Chesapeake City: dragging anchor, battling a storm, an anniversary to be remembered

Lickety at rest in the anchorage, she's a real head-turner

Mother Nature smiled upon us and sent us a tailwind. What a lovely anniversary gift. We picked our way through the crab pots of Still Pond and out into the channel, and set the sails for downwind sailing to Chesapeake City.

We'd read all the warnings twice and selected our approach into the city's harbor carefully. We were advised to stay to the left at the entrance and hug the commercial pier for the deepest water, which we did and even so we scurfed a little soft mud on our way in. We looked longingly at the free town dock pier on the right side - if the rumors were correct it was shallow. So we proceeded on to the anchorage.

Once past the entrance the rest of the harbor is pretty consistently 10' deep so we motored around a little while between the boats at anchor to pick our best spot. The first time down the Mantus didn't hook. Odd. We moved a little closer to Lickety and successfully set it there. We were in 10' of water and there was not much room to pay out enough scope. We were a little closer to everyone than we liked. But the weather was perfect and the boat was resting right over her anchor and all was peaceful. What could possibly go wrong?

Lickety is a HH50 owned by Catherine and Todd, friends we made in Annapolis. It's a huge and absolutely beautiful custom catamaran. Catherine warned me that Lickety moved differently at anchor than the other boats; because of its tall catamaran nature it tended to respond quickly to wind and not so much to current. We decided our best course of action was to reef the mizzen and leave it up, so Minerva would respond more quickly at anchor to changes in the wind too. On our other side was Clarity, a DuFour 460 sailboat, which moved in the water much like Minerva does naturally. We watched for a few hours while tidying up and our trick seemed to work perfectly, striking a nice balance of movement between Lickety and Clarity. All was peaceful and smooth.

There was not a cloud in the sky, all the hatches were open to take advantage of the fresh summer air. For the first time in recent memory I put on a real dress, we hopped in the dinghy and motored into town for an anniversary dinner celebration. Our table was right in view of the dinghy dock and the bridge, we enjoyed a cocktail and appetizers, and waved to Todd of Lickety as he cruised their dinghy into town.

Stormclouds approaching

As the main course arrived the air changed, the feeling became electric. Out of nowhere a great wall of black sky approached from the North, from the other side of the bridge. It was moving quickly. We asked for the check and our dessert to go and waited impatiently, considered running out on the bill, threw some money at the waitress and snatched our cheesecake when she looped back around, ran down to the dinghy dock, jumped aboard and high-tailed it out to Minerva.

Being chased back to Minerva

I quickly tied the dinghy to the back of Minerva and hopped aboard. Lance handed me Chloe and everything else in the dinghy and he was about to climb aboard when the first wave of wind hit us with a side slap - hard. The mizzen that we'd left up responded by tilting Minerva on her side. Less than a second later the anchor popped free and we were free-sliding downwind towards a blue trawler tied to the wall. Lance shouted "release the mizzen" and "start the motor" while he was climbing aboard but I was already in motion, throwing all the loose dinghy items in the open hatches and releasing the mizzen lines on my way by.

I double-checked to be sure we were in neutral and pressed the start button for the usual few seconds. The wind was howling so loudly I couldn't hear the motor running, and had to trust that she had started as asked. With a deep breath I put her in gear and we stopped sliding. Oh good, the motor was running after all - whew. Quite unlike our previous tropical storm experience, the wind was coming from every which way so holding it into the wind wasn't possible, the direction kept changing. We were no longer sliding backwards but also we couldn't make headway with the anchor down and other boats were also dragging around the anchorage, we needed to be able to move freely if we had any shot at avoiding damage. Lance must have been thinking the same thing because he appeared at the anchor and started pulling it up. While he was wrestling it into position I stole a quick glance over at Catherine on Lickety. Her  face - her whole body - was 100% focus, wrangling Lickety every which way and somehow keeping her running in place despite the shifty winds. What a bad-ass! I crossed my fingers and hoped that Todd had made it back aboard safely so they could get their anchor up too - it's a two person job, especially with a catamaran.

Minerva's anchor was up and Lance gave me a thumbs up. The wind shifted again and I applied power and bow thruster to avoid Clarity as she swung our way, and then Lickety as she swung back our way. A quick glance over my shoulder revealed we were within inches of the blue trawler, we needed more room to maneuver. When Clarity swung away I powered Minerva into her just-a-moment-ago-slot and then Clarity swung back. John was standing on Clarity's bow and gave me a thumbs up as we passed by, we cleared by inches. Now we had a little elbow room, time to find a safe landing.

