tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14493608426084473952024-03-14T14:07:49.595-04:00Rhumb Line AdventuresWe quit the rat race in 2017 and embraced a life of travel. Join us on our adventure as we experience the world.
Viewing format is: He-said (Lance=left align)
She-said (Shawna=right align)Rhumb Linehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06125310003658481179noreply@blogger.comBlogger184125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1449360842608447395.post-90563113030143531012024-02-08T04:14:00.099-05:002024-02-08T08:55:24.961-05:00Boat Insurance! What is it good for? (hopefully... nothing)<div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">With January drawing near, it was time to get serious about renewing Minerva's insurance policy.</span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">When we started out in 2020 in the USA with Minerva we had Geico. It was about $1,000 a year and included a generous tow package.</span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTuLOQND5wW3s8i-GbG4qoBypOVN6F-k0vFnnygsiHR0-FxB1fbFz6gkKyOXGw6BQIIdrfPdXUxqYB6r3t38BFgONGoCiOKVo7g2yAw6APLNw-hPDGXc6eBOBWprvS7ndQvcQFJrPPoqH-ljBslS8qTWnqVWGz2BhSaKDtufi6n8KfGdUqmh9zMpNBYvgf/s4080/PXL_20240111_184437001.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="301" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTuLOQND5wW3s8i-GbG4qoBypOVN6F-k0vFnnygsiHR0-FxB1fbFz6gkKyOXGw6BQIIdrfPdXUxqYB6r3t38BFgONGoCiOKVo7g2yAw6APLNw-hPDGXc6eBOBWprvS7ndQvcQFJrPPoqH-ljBslS8qTWnqVWGz2BhSaKDtufi6n8KfGdUqmh9zMpNBYvgf/w400-h301/PXL_20240111_184437001.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">St. Martin as seen from the canopy tour</td></tr></tbody></table></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">In December 2022 when we started preparing to leave the USA, we called Geico to order the additional Bahamas rider. That's when we found out that not only would they not issue approval for leaving the USA, they also intended to cancel us when our policy renewed in May on Minerva's 40th birthday year. So it was time to shop for a new policy that would carry us to the Bahamas and beyond into the Caribbean.</span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">We found two companies that would insure Minerva. Both of them were priced ridiculously, but only one of which was requiring an out-of-water survey before signing us on. Having just spent 8 months on the hard enduring a Maine winter and significant boat repairs, we picked the insurance company that didn't require the survey because we wanted to finally go sailing instead of suffering additional delays. We paid more, but we didn't have to stop and deal with any surveyors in Florida, negating any possible savings. With our wallet $6000 lighter we pushed off the shores of the USA and into turquoise tropical waters.</span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="font-size: large; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3PjhsHqmseZtaf9egXNXZ5hQVsvznBfOW51jC_5evUyf5v-ezqF6MXsfCQNWmAffvUViJe-rLnZ70-rDEbdQfqhbl-2Z5w7Ne3OkUowwpxHkpkqRVjNpAC9sJ-JbOmFfco7OhcWsDAD03sWNTdHB7LlKXjv09cpJo7us4wqgXVwBeLAbtbp09HNP_fdXL/s4080/PXL_20240110_140215213.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3PjhsHqmseZtaf9egXNXZ5hQVsvznBfOW51jC_5evUyf5v-ezqF6MXsfCQNWmAffvUViJe-rLnZ70-rDEbdQfqhbl-2Z5w7Ne3OkUowwpxHkpkqRVjNpAC9sJ-JbOmFfco7OhcWsDAD03sWNTdHB7LlKXjv09cpJo7us4wqgXVwBeLAbtbp09HNP_fdXL/s320/PXL_20240110_140215213.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Typical bounty from a morning shore run to the French side of St Martin</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: large; text-align: center;"><br /></div><span style="font-size: medium;">We followed their guidelines about where to spend hurricane season. We chose Curacao and watched the storms pass by well North of us while we sweated out the season in superheated tropical safety. We also gained some epic experience crossing the Caribbean Sea, and at the end of the season did it again in reverse to end back up in St Croix USVI. We knew they would insist on a survey the next time around.</span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Then they sent us a bill for $7000. Same coverage. No claims. Survey required. I think it was the automated way the broker sent it to me without preamble, along with a $700 broker fee without even trying to shop it at all that really kicked my rage machine into motion. Time to shop it around again. Now that a survey was mandatory all the competitors were on equal footing. </span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKnOpeHGyPc_EwbrYtz3uKu6R40Iq2z_7mKNGSpCQJslZofiQ6vmlxCuCxcZqbqRGigsEo46w163PmCujHUS69yObfoB1gaIuNV5Wv2Smf-wGy3ECLC06ieGI3qIgGicgsLaSU1zvwfCVnh-RwaAKB-0wNPbFz23zffOuNFe_WGY8h34RkJtqfxd4FkEl4/s4080/PXL_20240105_215804305.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="301" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKnOpeHGyPc_EwbrYtz3uKu6R40Iq2z_7mKNGSpCQJslZofiQ6vmlxCuCxcZqbqRGigsEo46w163PmCujHUS69yObfoB1gaIuNV5Wv2Smf-wGy3ECLC06ieGI3qIgGicgsLaSU1zvwfCVnh-RwaAKB-0wNPbFz23zffOuNFe_WGY8h34RkJtqfxd4FkEl4/w400-h301/PXL_20240105_215804305.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div>Let's talk about the survey. When you buy a boat, it's a good idea to hire a reputable, independent surveyor. They go over every system carefully, thump every inch of the hull and deck, flip every switch, examine the color of the engine exhaust and the stitching on the sails. A pre-purchase survey is an excellent way to be sure you are getting what you are paying for.</span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">An insurance survey is different. The surveyor looks to make sure that you're maintaining the vessel, that it is seaworthy, and it is vaguely worth what the insurance company thinks it is worth. It's sort of a reality check between the boat owner and the insurance company. They generally don't go turning on the engine or thumping every inch of the hull and most boat yards offer a quick-haul option so the surveyor can quickly look over the bottom.</span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQIQJfkmIpj4xUb1hEeGgk2TYX4LmzzVOMI3Zk1SDKvs0NqW5PIqB9urBQ6Z-Ej_MSHT7IoceD1e6wnlCWB43IxqN8SDuJ7kdqZKsSCBjJaE0s69MqW8_zzETXx8uua_VW56i4R0YCiQoM5OuH61HVfgDrtNBXax4a13z3Pyu8zJjZMi1Zm2vGcCdFucfB/s4080/PXL_20240122_153424547.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4080" data-original-width="3072" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQIQJfkmIpj4xUb1hEeGgk2TYX4LmzzVOMI3Zk1SDKvs0NqW5PIqB9urBQ6Z-Ej_MSHT7IoceD1e6wnlCWB43IxqN8SDuJ7kdqZKsSCBjJaE0s69MqW8_zzETXx8uua_VW56i4R0YCiQoM5OuH61HVfgDrtNBXax4a13z3Pyu8zJjZMi1Zm2vGcCdFucfB/w301-h400/PXL_20240122_153424547.jpg" width="301" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Grocery run to provision for a week of expected high winds</td></tr></tbody></table></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">We've been with Minerva for a few years now and take pride in her care. We don't feel the survey is necessary because we know every inch of our vessel. We have our own perpetual list of repairs and improvements and are always working on some project to better our boat, but they don't know us and how fastidious we are about her maintenance or improvements.<br /></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><div style="text-align: right;">As soon as we landed in St. Croix, we started shopping for a surveyor. We unanimously rejected the first surveyor the moment he swindled us on some boat parts at the local chandlery and set an appointment with one in St. Martin.</div><div style="text-align: right;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHIJmcUDgfsOOmtcNPNbDkzYVBVMAB7QYwyBIHw1tkk3eAE8kkd0zNUgPv0KP6xZod7DKPbbh6lV-J2KfG87WtRQmiqd_ki80hEj88nw6tYE9HNhsZFM6zMdbnuD86aw8oUDITFY2SELcUjWa3qSo7nSkT1jj61JDiR7bbNU8nTuwuQvSvj7CMpf81VJq9/s4080/PXL_20231225_144533635.MP.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4080" data-original-width="3072" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHIJmcUDgfsOOmtcNPNbDkzYVBVMAB7QYwyBIHw1tkk3eAE8kkd0zNUgPv0KP6xZod7DKPbbh6lV-J2KfG87WtRQmiqd_ki80hEj88nw6tYE9HNhsZFM6zMdbnuD86aw8oUDITFY2SELcUjWa3qSo7nSkT1jj61JDiR7bbNU8nTuwuQvSvj7CMpf81VJq9/w301-h400/PXL_20231225_144533635.MP.jpg" width="301" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chloe the super sailor dog in Philipsburg</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div style="text-align: right;"><br /></div></span><div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">On his way out to view Minerva in the lagoon the surveyor informed Lance he was condemning the rigging, sight unseen, because it is 9 years old. He said as a matter of practice all rigging should be replaced every 10 years. Our friends with French, German, Dutch and Canadian flagged vessels were horrified that this is a normal way of doing business for American vessels. "What, they don't think that you would maintain her on your own? Don't they think that you want the best for your vessel too?"</span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Yeah... Sigh.</span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The quick haul took about an hour, while the surveyor was doing his thing we scraped some sea life off the bottom, and Minerva was back in the water in no time. That's $1000 for the survey and $500 for the haul out, and $5000 for the insurance policy, and we're good to go for another year.</span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Now for those of you who are quick with math, that's $6500 that in no way actually improves our vessel. That same $6500 would be a solid start on new rigging, or one whole new sail maybe two, or a new dinghy, dinghy motor AND a new life raft. In other words, things that actually matter to Minerva.</span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3MmKovnr9yynlfUbnsuZMsBHhIhyphenhyphenQtNJASK2Da6zW7VfaKQLnob3y0l-aAuoCLTUJC62NMuMptAdJhswCdDp-gCsCSH7M94A6FyhhY88jmtVt1hGhcDO9FRKUiHfofVqMfeObMyuNOp_XpnSSI4i_FFbaiutfksgngRxTo-ZvywFOxQaSu7rLpqUGyDZ4/s4080/PXL_20240102_154250971.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4080" data-original-width="3072" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3MmKovnr9yynlfUbnsuZMsBHhIhyphenhyphenQtNJASK2Da6zW7VfaKQLnob3y0l-aAuoCLTUJC62NMuMptAdJhswCdDp-gCsCSH7M94A6FyhhY88jmtVt1hGhcDO9FRKUiHfofVqMfeObMyuNOp_XpnSSI4i_FFbaiutfksgngRxTo-ZvywFOxQaSu7rLpqUGyDZ4/w301-h400/PXL_20240102_154250971.jpg" width="301" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Quick Haul - it's always unnerving to see your boat mid-air but the guys at Bobby's Mega Yard made it look easy</td></tr></tbody></table></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Boat insurance companies also include a territorial clause. It goes by different names but the basic gist of it is that they don't want you in a hurricane zone during hurricane season, and ignoring this map and schedule makes it possible for them to deny claims. Different companies have different maps and slightly different calendars. For our first international policy, anything South of Latitude 12'40" was acceptable. That opened up Grenada and the ABC Islands and they excluded most of the East coast of the USA. A different policy says anything North of Florida is acceptable but you have to get way South, like Trinidad, for hurricane season. Having lived through a couple of storm seasons on the East coast of the USA, ducking and dodging hurricanes, some well outside of their anticipated date range, this all seems rather arbitrary to me.<br /></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">It's for these reasons many boaters choose to self-insure. Prudent mariners maintain their vessels and keep a constant weather eye. One day we may choose to skip buying insurance too. Because, more than anything, I hate being told where to go, when I can't be there, and which repairs should be prioritized.</span></div></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjhiM2Rewv5eY6PsOUrXPqA34VK3hUBNJvmCgS6GgYiSfLwCjN5xg-dLJFZp6bG_a5xGhR_7K4_ji3QLnTMxZeHgNEQYhln8Oy2QPBLt8Vb6BBmtiKzleSoubKwjYNy2T3QCs-iq7TKj6I-bkT52A6HyQfiXjRcYUcJw28-gsB407O0K9L9nf0eXBfs6wK/s4080/PXL_20231229_203414338.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4080" data-original-width="3072" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjhiM2Rewv5eY6PsOUrXPqA34VK3hUBNJvmCgS6GgYiSfLwCjN5xg-dLJFZp6bG_a5xGhR_7K4_ji3QLnTMxZeHgNEQYhln8Oy2QPBLt8Vb6BBmtiKzleSoubKwjYNy2T3QCs-iq7TKj6I-bkT52A6HyQfiXjRcYUcJw28-gsB407O0K9L9nf0eXBfs6wK/w301-h400/PXL_20231229_203414338.jpg" width="301" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sidewalk crepes on the main drag in Marigot</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">On the other hand, floating in the lagoon of St. Martin we are surrounded by evidence of storm damage; half-floating boats, destroyed buildings left behind in the wake of Irma/Marie more than 6 years ago - a sobering daily reminder of the worst of the worst and the tedious claw back to the life "before".</span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Maybe when we have more miles under the hull I will feel confident to take the path of the self-insured. As annoyed as I am, for now though, I'll write the check and start making plans for hurricane season hideouts.</span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div>Rhumb Linehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06125310003658481179noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1449360842608447395.post-56447847873537472012023-12-16T07:05:00.143-05:002024-01-20T11:16:09.640-05:00Imposter Syndrome<p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">We sailed out of Curacao under a stiff wind, almost exactly on the nose. Somehow, impossibly, just like we came in.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjk2-IlgaHalcZpzImY3dzH0hnLoS5CFVOpcBCQKpEaXfcXsWqg0fOw0PMob0EJdU6ntwsAE4cDgQ6hlTFcSEMeadfr9G5z9lSpx6893DmtILTUjd_Oy1ZYQwECmumpkp6g5TifL8pWXWdsswXutdL5pEBxH3jncbvbMLLh5IReKmyLbAmjM3kaE4FsNNg/s4080/PXL_20231119_100549610.MP.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="301" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjk2-IlgaHalcZpzImY3dzH0hnLoS5CFVOpcBCQKpEaXfcXsWqg0fOw0PMob0EJdU6ntwsAE4cDgQ6hlTFcSEMeadfr9G5z9lSpx6893DmtILTUjd_Oy1ZYQwECmumpkp6g5TifL8pWXWdsswXutdL5pEBxH3jncbvbMLLh5IReKmyLbAmjM3kaE4FsNNg/w400-h301/PXL_20231119_100549610.MP.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The first rays of sunrise illuminate a wet deck and safety equipment at the ready. Jacklines lead from the cockpit to the bow and tethers keep our life vests connected to the jacklines in such a way that if we do fall, we fall ONTO the boat instead of off of it.</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The first night we lost track of our boat buddy Bliss in a squall. Sometime later in the night we noticed the mainsail was shaped weirdly because the foot of the sail was working its way out of the boom track, before we had a chance to fix it the outhaul shredded and snapped loose. The big winds and steep waves made it just too much to attempt to solve any of it safely in the dark and so we decided the best course of action was to take down and secure the mainsail until we could get some sunshine on it and make a plan. The beauty of a ketch is that in high winds she often performs better with just the headsail and mizzen sail, ketch sailors call this "running jib & jigger" and Minerva is quite comfortable this way. I clipped to the jacklines, crab-walked/crawled out to the mainmast, pulled the sail down and secured it while Lance watched from the wheel, calling out warnings for the bigger waves so I could pause long enough to cling to the mast or boom until it was safe to take one hand off again and resume sail wrestling. Sail secured, I crawled back to the safety of the cockpit, unclipped and passed out until time for my watch. The morning light revealed a half dozen problems with the mainsail and boom, all of which would have to wait for a calm day at anchor before being addressed.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: right;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvUrzWqOJTBvIVeLxeua4KzrHZ5uAmcFlfPaL1AyvYHJP99eFRG9_mUuZOyhEFm0ZZXBW8VlotNPfjgRRh_9TLOv7lmDYT1gGL5se6zvSL2IwpGPImgq4jDcA_wYrAv8bpXa91X_7B8aF5ixD3RvP7E309A8JQwFc28WKk6fV1D77kWCYLf8dw2rbOzkj1/s4080/PXL_20231119_143909599.MP.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="301" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvUrzWqOJTBvIVeLxeua4KzrHZ5uAmcFlfPaL1AyvYHJP99eFRG9_mUuZOyhEFm0ZZXBW8VlotNPfjgRRh_9TLOv7lmDYT1gGL5se6zvSL2IwpGPImgq4jDcA_wYrAv8bpXa91X_7B8aF5ixD3RvP7E309A8JQwFc28WKk6fV1D77kWCYLf8dw2rbOzkj1/w400-h301/PXL_20231119_143909599.MP.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The rivets that keep the metal plate on the end of the boom end perished, and the metal plate came off. We found it on the deck before it went overboard, fortunately. Without the plate in place, the lines were able to escape the little troughs they should live in, chafed and shredded.</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: medium;"><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: right;">Then the autopilot died. We tried some basic troubleshooting but in the end resigned ourselves to hand-steering and shorter watches for the duration of the passage. Good thing we meal-planned for one-handed eating on this passage.</div></span><p></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">On the third day the wind shifted a bit behind us, we flattened out the boat and flew into Christiansted like a rocket, our Curacao flag still flying because it seemed too unimportant to hassle with in the rough conditions, short-handed as we were with the manual steering. It was somewhat shredded from the season and the long ride in. We didn't take it down until Minerva was resting on her anchor alongside our buddy boat. Our American flag at the stern was every bit as shredded.