack rats.

Once in the house we moved towards selling the boat in earnest. All told, I spent 18 hours going over the boats systems and idiosyncrasies with Kathy & Phil. While hanging in the travel lift for the survey I noted that we had removed 7000 pound worth of stuff from the boat while moving to shore. The survey and sea trial went well so the deal moved ahead. We exchanged signatures for checks and now we're pretty much the only people in Annapolis that don't own a boat.

But life's a funny thing. A couple of days before we sold the boat our new landlord, Carol, took possession of her new boat, a 1988 Tartan 34. So in my free time I've been working my way down her survey list making repairs. We have had the time to take the boat out twice so far. The Tartan reminds us of the boat we had before we owned the Veranda. It takes very little breeze to get her going and she points so well I swear we could go straight upwind. We do miss the Veranda very much but having the Tartan available to get our sailing fix is making the transition to shore a lot easier.

Speaking of the transition to shore. We're planning on spending the rest of the summer here in Naptown before moving south and buying a home on the west coast of Florida. Its been a long time since we've owned a place and for the moment we're enjoying real estate shopping via the internet. Things have changed so much since we left land in 2006.

I'm still using a ratty laptop thats on its last legs. We stopped at a Best Buy the other day just to look at technology.  We stopped in to get a rough idea of whats available and what things cost. Do we get a desktop tower system or an all in one touch screen tabletop model.  Since Windows 8 is out there's going to be a learning curve so should we just bag it all and go Apple? 

Then there’s music. We have more than a thousand CD's in storage but it looks like MP3's are the wave of the future or do we just go cloud based with Pandora or Sirius? Home sound systems have evolved. Do we get a traditional receiver or go with a computer based sound system. There’s so much to learn. Before we left to go cruising we read all we could to prepare for the transition. There were a ton of books on the subject but there doesn't seem to be any guide for coming back to shore. It sounds crazy but we're feeling a little overwhelmed by the choices available to us.  We need a teenager....

After spending an hour with the computer expert we practically ran through the televisions. When we left we had huge box shaped televisions, the biggest of which was 35 inches. And we thought we were livin' the life. We had no TV on the boat and we've never owned a flat screen television. 70 inch TV's dwarf the 46's and the 35 inch monitors, those are computer screens now. Its insane. Oh look, there's even curved “flat” screens now. Christ. Within five minutes of arriving in the TV aisle we didn't know where to begin so we were out of there and on the way to appliances.

Christy's eyes rolled back into her head when she opened a side by side fridge that boasted 27 cubic feet of space. She went right down the row from one to the next just opening them and starring inside. I'm pretty sure she climaxed right there in the aisle at Best Buy when she came upon (no pun intended) a fridge claiming to have 31 cubic feet of space. We just spent 8 years living happily with 9 cubic feet of fridge and now I find out we “need” closer to 30 feet. Then there were washers, dryers and microwaves oh my.

So to recap. Tuckers holding his own, The Veranda is gone, we're living in a house and we're okay with it. We're working here in town and I still have stories to tell so for now the blog will continue.  The Veranda has been renamed so if you run across Kathy & Phil on the Unicorn please be kind to them as they start their new adventure.

May 1, 2014.

Okay, so the weather here has sucked....big time. Every night during the month of April was either in the 30's or low 40's. So when the temps are down and the breeze is blowing that means that its a north wind. And north winds in the Chesapeake do what? Thats right, they blow all of the water straight out of the bay.

Its nice when you can walk up to the emergency ladder

There were a few days that Christy was trapped on the boat because getting up onto the dock were feats only accomplished by either Spiderman or me.

Work has been fantastic. I've been busy everyday on a plethora of different boats. This week we stuck an air conditioner, a battery charger and refrigeration in an Island Packet 27 among other jobs. It was a pretty tight fit getting the A/C into the tiny IP but everything worked out nicely. The Island Packets enjoy a reputation as heavily built “cruising” boats. After working at arms length to drill separate 5 inch holes through and inch and a half thick bulkheads I can testify that its true.