The big blank spot in the middle of the anchorage was a no-go. That was where we failed to hook the first time - for whatever reason the holding wasn't good there. The commercial dock was an option for a temporary landing spot until the storm cleared, I steered towards it and the wind shifted again, slapping Minerva's tail away. And again a second time. It was then that I remembered the open spot on the free dock between a sailboat and a trawler. It might be shallow. We might get stuck there, or on the way there. Well, it wouldn't be the worst thing to happen at the moment. We were on a rising tide - high tide was at 8:00 - we'd studied it for our approach earlier - so even if we got stuck it wouldn't be for long and there was elbow room there. Lance and I switched seats and I readied the lines for a stormy approach. At some point when I had my head in the anchor locker retrieving extra fenders a gust of wind blew my dress up over my head exposing lacy special occasion panties to everyone in the anchorage and at the restaurant.

Then the skies truly opened up. Buckets of rain hit us with real force. While holding the lines on the approach I wondered briefly if we had closed any of the hatches and figured no, we probably hadn't. The rain soaked through my dress, clinging it against my whole body, resisting my movements. Everything was going to be soaked. Oh well, we'd land the boat safely first then deal with that next.

The boaters that were already tied to the dock waited for our approach, also soaked through and shouting that they were ready for me to throw them lines. Lance and Minerva fought the gusty wind as the lines I tossed fell short two times (yes I need practice with this). Eventually we landed on the dock, thanked our now-thoroughly-soaked new neighbors and took in a big breath.

That was when I noticed my knee complaining. So I must have tweaked it at some point on the slippery deck. Considering all the damage that could have happened, I'll accept some ice and heat therapy with minimal grumbling. Ice, mop up the inside of the boat, ice again, hang up wet clothes, ice again. This is the adventure we signed up for. And cheesecake to go, topped off with sweet raspberry compote we picked up in Annapolis is just as sweet. All is well.

The next night we were rewarded with the most beautiful cotton candy sunset. The morning after that most everyone left with the high tide and we found ourselves alone on the dock, with a slightly surreal feeling that we might have imagined it all. Nope, the knee still hurts and we both have strong feelings about our new boating rule.

We will never, ever, EVER anchor with insufficient scope again.

Chesapeake Inn the next day under cotton candy skies

Leaving Annapolis: a little motoring, a little sailing, a little terror

Chesapeake Bay Bridge

The squeal of the engine overheat alarm went from subtle to shrill quickly. We exchanged a worried glance and wordlessly switched positions. While I settled in at the helm, studied the current and our best options for a safe landing Lance cracked open the engine compartment. A quick glance overboard showed the exhaust water was spitting out at a half-pressure dribble. We had just departed Back Creek channel from Bert Jabin's Yacht Yard after a restful and magical month of sight-seeing, puttering around on little boat projects, and a path-wearing parade of Amazon packages. The engine had seen some lovin' and we were both surprised at its unhappy noises. Lance pulled apart the raw water strainer, hoping to find the offending blockage but all we found was a little sludge. Not enough to cause the alarm, we rinsed it clean anyways. More troubleshooting required. We were in the middle of the busy channel with a slow current pushing us towards shallow water. I deployed the anchor so we could buy time to gather our thoughts.

Lance double-checked the ball valve, all good there. Something was definitely in the pipe or the hose blocking the raw water from coming in to the engine.

On Wednesday Nights the Outdoor Dine & Music on West Street is in full swing. It started off as a way to keep restaurants running during Covid but is on track to be a permanent good-weather standard.

I volunteered to be the one to go overboard and remove the offending blockage. I started thinking through everything I would need and where to find it - snorkel, mask, fins, all readily accessible. Oh - and I'd need something to poke with. Something like a long metal coat hanger. Wait... there's that one that came with the boat - it seemed like an important thing left behind by the previous owner and so we'd been moving it around the boat instead of discarding it. Lance remembered it the same time I did and brought it up with a grin. He removed the strainer cup and shoved it into the pipe and felt a pop and a freerun out of the boat. Plastic bag, wood, schmutz, octopus, snails, whatever it was that was blocking our precious raw water, it was then released back into the Severn River. He put the strainer back together and I restarted the engine which cooled right down, the anchor came up, we were on our way. Total delay 10 minutes. Best of all I didn't have to take an impromptu swim in the dark brown waters of the bay.