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdczyePur4O0PZFifU68rR0N1JNPopsist8trp21P1S4B8NRvaB_mGIWbUvXrphd91T-e0oXfHOD1NgOdGm3frY7LKnRY_gmcAaPDly_QT0ABQsEaiaAWNetqA0VTvhzKrsGg00nZFkIcuiU9XsPHYpXHCf7B_m7JqXUpmauNL0gG5cMXsJ34cWpSZdURH/s4080/PXL_20231119_142424654.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="301" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdczyePur4O0PZFifU68rR0N1JNPopsist8trp21P1S4B8NRvaB_mGIWbUvXrphd91T-e0oXfHOD1NgOdGm3frY7LKnRY_gmcAaPDly_QT0ABQsEaiaAWNetqA0VTvhzKrsGg00nZFkIcuiU9XsPHYpXHCf7B_m7JqXUpmauNL0gG5cMXsJ34cWpSZdURH/w400-h301/PXL_20231119_142424654.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">There were already a couple of other sailboats anchored with Bliss. One of them was a beautiful charter boat named Kai. Shortly after we had settled the bureaucracy, removed our tattered Curacao flag and hoisted the USVI flag, the crew of Kai came over and gifted us with some fish from their freezer. Rather than let it thaw while getting some work done they shared the bounty. This is the cruiser way.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj12VSFd3AbjAY0G1U8FpQunPHTc4zySLDjwj0TO0Z7t8dsSyygUZGq7MeJp70tJiyNU12QQAyEqoQZqeU4xGYBamwJs3iHqqZaLVaKo6D6_sCriDrxUW95M7NtG-QtNpWCN53RVnkt4crKradXqqmiqGoniPHJMSocoDg4md01-kX1ravgKBJQ2pwIKmOp/s4080/PXL_20231119_163625552.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4080" data-original-width="3072" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj12VSFd3AbjAY0G1U8FpQunPHTc4zySLDjwj0TO0Z7t8dsSyygUZGq7MeJp70tJiyNU12QQAyEqoQZqeU4xGYBamwJs3iHqqZaLVaKo6D6_sCriDrxUW95M7NtG-QtNpWCN53RVnkt4crKradXqqmiqGoniPHJMSocoDg4md01-kX1ravgKBJQ2pwIKmOp/w301-h400/PXL_20231119_163625552.jpg" width="301" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The happiest view - finding your long-lost buddy boat at your destination</td></tr></tbody></table></span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">They told us they had been scrabbling to figure out our Curacao flag, wondering what far away lands we had sailed in from, and how they were hoping we would anchor our "real sailboat" out by them so Kai and her crew could share the anchorage with the other "real sailors".</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><p></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">When they said those words I looked around and it took me a moment. "Oh... you mean us? Real sailors?</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Our hair and skin is salty. Our mainsail is secured tightly, obviously done on the fly but done properly nonetheless (not to mention one-handed while often airborne). The dog is still wearing her life jacket and anxiously eyeing the frozen fish - she recognizes the way they zip-seal her favorite meats in the Caribbean. We are yawning but nonetheless going about our business settling Minerva after a long passage; tidying lines, securing sails, checking the chafe guards on the anchor bridle.<br /></span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">They're talking about us. I scratched my salty eyebrow and blinked the resulting salt from my eye. I suppose we are real sailors.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"></p><span style="font-size: medium;"><div style="text-align: right;">Huh. Wonder when that happened.</div></span><p></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh7dmvdCR4C1JA6V5bc0wv5-INjD0WZDQNN_Nh64rqixMC57d5D4c0UQsz8oS-AZwPzfmfMa-uRJ9Tr-nBEk3ME_osvG7swHuXdPXMh4mmZ4eNzeJ7sJJj1oWYCVSDKO6JpZOBjVeeZzaBSx25quekutoIiJvNwgiPX21hWN79O412fUCFPneZFJVFYdfV/s4080/PXL_20231120_141643075.MP.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh7dmvdCR4C1JA6V5bc0wv5-INjD0WZDQNN_Nh64rqixMC57d5D4c0UQsz8oS-AZwPzfmfMa-uRJ9Tr-nBEk3ME_osvG7swHuXdPXMh4mmZ4eNzeJ7sJJj1oWYCVSDKO6JpZOBjVeeZzaBSx25quekutoIiJvNwgiPX21hWN79O412fUCFPneZFJVFYdfV/s320/PXL_20231120_141643075.MP.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Goin' to shore for the first time after a long passage - this is the face of a very happy sailor dog</td></tr></tbody></table></p><p></p>Rhumb Linehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06125310003658481179noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1449360842608447395.post-31880621217137391322023-11-03T15:33:00.005-04:002023-12-16T07:02:39.553-05:00Curacao, Desert Island Hurricane Hideout<p style="text-align: right;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLVMJxKVhCcfcedFTNOB6jTF6ltlFvk2uOCdLNXT2uqxhdg4OBBpO5Gj_JmHUXLCqUBUDSWvBGO3LTJsIh4uvMQ6nK4VIUmv1St9XL1n3yumYuSAnq7UL89YgIYa0UJeIdj1ra9X09ONc4m28szgLS2NGWlagzfTRreHd-7IbWhPto27v0ueS2JeQwJtJ0/s4080/PXL_20230730_133524441.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="301" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLVMJxKVhCcfcedFTNOB6jTF6ltlFvk2uOCdLNXT2uqxhdg4OBBpO5Gj_JmHUXLCqUBUDSWvBGO3LTJsIh4uvMQ6nK4VIUmv1St9XL1n3yumYuSAnq7UL89YgIYa0UJeIdj1ra9X09ONc4m28szgLS2NGWlagzfTRreHd-7IbWhPto27v0ueS2JeQwJtJ0/w400-h301/PXL_20230730_133524441.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><div style="text-align: right;">Curacao has been a lovely place to hide Minerva from hurricanes. It's a desert island of just over 170 square miles, and from our protected latitude under the hurricane belt we've witnessed several gnarly storms pass by harmlessly to the North of us.</div></span><p></p><p style="text-align: right;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWUwZb4xOhOtQokpPO1v9kryMyHH-BxrEyIC0pJRSJNUI84Yope8mPITyxB3XF5dYlaNQa96ei1YEEoKy2K35shoG1q-AIdBC0Tmb1f_2j1XWRFSUyKAIJnPYJQcPELJyT8i91Kux0X_wG_PxzHAbFm8l4ATRSvOJzhD15l145cWDYdPqbKJP1hAAdeTHM/s4080/PXL_20231028_140250561.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="301" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWUwZb4xOhOtQokpPO1v9kryMyHH-BxrEyIC0pJRSJNUI84Yope8mPITyxB3XF5dYlaNQa96ei1YEEoKy2K35shoG1q-AIdBC0Tmb1f_2j1XWRFSUyKAIJnPYJQcPELJyT8i91Kux0X_wG_PxzHAbFm8l4ATRSvOJzhD15l145cWDYdPqbKJP1hAAdeTHM/w400-h301/PXL_20231028_140250561.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Queen Emma bridge between Punda and Otrabanda swings open on a raft of small boats. The bridgetender gives a very short alert before starting motion and pedestrians are often caught by surprise when it opens or closes while they are in the process of walking across it.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span>The island is just large </span><span>and modern</span><span> </span><span>enough to offer up most everything we need. There's been a refreshing diversity of snorkeling, restaurants, groceries, and boat supplies. We were quickly welcomed into the cruising community and after we moved into the marina we formed our own sub-community there and freely shared rides to events and markets, tools, and windfalls such as the night we split the giant tuna the local fishermen gave us when they couldn't find a way to stuff it into their cooler. That fish fed several cruisers on A dock that week.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span><br /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhac1j4GmyBfEJQuLlzOcZKWe8JOIN0fhKKPsAXzAJsjN2dSren-GjwY4MU9yG4_LB0aBfc8QcLmqnuAnNNSrw28Kr2H0siC6bX8urdLw86YThOz43dQL5NS_VwipomuWjwsccaF9zf59SSq2vAZqlifzvPpo_psd8XachXrjxn5sminetmehx00dnKIdkv/s4080/PXL_20230902_225608929.MP.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="301" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhac1j4GmyBfEJQuLlzOcZKWe8JOIN0fhKKPsAXzAJsjN2dSren-GjwY4MU9yG4_LB0aBfc8QcLmqnuAnNNSrw28Kr2H0siC6bX8urdLw86YThOz43dQL5NS_VwipomuWjwsccaF9zf59SSq2vAZqlifzvPpo_psd8XachXrjxn5sminetmehx00dnKIdkv/w400-h301/PXL_20230902_225608929.MP.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Much of Willemstad is covered in murals and this is one of my favorites.</td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><p></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span>We imagined we'd be doing lots of scuba diving off the boat when we got here, but the tanks haven't escaped their locker much. Mostly it's a logistical issue. </span>Moving the boat requires permission from the government and a small fee paid each time, getting to the government office is a hassle. The diving is not where the boat is, which means loading the gear into the car or hitching rides with others for long dinghy slogs, and there always seems to be something else to distract us from making all that effort. Someday we'll anchor Minerva where the diving is and fall off the boat and dive there. Wherever that is.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0gK3FuAmP5g_csYDtcowYaqF5IA_HkMtvk9Xoqk463-TAt93xe-GmhpsB-a8xjZ0S-qexmX4po6DUmCw_qCc8XmbEQImcjIv3HFzH8uVEtN9AUYFd4pUtJsQddhNvrxIiXtRzk6sph_2eVtNgVtCOJ7lX1z7Vg52zr2nHVZCEfVgYOr7LKm59GtHiktSh/s3054/PXL_20230911_173840044.PANO.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1642" data-original-width="3054" height="215" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0gK3FuAmP5g_csYDtcowYaqF5IA_HkMtvk9Xoqk463-TAt93xe-GmhpsB-a8xjZ0S-qexmX4po6DUmCw_qCc8XmbEQImcjIv3HFzH8uVEtN9AUYFd4pUtJsQddhNvrxIiXtRzk6sph_2eVtNgVtCOJ7lX1z7Vg52zr2nHVZCEfVgYOr7LKm59GtHiktSh/w400-h215/PXL_20230911_173840044.PANO.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: right;">We found respite from the heat in </span><span style="text-align: right;">regular snorkeling trips and afternoon cooldown swims at the local beach. Adding this to our routine became something we looked forward to each afternoon.</span></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p style="text-align: right;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: right;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUq0zpdh4MnHSuKfwiZcwL_2TvDWVU8HoYzPKIUTP9-i2eA6O3yQ_E8t4RaaHx36wVzxKGMlRA0OmAP90vpfQkfqv-9svrJhpJGP_ltIjwbLfIolw_nVQ2DzMojfDYe4dvVcdWHE9zGYHX1QjI-TXmyq8AMGsV-mVOWEAdVN3ig_Cl8cVo2WB-H56ouRIe/s4080/PXL_20230730_120747114.PORTRAIT.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4080" data-original-width="3072" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUq0zpdh4MnHSuKfwiZcwL_2TvDWVU8HoYzPKIUTP9-i2eA6O3yQ_E8t4RaaHx36wVzxKGMlRA0OmAP90vpfQkfqv-9svrJhpJGP_ltIjwbLfIolw_nVQ2DzMojfDYe4dvVcdWHE9zGYHX1QjI-TXmyq8AMGsV-mVOWEAdVN3ig_Cl8cVo2WB-H56ouRIe/w301-h400/PXL_20230730_120747114.PORTRAIT.jpg" width="301" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is a Chi Chi - proud, strong, Caribbean. There are several around the island and each one is different depending on the artists' interpretation of what these words mean to them. This one is in downtown Punda close to the Queen Emma bridge and is certainly the most colorful one we've discovered. There is a beautiful Chi Chi in delicate Danish blues at the local Sandals resort but the security guards there are quite tenacious about making sure nobody photographs her. Maybe she's camera shy.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">We arrived with a long To Do list for Minerva, and tackled it with fervor, making every effort to balance out the laptop work with the boat work and a healthy dose of fun. The ungodly heat definitely threw a wrench in the schedule though, carving out hours in the middle of the day that defy any action at all aside from laying on the floor and just trying to breathe. Although we didn't get everything done, we did get the important things done. A dive boat captain in Monterey once told me "it's not IF something on the boat is broken, it's WHICH of the broken items needs to be most urgently fixed that is the real question." Wise words from an experienced captain I respect; I put the rest of the To Do sticky notes away for another day and will do my best to suppress the shame of not conquering it all before departing.</span></p><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrUgmGLxxZk0jV5zx62QK5SUbj_K05TAxHpEupHdoD1KrQK5kW4SqOii4ayak0FCgELJ66QFR-Vkgqj22rYiJ-3fqgGVQEd2rSnZb9Chh-uHu0TYo2RnTv2wl_359SfUxSevclfo1zHnS7jiEtBxv6-5Jk4gJshZkJEdXX3O2i3XTkUfzyuGyy1BjmPrx5/s4080/PXL_20230730_135709348.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4080" data-original-width="3072" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrUgmGLxxZk0jV5zx62QK5SUbj_K05TAxHpEupHdoD1KrQK5kW4SqOii4ayak0FCgELJ66QFR-Vkgqj22rYiJ-3fqgGVQEd2rSnZb9Chh-uHu0TYo2RnTv2wl_359SfUxSevclfo1zHnS7jiEtBxv6-5Jk4gJshZkJEdXX3O2i3XTkUfzyuGyy1BjmPrx5/w301-h400/PXL_20230730_135709348.jpg" width="301" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Typical Dutch architecture in Punda. The locals tell us if the building has a red roof you are wealthy, if the building has a black roof you are ridiculously wealthy. We can only presume because it means you can afford the air conditioning bill that goes with a black roof. Or, in the days before air conditioning, you could afford a posse to follow you around waving giant fans.</td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><div style="text-align: right;">Curacao was once inhabited by Native Americans, then Spaniards, then the Dutch and only became a fully independent self-governing nation in 2015. Most locals can trace their family lineage back to sailors or slaves or some combination thereof and the echoes of all these influences are still prevalent in the local architecture, language, clothing, dance and cuisine. I am fascinated by the colorful hair wraps, and was about to select one to tuck my long hair into on windy days when I was informed there is a whole host of reasons that is inappropriate, not the least of which is that the color of the wraps and they way they are tied is an unspoken language developed over hundreds of years, mostly signaling that I am looking for male companionship and, well... I am far too uninformed to wade into all that miscommunication. So no pretty hair wrap for me.</div><div style="text-align: right;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbAwF9UUknbZ4iwiUfjw_QcvjCiHrXrFPbV_roFOoXNNnt151-vJQboNKqjQkzmL3c_fACmJPxWOVeTVngZtcGSCyKkmJpD0n1iJC2rjkeM2Alw0dDC8wI0ofa5dWJcISMhR82AaD4mDBNXAEfAhOxEMWwI_0VzhnN-6_rzHBnqMnzilqjCpEQf_-oo4AV/s4032/PXL_20230618_170556798.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbAwF9UUknbZ4iwiUfjw_QcvjCiHrXrFPbV_roFOoXNNnt151-vJQboNKqjQkzmL3c_fACmJPxWOVeTVngZtcGSCyKkmJpD0n1iJC2rjkeM2Alw0dDC8wI0ofa5dWJcISMhR82AaD4mDBNXAEfAhOxEMWwI_0VzhnN-6_rzHBnqMnzilqjCpEQf_-oo4AV/w400-h300/PXL_20230618_170556798.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Another great mural in Willemstad</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div style="text-align: right;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: right;">Just this week the weather has turned from hot and dry to hot and occasionally raining cats and dogs. This is the cue that hurricane season is coming to an end and it's time to plan our escape. The marina and anchorage are becoming emptier as boats left last month for Columbia, Panama, and Venezuela and this month are leaving for destinations North. Our plan is to sail North in mid-November, shooting for St. Martin but remaining flexible to fall back to St. Croix, Puerto Rico or Dominican Republic if the wind and waves are too much to comfortably greet head-on. Since we are under no schedule constraints for this next leg and the destination is less important than the journey we can afford to be picky when selecting our weather window. This time we'll be sailing across the Caribbean Sea with a buddy boat so the 500+ mile ride will be less lonely. Friends await our arrival on the other side.</div><div style="text-align: right;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: right;">We intend to see the rest of the Caribbean islands in a clockwise fashion over the winter. <span style="text-align: center;">We have seen the British and US Virgin Islands, everything East and South of that will be new territory for us. So much exploring to do.</span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-BZuo1cbSJW7ke8Q5mFp99feOn2BAHtyiotRHkUIhlEuWFXmOfa7ZEUMBtH7LN4jF23oFb9EwBsgPsFdc4xRxKOspJPKlhCDSdCcBqljPiFTTmwr9pGaG_OH7EF2S-E6cP94FHa7xEJSlpI048pDrezgLTOXycUcPe78rsPtc3sgUIb5J7iw-22LoxUfU/s1434/FB_IMG_1698305650662.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1434" data-original-width="1080" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-BZuo1cbSJW7ke8Q5mFp99feOn2BAHtyiotRHkUIhlEuWFXmOfa7ZEUMBtH7LN4jF23oFb9EwBsgPsFdc4xRxKOspJPKlhCDSdCcBqljPiFTTmwr9pGaG_OH7EF2S-E6cP94FHa7xEJSlpI048pDrezgLTOXycUcPe78rsPtc3sgUIb5J7iw-22LoxUfU/w482-h640/FB_IMG_1698305650662.jpg" width="482" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Winter 2023-24 lineup</td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: right;"><br /></div></span>Rhumb Linehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06125310003658481179noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1449360842608447395.post-8628539855806304492023-08-10T19:55:00.010-04:002023-08-11T08:21:25.207-04:00Hurricane Season and the Curacao Cruising Community<p style="text-align: right;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: right;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0Ogg40I87npy9TJORY9Ym34qwd_r-K_7ZRT11XEt9vC_4U1y2qPeWxCJqDfxJoMC1IC6Gn17Y7S2puG0pTlpnb8r4N_G14BCOgEmwDGNvpfEAnYejxs321-LVpGZ5Mlj1rt5ftd2pWbFGYO62DdzD-vHLJug0Cw1d6fYar4JaQw1N3479yXPRzcZ925Lo/s4080/PXL_20230804_205621462.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="301" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0Ogg40I87npy9TJORY9Ym34qwd_r-K_7ZRT11XEt9vC_4U1y2qPeWxCJqDfxJoMC1IC6Gn17Y7S2puG0pTlpnb8r4N_G14BCOgEmwDGNvpfEAnYejxs321-LVpGZ5Mlj1rt5ftd2pWbFGYO62DdzD-vHLJug0Cw1d6fYar4JaQw1N3479yXPRzcZ925Lo/w400-h301/PXL_20230804_205621462.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">"I am going to FINISH one of these projects TODAY" Lance shouted as he slid the boat hatch door closed and marched up the dock. I could only shake my head and commiserate. We've been banging our heads against the wall on this simple dinghy upgrade for way too long; what should have been an afternoon project was now dragging into the 5th day.</span></p><p></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The rest of the "to do" sticky notes mock us from the wall, waving in the breeze.