Tuckers been to the veterinarian. He had a pretty sever case of Vestibular Disease overcome him the day before we left the Ragged Islands. Its best described as a nasty bout of vertigo. We found an online course of treatment for him while we were still in the Bahamas. We had the suggested medication with us so we were able to start dosing him as soon as we figured out what was going on. The trip to the vets confirmed that hes beaten the Vestibular Disease and other than some “Doggie Alzheimers” he seems to be doing okay for a dude his age.

Even old men need cuddlin' once in a while

After nearly a week of rain the weather seems to have finally relented. For the last few days we've had warm winds blowing out of the south. And wind out of the south means what? Thats right, the waters back in the bay and then some.....

The walk to the boat now involves "walking the plank"

Pop Quiz

April 24, 2014.

Is this a sailboat or Powerboat?

During a search of a customers boat I opened a drawer that I thought might be the Nav station.  I'm not sure what the drawer was designed for but this guys got NINE remotes in it.  Nine remote controls, seriously?

The numbers are in....

April 18, 2014.

Since we're back in Annapolis and once again working for a living, what better time than now to write the cruising hunting/ gathering wrap up. For the past several years we've been pretty pleased with our performance. Every year we've been able to beat the previous year's haul so its always somewhat of a personal challenge to top last year.

This year we had an advantage that we've never had before. In years past we've been a solo act. Christy and I have almost always gone out hunting alone. In the past 7 years we've rarely ever had anybody ask us to go fishing. Christy says its because my hunting prowess emasculates other guys. I feel terrible that my “killing a lot of shit” made other guys penises small. My bad.

I've had guys that were having limited success ask for some help and I LOVE helping them. It's not rocket science and after a trip or two together they're self sufficient and go off on their own. It makes me feel great that they're more successful, I know they appreciate the pointers and it really is fun to see them succeed.

For the first time ever we had dive buddies. Steve & Kim on Fine Lion were as eager as we were to get in the water. Often departures and arrival times at different cays depended on whether or not we were getting into the water to hunt. For the first time ever we had outboard issues while hunting miles from the big boat. We made it home on our own, but having them there was very comforting in case a tow was necessary.

I was able to kill fish in full view of a shark because Steve was there to keep “the guy in the gray suit” at bay with his spear, while I got my catch into the dink. I found that I genuinely enjoy watching other people kill stuff. After an afternoon in the water it's fun to see what the other guys got in his bucket, I might have a mondo lobster and he'll yank a 6 pound Hogfish out of their bucket. It's fun to sit in the dinks, side by side and recount the hits and near misses while they're so fresh in your mind before speeding back to the big boats to clean your catch.

As for the catch, here are the numbers....

Lobster 195. Last year it was 181, so there was improvement. Since we had the new underwater camera this year I saw several dozen lobster that we only photographed. On several occasions we left them biting so to speak and I could have taken 300 this year if we wanted to. It's good to see that the lobster are still so plentiful.

195 isn't really that many when they come in bunches

Hogfish 34. Steve laughed at me because I swam past so many Hogfish this season. The truth is, cleaning lobster is easier and I'm lazy so I let a good number of them swim by. Still, I only took 14 last year so 34's a pretty big step up. I'm blaming a lot of these on the peer pressure from Steve mocking me. Thank you Steve.

Big dead guy

Nassau Grouper 5. We're just about ready to head north when Nassau Grouper season opens and 5 is an average number for us.

Tiger Grouper 2. And they were both spectacular....

Ocean Trigger 4. Ocean Triggers are no joke when it comes to spear fishing. This is the first year we've ever taken any at all, so I’m pretty pleased with 4, and they are fabulous eating. 

Lion Fish 30. I was trying to kill a Lion Fish for every lobster we took and you can see I fell well short of the mark. Last year I took 57 Lion Fish and this year I killed almost all that I saw so that might mean that this invasive species is on the decline.

Margate 1. He was a biggie. Fishing was slow that day and you don't spend the better part of the day in the water to go home and have peanut butter and jelly for lunch. So Margate it was...