Chloe keeping an eye out for marauding ducks in Annapolis

Bert Jabin is the premiere boat yard in a city well known for boating. While we were there to take advantage of the marina itself and not necessarily for any professional work, we did pepper with questions all the pros we could keep up with as they speed-walked around the property from job to job. All month we'd heard woeful tales from other boaters as they worked through their own boat issues. For a minute we worried we'd be turning back to become one of them, landing on the working side of the yard instead of the fun side this time. But with cool heads and a moment for a breath we solved it ourselves. This time. Whew.

We had a destination in mind: Chesapeake City, 50 something miles away. It was hot and windless and so when we got bored with the sound of the motor and the heat we anchored in peaceful and lonely Still Pond. Well, our end of it was peaceful and lonely anyways. The shallow end had jetskis, powerboats and the constant thrum of generators. But other than the occasional wakes as they flew by they left us alone. The breeze eventually made an appearance as the sun went down and made for a restful night.

Chloe's run-crazy beach, an easy dinghy ride away

The thing about swinging on a lonely anchor is this... the world slows down and takes on an aspect of timelessness. It's easy to become completely absorbed in thoughts, a book, a phone call with a friend and it becomes all-encompassing. In hindsight I suppose many of my favorite hobbies are like this: motorcycling, scuba diving, road bicycling. Moments of terror interspersed among vast amounts of singular focus. No chance for the outside world to butt in. Some free space for the head and heart to recover from the daily onslaught and regain focus.

Lance was reading a book and humming to himself. Chloe was relaxing on the deck, the breeze in her fur. I perused the weather apps. The storm I'd been following online was adjusting course and the new projections showed it missing us and also our friends in North Carolina. Chesapeake City - we're coming for you.

The ICW, Virginia Cut, Great Bridge and Annapolis

The Alligator River Canal

After leaving Bellhaven we cruised the Alligator River, encountered our first swing bridge, and pushed on across a stormy Albemarle to tie up safe and exhausted at the Coinjock Marina. We decided to stay there for a couple of days to recover, enjoy their famous prime rib, and then motored on through the beautiful marshlands to the free docks at the Great Bridge.

The public park at the Great Bridge, perfect for long dog walks

At Great Bridge we were treated to a quiet and peaceful park perfect for long dog walks along the river, and giggled at the honking geese expending great effort to keep all their young together as they clumsily learned to negotiate the river banks and swim.

We were going to just stay the one night, but dark clouds rolled in so we decided to stay an extra day, and used our rainy downtime day to visit the Great Bridge Museum.

The Great Bridge is historically significant because it was the site of a great Revolutionary War battle in which the spunky and wily settlers conquered the mighty British Army, despite being outnumbered and significantly outgunned. The last villager to retreat off the bridge was Billy Flora, who bravely pulled the wooden planks off the bridge behind himself to further slow the British advance. By maintaining control of this bridge, the colonists denied British reinforcements that might have turned the tables on other other important battles in the region as well.

The Great Bridge is a drawbridge which opens on a schedule tied to the raising and lowering of the lock right behind it. On one day we counted 16 boats stacked up waiting for it to open.

While we were resting here we met cruisers from Camden Maine who were on their way home after an extended trip through the Bahamas. This part of the ICW is part of their annual route, and so they suggested we follow them through our first lock and the craziness of Norfolk VA the next day.

Our first lock had a difference of only 14", and was easy to negotiate.

Passing beyond the Great Lock signifies the end of the wind-driven tides and the beginning of the lunar tides, which are much more predictable. And finally some deeper water.

We met this fuel tanker in our lane. We decided to let him have the whole thing.

We scurried to get out of the way of a fuel tanker that surprised us around one bend, its two tugs pushing and pulling it into place for fuel off-loading. We waited for quite a long time at a railroad bridge so long trains of cargo and fuel could go by, Minerva dancing in circles to keep her place in line despite the current and the wind.

Commercial vessels such as this Core of Engineers ship always get the right of way at the bridges so it's a solid tactic to find one and keep up if you can for quicker green-lighting through the locks and bridges. The Core of Engineers maps the depths of the ICW and makes dredging recommendations. We are always happy to see them and are grateful for their service.