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTQ_q5c26qSlU9lV-McJmHTXYswRyPfZ3YIvl5h1kcBNph6PVZrU0RasPKfOaNFoi0XM-lMP__BCMwH4m0hsf1_6_AN77uCw5gcTG7SgMRJEbXsSrPksQ0GO6TzyE7f6uJVFaG_3-IwkGkOYriqw8r6N0ZGqQ9eqCvO3UkbTLKGV3tj1FQ3ca7F0cSSa63/s4080/PXL_20230730_121242206.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4080" data-original-width="3072" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTQ_q5c26qSlU9lV-McJmHTXYswRyPfZ3YIvl5h1kcBNph6PVZrU0RasPKfOaNFoi0XM-lMP__BCMwH4m0hsf1_6_AN77uCw5gcTG7SgMRJEbXsSrPksQ0GO6TzyE7f6uJVFaG_3-IwkGkOYriqw8r6N0ZGqQ9eqCvO3UkbTLKGV3tj1FQ3ca7F0cSSa63/w301-h400/PXL_20230730_121242206.jpg" width="301" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The statue of Curacao's first Prime Minister was taken down for refurbishment. Locals watched nervously until he was safely on the ground.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span>It's been over a year since her Maine spa treatment and Minerva is demanding some attention. We knew we'd wash up here for hurricane season and postponed much of the work as we were expecting a big air conditioned workspace at the marina resort. </span>As it turns out, there isn't any sort of clubhouse at the resort, air conditioned or otherwise. Fortunately locals have kindly offered to share their personal workspace with us for the larger projects such as the genoa sacrificial cover, which will involve spreading the huge sail out flat. The smaller projects are being tackled on the salon table next to Minerva's air conditioner.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_UsP5d4C4YSTnVDbRWHuvwMO6tPB0ZimgPBv8UK8xVEIrqlpai1Of4JWhcqqbr_jWv0_8BrYEs6FgY5YNQ97j2zkJCIb3NhaNERdQh_8eEQoE_lpArJmz5LyKv9ggmjWrIedNpY7KXcDVEgcZDxzgzxRwmqL0Dh0e22l9NhdrM0q19XYhD31J8mOA7FSq/s4080/PXL_20230730_133939985.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="301" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_UsP5d4C4YSTnVDbRWHuvwMO6tPB0ZimgPBv8UK8xVEIrqlpai1Of4JWhcqqbr_jWv0_8BrYEs6FgY5YNQ97j2zkJCIb3NhaNERdQh_8eEQoE_lpArJmz5LyKv9ggmjWrIedNpY7KXcDVEgcZDxzgzxRwmqL0Dh0e22l9NhdrM0q19XYhD31J8mOA7FSq/w400-h301/PXL_20230730_133939985.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><p></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: right;"></p><p></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Curacao is an island of the Dutch Antilles and the primary language is Papamiento (a blend of English, Dutch, Spanish and Afrikaan). We find that most folks also speak either English or Spanish. The projects involve lots of small parts which are requiring effort to source. We felt bad about constantly hitching rides with our cruising buddy and knew the more abstract items would require some significant legwork to track down; in the end we leased a car for the remainder of the season so we have some hope of getting it all done before November without monopolizing our neighbor's time and car.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPofOIrLxFrI0IUoO31TYzMo63uHI6Bc0q4G6XM1swpo6vtfVHMIyaXXv-iIb2QCg-_P_JmnbOs4bqxeENX78XpEGm2d3NGv-vn3qtUsl_aPcJ-ZUk0TtnX-2l9Bt0732GsnENrLXsaBS6Z07xwKqSvLl5nV_Ifgvf3232yv9bd3WVj5cjI_jV_z93FQMY/s4080/PXL_20230807_154931366.MP.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="301" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPofOIrLxFrI0IUoO31TYzMo63uHI6Bc0q4G6XM1swpo6vtfVHMIyaXXv-iIb2QCg-_P_JmnbOs4bqxeENX78XpEGm2d3NGv-vn3qtUsl_aPcJ-ZUk0TtnX-2l9Bt0732GsnENrLXsaBS6Z07xwKqSvLl5nV_Ifgvf3232yv9bd3WVj5cjI_jV_z93FQMY/w400-h301/PXL_20230807_154931366.MP.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lance, Ken and Apollo teamed together to scrub bottoms of all three boats</td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Shopping for obscure parts (like an industrial sewing needle) is one of those things most people just don't do daily any more. If I were in the USA, I'd visit no more than 2 local stores before just ordering them directly from SailRite or Amazon and have them delivered right to my door. Shipments like this in Curacao are a lot more complicated, and either can't be done at all or require third party help from the USA at additional cost and delay. So we've been driving around to all the likely shops asking if they have what we need or will order it for us - it's like a throwback to shopping in the 80's - lots of driving, lots of talking to a lot of people (with a lot of hand signals or Google intervention when we encounter language barriers), and lots of incomplete directions to that "other store, I can't remember it's name".</span></p><br /><p style="text-align: right;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifqEMq6-KTGF-pP4YIgCIE1e-J3D1-N6Nx3IjG97BFGlH-Yj8kGpW2_jNhSZnILSsGuM8r-e5CFo9tgRs-RBWdXPCUH7rxIt1a6NKbDKbXTulYmC9DgRvrfvKgbJpqjKYzEHclpB_EcdU8QLdTgAY88Dx-xS-MnkTQGsbfqvgvODpKd8ZwpE85lOdFqm7k/s4080/PXL_20230806_123639210.MP.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4080" data-original-width="3072" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifqEMq6-KTGF-pP4YIgCIE1e-J3D1-N6Nx3IjG97BFGlH-Yj8kGpW2_jNhSZnILSsGuM8r-e5CFo9tgRs-RBWdXPCUH7rxIt1a6NKbDKbXTulYmC9DgRvrfvKgbJpqjKYzEHclpB_EcdU8QLdTgAY88Dx-xS-MnkTQGsbfqvgvODpKd8ZwpE85lOdFqm7k/w301-h400/PXL_20230806_123639210.MP.jpg" width="301" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Franko Maps reveal the hidden gems</td></tr></tbody></table><br /></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span>Last weekend we took a day off and went exploring with A dock neighbors. All eight of us and Chloe piled into two cars and drove to the other end of the island to an obscure dive/snorkel spot discovered on a FrankoMap, then we finished up the day at an indoor/outdoor Thai restaurant. Ventures like this keep me from screaming out loud when we reach the next project roadblock. </span><span>It's all about balance.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_89pw7IoaZbYmevE0JVRnbUdcVnM2E9gU2jk6FBcato-BrrFX3qbu9eLRHot3A2Qfmbtjj15duIJErkdMkCE0QI3OMVACqNmw-Hi8i-iuPQ0OVk7b31qTtM1r79-Gqek8DDhcHatuQ6CYQxmcTFS4hqrVPxpIHYF_qscmQbFbXSSuSUdEEh2iNifNouvn/s4080/PXL_20230808_215002602.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4080" data-original-width="3072" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_89pw7IoaZbYmevE0JVRnbUdcVnM2E9gU2jk6FBcato-BrrFX3qbu9eLRHot3A2Qfmbtjj15duIJErkdMkCE0QI3OMVACqNmw-Hi8i-iuPQ0OVk7b31qTtM1r79-Gqek8DDhcHatuQ6CYQxmcTFS4hqrVPxpIHYF_qscmQbFbXSSuSUdEEh2iNifNouvn/w301-h400/PXL_20230808_215002602.jpg" width="301" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cruiser dogs join the party at the hamburger joint</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">On Tuesday night we were invited to cruisers' night at the local hamburger joint. There was an excellent turnout and Chloe roamed freely through the crowd. Before long she fell in with the pack of boat kids running around the property; their friendship hastened and forever secured by shared French fries.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span>Upon leaving the USA we discovered that the rest of the world communicates on WhatsApp for texting, phone calls, and video calls. Businesses run on it also and if you make a phone call with your regular phone it isn't likely to be picked up by anyone except through WhatsApp. Here in Curacao we </span>use it to chase parts with businesses and have embraced the group chat function of the app to keep in constant contact with the cruisers on the island.</span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHjordA2pGD5ZLE16n0FTLqPwvrVAZMwtBkt9EhAnF0ONHmGxb7Bjg3C-_rE7Mptozg5ZALdqhcQkr0zTiIC6XgOj2g2r_3nilKulVZhMWl0eMVS_-TjHb0nD3p89Uia_VSzAkOG_pu38SfyFJX_W_ao7prBh0g1Jq_k6Bkqc9l34WFShdXIIPbonAVc_V/s4080/PXL_20230804_014059905.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4080" data-original-width="3072" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHjordA2pGD5ZLE16n0FTLqPwvrVAZMwtBkt9EhAnF0ONHmGxb7Bjg3C-_rE7Mptozg5ZALdqhcQkr0zTiIC6XgOj2g2r_3nilKulVZhMWl0eMVS_-TjHb0nD3p89Uia_VSzAkOG_pu38SfyFJX_W_ao7prBh0g1Jq_k6Bkqc9l34WFShdXIIPbonAVc_V/w301-h400/PXL_20230804_014059905.jpg" width="301" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The SuperMoon Rises over Minerva</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span><span>Last weekend a dinghy float was organized under the SuperMoon which ended with a dozen boats tied together drifting along under the beautiful night skies and a gentle breeze. We pull together everything from scuba adventures to beach parties, lost and found, shared rides to stores, laundry and propane, requests for tools or help, and share windfalls. I found a hairdresser to give me a haircut on the stern of her boat last week. </span></span>A cruising sailboat at anchor was struck by a drunken party vessel who then fled the scene, and within 24 hours it was all sorted out. <span>Word got out of a disabled boat approaching the dock, so cruisers were waiting to help catch him as he limped in to the dock. </span></span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">We are a tight community.</span></p>Rhumb Linehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06125310003658481179noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1449360842608447395.post-25727765451556173892023-06-07T12:15:00.003-04:002023-06-07T12:20:36.723-04:00Crossing the Caribbean Sea to Curacao<div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">We said goodbye to Amy and Larry in St Croix; their parting words to us were "look out for the area around Udall Point (East St. Croix). It has potholes."</span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Boy they weren't kidding! But we picked our way through them, put up the sails and pointed Minerva Southwest across the open Caribbean Sea.</span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><div style="text-align: right;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQKwTrpPP3Ps8qDLuqEZGwyfZj5vB0ojrJeCJmRFdXKDR_izA1zznJcy9oz0NHzc1qTqgEDdWAm5vps_0asNx6TkVOmc0GxAcNJ5RHXgoo82HLO-4e1GrWe6jI-7cmejEuP7WErU1wbf-JQRS4CJ_dfaDf4qE_vZ1rPMSP0Th3INUzkb3uYJ1GQL-kRA/s4032/PXL_20230602_122721540.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQKwTrpPP3Ps8qDLuqEZGwyfZj5vB0ojrJeCJmRFdXKDR_izA1zznJcy9oz0NHzc1qTqgEDdWAm5vps_0asNx6TkVOmc0GxAcNJ5RHXgoo82HLO-4e1GrWe6jI-7cmejEuP7WErU1wbf-JQRS4CJ_dfaDf4qE_vZ1rPMSP0Th3INUzkb3uYJ1GQL-kRA/w400-h300/PXL_20230602_122721540.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Amy and Larry, friends we made in St. Croix, built their trimaran from scratch.<br />It's made of cold-molded cedar and fiberglass and it looks like it deserves a speeding ticket even when tied to the dock.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: large; text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The wind was coming from just a little East of due South. I suspect this is highly unusual. It is certainly annoying, since the whole point of doing the thorny path was to get all the way out here and have a nice beam reach run across the Caribbean Sea, which means we were looking for an East Wind - a trade wind, which is everyday here, right! Nope! Denied!</span></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">It's easy to become paralyzed by the options and waiting for a perfect weather window that may never arrive. There's also the fear that you pick the perfect window but it turns out to be a weatherman's lie. At some point you must simply go anyways and accept the consequences, and hope that you prepared well enough for the inevitable surprises.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.2px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I probably haven't mentioned this before, but I don't like leaning. We spent a lot of time choosing this specific boat because she's heavy and resists the lean. Close-haul = lean. But it was only supposed to be for a little while before the East Wind filled in and we would be at a nice comfortable beam reach for the majority of our ride.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.2px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.2px; text-align: left;">One weather report suggested the wind would turn after only a couple hours. That came and went. A different weather report said we could look for the wind to turn at noon. That came and went. A third one said by 4:00, surely, the East Wind would show up then. By 6:00, still nothing. More leaning. </span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.2px; text-align: left;">And, you know what? It wasn't that bad! Minerva really seems to thrive in it. So we were cooking right along, leaning a little bit, and when a big gust of wind would come she would just sort of dump the excess wind and keep going. At first it freaked me out, and then I learned to trust her. She was really in her element. We've never experienced this before, and she's an old hand at it. It did feel a little bit like she was showing off, this was a side of my boat I've never really relaxed long enough to let her show me before.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.2px;"><br /></span></span></div><span style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0.2px; text-align: left;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3_vikkJcNuoQ9Lq8QpomY4-u2erDVqlUeRf7ItcXxQ9_U_M_RWpcryw1pM1bJbQUXVL3zwU2nk3y0_raVSBpe8JIudwdcCg6Ve05GS5rzr157sT-PznYEBLAqPJbFJN9E5hg6KamnmtGMjiygz1QmzJwpDAbtFbe7xvM5D8dY10l9G9Dwm-3eE0mr0Q/s4032/PXL_20230604_164107455.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3_vikkJcNuoQ9Lq8QpomY4-u2erDVqlUeRf7ItcXxQ9_U_M_RWpcryw1pM1bJbQUXVL3zwU2nk3y0_raVSBpe8JIudwdcCg6Ve05GS5rzr157sT-PznYEBLAqPJbFJN9E5hg6KamnmtGMjiygz1QmzJwpDAbtFbe7xvM5D8dY10l9G9Dwm-3eE0mr0Q/w300-h400/PXL_20230604_164107455.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tethers are kept handy in the cockpit and our policy is to clip our lifevests to the safety lines on the boat whenever leaving the cockpit for any reason</td></tr></tbody></table></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0.2px; text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.2px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">There were a couple of incidents where our feet went out from under us on a lean, and some things went flying and broke, we earned some minor bruises here and there. All in all we did pretty well considering the sideways and bumpy state of living for a few days. Really great safety gear and a policy of always wearing it kept us on the deck when we fell topside, and lots of handholds in the cabin kept the below decks falls to a minimum (Merci Monsieur Amel).</span></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.2px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.2px; text-align: left;">We all got soaked by waves that slipped over the side now and then, unfairly attacking us as we were leaned over. Chloe always glared at us so indignantly, as if we were doing it purposefully to annoy her. She was the first to figure out the particular sound they make when they hit the hull and dive for cover before the splash could rain down on her, yes it seems the </span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.2px; text-align: left;">dog is Minerva's smartest crew member.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0.2px; text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0.2px; text-align: left;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ2vhHoJQ_OYXgaWxVEyX9qE7Oj52yENrrx5HCcmYV8Y0-PGrncxBgGkaQXze_PlRPLITRoXbCPWGg8_eGxcnlw8VNAmli6CF9WEWApDRwhKI6USnMLKfcAnJ552i7_bdmcnDDTxg6DILY94e6OWVyaqZi4OPTo8D76MQKg5qnUZMw3QzItPIoBdNgRg/s4032/PXL_20230605_100221843.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ2vhHoJQ_OYXgaWxVEyX9qE7Oj52yENrrx5HCcmYV8Y0-PGrncxBgGkaQXze_PlRPLITRoXbCPWGg8_eGxcnlw8VNAmli6CF9WEWApDRwhKI6USnMLKfcAnJ552i7_bdmcnDDTxg6DILY94e6OWVyaqZi4OPTo8D76MQKg5qnUZMw3QzItPIoBdNgRg/w400-h300/PXL_20230605_100221843.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sunrise on the third morning bathed the setting moon in cotton candy skies</td></tr></tbody></table></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0.2px; text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.2px; text-align: left;">The night watches were magical. As the sun went down and the full moon came out to play</span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.2px; text-align: left;">, the swell would lay down and Minerva would fly. We saw a handful of other boats on the radar, but only a couple of container ships were visible with our eyes, all of them distant. During the day we were kept company by schools of flying fish, who seemed determined to race with us, and the clouds made interesting moonshadows on the water at night. One night a small dolphin jumped all the way out of the water alongside Lance then quickly disappeared. Later that same night, on my watch there was a rather large cloud above Minerva and clear skies on the horizon, the moon caused a million little sparkles right on the horizon - it looked like we were sailing on a dark lake across from a bustling lakeside city. On the third night the wind did finally shift a little more to the East, we paid out some sails, the boat flattened out and we sailed comfortably the rest of the way, catching a free ride on a ripping current over the top of Bonaire and to Curacao.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.2px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.2px; text-align: left;">The sacrificial suncover on the headsail went from gently frayed to completely shredded during our passage, and we pulled into the anchorage with the ravaged cover hanging like a row of sad flags. </span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.2px; text-align: left;">We arrived just before 5 pm and circled around a bit before settling on the perfect spot to drop the hook. We were on our final approach when we ran aground on a soft sandy shoal that wasn't on the chart, a rather inauspicious ending to an otherwise flawlessly executed passage. Of course it was getting close to sundowner time so everyone was on their boat decks to witness it, surely adding to our new neighbors' impression of us. Oh well. We set the hook and were treated to a front-row seat of the naked ancient French couple diving from their boat to swim upwind of us.