Strawberry Grouper 1. Usually I don't see them big enough to kill. I was lucky to find him, he was unlucky I did.

Slipper Lobster 1. They're creepy, prehistoric looking things but taste oh so good. They just blend in pretty well, seem fairly rare and I was lucky to spot him.

Almaco Jack 1. He was big, I caught him unaware, it was an irresistible combination.

Success didn't stop at the surfline. With Christy having Kim as a beach combing buddy it took a lot of pressure off me. I still went beach combing a lot but Christy went twice as much as she might have since Kim was so willing.

Hamburger Beans 742. I don't know what we'll do with them but when I do figure it out we'll be able to do it a lot.  Christy and Kim had a single day where they both scored over 120 beans from a single seldom scoured beach.

Purse Beans 31. Not a Gucci among them.

Mary's Bean 16.

Monkey Face 54.

and to wrap it all up was 35 honking POUNDS of SEAGLASS....

April 15, 2014.

Well, its happened. We're back in Annapolis. At the free dock in Great Bridge we were about 150 miles from Naptown. On Saturday morning we passed through the 0700 lock and motored towards Norfolk.

The Lightship of Portsmouth

We rode the ebbing tide out into the Chesapeake Bay at over 8 knots and turned north.

Of course now our friend “The Tide” was against us and we motored northward on a dead flat, completely windless day. For just about ever. It was a perfect, warmish day that any boater would love. Unless you were a sailboater, there was literally zero breeze....all day.

FAC seas

There was the promise of wind from a favorable direction due to arrive the next day so we chose an anchorage for the night. At just about the halfway point lies one of the many Mill Creeks that dot the Chesapeake. Our friends Pete and Lynn from First Edition have a house on the water there so we thought we'd pop in and surprise them.

Fish traps border the approach to Mill Creek

Surprise! They're not home. So we dropped the hook just after sunset right behind their house. We still had 78 miles to go so the next morning the hook was up by 0600 and we headed out onto the bay. We had 15 to 20 knots from directly behind the boat as we blasted north. The water was small rollers behind us and we hit the Potomac at slack tide so everything was going pretty well.

With such a long day ahead of us we listened to NOAA for a weather report. Our 15 to 20 was supposed to build to 25 to 30 by late afternoon. Crap. The next few days are supposed to be worse so we opted to keep moving. As we pulled into the harbor at Annapolis the wind cranked up like somebody flipped a switch. Of course there were dozens of boats sailing in every direction when the wind hit. A lot of them looked surprised by the newly honking breeze. And several of them gave us cause for concern as they barreled close by with sails flailing and sheets popping. It took some timing but we did find enough space to run downwind to roll up the genny before turning hard on the wind to drop the mainsail.

We motored into Back Creek and headed towards our slip. Our slip is very protected and I was shocked to find that we had 15 knots of breeze screwing with me as we tried to parallel park into our slip. The outside pilings on our slip are only 11 ½ feet apart and the Veranda is 13 ½ feet wide so we have to think outside the envelope to get into our slip.

Too much speed and the prop walk can be brutal, too slow and the wind was having its way with us. It took several tries before we were able to nail it. I had a legitimate shot on the second try but one of the neighbors had a moment of lucidity and decided now would be the time to chat us up. Our technique involves Christy standing on the bow and slipping a bowline over a piling so we can slowly warp our way into the slip.

Land immediately to port and 15 knots from the starboard side made docking into a challenge

Once we get a line on that piling off the port bow warping in is easy

Honey we're home!

I got the boat into position next to our slip, Christy is about to toss the line and a woman behind me starts screaming “You can't anchor there, we won't be able to get our boat out!” Christy, with the patience of a saint stops what shes doing and explains to the woman that we're just getting into our slip.

When we're in our slip her boat sits on a lift off our port quarter. In the 5 years that we've been here their boat has never ever been in the water. Its a lift queen, it just sits there.

The boat hasn't been wet since the Roosevelt administration

The wind caught us but we beat the rain

Hell, I doubt that the lift even works anymore but whatever. By the time this bullshit conversation was over the wind had me and it was time to pull out and try it again.