Norfolk has a military base and also a ship-building yard and there were several military and cargo vessels in various stages of build-out. After so much time in the quiet little village of Oriental and the timeless travel in the tranquil marshland beauty of the ICW, Norfolk was an assault on the senses; between the industrial smells and the cacophony of normal city life and the banging and clanking of the shipyards it was totally overwhelming. We set the hook at an approved anchorage just off of Hospital Point and were surrounded by city lights and noises and absolutely huge vessels moving around. The next morning I paddled Chloe to the tiniest snippet of beach in front of the hospital where we were greeted with big "no trespassing" signs... too late the dog was already off the SUP and frolicking on the sand. We paddled immediately back to Minerva and took off to Yorktown.

Minerva in Yorktown

The marina parked us alongside a day cruise commercial sailboat, we didn't know it at the time but it turned out to be the very same boat that sparked a dream of sailing for our friend Emily, who is now a liveaboard boat owner too.

A small cruise boat is nearly always parked here. Because we were sharing this dock with two professional cruise boats, many of the passengers came by to ogle Minerva too. More than once from inside our sailboat we heard "ooooh let's go out on Minerva instead". Yeah... no. Get your own boat.

Lord Nelson's house, Yorktown, built around 1730

Yorktown also has significant revolutionary war history. Once upon a time it was the place through which all colonist-made products were routed for tax purposes, the primary export for this region being tobacco, making it ground zero for the boiling resentment between the colonists and the British who established a Navy presence there to try to keep a lid on it. The subsequent battle here was won by George Washington and French allies, and visible holes remain on the hillside from the cannon and musket fire all those years ago.

The day we left Yorktown we crossed the wake of the original Jamestown settlers, one of my bucket list items, and we were out in the Chesapeake. And, alas, still no wind.

This is the Chesapeake Bay Bridge Tunnel, which looked weird on the charts and even weirder in person. Off to the left of the picture the pier legs support the bridge the cars drive in on, and they disappear into the tunnel behind that brick building. I wonder how many cars we motored right over.

Escaping this skinny water marina meant a 5:30 am departure. Tides wait for no one.

For most of our voyage to Annapolis from Oriental, we had either no wind, wind directly on the nose, or no room in the channel to maneuver, but we did eventually find amenable wind and put up the sails.

The anchorage in Galesville is also the starting point for the Wednesday night beercan races. We became an obstacle for the racers as they jockeyed for the best starting position.

Chloe stopping to smell the flowers at Solomon Island

Surreal late morning light bathes the Smith Point Lighthouse at the mouth of the Potomac

Coast Guard and Navy ships abound in this region, and there is always something interesting going on. On our way into Solomon Island we saw three fireboats practicing.

And then we rounded the corner, and we were there.

Annapolis. Finally.

Bert Jabin Yacht Yard, home for a month

We settled into a slip on G Dock at Bert Jabin Yacht Yard. This place is crazy busy. They store boats on the hard, using travel lifts and huge forklifts and a mountain of jack stands. Everything you need to get work done on your boat is here; professionals ranging from gel coat repair to diesel mechanics roam freely throughout the property.

Sling lifts and oversized forklifts at Bert Jabin Yacht Yard

Boat rests on the hard, still wearing its winterized shrink wrap despite the May heat

A forest of jack stands supports an assortment of boats on the hard 

On Tuesday we were shaken to the topsides with loud noises, the Blue Angels were practicing for the Naval Academy commissioning ceremonies by doing repeated low flyovers right over our heads. It went on all day. It was so loud. And so awesome. On Thursday our friend Ceri came to visit and we went downtown to an outdoor restaurant downtown and were interrupted from our cozy conversation by a great cheer from everyone seated in the area. The Blue Angels were walking amongst us in blue coveralls with yellow stripes. We tried to follow them into the bar but the crowd swallowed them up.

Painkillers at Pussers

All quiet between storms on the G dock

Minerva needs a new fuel lift pump, we'll settle here for a month or so and swap it out. This seems like the right place to get it solved.

Let Loose From the Neuse That's Kept us Hangin' About

Then Thursday night the bike sold. And that was it. The last thing holding us on land.

Goodbye Oriental NC

Stuff sold: check. Covid shots: check. Friends hugged goodbye: check. Boat as safe as we can make her: check.

Two sailors, one dog, one big sailboat, ALL IN on this new adventure together.

On Friday morning the winds started early. With our coffee cups in hand, we watched in horror as the water levels started free-falling and threatened to strand Minerva in the mud again. We abandoned our coffee, Lance fired up the motor and started removing lines. There were a few stubborn lines. Jen, a friend and fellow sailor, got a splinter in her finger while helping us free one of them, and donated a little blood to the boat. Last superstition handled: with the sea gods appeased (thanks Jen) we were on our way, off into the Neuse River...