</span></span></div></div>Rhumb Linehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06125310003658481179noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1449360842608447395.post-72328116389953190422023-05-23T18:37:00.017-04:002023-05-26T09:55:19.580-04:00TOAST!<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_VZ58qCZFqppxGeRW38ADyidqfJAn73CrXvwXt_czKlneSZRrM07eYEIe6Cez9E5oLq1yyunmc9PzhNqvlThO8Apa1wKfqzfFtHZX05aIc_jpxCyCH2KW7NHZtHxxScq1bAIyVxEeDchaRy3mfY4kyGKYcVS5_m01iyB5kyry6FTAkrkZwAqlEXCMhA/s4032/PXL_20230509_130723226.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_VZ58qCZFqppxGeRW38ADyidqfJAn73CrXvwXt_czKlneSZRrM07eYEIe6Cez9E5oLq1yyunmc9PzhNqvlThO8Apa1wKfqzfFtHZX05aIc_jpxCyCH2KW7NHZtHxxScq1bAIyVxEeDchaRy3mfY4kyGKYcVS5_m01iyB5kyry6FTAkrkZwAqlEXCMhA/w400-h300/PXL_20230509_130723226.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">If you've been sharing our adventure for a while you may remember a time when we were in Portland Maine with a broken engine, September growing old and the nights becoming uncomfortably cold. We were in limbo, waiting for two different shops to give us a quote on the engine swap, anxiously anticipating the arrival of our new engine. Covid was still rearing its ugly head causing manpower and materials delays, and we were getting crushed between the need for mandatory repairs and the inevitable arrival of winter.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">A rock and a hard spot. Nothing to do but wait. One of the shops hoped aloud to have us sailing South by Thanksgiving but weren't sure if they could pull it off yet.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">We fired up the Mr. Buddy propane heater and rubbed our hands in front of it before tucking in to bed, coaxing the dog onto the blanket to better share our body heat.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">With nothing productive to do, my brain did what it does, it spun and spun and spun until I wore myself out, then it continued to spin in my sleep causing bizarre and intense dreams that awakened me in cold sweats, gasping for breath.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">It's important to note that the Maine Yacht Center lives right next door to the B&M baked beans factory. Downwind, in fact, and often we would fall asleep to the smell of baked beans being prepared for canning.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">One of these nights I was flopping around in bed with my brain doing its pressure-cooker routine when my subconscious must have picked up on the baked bean smell and registered it as toast. Probably then it took the additional leap to associate it somehow with fire and therefore dangerous. But in my semi-conscious and exhausted state, I sat straight up and the shout that escaped my lips was TOAST!!!!!!</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Yes, I woke myself up shouting toast. The funnier part was that it woke Lance too, and he leapt out of bed ready to run, both fists closed and swinging at the empty air - fully prepared to fight whatever it was from a dead sleep. He was absolutely gonna destroy... toast. Then we blinked at each other and both of us crinkled our brows at the same time. Toast?</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Later that morning, over coffee and - you guessed it, toast - we agreed it might be best to hand the keys over to the shop and let them do the work over the winter. It turned out to be the right decision because the Nor'Easter that came in Thanksgiving weekend was epic, but since Minerva was safe on stands and we were tucked in with family in California, neither ship nor crew were bothered much by the vicious storm.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Why do I bring this story to you now, so long after the fact? Because I now recognize the brain-pressure-cooker pattern. It reemerges whenever we are on the cusp of some brand new adventure. I've concluded it's my body's way of trying to steer me back into the comfort zone. Like an undermining pre-teen frenemy, it whispers these hateful little messages:</span></p><p style="text-align: center;">you can't do this</p><p style="text-align: center;">it's too scary</p><p style="text-align: center;">you aren't clever enough, prepared enough, strong enough</p><p style="text-align: center;">you aren't a good enough sailor</p><p style="text-align: center;">and on and on and on and on</p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Last night's dream was about a vicious storm attacking us. It had a face that looked a lot like Animal the Muppet, and it growled at us and tried to swallow Minerva whole while we tacked and tacked to escape the giant red snapping mouth. Ridiculous, right?</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span>Must mean we are stepping up to the starting line of a brand-new adventure. </span>Yep, 500+ miles across the open Caribbean Sea from St. Croix to Curacao. This will be our longest nonstop sail yet by double.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;">terrifying</p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Shut up brain. </span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">It's gonna be awesome.</span></p>Rhumb Linehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06125310003658481179noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1449360842608447395.post-28556448671082585462023-05-09T14:59:00.098-04:002023-05-26T09:56:15.104-04:00Slice of Life -USVI National Parks<div style="text-align: right;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEHzRRP5PgGshBjRvwI33O2YPRrp7E5cDO3Qo-Z641o1Mdiv8sqHdL-hwjshdKy36n8LFMZwHv-Q6weT-oKIgx8cOTjrxgugKzTbFKIlKbnIIl0NSUJEf_1ZJTw6KPzQljjgEn967_m7CxXhcHj-mmXd_7BEfj9VrILliyDPSMFA5o2WFu7V7Zv2HlDg/s4032/PXL_20230504_134511287.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEHzRRP5PgGshBjRvwI33O2YPRrp7E5cDO3Qo-Z641o1Mdiv8sqHdL-hwjshdKy36n8LFMZwHv-Q6weT-oKIgx8cOTjrxgugKzTbFKIlKbnIIl0NSUJEf_1ZJTw6KPzQljjgEn967_m7CxXhcHj-mmXd_7BEfj9VrILliyDPSMFA5o2WFu7V7Zv2HlDg/w400-h300/PXL_20230504_134511287.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The turtle was grazing heartily, waving its front fins now and then to dust the sand off of the grasses before chomping a fresh bite. The remora on its back would occasionally release and take a lap through the dust clouds, snapping its mouth, before reattaching to the turtle shell for its slow ride to the next buffet. Neither of them seemed to care that I was still hovering above them, arms and legs limp and breathing comfortably through my snorkel.</span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibJz56IPprdxMhOQQ4fF76hj9D-2Rstl42McMj12GeRFxYVu5sZHDbKh8lhZ8rz5f4vFF2lTqZflFqcpO25bq3RGlLdKdETmASOisrUHdD5hZ4zuAgzH2UjRA1NVaEZEk7ecWrovpI0Q1o9YDjuavss1_NAtnaJTKx4-5INYBWtRUDl7RgvfVeQPO13w/s4032/PXL_20230504_132739482.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibJz56IPprdxMhOQQ4fF76hj9D-2Rstl42McMj12GeRFxYVu5sZHDbKh8lhZ8rz5f4vFF2lTqZflFqcpO25bq3RGlLdKdETmASOisrUHdD5hZ4zuAgzH2UjRA1NVaEZEk7ecWrovpI0Q1o9YDjuavss1_NAtnaJTKx4-5INYBWtRUDl7RgvfVeQPO13w/w400-h300/PXL_20230504_132739482.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Loud splashing and squealing alerted me that the next horde of snorkelers had been deposited from the local fast boat. They all had matching yellow snorkels and when they flailed noisily right past the peaceful turtle, the remora and me, I let out a sigh of relief for the three of us. A few minutes later I noticed a father and son at the back of the pack, also in yellow snorkels but swimming comfortably and quietly so I invited them to see my turtle and we shared the moment together. I swam back to the boat, rinsed down, and went back to my laptop to finish the rest of the day's work. It was, after all, a Tuesday and this was officially my lunch hour.</span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: medium;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd8iZpA-CYV6YqhMozVuF2LPzFAQf1ZXlYenrGWu9I289O4tRbMpURRZEDsL2-2gxZqcbx3mWBwl_vfX3-uUBgUt84lLxkaNnfeDcYNQQgmD2ML4tmoO9Qr_t4nXTb_WInZSrw22LQao1rrpvJPbcpyR8rOQFTD3R7by_QrUBxTdX8bp_63rQcloHBqA/s4032/PXL_20230504_134433726.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd8iZpA-CYV6YqhMozVuF2LPzFAQf1ZXlYenrGWu9I289O4tRbMpURRZEDsL2-2gxZqcbx3mWBwl_vfX3-uUBgUt84lLxkaNnfeDcYNQQgmD2ML4tmoO9Qr_t4nXTb_WInZSrw22LQao1rrpvJPbcpyR8rOQFTD3R7by_QrUBxTdX8bp_63rQcloHBqA/w400-h300/PXL_20230504_134433726.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ballast stones from Dutch ships of the 1700s blend with more modern bricks and concrete, documenting the passage of time as the ruins above Waterlemon Cay age and crumble.</td></tr></tbody></table></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Later that same afternoon, Lance was watching a pair of cuttlefish changing colors to match the background as they moved through the reef when he was surprised by a GoPro camera on a selfie stick being shoved in front of his face. The afternoon snorkel tour boat horde had snuck up on him while he was engrossed in fish watching. The spark of annoyance was immediately replaced by a giggle when he realized he could snorkel back anytime for more cephalopod viewing while these people were in a rush to cram all the fun into their short vacations as possible. In fact, we had followed the cuttlefish for quite a while the day before and had been treated to a completely different light show, that one more like flashing neon signs. So he swam back to the boat to get dinner started while I wrapped up my laptop work and downloaded something to watch that night under the stars before shutting down Starlink for the night.</span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA3O9-ZNM7sFQ88ibFwkQ_gwohwtGm0oAkeWyllH4bmvftoQW-R_oPVHXBhy2U9SfA4CcAukpxdrUp5g09MZ-RiNR7iJeDgPl2qz3FWfYhbrspbr0M_sviwk3GI2f7KLeocMkLCG9B8CLkVQ6_FduRJGODga2UwDgd-8NC9dSjHvy5f9ufWBeASd7Yfg/s4032/PXL_20230508_213543344.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA3O9-ZNM7sFQ88ibFwkQ_gwohwtGm0oAkeWyllH4bmvftoQW-R_oPVHXBhy2U9SfA4CcAukpxdrUp5g09MZ-RiNR7iJeDgPl2qz3FWfYhbrspbr0M_sviwk3GI2f7KLeocMkLCG9B8CLkVQ6_FduRJGODga2UwDgd-8NC9dSjHvy5f9ufWBeASd7Yfg/s320/PXL_20230508_213543344.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Minerva rests on a mooring in the USVI National Park</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">We had arrived in the USVI burnt out, cranky and exhausted from the constant thorny path strategizing and night passages, and had agreed to spend a couple of weeks just resting and decompressing before discussing our next big passage, the jog across the Caribbean Sea from the USVI to Curacao, where we should be safe for hurricane season. We were just coming into the second week and finally feeling rested, finding renewed vigor for the next leg of our adventure.</span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj53GBzGroiDyIoqa92KvzeEkqWfN9f9fu-KklP3d4v_0GEiH0QsBW4A1K1LnjOvWfr3b4LgtVjf9E8FYoiyoxfenFIbd_sAs4INNIn_rD1w-CwjgTzcu733ZUUEnsFGTxCePUa3kzvSv9Ax19Id0CL1iZX0SrC-8mEoAp5Qobty380WF6ogydft0iPqQ/s4032/PXL_20230509_210536460.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj53GBzGroiDyIoqa92KvzeEkqWfN9f9fu-KklP3d4v_0GEiH0QsBW4A1K1LnjOvWfr3b4LgtVjf9E8FYoiyoxfenFIbd_sAs4INNIn_rD1w-CwjgTzcu733ZUUEnsFGTxCePUa3kzvSv9Ax19Id0CL1iZX0SrC-8mEoAp5Qobty380WF6ogydft0iPqQ/w400-h300/PXL_20230509_210536460.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Anchoring is prohibited in the National Park, and mooring balls cost $26/night. An iron ranger floats in each harbor and it's easy to paddle up and shove a check through the slot. This method ensures a healthy reef, since anchors are not randomly dragging across it, and also limits the number of visitors each night. The reefs here are some of the healthiest we've seen so far, and our stays have been blissfully peaceful.</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The fresh groceries aboard the boat were dwindling, as was the fresh water and our selection of clean laundry. On Saturday we would need to leave the National Park and head into the nearest town to handle these matters. Undoubtedly as we schlepped our laundry up the hot concrete streets the planes above us would be winging the snorkelers of the week back to their normal lives, tales of turtles and cuttlefish and turquoise waters on their lips.</span></div>Rhumb Linehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06125310003658481179noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1449360842608447395.post-21626069775527403012023-04-26T17:18:00.008-04:002023-05-26T09:56:48.378-04:00Puerto Rico and the End of the Thorny Path<p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">After one of my Facebook posts someone asked me what the "thorny path" meant. I probably should have detailed that out at some point, so please accept my apology and let me explain.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Sailing is preferable if the wind is coming from your side or somewhere at your back. Same goes for waves. The more in front of the mast either of these items the bouncier the ride.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The third variable: current, can generally be used to a sailor's advantage if the trends are predictable.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><br></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl_Mwb7V5jwxLlTPAKQYstvahNAtmpne8IVuJ76pDnyZC09lR2-NLzi48-W1FGg971lFnublqsNBFAAvOxuTPdWC22eV9c8DTL0Xo-_236De_jm6gFKhzk_xLQOPe1zQt3YGJp7mJHRSdxrE3cFfUxsccNWPTs5FMhre4dEt6FYcFKUy6mYe8TVOhvpw/s4032/PXL_20230329_072849363.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl_Mwb7V5jwxLlTPAKQYstvahNAtmpne8IVuJ76pDnyZC09lR2-NLzi48-W1FGg971lFnublqsNBFAAvOxuTPdWC22eV9c8DTL0Xo-_236De_jm6gFKhzk_xLQOPe1zQt3YGJp7mJHRSdxrE3cFfUxsccNWPTs5FMhre4dEt6FYcFKUy6mYe8TVOhvpw/w400-h300/PXL_20230329_072849363.jpg" width="400"></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Impromptu Buddy Boats on the Mona Passage with us. We weren't the only folks that spied a weather window and made a run for it. We established a VHF channel to discuss strategy, right about here we'd decided to push further away from shore to find calmer wave action and avoid encountering fishing equipment in the dark.</td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br></span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Going from Florida to the Caribbean means going directly against the trade winds, which almost always blow from the East, stronger in the afternoon. The current and waves in this region also generally come from the East, or slightly North of East. And there's a lot of East to be conquered to get from Florida to the Caribbean. So the wind, waves, and current are generally fighting any progress. There's a lot of motoring - the sails don't get out much. That's the essence of the thorny path. Lots of motoring and regular beatings.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnhiJW3viVmnT5sgbX8GEmaExSHNn3-5j6zoE5fp-_G3rC7oh084NuIQaab0nvY1Ow1Ui774QWcb9pdpwwYllFF9FTkTy7ORNG3L_or_NhqLWQo3S2r_MmVaErKn4rxbxe-YqAGOwZdPNC2hCBl1y6GKCIshttQbTGN0aK8vV_gK38J6RGUV10Ngpecw/s4032/PXL_20230403_144302279.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnhiJW3viVmnT5sgbX8GEmaExSHNn3-5j6zoE5fp-_G3rC7oh084NuIQaab0nvY1Ow1Ui774QWcb9pdpwwYllFF9FTkTy7ORNG3L_or_NhqLWQo3S2r_MmVaErKn4rxbxe-YqAGOwZdPNC2hCBl1y6GKCIshttQbTGN0aK8vV_gK38J6RGUV10Ngpecw/w400-h300/PXL_20230403_144302279.jpg" width="400"></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Boqueron Still Life on a Monday morning</td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: right;"><br></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Experienced sailors all say the same thing about the thorny path "did it once, won't do it again", and instead sail waaaaaaaaay out of the way in a really big tack out into the open Atlantic Ocean, and sail back into the the BVI on Longitude 65. This method is called "taking the I-65". But we wanted to experience the Dominican Republic and Puerto Rico, and also Chloe still won't pee on the boat making regular landings important, so we decided we'd give it a whirl. After all, others have survived, how bad could it possibly be?</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0TVsaGbwJuuotLMbyzLm1aiq0wEXW2UJxNeQsYYztgpn1S7k5KJEi4JPAHAkWV1gnLmuwfk_3gZh5EgzlIHCIG4YPQ_cMv-elmrW8u8fB5-iYWFYCLRbwgQrdF9SEaC7GBKAZu5LznFgFiHyXrv3RRMBglVxYm0VvSGTeEMOe8ym2mrAjf-fXC3AvUg/s4032/PXL_20230417_173448214.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0TVsaGbwJuuotLMbyzLm1aiq0wEXW2UJxNeQsYYztgpn1S7k5KJEi4JPAHAkWV1gnLmuwfk_3gZh5EgzlIHCIG4YPQ_cMv-elmrW8u8fB5-iYWFYCLRbwgQrdF9SEaC7GBKAZu5LznFgFiHyXrv3RRMBglVxYm0VvSGTeEMOe8ym2mrAjf-fXC3AvUg/w300-h400/PXL_20230417_173448214.jpg" width="300"></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Fort at Old San Juan</td></tr></tbody></table><br><p style="text-align: right;"><br></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">We planned all our hops through the Bahamas trending South and East, and then fought our way along the Dominican Republic coast, where we perched on the East side of the island and looked out over the Mona Passage to Puerto Rico. Famed waters, these are. Any sailor who has experienced this passage will take a big breath and pause before telling you their personal horror story.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">By the time we reached the Dominican Republic the signs of stress were starting to show on the sailors around us. One couple put their boat up for sale. Another threatened divorce. A single-handed sailor put his boat on the hard for a season to "go home and think about it for a while". Many got sucked into major boat repairs or marina life and stayed longer, then longer, always finding a reason not to leave. That last one tempted us too. The Dominican Republic is affordable to cruisers, the fresh food is plentiful and the people are friendly. But in our case the insurance company won't have it - they want us South of Latitude 12.40 (the hurricane belt) by July 1st. So we had to keep moving.