I think it was on the fifth attempt that everything lined up and we slipped comfortably into our home for the next few months.

April 14, 2014.

The trip up the ICW can be boring at times but it is a good time to make observations, contemplate life, that sort of thing.

North Carolina gave us no depth issues and would have been quite relaxing if not for the flies. They're not nasty, biting flies....just annoying, land on you and walk around flies. They were slow enough that you could kill them with your bare hand but the fly swatter made it simpler. And when my wife wielded the fly swatter I noticed something new about her.

You see, when I swat a fly I make it a sporting event. I snap the fly swatter and the end of the stroke to just hit the fly hard enough to kill him while trying not to hit whatever surface he was sitting on. If hes on a chair I try to kill him without “smacking” the surface of the chair. He could be on a plant and I try to whack him without any damage to the plant. Its kinda fun and sometimes even I'm impressed with my ninja like swatting skills.

On the other hand Christy uses a more old school, full swing, complete rage swat. BAM!! Dead. So I sat quietly and observed the complete annihilation of several flies and came to a conclusion. The BAM sound isn't the sound of the swatter impacting the flies chosen landing zone. The fly swatters head is moving at the speed of sound as she swings for the kill. The noise is actually a sonic boom as the swatters head breaks the sound barrier.

Of course this led to the observation that the swatter wasn't actually killing the flies, its the shock wave that reaches the fly just before the contact of the swatter. The concussive force of the shock wave hit the flies with such force that their insides are turned to jelly, instantly killing them. The swatter then strikes the already dead fly exploding his body into a gooey pile of “used to be a fly”.

Its amazing what you notice when you have the time to sit back and watch.

April 12, 2014.

A trend became apparent to me today. Now that I think back I've come to the conclusion that I've never dealt with a single lock keeper that was an asshole. As best I can remember I don't recall a single lock keeper ever being short, rude, abrupt or less than helpful. They're always chipper, quick to answer, intelligible on the radio and even engaging. Its almost like they enjoy their job.

In general, my experience with bridge keepers is different. Don't get me wrong, we've crossed paths with dozens of bridge keepers that do their job in a professional yet friendly fashion. But there have been that half dozen or so bridge keepers that it wouldn't bother me if they got their head stuck in the closing bridge.

Some of them speak in an unintelligible series of grunts and monosyllabic tics that might pass for English in their inbred part of the world. I can't recount how many times Christy & I have looked at each other with raised eyebrows after listening to our “instructions” as passed down from the bridge tenders blockhouse. He wants us to what? “Bring a shopping cart to the deaf mans house?” I mean, when you call the bridge you already pretty much know what hes going to say but sometimes you get the feeling that you might have just received a radio skip from Saigon. WTH did he just say?

The weather kept us on the ICW from Charleston to Norfolk and we had a couple of these bullshit encounters. We arrived at one bridge early for its scheduled opening and called to tell him that we were standing by for his 0800 lift. Nothing. Okay. Christy tried again 10 minutes later but still received no response. Finally after we got close enough to the bridge to see the guys, face he called us and asked if we wanted an opening. Is he kidding? No, we're here for the culture. Christy told him we'd called him a few times and he told her that the guy he relieved had turned the volume on the VHF all the way down and he hadn't noticed so he didn't hear us. I guess all those pesky boaters interrupt his REM sleep so he's got to turn the radio down. Listening to the radio is like a cornerstone for that job. Surfing internet porn, playing online poker and watching television are just the perks. Christ.

And I don't think its a Southern vs. Yankee thing or a Locals vs. The World issue either. Yesterday we had 2 bridges 4 miles apart that both opened 30 minutes apart. If I could get through the first bridge in a timely fashion and firewall it we could get to the second bridge in 32 minutes. Or we could crawl the 30 miles and easily get there in an hour.