Where we were met with strong headwinds and a nasty little 2' chop. Oh well. No sailing for us today. Good thing Lance and our favorite mechanics have been dishing up all the lovin' on Minerva, the new transmission and well-serviced engine hummed along happily. We fought our way up the angry Neuse River and into the protected waters of the ICW then onto the the Bay River, Goose Creek, the Pamlico River, and up the Pungo River to Belhaven NC. Altogether we covered 42 miles of rivers and ICW.

As we were leaving the Neuse River behind Lance sang a line from AC/DC's song Back in Black: let loose from the noose that's kept me hangin' about. And I sang it all the way to Belhaven.

Goose Creek, the ICW, leaving the Neuse River

For those of you that aren't from the East Coast of the USA, ICW stands for Intra Coastal Waterway. It's a series of barrier islands, lakes, and rivers that were connected by canals long ago to make one long navigable waterway connecting small villages to the sea and thus to profitable business ventures. It goes from Florida to the Chesapeake and is a great way to make relatively safe short hops without committing to the open ocean weather conditions. The government dredges it to 10' regularly but it shoals up quickly, so a sailor isn't guaranteed to find 10' even if remaining meticulously in the channel. There are several bridges and each has its own set of rules about opening. All of this requires constant research and attention. Minerva needs 6'2" of water not to scrape her belly in the mud and 55' of air not to bump her mast. We have scurfed our fair share of ICW mud, and although the bridges we have encountered thus far are all clearly marked at 65' it looks like we will crash into every one. From the deck it's absolutely terrifying to look up at the mast and the underside of bridges - one sailor told me he just doesn't look; can't look up, his heart stops every time. I laughed when he said it, now it happens to me.

Belhaven NC as seen from our anchorage just outside the G11 marker

We landed in Belhaven NC just ahead of a parade of thunderstorms. We dropped the new Mantus anchor in 11' of water, set it well and paid out plenty of scope. We were expecting big winds the next day it was time for it to prove its trustworthiness. I set the anchor drag alarm at 100', and mirrored the chartplotter to the ipad so I can take the anchor watch screen to bed and monitor it obsessively throughout the night.

As soon as we were anchored the first rainstorm washed over us. And rinsed our deck clean. What timely and friendly service!

The green circle represents the anchor drag alarm, if we move outside of the circle alarms go off. As you can see the Mantus is holding us well, and as the wind shifts Minerva makes a half circle around the anchor.

Chloe hasn't embraced her lawn pee patch yet so for now we need to run her ashore for breaks. I can do this from the stand-up paddleboard on peaceful waters but I can't make headway with the dog on the board if the winds are high.

At the moment we still have two dinghies aboard, our porta-bote with an electric Torqeedo motor and the rubber inflatable that came with Minerva and a big outboard. Eventually there will likely be only one, we're not sure which setup we'll keep yet. For now we wanted to take the rubber dinghy out, since we haven't played with it much, and since it's a short ride to the town's dinghy dock the Torqeedo could use a test run too. It has been 3 years after all since it last got any real exercise, now is as good as anytime. Best to bring the oars, too, just in case.

Hiding out from rainstorm #2 on borrowed chairs

Although the wind had already started kicking the second storm hadn't released rain yet. We landed at the dinghy dock just ahead of the second storm, and hid out from the driving rain, thunder and lightning under a storefront awning with some Adirondack chairs we snagged from the patio. The storms on the East Coast this time of year are fierce and frequent, but usually short-lived. We had time to run hurry back to Minerva before the third storm hit, and settled into our floating home to enjoy a home-cooked meal and a spectacular sunset.

Sunset over Pantego Creek, from our anchorage just outside Belhaven NC

As we approached Minerva floating peacefully on her anchor in the between-rain light, the river splashing onto my back as the inflatable beat into the choppy waves, it hit me hard. This is our life now. This life that we have dreamed and struggled and sacrificed so much to pursue, and this is our first night on the hook, we're really on our way to... somewhere.

We finally did it.

The new Andersen winch shines in the post-rain light

Every new beginning

As I watched Loretta pull away with her new family my eyes threatened to leak. She's been our home and refuge for 4 years. What started out as simply a method to help us obtain our Forever Boat became a new way of living - land cruising - a delightful surprise we hadn't originally planned but ended up embracing.