</span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJFfOrJ9Il6cMiVSxb3x4zzaoXTfJX7LmH0fkYPzVM8kwyjw69amExsd4bRxnbddXiYhY-IeHg3ymzYxRYCpEzDm3ffxf1k9M3O4j0ViVn-IILbkHGEvtR6YjEIiOEBjNMFdZUUpKrVt5YvK1urkODBGa-I1DoFnKKcqJoB-P1oQiWMFkNtlU-e4SZ-g/s4032/PXL_20230418_204008977.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJFfOrJ9Il6cMiVSxb3x4zzaoXTfJX7LmH0fkYPzVM8kwyjw69amExsd4bRxnbddXiYhY-IeHg3ymzYxRYCpEzDm3ffxf1k9M3O4j0ViVn-IILbkHGEvtR6YjEIiOEBjNMFdZUUpKrVt5YvK1urkODBGa-I1DoFnKKcqJoB-P1oQiWMFkNtlU-e4SZ-g/s320/PXL_20230418_204008977.jpg" width="320"></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">BBQ at Los Pinos, on the mountaintop Ruta de Lechon (pork route)</td></tr></tbody></table><br><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">In the end the Mona Passage was every bit as awful as we'd heard to expect: the pokiest middle finger at the end of a very long thorny path. We were advised not to try to play the currents as their timing was simply unpredictable. We studied the wind and wave patterns very carefully, integrated advice from the weather and local sailor gurus, and still got our asses handed to us by wind, waves, and most of all the current which slowed us from our usual cruising speed of 6.5knots to 3.5knots, extending our time in the wave beating zone by hours. Fortunately Minerva is a sturdy girl and the only casualty she suffered was some trimwork that had to be reattached after arrival. We received only minor bruises that healed quickly.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Shortly before arriving in Puerto Rico in the middle of the night, the wind and waves finally released us and we motored into the anchorage on a glassy sea, a surreal experience. The smell coming off the island of Puerto Rico from the earlier rainstorm was grass and dirt, agriculture and wet sidewalks. In short, it smelled just like a baseball field. The sweat flop had barely dried on our skin when we set the hook in the protected anchorage at Puerto Real and passed out flat, dreaming of childhood days playing at parks.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrp9MzGzQNFVYUQyzryEDklVtHaGP7ry7RU5sb8uv6ax_88fi93L-fCizrbt4LFe9zLEDa-uD_TR0tDuMj6bI-LoqnTbLhPFpwmhjohQFv611dO58Vi4Nz_YX1VyXG0b1TefMnlbf6fhli-npGlq-NDcPy-z4F9bWjwMwkBQC2Npn0zwHKw9HQBuG4RQ/s4032/PXL_20230409_200219977.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrp9MzGzQNFVYUQyzryEDklVtHaGP7ry7RU5sb8uv6ax_88fi93L-fCizrbt4LFe9zLEDa-uD_TR0tDuMj6bI-LoqnTbLhPFpwmhjohQFv611dO58Vi4Nz_YX1VyXG0b1TefMnlbf6fhli-npGlq-NDcPy-z4F9bWjwMwkBQC2Npn0zwHKw9HQBuG4RQ/s320/PXL_20230409_200219977.jpg" width="320"></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ah! That new outboard smile!</td></tr></tbody></table><br><p style="text-align: right;"><br></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Shortly after sunrise our first morning in Puerto Rico the music started. And didn't end until after we'd gone to bed each night. Everywhere in Puerto Rico there is music; all the time from every jetski, every car, every boat. Happy bouncy music and it's all very LOUD. We ordered a new outboard from the local chandlery and settled in to wait for its arrival while the Spring Break insanity unfolded around us in Boqueron, a popular public beach and party town.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE4WB82GIMiwxNpXEGM_wGnxiu4axZ0LTLL-XOC4x-KXAC7LhQsnCpCUSB2Ed0Exhmi5Y_9nnXuYu0SGM3oVKRUhxECirpU4xvSQqb9XspBY8ukC40zsmkaFKc3INzsTQhjsdrKjROsX4IuzF9nS_d4pv-0VdEY_BVNgHzwG9WOH8wIINUUk44qRnPxw/s4032/PXL_20230404_233159937.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE4WB82GIMiwxNpXEGM_wGnxiu4axZ0LTLL-XOC4x-KXAC7LhQsnCpCUSB2Ed0Exhmi5Y_9nnXuYu0SGM3oVKRUhxECirpU4xvSQqb9XspBY8ukC40zsmkaFKc3INzsTQhjsdrKjROsX4IuzF9nS_d4pv-0VdEY_BVNgHzwG9WOH8wIINUUk44qRnPxw/s320/PXL_20230404_233159937.jpg" width="320"></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">These little pouches of deliciousness are called Gasolina and they are made in Puerto Rico. We coined them "adult Capri Suns", they are booze in a squeeze pouch - the perfect way to end a sweltering day. Very little sugar, small enough to keep a few in our tiny freezer, they store in the bilge with no fuss. Lance is addicted to these things.</td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: right;"><br></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Continuing East along Puerto Rico's coast meant doing so at night to avoid fighting the tradewinds, and so that was our pattern. Go to bed early, anchor up in the dark, motor in the dark, arrive in the morning light and set the hook, do it again.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2ylcWc1QiGD-2W0vMZLlGCgIUimDCMYSfUUD5Lj6AyikSezmDamspFjNE-FfjgMk_2PWchfk4Knh2mbql0U_icIfHu5QAidbW0GG5mwU7Hp8qV1LRcX_uLsvffBvFPsohgzYZSCow9CuIzwgReaAylx6KbdCI0y-3O1AKfLPlTJK1z3NpLQfcMdm6dQ/s4032/PXL_20230422_111020202.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2ylcWc1QiGD-2W0vMZLlGCgIUimDCMYSfUUD5Lj6AyikSezmDamspFjNE-FfjgMk_2PWchfk4Knh2mbql0U_icIfHu5QAidbW0GG5mwU7Hp8qV1LRcX_uLsvffBvFPsohgzYZSCow9CuIzwgReaAylx6KbdCI0y-3O1AKfLPlTJK1z3NpLQfcMdm6dQ/s320/PXL_20230422_111020202.jpg" width="320"></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Puerto Rico has plentiful US post offices. Huzzah! Finally we were in a position to catch mail from home including a great big bag of flags. These are the flags we are likely to need between now and Christmas, the rest are stowed away for use in 2024.</td></tr></tbody></table><br><span style="font-size: medium;"><br></span><p></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Then we reached Salinas and received an unexpected miracle, West Winds at 10am and flat seas! We hoisted the spinnaker and reveled in the free ride as far as it would take us, landing in Culebra and setting the hook alongside our buddy boat at midnight. A few days later we made the short hop to the USVI on calm seas in full daylight. And that's the end of the thorny path. We made it. Boat, relationship, and bodies intact. Whew.</span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoTN_tuIYwokim3TDgoY0ZtoG9cbvJGXLg2yI4cjiEqXSh1ntubssYL3LbNZ_6TPyOUmRAuKMd4qbhb4dSa__pngZSqMESXDaaiefRkfwVJS-kih7JhvnaWmIuNMzVhao3qTzhWAK0bZkAolx6L-Vot-xhH9r33FDFqxf5VbWpAT6W3KMEdAshrvnOvQ/s4032/PXL_20230422_204329553.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoTN_tuIYwokim3TDgoY0ZtoG9cbvJGXLg2yI4cjiEqXSh1ntubssYL3LbNZ_6TPyOUmRAuKMd4qbhb4dSa__pngZSqMESXDaaiefRkfwVJS-kih7JhvnaWmIuNMzVhao3qTzhWAK0bZkAolx6L-Vot-xhH9r33FDFqxf5VbWpAT6W3KMEdAshrvnOvQ/w300-h400/PXL_20230422_204329553.jpg" width="300"></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Spinnaker sailing! Yeah baby!</td></tr></tbody></table><br><p style="text-align: right;"><br></p><p style="text-align: right;"> <span style="font-size: medium;">It was an experience, and now we are sailors who will say "we did it once, won't do it again". The dog will just have to finally give in and pee on the boat. She has a pee pad and she knows what we want, she's just stubborn.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The turquoise waters of the USVI remind us of the Bahamas. There are a couple of turtles that pop up for air, we'll go snorkeling after them tomorrow. But first, a cocktail and a toast buh-bye to the thorny path.</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgI1XV0k39iUkoSVN2-QjzkVtjw1gYyH3DvGJ9ySewPBslS_emKzeanT94FKuDWLFeJj0cqxnFFJUJ-Q8YUP6HC5hK45IUDNnauNc2RFFCu20fwJrdqBQ-VNB1ilR7IC0Xl4xJ-JfDN1SAnAOgk8DKTMY9y29YriU53UeTt69H9OPTWAwwqmQ4raRHT0A/s4032/PXL_20230425_160857476.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgI1XV0k39iUkoSVN2-QjzkVtjw1gYyH3DvGJ9ySewPBslS_emKzeanT94FKuDWLFeJj0cqxnFFJUJ-Q8YUP6HC5hK45IUDNnauNc2RFFCu20fwJrdqBQ-VNB1ilR7IC0Xl4xJ-JfDN1SAnAOgk8DKTMY9y29YriU53UeTt69H9OPTWAwwqmQ4raRHT0A/w400-h300/PXL_20230425_160857476.jpg" width="400"></a></div><br><p style="text-align: right;"><br></p>Rhumb Linehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06125310003658481179noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1449360842608447395.post-50804073861574497712023-03-25T13:52:00.001-04:002023-05-26T09:58:04.428-04:00Dominican Republic and the Mona Passage<p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The Dominican Republic is beautiful. Mountains, jungles, exotic birdcalls. What's not to love?</span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKfRlznLIQ8rrxpIb1veGVujh2kTVCGYvfnN18sN1azXL71wgnILCVtxB-9QwFHJUA0rZIRSpykKlaj6p6uzEQ2g31KVMv1A3BOKiaEUu8YMA3JbTtITI8BE4aUJ87EEQruPFZnBoXDJ-gfA_UDbn6LIKULscKygqBVUe-iXsNdlb_-03SBiQZUy8u_w/s4032/PXL_20230323_202325428.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKfRlznLIQ8rrxpIb1veGVujh2kTVCGYvfnN18sN1azXL71wgnILCVtxB-9QwFHJUA0rZIRSpykKlaj6p6uzEQ2g31KVMv1A3BOKiaEUu8YMA3JbTtITI8BE4aUJ87EEQruPFZnBoXDJ-gfA_UDbn6LIKULscKygqBVUe-iXsNdlb_-03SBiQZUy8u_w/s320/PXL_20230323_202325428.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mangroves at the entrance to the Line Caves, in Haitises National Park</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Well, they do love to burn things. Lance thinks it's trash, I think it's agricultural burns, could be both or neither. The point is that there's always smoke coming from somewhere. Fortunately there's a lot to do, so we just pick our daily activity upwind of the smoke of the day.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6za3T0Dzz6X5TsW736B3nRnQHdp9KwnspW3E3_5auTGPeTJB9i3eo6Ax8mf_xqsNgjTuKlb7Vo3w16XHOfh5yySzbOEZrxDgPe1AGphRq8SceXzNQD4PfM0495FK39Q3LPqJtGFRyDsWO8mm3RqkYiGOjC1_gAKt0BOEEy_XRxeDYOj2GGvAdwCUR7A/s4032/PXL_20230323_204701341.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6za3T0Dzz6X5TsW736B3nRnQHdp9KwnspW3E3_5auTGPeTJB9i3eo6Ax8mf_xqsNgjTuKlb7Vo3w16XHOfh5yySzbOEZrxDgPe1AGphRq8SceXzNQD4PfM0495FK39Q3LPqJtGFRyDsWO8mm3RqkYiGOjC1_gAKt0BOEEy_XRxeDYOj2GGvAdwCUR7A/s320/PXL_20230323_204701341.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Line Caves in Haitises National Park were once the home to indigenous peoples. They hid their princess there among the caves from the marauding Spaniards in the late 1400s. There remain quite a few pictographs on the walls today, mostly depicting long-legged birds and the occasional whale.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p style="text-align: right;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">We are still in the trade winds on the thorny path, which means we are picking our weather windows very carefully so as to fight nature as minimally as possible on our route East and South. From Ocean World near Puerto Plata to Marina Bahia Puerto in Samana meant going East, South and then West for a 20-hour slog. The window we picked should have been mostly sailable, and in fact after turning South we should have had a 16knot tailwind to drive us past the shockingly tall mountains of Samana and West into the Bay, although the weather didn't actually work out that way. We timed our arrival to round the corner and pass over the resident whale population at daybreak, and at first light we found ourselves surrounded by little fishing boats wearing no lights whatsoever. Perhaps they don't want to give away their favorite fishing grounds. Anyways, with the skinny moon and overcast skies, we were sailing in near pitch blackness and it was a surprise to blink in the half-light and find so many surrounding us. Hope we didn't disturb any in the dark. Fortunately we did not meet any whales in the dark, either.</span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTHET2MfJRQG0hMqfNYUmJDf_7NMH2-K26GGHh540uKGtbvpC6LOoECuiSIYzcenUV7kxK_1fGh6sZxrE6NGDyBX3jTSxLstUotLW2EAQjKU-sTdXXvafi47xTXrNygYBE7gItuulzktE5Msf-RDjH-R87J4Wx6gr4_ttNku_78qvadTfuekKWGIyZpw/s4032/PXL_20230320_161230487.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTHET2MfJRQG0hMqfNYUmJDf_7NMH2-K26GGHh540uKGtbvpC6LOoECuiSIYzcenUV7kxK_1fGh6sZxrE6NGDyBX3jTSxLstUotLW2EAQjKU-sTdXXvafi47xTXrNygYBE7gItuulzktE5Msf-RDjH-R87J4Wx6gr4_ttNku_78qvadTfuekKWGIyZpw/w300-h400/PXL_20230320_161230487.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dominican Treehouse Village near Samana</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p style="text-align: right;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The Marina Puerto Bahia in Samana is a high-end marina and resort with a couple of pools, laundry facilities, an ATM, a few restaurants, lots of wi-fi and lounging space, and customs officials onsite. One night they even threw a party for the cruisers, something I'm told they do a couple of times a month. Everyone was friendly and we felt quite pampered. All of this was surprisingly affordable. I can see how some folks just decide to stay here forever.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimvGf25_9qFUESGukWq-28IXauLuiTKz9sHsCkS1geMy-J5nFh-zWKDp1bc6GNjH_lLl-1nw26hseqiF5Kzg6KeglGIQHp0ZZ8s6sVbQHKeHQNKTWJ0xStSK8GYmw5GDFYuGtYgTGeG7Oirud70BHBCj0WTsVQgtLKPGwB28uuJYs7FLSRiF4d9W6vcg/s4032/PXL_20230319_183650874.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimvGf25_9qFUESGukWq-28IXauLuiTKz9sHsCkS1geMy-J5nFh-zWKDp1bc6GNjH_lLl-1nw26hseqiF5Kzg6KeglGIQHp0ZZ8s6sVbQHKeHQNKTWJ0xStSK8GYmw5GDFYuGtYgTGeG7Oirud70BHBCj0WTsVQgtLKPGwB28uuJYs7FLSRiF4d9W6vcg/w300-h400/PXL_20230319_183650874.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The upstairs pool offered some of the best views. Whales regularly spouted as they passed by at sunset.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">An ideal place to tackle the Mona Passage plan.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The Mona Passage is the narrow body of water between Puerto Rico and the Dominican Republic. The Caribbean Sea meets the North Atlantic there, the deep trench on the North meets the relatively shallow shoals between the two, both are very mountainous islands. The weather patterns spinning off Puerto Rico regularly cause epic thunderstorms. All of this combines into some potentially hazardous conditions, and the stories the sailors tell around the campfire strike terror into the soul.</span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXrmh8toe5tEa3qJtaiazN5YUji9TA8hK6XZmfe9Z4EDdtAgz4kKv7MxpuPgeRpYHdcX-2kqu_npQhNktfCmP9SdzZto2808phyDI7_YtPOIBU3PWGuCz8xWTJe3plOq3NoUKZqRwNBIQDFsBL06J7G8mKm8gd_HsEeikzQ8S9mkS9HjUHj8pEiYY6Dg/s4032/PXL_20230320_154441813.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXrmh8toe5tEa3qJtaiazN5YUji9TA8hK6XZmfe9Z4EDdtAgz4kKv7MxpuPgeRpYHdcX-2kqu_npQhNktfCmP9SdzZto2808phyDI7_YtPOIBU3PWGuCz8xWTJe3plOq3NoUKZqRwNBIQDFsBL06J7G8mKm8gd_HsEeikzQ8S9mkS9HjUHj8pEiYY6Dg/w400-h300/PXL_20230320_154441813.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">You don't have to get far up the hill to find a significantly different way of life; jungles and agriculture replace beaches and bustling villages.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">We have been hearing horror stories about this stretch of water for quite some time. Our plan to mitigate the danger is to study carefully the book by the local expert Van Sant, monitor the weather patterns, and to talk with everyone we meet who's done it and lived to tell the tale.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">We think we have a strategy mapped out, and it looks like Wednesday afternoon is the weather window to go.</span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8JcyJ8V24BwEPkRTGJIzmvS2OHWN7X6IPQZryQ-6TGYaJlewrcaUX7A7u5o9GgNMfVW9HXSo_tKx2aabuXMPRCICFvpVI1lKqx2QJglAjAjkNPyAxJ6ZZv8XxygoAoUHI_708yr2YR3BORAlKJhIogBCloXUS64kGqx4D6lqnfW3ZwsjwhHOuKa544Q/s4032/PXL_20230324_114442310.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8JcyJ8V24BwEPkRTGJIzmvS2OHWN7X6IPQZryQ-6TGYaJlewrcaUX7A7u5o9GgNMfVW9HXSo_tKx2aabuXMPRCICFvpVI1lKqx2QJglAjAjkNPyAxJ6ZZv8XxygoAoUHI_708yr2YR3BORAlKJhIogBCloXUS64kGqx4D6lqnfW3ZwsjwhHOuKa544Q/w400-h300/PXL_20230324_114442310.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The idea is to sail along the 600' contour to avoid the fishing nets and take advantage of the near-shore night winds, kick away from the land by 8am to avoid the Cape Effect, motor directly into the (hopefully light) winds and seas out past the hourglass shoal, then head South and sail between the little islands into Boca or Puerto Real, arriving anytime outside of afternoon thunderstorm hours.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p style="text-align: right;"><br /></p>Rhumb Linehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06125310003658481179noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1449360842608447395.post-39250438565726599202023-03-14T06:53:00.010-04:002023-05-26T09:58:47.709-04:00The Great Google Fi Lie<span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Years ago, while still roaming America in the RV, we switched our phone service to Google Fi. They promised seamless international coverage if we paid for the top tier pricing, Unlimited Plus plan. It's in the name.</span><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW_iGQiFdSZj9BPzaTMUhnhV3CXOPsHj0ag-2lGbBmE83j2e8hwuCGRPJm8Za9P_7EHCPc2-p5P620M1i8ppJlJ3lW10-cIWZjT5we7YJiQJ6YMawrCMFKJS4NonXZ88ppm9z63He7iN-inlpmBVIwfGLC6UurItbBAx8k_Z-YKIfeXsz972iKf7-Zrg/s48/Fi.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="48" data-original-width="48" height="48" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW_iGQiFdSZj9BPzaTMUhnhV3CXOPsHj0ag-2lGbBmE83j2e8hwuCGRPJm8Za9P_7EHCPc2-p5P620M1i8ppJlJ3lW10-cIWZjT5we7YJiQJ6YMawrCMFKJS4NonXZ88ppm9z63He7iN-inlpmBVIwfGLC6UurItbBAx8k_Z-YKIfeXsz972iKf7-Zrg/s1600/Fi.png" width="48" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Unlimited Plus? Nah, not really. Not for long anyways.</td></tr></tbody></table></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">And seamless it was. All the way through the USA, and for brief forays into Canada here and there. Then in late 2020 and 2021 I heard nightmare stories of sailors who were unceremoniously cut off while stranded in places like Grenada as a result of the pandemic.