I explained to the tug and light (empty) barge that we were traveling with what I'd like to do and he gave us room to pass him just before the first bridge. We timed the opening perfectly and hit the gap at over 7 knots. After 20 minutes Christy called the next bridge and told him we'd be there at 1832. He expressed doubt that we'd be able to get through but we kept on. There was already a boat sitting there waiting for the lift so he's got to open anyway. First he's got to stop traffic, then lower the gates, then open the bridge and once the guy sitting there thinks hes got the room he'll pass through. If he thinks all thats gonna happen in less than 2 minutes then hes obviously never waited in a boat for a damn bridge to open.

Once the barge had eased through the bridge behind us he also got on the throttle. After we talked to the bridge tender the barge captain also got on the radio and told the tender that he would be there 2 minutes behind us. The bridge tender told him not to bother, that the bridge couldn't stay open for that much time and to just back it down. The captain came back with “we're through here twice a week and you're gonna close on us?”. The bridge tender said “You're not a red flag barge (carrying something explosive like jet fuel) and I don't have a reservation for you either”. (With a reservation barges can get an opening whenever the reservation is for) I'm thinking whats another minute for Christs sake. This is some dipshit back roads bridge with very little traffic. He did finally relent and just opened the bridge 2 minutes late so the barge could get through with the rest of us. It just rubbed me the wrong way how he made the barge captain ask for the favor. Like its going to be the crime of the century if Junior is 2 minutes late getting across the bridge to his moonshine still.

So I was thinking what makes these 2 groups of people with such similar jobs so different. Then it dawned on me. Its got to be the face to face contact aspect. The lock keeper is out next to your boat or barge and handles lines that you toss him. He's right there and meets the people that he's dealing with, they exchange pleasantries, they share the weather, they might even chat a bit. There’s also the possibility that if the lock keeper treated someone too poorly that person might just hop up off the boat and physically express their displeasure at the way they were spoken to. The bridge keepers don't have that concern. They just sit up in their tiny, grimy windowed blockhouse like some lunatic recluse in Idaho grumbling about all those damn boaters.

Sunset over the lock at Great Bridge

April 10, 2014.

We waited until the tide turned in our favor to head up Adams Creek towards Oriental. We arrived just after noon and made our way into Whittaker Creek with as little as 3 inches showing on the depth sounder.

It was good to see Ken & Carol once again we all went and met the Sapphires for dinner at Silos. It was our first meal off the boat since we got back to the states and it was BOGO pizza night so that was pretty special.

Ken & Carol left early the next morning to head to Charleston where they work as race committee for Charleston Race Week. So that evening Mike & Kathy picked us up and we had a few adult beverages at the Tiki Hut down at the waterfront before heading back with them to see their new home. Like so many cruisers they've decided that a land base would be a good thing for them and after several years of looking around they decided on Oriental, NC.

Oriental is a great town and the house they chose is absolutely perfect. I can admit that I'm a little bit jealous as I love their new home and Oriental...is Oriental.

After spending 2 nights sitting still it was time to get going so on Thursday we motored out onto a dead calm Neuse River and headed north. In the afternoon we had some breeze so we got some sailing in and with a favorable current for the entire day we were able to knock out an 80 mile day.

The plan for tomorrow is for another 80 miles which would land us in Great Bridge and only a stones throw from the Chesapeake. We have to negotiate 4 lift bridges and make a fuel stop along the way. We'll have to see how it goes.....

April 7, 2014.

We wanted to make a longs days run to put us as close to Oriental, NC as we could. The Wrightsville Beach Bridge only opens on the hour so if we wanted to make the 0700 bridge we had to pull the hook around 0630.

A boat had slipped in to anchor behind us during the night and it turned out to be the catamaran from the day before whose davits had failed while out in rough seas. It was too dark for a picture but his starboard davit was broken and his solar panels were hanging down to the waters surface. We learned later on the VHF that TowBoat US had gone out and towed the guys dink in for him and he was able to get the big boat in by himself. The towboat guy was on the radio later that morning telling him where he might get his davits repaired locally. If it were me he'd have to tell me where to go to get my wifes foot surgically removed from my ass after having her out there in conditions such as they were.