In our four years together, Loretta has delivered us to some amazing places. Originally there were only 4 things on our "to do" list while we hunted down the boat of our dreams. The Florida Keys, those parks in the middle of the country (we didn't even know their names yet), Niagara Falls, and the Smithsonian.

What actually happened is... every new friend we met along the way added to our list. And soon the 4 things on our list became pages and pages of things to see and we were having such fun two years flashed by before we got around to seriously boat shopping again.

Here are a few of my favorite memories of our full-timing adventure.

The manatees of the Florida Keys are very friendly and surprised me by swimming right up to my paddleboard and wiggling their whiskers like vaudeville villains

The bleached trees on the beaches of Forks, WA are huge, haunting and plentiful

The pebbles of Lake McDonald at the lower levels of Glacier National Park are every color of the rainbow

We spent our first night as full-timers at a Harvest Host winery in Paso Robles, CA, in a field full of fascinating bunnies which were quite active at sunset. We had a bet going on which of our furry family members would bolt to chase bunnies first, in the end the sun went down first and everyone relaxed when the bunnies were out of sight.

At Foster's Big Horn restaurant in Rio Vista CA your meal is supervised by representatives from all around the world. I ordered a salad.

Sunset in Willcox AZ, coyotes sing at the property perimeter and roadrunners flit through the campground

Saguaro cactus in Scottsdale AZ contribute to the surreal vistas of the SouthWestern desert

Chloe at the Grand Canyon's South Rim. She has no fear of heights and nearly scared us to death by dancing along the wall anytime she thought she could get away with it.

Camping on the Natchez Trace Parkway offers little internet or cell coverage, so on workdays I holed up in the Meriwether Lewis room of the local library, surrounded by the history of the Lewis & Clark expedition

Of all the places we stayed, Elks Lodges made for some of the best memories. We were welcomed like family at most any lodge across the country and Forks WA was one of our favorites.

Dragon Lights in Albuquerque

Christmastime with Elks in Tavernier

The world famous Betty of Abbeville, LA, the hostess with the mostest. Every afternoon RV guests migrate to her patio, and instant friends are made over homemade tasty shared treats, beverages and stories from the road.

The rides of Moab Utah left us begging for more. Until about noon when we went begging for cold beverages.

We found the best service could be had at truck stops where technicians wrench from the pit underneath. Driving over the pit is not for the faint of heart.

Staging in Murphy NC for a day's ride at the Tail of the Dragon

Working from the RV on a city street allows for some great people-watching. This mother was waiting for her daughter to walk around the corner from school, and apparently the little brother was done waiting. This led to the most epic temper tantrum I have ever seen.

Roswell NM is all about the aliens

Niagara Falls was amazing. We did get soaked, in spite of the ponchos. What we didn't expect was the power required for the tour boats to keep us in place at the foot of the waterfall against those currents.

We found a lobster restaurant we could bicycle to from our RV park in Maine, and got to pick our own lunch, which was prepared right there. Doesn't get any fresher than that!

Montana big skies, approaching Yellowstone National Park

Cutting up with Leiloni (my sister's childhood friend from our hometown of Lincoln CA). Leiloni loves to research history and introduced us to some of the local lore in Old Colorado City where the historians dress in costume of locals from days gone by and tell their own stories in first person.

Introduced my favorite little princess to her first smores around the campfire in Littleton CO, which turned her and her Mom into sticky smores monsters. So what does a marshmallow-covered princess monster sing? Let It Go, monster-style. Of course.

Mile Zero in Key West. It didn't take Chloe long to figure out those open-door bars were pumping out air conditioned air and we had to allow extra time as she tried to become a barfly at every door we passed.

Loretta at a Harvest Host winery in central California. Since it was after hours we had the corn maze all to ourselves. Chloe got the most scared of the three of us and raced around to beat us to the exit.

Loretta's new family is a retired couple who look forward to traveling around the country to visit their grandchildren. I think they will be good stewards and we hope they have many excellent adventures together.

We are now down to one motorcycle, one large sailboat and a whole heap of stuff that needs sorting onto the boat. Our floating adventure has never been closer. In the immortal words of Semisonic's song Closing Time...

every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end

RVers say "see ya down the road" and they mean it. We do plan meticulously to end up together in places around the nation. I wonder if sailors have a similar saying. Maybe... see ya on the water?