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">As if the pandemic wasn't isolating enough already.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">As our Caribbean cruising plans started taking shape, I called Google Fi. All those sailors that were cut off - I didn't want to be one of them. I COULDN'T be one of them - I still work for a living after all. I was assured that because we have the Unlimited Plus plan that wouldn't happen to us. Those other poor souls must have had an inferior plan. All we needed to do was continue paying the top tier rate and everything would be fine.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Fast forward. We sailed away from Florida two months ago, all throughout the Bahamas and recently landed in the Dominican Republic. Our coverage has in fact been seamless. On the horizon is Puerto Rico and the US Virgin Islands, and ultimately Curacao for hurricane season. Then last night we got the dreaded "your data roaming is being cancelled in 30 days unless you go back to the USA" letter.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I called Google Fi. Surely there must be a mistake. I had taken steps to avoid this scenario after all. Nope. It's their policy to allow you 90 days of international roaming at a time before you must ping a USA cell tower. Regardless of which plan you are on. The rep actually told me "sorry if you misunderstood". !!!???!!</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Misunderstood? I WAS LIED TO.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Anyhoo. I already run my workday on Starlink, and as long as Starlink is on we have unlimited high speed data. Google Fi will continue to operate for international text and telephone (at $0.20 a minute for phone calls), but for data I'll need to find wifi elsewhere. Many folks add a second SIM card for data in whatever country they are in so there's that new hassle and expense coming soon. The truth is that I'm addicted to Google Maps and use it to navigate all these places we don't know. Which is everywhere nowadays. Hence the purchase of the international plan.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Google Fi buyer beware. Unlimited is NOT unlimited. And if you misunderstood the meaning of "Unlimited Plus", well... too bad.</span></p>Rhumb Linehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06125310003658481179noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1449360842608447395.post-49141699349090417072023-03-11T11:27:00.004-05:002023-05-26T09:59:27.559-04:00The Kindness of Strangers<p style="text-align: right;"><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">We arrived to Ocean World Marina in the Dominican Republic around 4am. The waves had been building all night and we surfed them right in to the harbor, and lacking further instructions, selected the easy landing spot on the fuel dock. Chloe still won't pee on the boat, so after holding it for almost two full days she was quite happy to jump off the boat for a few minutes. We raised our yellow Quarantine flag, tidied up for a short time and then all three of us passed out flat.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFTOlUBAYW55i63Bj1yPFgR6ffN68Lni53tT9gTdoIDawIHT7Pjp0vycT5jIzBXA3M8t2U6wHp27OcLNfK6qm4x8_59mBCerebFbcQ0k-WI8nEcT20Ojc-7gcOgMWJUVB0SlrORC_gtlm9wiWc6tG5V99kg21OJ5pSiXute-XAUrdKQBuvsztdrhYjmg/s4032/PXL_20230309_134408486.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFTOlUBAYW55i63Bj1yPFgR6ffN68Lni53tT9gTdoIDawIHT7Pjp0vycT5jIzBXA3M8t2U6wHp27OcLNfK6qm4x8_59mBCerebFbcQ0k-WI8nEcT20Ojc-7gcOgMWJUVB0SlrORC_gtlm9wiWc6tG5V99kg21OJ5pSiXute-XAUrdKQBuvsztdrhYjmg/w300-h400/PXL_20230309_134408486.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Minerva on the fuel dock at Ocean World</td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The next morning we were greeted by the Armada, which is the country's Navy and they keep a tight watch on all the goings-on in the harbor. They guided us through the customs process, which involved four different check-ins with different persons in uniform, a small fee paid and a new stamp in our passports. By lunchtime we were refueled and settled into a proper marina slip. The docks are fixed and there's a lot of water motion in the harbor as a result of the unusual North swell that we surfed in. Getting on and off the boat is tricky and requires agility and focus.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">We had been warned that the 2-day passages are the hardest, this was our first one. The rumor is that on a longer passage your body settles into a routine by day 3 but the 2-day passages don't allow that to happen yet. We were pretty groggy still, and the late afternoon found us stumbling out in search of food into the open-air bar on the marina the locals lovingly refer to as "the yacht club".</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Some rum was consumed.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">After a while I could no longer deny the downward pull of my eyelids and Chloe and I checked ourselves into bed. Lance was making friends at the bar and shots were going around.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">When I woke up around midnight I found him in the cockpit on the boat, he'd made it back safely. Whew. Without a cell phone, though.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The next morning we began the great cell phone hunt. I checked his phone location on Google Maps and it showed him offshore. Damn Google Maps, probably confused about our location again. When we retraced steps back to the yacht club, we heard the strangest story. The bar owner had been approached by the Armada at the crack of dawn. A fisherman had found a phone/wallet and immediately reported it found to the Armada, but put it in his pocket for safekeeping. The fishing is typically done by noon and he left the Armada to figure out the phone's owner in the meantime.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">So Google Maps had it right. The phone was in fact on a fishing expedition offshore.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The Armada came by to check on us twice, the last time it was no less than the Comandante - the big cheese himself - who came out to let us know that "he's got us". Sure enough, when the fisherman came back the Comandante and 3 other Armada staff were standing on the dock to greet him. At least they weren't wearing the big guns this time around - those are going to take a little getting used to seeing.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I'd been following Lance's phone's motion on Google Maps and gave the fisherman a few minutes to settle in before I walked over and introduced myself. In Spanish he told me that on his way in at sunup he had found it on the ground covered by some gravel and was worried about leaving it unattended because his heart is so big. With a grin. He then told me he had caught a marlin, but because it was only 100 lbs he had let it go (with a little quick side eye at the Armada).</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I called Lance's phone, so Jose the fisherman could see my face on it, and he said "you are eh Love Taco?". Yes. Yes I am. I blushed. The youngest of the Armada crew allowed a small half-smile. Jose handed over the phone. Everyone stood there for a moment. Another moment. Oh. I opened the wallet side of Lance's phone and took out the biggest bill in Dominican Republic currency there, approximately $20 US. Everyone relaxed. The Armada tipped their hat to me and left, and Jose was instantly smiles and laughs. Tension gone.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">So... there are some cultural differences here.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">It appears we can trust the guys with the big guns. In the Dominican Republic they check you into and out of each harbor, this way they carefully monitor who is roaming around their country and where. But it's not a bribe thing and it doesn't feel oppressive, it feels very structured in a way to keep us safely having a good time and therefore freely spending money. Despite their official appearance they are very friendly and seem to appreciate the presence of tourists.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The folks at the yacht club tell us phones are left there all the time and this is the first time the Armada has gotten involved. The difference is likely that Lance's phone is also a wallet with all the usual stuff that goes there like credit cards and cash. All of which was still there.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">We feel very safe here.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Later in the day, Lance lamented that his wallet had gone marlin fishing without him. We have a new friend in Jose, though, so maybe marlin fishing WITH his wallet is in his future.</span></p>Rhumb Linehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06125310003658481179noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1449360842608447395.post-64438508040441671982023-03-08T10:27:00.002-05:002023-05-26T10:00:01.782-04:00Goodbye Bahamas<p style="text-align: right;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg255ghYw3UqaMG0cMV-foFRl1jbtW17HdIFXcKQSIVDWMHN6WQxTM6Mxj6hMpKfbB41COJZoE8FDe5KYx85hqmKXhNudsu6KxHyK5m7bcppo4DB9JM94MZWztljstKZltTzEo_JtKZQqhMbMIr8pG6hWqiiWdiSw8wuGdWNfyL5Obw5smkKu8-cFt4ig/s4032/PXL_20230308_072032714.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg255ghYw3UqaMG0cMV-foFRl1jbtW17HdIFXcKQSIVDWMHN6WQxTM6Mxj6hMpKfbB41COJZoE8FDe5KYx85hqmKXhNudsu6KxHyK5m7bcppo4DB9JM94MZWztljstKZltTzEo_JtKZQqhMbMIr8pG6hWqiiWdiSw8wuGdWNfyL5Obw5smkKu8-cFt4ig/w400-h300/PXL_20230308_072032714.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Around 1 am Lance woke me up for my turn at the wheel. When I came up on deck I was greeted by the full moon and glassy seas, Minerva's trusty engine was humming contentedly and we were zipping along at 6.7 knots. There were a few fluffy clouds but the air felt dryer than usual.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Lance mumbled something about the radar overlay before nodding off, so I switched the view on the chartplotter over to check it out. Nothing but nothing. Well, except that one island just before our turn 4. Little Inagua, our last contact with the Bahamas island nation.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieECyS8TV-xTY1c-UXRFsv9QoSMfo8HN1MqQuslgWYG4YJTPEIMjJOSumA-k3gKLmKSaX9NTPemxnM4_AMcL5qNm8XVgvUuXzL1qSjUx1jDx59Wj_UWimBjlq3e1JF8ehhQDkQMf6xJrIvHU2bbhI15Cg9BOyHAiCXhkU2C_Tz5iPAyxiv8CDD-ZkWBQ/s4032/PXL_20230306_180215400.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieECyS8TV-xTY1c-UXRFsv9QoSMfo8HN1MqQuslgWYG4YJTPEIMjJOSumA-k3gKLmKSaX9NTPemxnM4_AMcL5qNm8XVgvUuXzL1qSjUx1jDx59Wj_UWimBjlq3e1JF8ehhQDkQMf6xJrIvHU2bbhI15Cg9BOyHAiCXhkU2C_Tz5iPAyxiv8CDD-ZkWBQ/w400-h300/PXL_20230306_180215400.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fruit trees line the beach on Acklins Island. Research leads us to believe this one might be a "Five Year Apple"</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Little Inagua is 50 square miles and completely uninhabited. We are passing it on our way to the Dominican Republic, and it seems like a natural touchstone for a lot of other passages too. We will come within a few miles of it, and I can't see it. At all. Nothing. Eerie. Even the cloud cluster that normally betrays every other Bahamian island location is missing.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Once again I muttered under my breath "Would it kill you to put a light on this thing? A marker? A bell? Something?"</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs2hMmMjFRRQ5n3zeqBVwfVEIYOqrMpc5CAIsNt0Ex_nDDeZQuy9RHm5nZeg1ICvSVp3EylHvujvQ5WX2AXv2ohtycH5UjCGQqaDuCAqwYwpsIz-Tc4vRwkusA54VsH1fEHysAHJwcjp8IQkZsLeKBz3Mw0njCfsWcL6X-BBwwwAB4gJvr872gmrCLfQ/s4032/PXL_20230307_130420420.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs2hMmMjFRRQ5n3zeqBVwfVEIYOqrMpc5CAIsNt0Ex_nDDeZQuy9RHm5nZeg1ICvSVp3EylHvujvQ5WX2AXv2ohtycH5UjCGQqaDuCAqwYwpsIz-Tc4vRwkusA54VsH1fEHysAHJwcjp8IQkZsLeKBz3Mw0njCfsWcL6X-BBwwwAB4gJvr872gmrCLfQ/s320/PXL_20230307_130420420.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Interesting sponges on Acklin Island</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">And I am struck again by how grateful I am to be doing this adventure with today's technology. I have full confidence in our chartplotter. Still, some visual or audio confirmation would be welcomed.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Without a chartplotter, we would have laid out this course on a paper chart and kept our eyes glued to the compass and the clock to ensure we remained faithful to the plan. Right about now, without visual confirmation, I'd be freaking out that we had miscalculated, and probably sweating and swearing a little bit. Maybe a lot.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Instead, we glide by it in the darkness while I nibble on a cookie and pet my sleepy dog. Goodbye Bahamas.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC2Nywn6D-01OukQZWEnvOTX39EjnDl8oF_6wQs8OnGJp4mLIp30HUDFxY4CpwhPq65xmWRQhssOjd9jYt44IjNr-qnlHFcrP1Jjm_15ZZ5VwGl-7FmwN7nJrIbgXs2ZV4KIEy_dwwBx7ny-n3VabzPU1O9WqIhCcEa_n9JBtB-Jxbjd1gK4GHWxAb-Q/s4032/PXL_20230307_172951002.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC2Nywn6D-01OukQZWEnvOTX39EjnDl8oF_6wQs8OnGJp4mLIp30HUDFxY4CpwhPq65xmWRQhssOjd9jYt44IjNr-qnlHFcrP1Jjm_15ZZ5VwGl-7FmwN7nJrIbgXs2ZV4KIEy_dwwBx7ny-n3VabzPU1O9WqIhCcEa_n9JBtB-Jxbjd1gK4GHWxAb-Q/w400-h300/PXL_20230307_172951002.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p>Rhumb Linehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06125310003658481179noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1449360842608447395.post-21671653188895279632023-02-19T16:26:00.003-05:002023-05-26T10:00:45.240-04:00Magic on Mackie Shoals<div style="text-align: right;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK8ayz5rz3-OA3tOg5Rpm7IySnsXOf4cVant5Jjv6nI8jdSRuI3Mx8hUxcjq_yrZwFEJfyUF9K1SF6Bl9Hze3bwugmn2dwNbiYnnfHA-9axqcPKOdZFO71hKOe2GIEfVG6hWCSM-QKIckzHXtlpEt1WNMHQitlDJEgS0A9U41joNPLD8z31M59gvcUFQ/s4032/PXL_20230114_200304764.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK8ayz5rz3-OA3tOg5Rpm7IySnsXOf4cVant5Jjv6nI8jdSRuI3Mx8hUxcjq_yrZwFEJfyUF9K1SF6Bl9Hze3bwugmn2dwNbiYnnfHA-9axqcPKOdZFO71hKOe2GIEfVG6hWCSM-QKIckzHXtlpEt1WNMHQitlDJEgS0A9U41joNPLD8z31M59gvcUFQ/w400-h300/PXL_20230114_200304764.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Dave pointed to a spot on the chart in the middle of nowhere. "We'll spend the night here".</span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I zoomed out the chart, and then zoomed it out again. There was no island anywhere nearby. The spot Dave pointed at was 37 mi from the backside of Bimini, and 50 miles or more to Chub Cay or Andros. <span style="letter-spacing: 0.2px;">I squinted my eyes and chewed on my lip. This goes against everything I know, but... this is our buddy boat and they have been here many times. They know the area. We do not. Why even have a buddy boat with local experience if you're not going to trust their guidance</span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.2px;">?</span></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.2px;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium; letter-spacing: 0.2px;">And the conditions did look perfect for it. Light winds in the morning going our way, then 2 days of peaceful calm.</span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium; letter-spacing: 0.2px;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">And so began our journey to Mackie Shoals.</span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1vi3MBpXXKOrkTGAzQpS17plmospnnQJ6Rb-lm59W2DNEGcN8F6cC8agIfEYednybwylzA_8zdMEDlepqd36hi4rgKDySg55qIC5QCwCLR9FOPA6UatGFuS410Hbzyi7krOVKeTJ41qPFgqpWw_-uT4hdTG6EOrXeNlOUobFyHgYi5ty3VZ2DwUVtmg/s4032/PXL_20230116_185011778.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1vi3MBpXXKOrkTGAzQpS17plmospnnQJ6Rb-lm59W2DNEGcN8F6cC8agIfEYednybwylzA_8zdMEDlepqd36hi4rgKDySg55qIC5QCwCLR9FOPA6UatGFuS410Hbzyi7krOVKeTJ41qPFgqpWw_-uT4hdTG6EOrXeNlOUobFyHgYi5ty3VZ2DwUVtmg/w300-h400/PXL_20230116_185011778.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Beachscape under sail</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: medium;">The next morning we motored out of Bimini. As we approached the shallow sandbar that separates Bimini from the outside world, Lance was behind the wheel and I was perched on the bow watching carefully for any random coral that might cause trouble to Minerva. A giant ray glided past, and I could see the individual sand as we motored over it. In the Bahamas the clarity is such that you can see this level of detail even in 15 ft of water, so it all has the effect of looking alarmingly shallow. We followed our track out, made the sharp turn across the shallow shoal (holding our breath as if that somehow makes us lighter), and exited safely out into the open ocean. Minutes later we had Minerva's sails up.</span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">As we turned East around the North side of Bimini, the royal blue water turned to turquoise and stretched on as far as the eye could see. Soon the depth readings under the boat were showing at a steady 10 feet. We sailed alongside our friends and other boats that followed us out, until the wind died as predicted at midday, then we fired up the motor and made some ice to stow away for the evening's cocktails.</span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXNDzXrD914DtzZb1_tirH3dS3OHd3de5QnjDV7otfEw4ryqqg2xKYp2bgA3rEmQewTmLCVaMFhsPU0WdUt4w3R0kl-FxMpbIOZPJBfGNG6yEHD__N53AMz_lubJZZuPwjiDDOq6veXLZL70RSj0QujvqkeTL1ycEpgeXAdZpM4GfErF8zG8GcJEuVbQ/s4032/PXL_20230116_185003520.