There was a ridiculous ground fog as we made our way northward. It was so thick we had to use the radar to keep from running into the channel markers. The four bridges that we encountered all had an opening schedule and we spent close to 2 hours waiting for bridges to open. Waiting for bridges was really screwing with my schedule as envisioned.

About 20 minutes before reaching Bogue Sound, NOAA started broadcasting a weather bulletin about a vicious line of thunderstorms racing up behind us. Christy had already seen them on her I-phone and had estimated that they would overtake us in about 3 hours. NOAA was assuring us that we'd be seeing 30 to 40 knots winds along with severe thunderstorms. They also said that winds up to 58 knots had been recorded as the storm moved towards us. Crap.

I wasn't going to risk be overtaken by the storm with sail up so we continued on under motor alone. Bogue Sound is a 20 mile long channel cut through the middle of a VERY shallow body of water. We had gray skies all day and things started to look worse as we looked over our shoulder. The wind was blowing 25 and the Veranda was actually healing as we motored along with no sail up.

Christy prepared dinner while we were underway and had it coordinated to be ready right as we were due to drop the hook.

We slipped into our tiny chosen anchorage, dropped the hook, ate dinner, secured everything on deck just as the front reached us. The wind howled a bit but nothing too severe, it rained like a bitch but all in all it wasn't too bad. The temps rose to the high sixties and we even got the Cape Fear salt and the pollen off the boat. Not too shabby.

April 6, 2014.

We were up and out of the anchorage at 0630 because low tide was at 0800 and we needed a little extra water to get out and over the bar. The day was gray and dreary and not to mention cold as hell.

We had 25 knots out of the north with gusts to 30 which wouldn't be a big deal in the ICW except we had the Cape Fear River to deal with. Of course we had timed the tide to get the push up the river so we had a mondo tide against wind thing goin' on.

We had this happen a few years ago while traveling with Makeitso. It sucked back then but I think we managed to outdo that performance with wall after wall of water slamming headlong into our bow. The spume was so thick and far flung that the drain in the dinghy hanging in the davits was a solid stream of water as it drained back into the river after blowing over the top of the boat and into the dink.

We encountered only one other boat underway on the river and that was a car carrying ferryboat. The people riding in the comfort of the ferries salon actually came out on deck to take clearer pictures of the spectacle that was us. Yes, I waved. Yes, all five fingers.

While we were underway we listened as a sailboat had a little offshore drama. They called the Coast Guard for a little help because their “dinghy davits gave way and they were dragging the whole shebang behind the boat in 10 foot seas”. The Coast Guard sent TowBoat US out to see what assistance they could render. It had to be a miserable day for everyone involved. I woulda cut the whole thing away and called my insurance agent.

We're sitting in Wrightsville Beach. The anchorage is calm, the wind is howling, the internet is sketchy, I'm wearing frigging socks and tomorrows another day.

We came across this steel schooner anchored in the Waccamaw River.  "Steel Away"  Good Name.  Anybody going to the end of that bowsprit better pack a lunch

April 4, 2014.

It was nice to wake up in Charleston after 7 uninterrupted hours of sleep. We have to get moving north but the engine was due for an oil change. The oil change pump had an issue and I was able to fix it but my “quick” pre-departure oil change turned into a three hour job.

At first glance I figured this issue had surfaced because the universe hates me and enjoys seeing me have to dick around with something that should be so simple. But once underway I looked at the tide charts for the day and realized that the universe LOVES me and wanted us to hit the scary stretch just north of the Ben Sawyer Bridge 2 hours before high tide.

Everything went perfectly today and places that we've bumped the bottom in years previous, we transited with a few feet of water to spare. Cool. The ICW is practically empty. We weren't overtaken by a single powerboat and only saw 2 other sailboats on the move all day.

Today was the day we didn't want to be on the ocean because of the wind and waves forecast. We had the breeze over our starboard quarter for the bulk of the day and with the genoa up we spent a lot of the day flirting with 8 knots. Several times the true wind speed topped 30 knots. I'm so glad we decided to move on the inside.

We dropped the hook just off the ICW in Winyah Bay after a 60 mile day. The anchorage was dead calm in spite of the wind and we once again we slept like babies.

April 3, 2014.

On Monday we spent the day hanging around practicing our Australian with our friends MV & Shane of s/v Gem. Learning a new language is always fun. They left our boat for another commitment at 1900 so we decided “What the hell, lets get going”.

We had been planning on leaving Tuesday morning and the breeze had already become favorable so why go to bed with conditions in our favor. We pulled the hook and had all sail set by 2000 hours. The first 2 hours we were close hauled on starboard tack and blasting along at 8 knots. Then we got to turn off to port about 25 degrees. The boat stood up a little and things just got better as we made small course changes more to port through out the evening.

We ended up broad reaching in 12 knots of breeze across dead flat seas for the bulk of the night. Morning found us with the breeze fading as we went wing and wing at 4 knots towards Mantanilla Shoal.

The wind finally died away and we had to motor for 3 hours to get out to the Gulfstream. Once into the stream we were broad reaching northward at 3 knots. The stream gave us a boost that kept us above 5 knots for another 8 hours.

We ran straight into a huge high pressure system that straddled the Gulfstream and ran from mid Florida up into Georgia. Crap. Often there’s too much wind, now we had none. We cranked up the engine and motored dead northward with the streams advantage at 9 knots.....for 24 hours.

The Dolphins were having trouble keeping up

As we debated where to make landfall the weather decided to do it for us. Off South Carolina we were supposed to have 10 to 15 from the south southwest. We had the remnants of a northeast swell running into a six foot wind chop from the southwest. We had about 15 hours of semi misery as the seas rolled under us from the side. We wanted to get further but when I listened to Chris Parker on Thursday morning he promised us that Friday would have 20 to 25 from the southwest and the seas would build to 11 feet. We were supposed to have 15 and we were already seeing 20 so it was an easy decision. We skipped Port Royal Sound as the entrance channel is about 14 miles long and can be lumpy even on a pleasant day. No thanks. Charleston was only another 22 miles so we opted to head there.

We dropped the hook in the Ashley River just before dinner after covering 468 nautical miles in 68 hours for a 6.88 knot average. We've had better crossings but we've also had our asses kicked so we'll take it. We missed seeing our people in Florida but we did get to skip Georgia. We missed our people in Beaufort, SC but they're sailors and could appreciate why we skipped Port Royal Sound in those conditions. They know I'm a wimp.

These little hydrofoils look like loads of fun....for somebody younger

The Cliff Notes version. The first day was what sailing dreams are made of. An ultra black night sky with stars so brilliant that you could read by them. Broad reaching at 5 knots on crystal clear, flat water. The second day was mostly a Gulfstream motor but it was kinda cool to watch the miles tick away on a dead flat ocean. The third days best described by the word “uncomfortable” and I'll leave it at that.

April 1, 2014.

This is always one of my favorite posts to write during the year.  Back in 2008
 I first got the idea to do a little fibbing in the spirit of April First.  I was surprised at the success of my efforts which garnered a lot of feedback including hearing that my Mother in Law had called me foul names after falling for my prank.

I followed up 2008's murderess with this effort in 2009 .  In hindsight, I consider it to be a disappointment.  Not with what I wrote but the fact that relations with Cuba were never normalized.  Truthfully, I did find my lie to be a little underwhelming.

As they say, go big or go home so I went a little more sensationalistic in  2010
The story met with mixed reviews as being a little too gory, which surprised me since 2 years before a man had been shot in the chest but tear a toe off a child and everybody gets all squeamish.

The pressure was on in 2011
and I came up with a post that all my fellow fishermen wanted to believe in.  It was a fun post that got a lot of feedback and people still make a reference to the lobster whistle every now and again.

In 2012
I decided to grab people by their empathy and squeeze it.  The feedback I got was touching.  Several people assured me that depression wasn't a weakness and offered to be there if I needed to talk.  I'm still not sure if they were pranking me back or not, but I still feel lucky to count those people among my friends.