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXNDzXrD914DtzZb1_tirH3dS3OHd3de5QnjDV7otfEw4ryqqg2xKYp2bgA3rEmQewTmLCVaMFhsPU0WdUt4w3R0kl-FxMpbIOZPJBfGNG6yEHD__N53AMz_lubJZZuPwjiDDOq6veXLZL70RSj0QujvqkeTL1ycEpgeXAdZpM4GfErF8zG8GcJEuVbQ/w400-h300/PXL_20230116_185003520.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Godspeed followed us out of Bimini and sailed along with us for a while</td></tr></tbody></table></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">With nothing but turquoise water and blue sky in every direction for hours, it seemed out of place when we finally did come upon a lit marker and a few boats already at anchor. It's all 10 ft deep in every direction, and it's not like there are proper channel markers, it's just more or less casually understood that the direct line between Bimini and Chub Cay is the preferred highway, so we motored about a mile or so out of the way and dropped the hook at the outer edge of the other boats already anchored there.</span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I was still tidying up the boat from the journey when I heard the splash of Lance swimming. Cocktails and dinner soon followed, and that sunset disappearing into the beautiful turquoise water was something I will never forget.</span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdYqb3y2XtLwgJMmTJ5B6oL29Yr6ETWhCa-IRxULQTgqz2yW4qC4Grb17BasEMH2b-75O3yqMJA7aG1zGKAmyHoTLTBh0Hy1FbMVcApOibfnM1zuScTDEo-GAHSJ06m5FHVkCpEL5pOj0V_-YNd6C0ZlWWTuRDNAq8wSjuuZvGHh95ULsmJiQshRFCiQ/s4032/PXL_20230116_221326859.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdYqb3y2XtLwgJMmTJ5B6oL29Yr6ETWhCa-IRxULQTgqz2yW4qC4Grb17BasEMH2b-75O3yqMJA7aG1zGKAmyHoTLTBh0Hy1FbMVcApOibfnM1zuScTDEo-GAHSJ06m5FHVkCpEL5pOj0V_-YNd6C0ZlWWTuRDNAq8wSjuuZvGHh95ULsmJiQshRFCiQ/w400-h300/PXL_20230116_221326859.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Beachscape at anchor on Mackie Shoals</td></tr></tbody></table></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">In the Bahamas cruisers show their appreciation for the sunset with the blow through a conch horn. Since we don't have one we make do by ringing the ship bell or howling with Chloe. </span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQndPcn8TT8X8ting7MUSS_EF-ZZPLaY2OuAYP3ei5H8htlHC_xfFPVXZ-dTUzsA4m2WwR6mS2K-y6FLAKvMzUvNf1XK0OUCsHr1eq6UaR7ldie2SLI2sYl70Sw4TGwlCHNY1CZSVDgci9zIJMo4FIQwnYEq5gzvWacCnCa7VRJhN6rI6nr_wC3_JBCg/s4032/PXL_20230117_125827387.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQndPcn8TT8X8ting7MUSS_EF-ZZPLaY2OuAYP3ei5H8htlHC_xfFPVXZ-dTUzsA4m2WwR6mS2K-y6FLAKvMzUvNf1XK0OUCsHr1eq6UaR7ldie2SLI2sYl70Sw4TGwlCHNY1CZSVDgci9zIJMo4FIQwnYEq5gzvWacCnCa7VRJhN6rI6nr_wC3_JBCg/w400-h300/PXL_20230117_125827387.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our buddy boat Beachscape in the late afternoon light on Mackie Shoals</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div>Then the evening show began.</span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">We brought the cushions and cocktails up onto the aft deck to witness the stars. So many stars; more stars than I've ever seen ever before. With no visible land in any direction, there was simply no light pollution. All the stars were so bright we couldn't even make out the constellations we're used to seeing.</span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">We counted shooting stars and satellites until we passed out lying under the blanket of stars.</span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">It was the most magical night.</span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">As predicted, there was no wind the next morning and we motored the rest of the way to Chub Cay. For once, Lance wasn't grumbling about the motor running instead of the sails being out. We happily sipped our coffee as we motored along on the flat seas, both still under the spell of those crazy stars and a magical Bahamas night.</span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9ga87VnAu3Hx1iNyUk-y8OPBeI0Yg2BZQJJiAgLifLEzTAYGZiBJXQ8niUwXGM_qR7jYFQEDLRX2HzcXaMwBPbBRjJO5ZD2XMtvmE-YSgyfHdAiUJEQAnNyKhuRIcIm6N5daaT3zc5FJL5Inz_-_0yNZrzAmNz3kyBwmEojn7xx_D49xjwryG2T_2oA/s4032/PXL_20230117_125844459.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9ga87VnAu3Hx1iNyUk-y8OPBeI0Yg2BZQJJiAgLifLEzTAYGZiBJXQ8niUwXGM_qR7jYFQEDLRX2HzcXaMwBPbBRjJO5ZD2XMtvmE-YSgyfHdAiUJEQAnNyKhuRIcIm6N5daaT3zc5FJL5Inz_-_0yNZrzAmNz3kyBwmEojn7xx_D49xjwryG2T_2oA/w400-h300/PXL_20230117_125844459.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Motoring to Chub Cay with the sunrise on flat seas</td></tr></tbody></table></span></div>Rhumb Linehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06125310003658481179noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1449360842608447395.post-66177065596569051222023-01-26T10:24:00.003-05:002023-05-26T10:01:13.492-04:00We've been tagged!<div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">We were motoring back to Minerva from Chloe's afternoon run on Jaws Beach yesterday. The dinghy startled a squid that was resting in Minerva's shadow and it took off swimming so fast it launched itself right into the air... and headfirst into Minerva's hull. It hit so hard it swam around stunned for a moment, then came back to the surface, took aim and squirted ink all alongside Minerva's ladder and hull.</span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium; letter-spacing: 0.2px;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhBlqpDEA1Hqfac8TmoyOlO8iaJH86kSwYJGVOjjq8fNzWpv4A4-UOJREvTOC-wLg--3sO1iRY2SvGOrxz60Yz__0Vbz_TUcs2_96J8s_qRAt8wkYd_7_GP-nsi6q3zKV0nx2D6OQe5vBrDdZc1m0SU4xRTjux86Tj_EdEmiPT8znUuwpqAeJEiMZOgg/s4032/PXL_20230124_152511464.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhBlqpDEA1Hqfac8TmoyOlO8iaJH86kSwYJGVOjjq8fNzWpv4A4-UOJREvTOC-wLg--3sO1iRY2SvGOrxz60Yz__0Vbz_TUcs2_96J8s_qRAt8wkYd_7_GP-nsi6q3zKV0nx2D6OQe5vBrDdZc1m0SU4xRTjux86Tj_EdEmiPT8znUuwpqAeJEiMZOgg/s320/PXL_20230124_152511464.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">West Bay, New Providence Island, Bahamas</td></tr></tbody></table><br /></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.2px;">After the little temper tantrum display was finished it sort of wandered around under the hull squirting ink for a while before it pulled itself together enough to swim away. </span><br /></span></div><div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Later, while I was scrubbing ink off the hull and ladder, Lance was laughing at me "the things you never had to do as a homeowner".</span></div></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Yep. We've been tagged by a tentacled hoodlum.</span></div>Rhumb Linehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06125310003658481179noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1449360842608447395.post-25265979760340494952022-10-21T09:22:00.004-04:002023-03-08T10:53:55.491-05:00The Jersey Jump<div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Now where was that stupid charger? I had already torn the boat apart from bow to stern, seemed silly to do it again.</span><span style="font-family: inherit; letter-spacing: 0.2px;"> It had to be hiding in plain sight.</span></span></div><div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;">So I went back through the electronic closet again and sure enough, there it was - pretending to be the charger for something else, when it actually belonged to the big flashlight. Aha! It was going to be a very long sail today, definitely an overnighter, gotta get some juice in that flashlight!</span></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO-v47-5qcEWb0eXoEL8P74uSDrdjRpczhbKaSulHe0HL8EsEjRhx_N3VJWCWvN2iHxtVfP9uYehywRTz4InEWwpV-YNNRzwKsYWnfLD9MCaCU6TgH04-0kX8GzUayvs67TAbXlVjvt5rHDxI6BzFqjnfhOMmgWiG1ZeeoeZT-3HJcecGB5zqLT4NsZg/s4032/PXL_20220920_122932733.MP.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO-v47-5qcEWb0eXoEL8P74uSDrdjRpczhbKaSulHe0HL8EsEjRhx_N3VJWCWvN2iHxtVfP9uYehywRTz4InEWwpV-YNNRzwKsYWnfLD9MCaCU6TgH04-0kX8GzUayvs67TAbXlVjvt5rHDxI6BzFqjnfhOMmgWiG1ZeeoeZT-3HJcecGB5zqLT4NsZg/w300-h400/PXL_20220920_122932733.MP.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Coney Island Light</td></tr></tbody></table></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Probably wise to look around at the other emergency equipment too. The little lights attached to our life vest are all charged and ready to go, they will come on automatically if wet. Snacks are prepared and standing by. Radio was working well, backup radio on standby and charged, inreach tracking and broadcasting our location, chartplotter and iPad playing well together, backup iPad charged and ready to deploy. Hopefully we never need any of this preparation, but we do it anyway.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">We settled into easy shifts, taking turns at the helm while the off-duty crew napped.</span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Somewhere around 2am we lost all the wind, exactly as predicted. So we rolled in the headsail, tightened up the main and mizzen, a<span style="letter-spacing: 0.2px;">nd fired up our trusty new Beta. As Lance drifted off to dreamland I found myself obsessing over a weird collection of white and yellow lights offshore. It sort of reminded me of the big container ships we frequently encountered off the coast of Long Beach, CA, difficult to tell which direction they were going without visible red or green lights, just a mass of indecipherable white and yellow.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium; letter-spacing: 0.2px;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium; letter-spacing: 0.2px;">For a while they kept pace with us, sometimes veering away from us, sometimes getting closer. As we approached Atlantic City the vessel made a definite course change and the chart plotter started blaring alarms - we were on a collision course. I turned off the audible alarms and kept an eye on it, we were on a steady course and they were not changing course either. The GPS predicted that we would crash into one another within the hour.</span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.2px;"><br /></span></span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium; letter-spacing: 0.2px;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaObqi-XCj_PeMdbPxF7Mc7dOnLhbMof_PA6kyFb2FtgOjy6vaLvz67lsm7L7NMgGM9MCYzq-Ie6QHpmAmdeBFnpsxoskPSG4wj6GzRJs-14QPCf5gOhy1Z6SxWLa2XtkhI5bMe34c1E0Q9_zFEElNZZ6KXraXatm9Fev5EP1Nnao7lQSxjjvBe7464Q/s4032/PXL_20220920_211158117.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaObqi-XCj_PeMdbPxF7Mc7dOnLhbMof_PA6kyFb2FtgOjy6vaLvz67lsm7L7NMgGM9MCYzq-Ie6QHpmAmdeBFnpsxoskPSG4wj6GzRJs-14QPCf5gOhy1Z6SxWLa2XtkhI5bMe34c1E0Q9_zFEElNZZ6KXraXatm9Fev5EP1Nnao7lQSxjjvBe7464Q/w400-h300/PXL_20220920_211158117.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Barnegat Light, on the Jersey Shore</td></tr></tbody></table></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><br /></div></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium; letter-spacing: 0.2px;">As we drew closer, the vessel name popped up on the AIS - the Jersey Devil. A little more online research revealed it to be a fishing vessel, which gives it the right of way since we are motoring. I could have slowed down and passed behind it but if it was long line fishing... we do have a line cutter on our prop. I hope to never test it.</span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">My thoughts drifted back to the story our friend told us last summer about the Jersey Devil as we passed by the family home built in the 1700s. He was the 13th child born on a stormy night and was greeted with disdain, until one day he reportedly turned into an actual devil, flew out the window and into the swamp where he was, and still is, blamed for all kinds of mischief.</span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Well, this devil with the strange lights and indecipherable intentions wasn't going to worry me. I picked up the radio and we worked out a deal, I would speed up and he would slow down and we would miss one another with no course changes. As he passed behind Minerva I noticed the lights that looked so strange from head-on were attached to huge outriggers, so it's good that I didn't try to pass behind him, he probably WAS dragging nets or lines. At least all of the weird motion offshore made sense now. Fishing activity. Now I know what that looks like in the dark: random. It looks totally random.</span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2yRg8ib4_hTOb2u7N2A1zA8gFqBU8P1l5uJyKdsjLZjAWByq0s6plcJPQuxWdRcjwCttm1nPYZpjf4rWGmREHGdBkIftsCVGGPL9nM8-H2oPoueVJ1pATTS6EaXvOSayuF26aL3YSVs8G7mXNwO7CSHv978xD9P3ExAZK_FFy9Z2d5n6nA_APkZOf0A/s4032/PXL_20220921_013315757.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2yRg8ib4_hTOb2u7N2A1zA8gFqBU8P1l5uJyKdsjLZjAWByq0s6plcJPQuxWdRcjwCttm1nPYZpjf4rWGmREHGdBkIftsCVGGPL9nM8-H2oPoueVJ1pATTS6EaXvOSayuF26aL3YSVs8G7mXNwO7CSHv978xD9P3ExAZK_FFy9Z2d5n6nA_APkZOf0A/w400-h300/PXL_20220921_013315757.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Atlantic City, NJ</td></tr></tbody></table><br /></div><div style="text-align: right;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Lance came up for his turn at the wheel as we left Atlantic City and the Jersey Devil in our wake. All the stars were out, and the breeze was starting to pick up a little bit. We debated sailing across the mouth of the Delaware Bay to our intended anchorage at Lewes, but ultimately decided since we were likely to encounter container and fuel ships en route to Philadelphia in the channel, and since the current would be against us and the wind was still slow, we would just motor the rest of the way, it wasn't far and keeping the motor on would reduce our exposure to the large fast-moving vessels.</span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Now, we both know the rules, it's best not to approach shore at night, but we felt confident here. We had been here before, the chart plotter was behaving and seemed to line up well with the markers, so onward we pushed, although Lance did reduce speed as we passed the breakwater wall. There should have been plenty of room between the end of the breakwater wall and the shore, imagine our surprise when we ground to a soft but sudden halt. According to the chart plotter and the markers, there should have been thirty feet or more between us and the shore. Surprise!</span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Remember that flashlight? Yeah... It revealed shoaling quite far out into the channel. Certainly beyond all indicators. Sometimes you do everything right and you screw up anyway. Freshly charged flashlight to the rescue - escape route revealed.</span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">A friend once told us of a "good captain box" theory. All the little things you do to check, recheck, make backup plans, rest, buy and maintain top of the line equipment - it <span style="letter-spacing: 0.2px;">all goes into this imaginary box. And now and then when shit goes sideways, you hope that you put enough good things in the box to make a difference.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium; letter-spacing: 0.2px;">Jersey Devil vs AIS and a good radio, win.</span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium; letter-spacing: 0.2px;">Delaware shore vs flashlight, we'll call that one a draw.</span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium; letter-spacing: 0.2px;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.2px;"><br /></span></span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium; letter-spacing: 0.2px;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSnNZzETx3KdCew1qF0cIo0px2PNtDFMVYTFZ50gRRZgxYCvBRyW9wgoZzCucoHJQSPBhKHvPo22ge8F1cZFMN7uxkdsu5hfsA0IkrfdvIPTuvGgz7V_E6CLZXUw00u0cbaWWXtMgz_yEG-qv3tiYn3hfPUA9Io8bu1Cel3Zl0Kyg0jCJgfYVhtDYokw/s4032/PXL_20220921_222659042.MP.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSnNZzETx3KdCew1qF0cIo0px2PNtDFMVYTFZ50gRRZgxYCvBRyW9wgoZzCucoHJQSPBhKHvPo22ge8F1cZFMN7uxkdsu5hfsA0IkrfdvIPTuvGgz7V_E6CLZXUw00u0cbaWWXtMgz_yEG-qv3tiYn3hfPUA9Io8bu1Cel3Zl0Kyg0jCJgfYVhtDYokw/w400-h300/PXL_20220921_222659042.MP.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lighthouse at Lewes Anchorage</td></tr></tbody></table></span></div>Rhumb Linehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06125310003658481179noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1449360842608447395.post-46820155306116218962022-09-20T22:07:00.000-04:002023-05-26T10:02:27.259-04:00Passage Planning<div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The goal for every sailing day is good wind, minimal swell, cooperative tide and current. There's a lot that goes into passage planning to make all of this come together.</span></div><div><div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span>The first step is to pick your route. In this case, we are jumping around the outside of New Jersey, heading South in the open Atlantic. </span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.2px;">Our route will take us against the generally prevailing swell and wind, so we are looking for that rare window when the swell is minimal and the wind comes from anything other than its usual direction.</span><span> </span></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Our first intent was to leave on Friday, because it had a speedy tailwind. We would be truly flying! Our friend Al told us last night he wants to leave on Tuesday (today). Let's compare the days.</span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: right;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcbzB1TBvlMCQizSthdY2QpSMztcSlFahkB0HcH4rcqSfK36yiQZpcp0iRMu-5MOX4bB3BGCwFVwYqM6gR524nhh2EVDPBjGx_5kaDlQM6RHVGkebHWJ57CTbjrs78lNCc4HyRYrd13Alv_L3BuDzbB1nBb4q63V9dYicR3p6BTcTm-bn86OlyRLzkpQ/s2160/JerseyRouteFriday.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1620" data-original-width="2160" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcbzB1TBvlMCQizSthdY2QpSMztcSlFahkB0HcH4rcqSfK36yiQZpcp0iRMu-5MOX4bB3BGCwFVwYqM6gR524nhh2EVDPBjGx_5kaDlQM6RHVGkebHWJ57CTbjrs78lNCc4HyRYrd13Alv_L3BuDzbB1nBb4q63V9dYicR3p6BTcTm-bn86OlyRLzkpQ/s320/JerseyRouteFriday.