We still have friends who believe in our posting from 2013
It's not that our friends are gullible.  It's just that the lie was easy to swallow as the trawler thing is so common when it comes to sailing cruisers.  Alright, maybe they are gullible.

But all this leaves me with what to do for 2014.  I was bemoaning the fact to Christy that I was drawing a blank.  She looked at me and said "I'll write it".  Christy edits most of the posts that I write but as best I can remember she's only written 1 post in our blogs history.  So if she wants the ball with the game on the line, I'll pass it over....

April 1, 2014.

As another great winter in the Bahamas comes to a close, we have been reminiscing about our journey as cruisers!  We have been so lucky to live this life, that many people can only dream of.  We were looking back through old pictures and reread our earlier blog posts, and OMG were we green!  When we look back, we are so proud of our accomplishments.

Yeah sure, there have been beautiful beaches, secluded anchorages, gorgeous sunsets, fabulous fishing and lobstering, really interesting quaint towns, fun restaurants and bars, stories and lives shared but the best of all these times have been the people that we have met along the way.  

Whether they have been fellow cruisers or locals, wherever we have been, the most important, fun, interesting, revealing, heartwarming and loving part of the whole adventure has been the people that we have met.  

So we would like to thank all of you who have been a part of our cruising life, those who have made the good times better and the not so good times bearable!!  We have so many awesome memories of these years and we know that we will relive them for years to come.

So with that, we have decided that the timing is right for us to move on to our next adventure, whatever that may be.

At some point after we return to Annapolis, the Veranda will be up for sale.  A new engine and new sails, its time.

We will miss all of you,

You know what they say....Timing is everything...........

P.S. Immediately after posting this we pulled the hook and headed for the states.  See you in a few days....

March 30, 2014.

When last I wrote we had just settled in to the small anchorage in White Sound, Turtle Cay.

We were beset by a prolong series of squalls during the night. We had a few hours of spectacular lighting followed by the wind piping up and then a prolonged downpour. I sat up in the cockpit with Tucker until 0130 watching the boats around us dance furiously at their rodes as the squalls swept through.

The wind and rain left together so I went below and tucked myself in. Even with a 120 degree wind shift nobody dragged or got too close to each other. Lovely.

Today dawned gray but soon the sky cleared and the wind returned. And things got a little weird. First a local boat came in with a diver onboard and they replaced 2 moorings. The moorings were missing but when they found the anchors on the bottom they just attached a new ball to them.

This dude anchored, and THEN they put the mooring ball right under his bow.  Surprise!

It was a little disconcerting for the guys who had anchored there to all of a sudden have a mooring ball floats immediately off their bow.

So once these guys pull their hooks and leave no once else will be able to anchor there because of the moorings location. I understand why they did it, it just seemed an odd way to find out that you anchored in the middle of the mooring field.

Then these 2 tiny sailboats came into the harbor.

They probably draft less than 3 feet so they can squeeze themselves into some really protected spots. But holy mackerel, I think the larger of the two might only be 26 feet long, if that. Thats not a lot of boat for some of the conditions we face from time to time. Let alone the lack space can only allow for so many creature comforts. But even though they're small I'll bet it seems a lot more roomy than some office cubicle. I've always felt I could live a Spartan lifestyle yet these people make me feel like a spoiled little princess.

Thats the 4 adults from the 2 tiny sailboats crammed into 1 tiny rowing dink.  More power to em'

After last nights temporary clocking as the squalls came through I thought that everyones anchors must be pretty well set. Evidently I was wrong because once the sun came up and we all started to swing with the clocking breeze things changed. One boat was about 6 feet from a boat on a mooring so he pulled his hook and went into a marina. When he freed up his spot 2 other boats pulled the hook and moved just a bit to gain a little extra room between them and their neighbors.

The wind is still up near 20 knots but it is slowly clocking as advertised. We should be able to get out of White Sound tomorrow and anchor closer to town.. Thats the plan anyway. S/V Gem made it too the neighborhood coming through the Whale this morning. We'll probably spend some time with them tomorrow. As the plan stands now, its off to the states for us on Tuesday...