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wind: this is Predictwind's Friday routes. The second boat which represents a noon departure would have 20-25 knot broad reach winds most of the day. </td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgROPIcx-vTipfjct_jLcDESdHtDF8V50jqNBUBA0jlWIcueMAb6DiRfZlo2cG4s1dgCrMEEGLnP3BZvpVyAoEapEgGSjLs8R4x_YVwa-sc1zWVI4WBddLPcvNlhUvboOlfAXBvO7XNDY0ydbfE2gqpuJpXBR0uRfGeXck5Jd0bVrxrIfDAvPRo-LBnkw/s2160/JerseyRouteTuesday.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1620" data-original-width="2160" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgROPIcx-vTipfjct_jLcDESdHtDF8V50jqNBUBA0jlWIcueMAb6DiRfZlo2cG4s1dgCrMEEGLnP3BZvpVyAoEapEgGSjLs8R4x_YVwa-sc1zWVI4WBddLPcvNlhUvboOlfAXBvO7XNDY0ydbfE2gqpuJpXBR0uRfGeXck5Jd0bVrxrIfDAvPRo-LBnkw/s320/JerseyRouteTuesday.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Predictwind's Tuesday wind routes: The first boat which represents a 7am departure would have mild-moderate run and reach winds most of the day, with a lull in the middle of the passage which will likely require some motoring. Later departures the same day are much the same, light winds with some motoring required.</td></tr></tbody></table> <br /><span style="font-size: medium; letter-spacing: 0.2px;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">We use a variety of tools for planning. We usually start with Windy.com to get an overview of generally what the wind and rain are planning. In this case there is a high pressure over New York which is rejecting the approach of the offshore hurricane Fiona. On Friday the remnants of a storm currently hitting California will arrive here, bringing strong winds from the NorthWest.</span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The latest addition to our toolbox is PredictWind. It took us some time to set it up with the tolerances of Minerva and her crew, and like any new tool the more energy we invest in it the better we can make it work for us. With the weather routing enabled, we can find the best travel windows.</span></div></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Then it's back to Windy to check the swell. It's no fun beating into big waves. PredictWind may have a swell overlay as well, I haven't explored that yet.</span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium; letter-spacing: 0.2px;"><br /></span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbCLLOTkD1e28OGGYbbXNVWtsENhFxsYpzcVFdqO3LUuUZOgNlPIDDd5alatOgDEzfdBwUksfhGMGIR1c-tdm6HUieOBXbrAucXNnEjBR4FiANnPmsZhFNtrLu6f1YPEG__Obq2iekJE4onJAgcpHp1dMvLhsx0uzw8kpjqzgDpia5Cmz8dMp21VdREQ/s2160/SwellsFriday.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1620" data-original-width="2160" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbCLLOTkD1e28OGGYbbXNVWtsENhFxsYpzcVFdqO3LUuUZOgNlPIDDd5alatOgDEzfdBwUksfhGMGIR1c-tdm6HUieOBXbrAucXNnEjBR4FiANnPmsZhFNtrLu6f1YPEG__Obq2iekJE4onJAgcpHp1dMvLhsx0uzw8kpjqzgDpia5Cmz8dMp21VdREQ/w400-h300/SwellsFriday.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Friday's swells as seen on Windy. Ugly.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwxcO23kbi25dRnshlOsib-Tjr9Y7UkjOjasYgefJ1ahwRYYs44-AXCd_8DUoMwn0bEUYoAuCxvNVKdQN6O4Q3RGRzRY3-wdEkhpuQH23f7qvVm1ZMXTPQbsEnAPtH3hjUZTsw7mM0yUogGI0AIz3eNmdwNrfO85Xa80OZS3mRsh3VOAk3yGdPLykQRw/s2160/SwellsTuesday.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1620" data-original-width="2160" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwxcO23kbi25dRnshlOsib-Tjr9Y7UkjOjasYgefJ1ahwRYYs44-AXCd_8DUoMwn0bEUYoAuCxvNVKdQN6O4Q3RGRzRY3-wdEkhpuQH23f7qvVm1ZMXTPQbsEnAPtH3hjUZTsw7mM0yUogGI0AIz3eNmdwNrfO85Xa80OZS3mRsh3VOAk3yGdPLykQRw/w400-h300/SwellsTuesday.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tuesday's swells. Minimal.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div style="text-align: right;"><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: medium; letter-spacing: 0.2px;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium; letter-spacing: 0.2px;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.2px;">Now that we've compared the two days, it's clear that Tuesday is the better choice. While we won't be sailing as fast, we also won't be banging into 2-3 meter waves. We may have to motor for a little while in the middle of the trip, or we may be able to sail it all with the light spinnaker. Worth it to take less of a beating.</span><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Lastly, we pull up Savvy Navvy to check the tides and currents. Sometimes we have a skinny water exit from our overnight anchorage. If we can't get out of the harbor to meet our window, we need to move the boat for better staging or start all over again with a new window that lets us escape on time. In this case there are no worries.</span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8xswQsNfPxv3NE4NqkPbNcF-lju7ngCjOselbR19PruE19ioMgWCJZXx5qLldxKh2ZaaIYxTfj2QjBe1CoA0cINS-ym5Oa2Hynm2_TJ3Qvjo0ObFeejDl-qB5nhoIQjBam7TxcpAzEKQMoyz8kJig6HZbkU_pV5_bm2oU8ps8qkcthsbtRuj9k9heBg/s2340/Screenshot_20220920-220004.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2340" data-original-width="1080" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8xswQsNfPxv3NE4NqkPbNcF-lju7ngCjOselbR19PruE19ioMgWCJZXx5qLldxKh2ZaaIYxTfj2QjBe1CoA0cINS-ym5Oa2Hynm2_TJ3Qvjo0ObFeejDl-qB5nhoIQjBam7TxcpAzEKQMoyz8kJig6HZbkU_pV5_bm2oU8ps8qkcthsbtRuj9k9heBg/w185-h400/Screenshot_20220920-220004.png" width="185" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The tide setting on Savvy Navvy will help plan for depth throughout the day, just slide the time bar to your projected window. Particularly important when the anchorage entrance is skinny or there are currents to plan around</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: medium;">Lastly, plug the route into the chartplotter, and we're off! </span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">This will be our longest single passage ever and we are quite excited about it.</span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span>Just in case the weather predictions are all wrong </span><span>we picked a bailout point at Atlantic City</span><span>. We've been to both our destination in the Delaware River and also Atlantic City before and we are comfortable arriving to either place at night.</span></span></div></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">See you on the other side!</span></div>Rhumb Linehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06125310003658481179noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1449360842608447395.post-45425963899060094862022-08-24T10:56:00.004-04:002023-05-26T10:02:59.341-04:00Greetings from Gloucester<p style="text-align: right;"><br /><span style="font-size: medium;">The shop made short work of the engine mount repair. By Tuesday morning we were releasing the lines in Maine for the last time. Destination: Gloucester. Winds were forecasted to be light but heading in our direction.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Alas, the winds never showed. So we motored. The new motor made easy work of the 72 mile run, and truth be told I'm glad the predicted winds didn't greet us on the legendary shoals around Rockport, the swells tend to get large as the water comes up rather quickly from depth there. As we approached Massachusetts the skies above our destination became foreboding. We motored into the dark clouds and squinted to see the (crab? lobster?) pot floats ahead in the waning light. The final turn into Gloucester found us in complete darkness, Lance at the helm and me standing on the highest point in the cockpit, both of us straining our eyes on watch for the deadly pot lines, the lights of the city reflecting on the water our only visible clues.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr6RBHXeZHRlWcf6MkEK6POBOekPeIlxq3xWtudAvOtBt8KrZNU-FhnLQrMxEOC6fr4g4qMONZVxFbukUPjJaXBRQTEZXME_jNHdAfUPyQB8APHAdFgVWufX4-Uvz2k-rO_nfL0grnxMnD471ZKDIfMU_Z0w4fcJzjft36QRXkM2OtiGNTHFF68Hw0tg/s4032/PXL_20220823_212610746.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr6RBHXeZHRlWcf6MkEK6POBOekPeIlxq3xWtudAvOtBt8KrZNU-FhnLQrMxEOC6fr4g4qMONZVxFbukUPjJaXBRQTEZXME_jNHdAfUPyQB8APHAdFgVWufX4-Uvz2k-rO_nfL0grnxMnD471ZKDIfMU_Z0w4fcJzjft36QRXkM2OtiGNTHFF68Hw0tg/w400-h300/PXL_20220823_212610746.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Crazy depth contours result in some strange water movement. At one point we found ourselves in some boiling water and debated aliens vs. whales while the motor changed pitch and the boat was tossed around like a tub toy.</td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Our destination: the first-come moorings at the town down at the far North end of the harbor. We'd studied the chart in advance, and as we passed the landmarks as expected we ticked off the mental checklist towards our destination.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Red buoy, red buoy, green buoy, check. Small island to the right, check. Next we should be seeing a restaurant, a boat ramp, and the harbormaster's office on the left, and the moorings immediately after that.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">We were exhausted from a long day of motoring and the excessive vigilance of pot watch.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9rVIs_OMXUKwLroO78Ox9bpesGjW0wz7IPh8WtB7Hp9Op-hgw_5BjZRPYZ5mRVMJC6QKxZn6-b4E-FwaGe6vqlEzuiVqKJRjrXt_B30rcUjwkRAALAMvNYIMRvkU_AM1c2xT8oDQrEltsETTJmYMWYcJ_JJ-6A2r9nqgfowOPUakPl1kdyUCNXlQ4Gg/s5184/IpSwitchLights.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3888" data-original-width="5184" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9rVIs_OMXUKwLroO78Ox9bpesGjW0wz7IPh8WtB7Hp9Op-hgw_5BjZRPYZ5mRVMJC6QKxZn6-b4E-FwaGe6vqlEzuiVqKJRjrXt_B30rcUjwkRAALAMvNYIMRvkU_AM1c2xT8oDQrEltsETTJmYMWYcJ_JJ-6A2r9nqgfowOPUakPl1kdyUCNXlQ4Gg/w400-h300/IpSwitchLights.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cape Ann Light Station, on Thacher Island approaching Gloucester</td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Ahead of us: an unexpected island covered in bright city lights. Not the harbormaster's office, not a boat ramp, and definitely not the moorings we wanted. What? We both stared at it, looked at the chart, it didn't make sense. Lance blinked and wiped his glasses, I started to go back through the things we'd seen so far, compare them to the chart, nope, that island should NOT be there. Did we miss a turn somewhere?</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Then a voice came over the radio "sailing vessel approaching Gloucester, [mumble mumble] Coast Guard [mumble] what are your intentions?".</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Huh? Us? We're the only thing moving out here, must be us.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I picked up the radio and answered "This is the sailing vessel Minerva. our intentions are the town dock moorings and a tie-up for the night".</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">A short pause, then an answer: "I don't care about none of that, what I wanna know is if you're gonna keep hogging the whole channel or what?"</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Like one of those pictures that if you stare at it long enough it becomes something else, the view ahead of us snapped into focus with instant clarity. The island that didn't belong was not an island at all, but in fact an absolutely huge barge side-tied by an even larger tow vessel, lit up like the sun in all its proper towing lights. Not city lights and not an island.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">We sheepishly moved Minerva off to the side of the channel to give the vessel right of way. "Sorry" I squeaked over the radio.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">As they passed by, we could easily see in their wake the restaurant, the boat ramp, the harbormaster's office, and (whew) some available first-come moorings. An hour later we were passed out in our comfy bunk. The next morning at first light we were greeted with a tag from the harbormaster's office to come in and pay for the mooring or be fined.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Ah, Massachusetts. Never change.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">It's good to be back.</span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrHYfrEVRBR-Uw8xT6AV2DyyoGrfyejKVeFcPPRWuuTCYSQB18SzOJUtC8KJEaLUVzZ2nHyPHE-P1aCePZiR-RCKrCjFsnv44EgB1APuWZun6sgDdYzn-D2f_PeewfG_lBuw7hM7AWvDOYLe_yq9Lu5z-qjJ6sYxXwt3nCmoh3nIXV7cVCuxftBBFHuw/s4032/PXL_20220823_164725189.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrHYfrEVRBR-Uw8xT6AV2DyyoGrfyejKVeFcPPRWuuTCYSQB18SzOJUtC8KJEaLUVzZ2nHyPHE-P1aCePZiR-RCKrCjFsnv44EgB1APuWZun6sgDdYzn-D2f_PeewfG_lBuw7hM7AWvDOYLe_yq9Lu5z-qjJ6sYxXwt3nCmoh3nIXV7cVCuxftBBFHuw/w300-h400/PXL_20220823_164725189.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">All three of our lifevests got an upgrade in Maine, they each now have blinking lights that automatically flash when wet.</td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: right;"><br /></p>Rhumb Linehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06125310003658481179noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1449360842608447395.post-58419179048590750512022-08-17T21:05:00.001-04:002022-08-17T21:09:39.945-04:00Moments in Maine<p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">"It won't turn" he growled, shirt covered in sweat and grease, forearm bleeding, a dab of grease on his nose, "the engine mount is just too close to the filter". We both glared at the deep scoring on the filter that he had just removed. Our new engine break-in oil change was going so well right up until this moment.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI-oyPV2Jwt_nYzPVY67TgIp0zJFElhBju9kAqNHJRVv9ByGu9mGSfDj-hMuJTQc2n8PyiLJ-m9OuFv-qIRFEBiqstH9qLUeK-UXEfn1rOzZEsqZmWXCkC90uz6vlBBgmOK6R_GeHqmuqTYxleO_UfnwbZWpBt7QOWe5GUyz0sRgm06Rgk-rznFQY63A/s4032/PXL_20220808_094659676.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI-oyPV2Jwt_nYzPVY67TgIp0zJFElhBju9kAqNHJRVv9ByGu9mGSfDj-hMuJTQc2n8PyiLJ-m9OuFv-qIRFEBiqstH9qLUeK-UXEfn1rOzZEsqZmWXCkC90uz6vlBBgmOK6R_GeHqmuqTYxleO_UfnwbZWpBt7QOWe5GUyz0sRgm06Rgk-rznFQY63A/w400-h300/PXL_20220808_094659676.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The S/V Hoss at sunset near Brooklin</td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">After a glass of ice water, some pondering, judicious application of a large hose clamp, a screwdriver and a hammer, a lot of patience for slow progress and no small amount of cursing, the new oil filter was finally successfully mounted. We refilled the oil. No leaks. Success. But this won't do. Changing the oil filter is part of routine maintenance and shouldn't include barked knuckles, cursing and epic patience. The shop asked us to let them make it right. So back to the yard we go for some edits to the custom engine mounts they created.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I was flattened. I had become attached to the idea of our first long 150+ mile passage being direct open ocean from Mount Desert Maine to Provincetown Massachusetts. And instead we're going back to Portland. And hopscotching down the coast from there because the wind and swell are less favorable for a direct shot. It felt like failure.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkHBQ_pCt0fWr61HB_Mb1CO9WdyeDk6D-MYf6YQKJ0z0ZqDCu9bSJ0OgD6nTnGg_b2qcKUHA4Sqte46aqOCy8gRKWvo3pOFMbLGigxirpZuED8aFytjM2s6rh5NN4RpYtTCVvs0I_pJhYKoT8E0Sy5py10RUNnIrT6WldAoWXUQWbdAsoipeQm7Uq76A/s4032/PXL_20220813_175720741.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkHBQ_pCt0fWr61HB_Mb1CO9WdyeDk6D-MYf6YQKJ0z0ZqDCu9bSJ0OgD6nTnGg_b2qcKUHA4Sqte46aqOCy8gRKWvo3pOFMbLGigxirpZuED8aFytjM2s6rh5NN4RpYtTCVvs0I_pJhYKoT8E0Sy5py10RUNnIrT6WldAoWXUQWbdAsoipeQm7Uq76A/w400-h300/PXL_20220813_175720741.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is the Franklin Island Lighthouse. There are so many lighthouses in Maine, perhaps in the future I will do a blog of just lighthouse pictures.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">After stewing on this for a couple of days a friend reminded me this is why we're here. Hanging out in Maine for a while to ensure the new engine and shaft play well with the existing transmission and prop were the primary reason for hanging around Maine for the summer. And we couldn't have discovered this problem until doing the first oil change. And they'll fix it. We are still right on target. I realized I was getting greedy by making overexuberant sailing plans.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Yes, again with the plans. Will I never learn.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM0a3hF9MrAn44IBqYdgv1LlZ1AQIVYFwFyuxPOU9ps_6zY7u2R6QQ7zJ9V6qcchzKbf8e3NpN3rWdnOY951gt5bu4Jz23cHnChDrUXJ9xwfeYA0R1DSkevL_fPVWdGTIGuR4GJJZDaP7HMSDVGFhCtKvdW-2HGMqiC22WlLoR62K4KWZshDvuS5sABg/s4032/PXL_20220812_233903105.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM0a3hF9MrAn44IBqYdgv1LlZ1AQIVYFwFyuxPOU9ps_6zY7u2R6QQ7zJ9V6qcchzKbf8e3NpN3rWdnOY951gt5bu4Jz23cHnChDrUXJ9xwfeYA0R1DSkevL_fPVWdGTIGuR4GJJZDaP7HMSDVGFhCtKvdW-2HGMqiC22WlLoR62K4KWZshDvuS5sABg/w400-h300/PXL_20220812_233903105.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Minerva at sunset in Maple Juice Cove</td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">So it's time to wrap up our summer Maine cruise. We set a date with the yard and are working our way back there. As we made the big turn South and West, we said goodbye to the places in Maine we'd come to love; some of them loud and boisterous, most of them peaceful and wild.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Here are some of our favorite moments in Maine.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSXKDoF5l0I20CnCh55jQRGA1yoTrNNhqgcDkrwt4KNl37FrC6cHrjtT-JlIiyGTLJ4koR-mXY0ko8gaCYyM2wqgVf5glciSWMNl7zTthVtrK-r32KUPanc4r1DA8eNjagOBEcysdTQg9V2zKT5OBotJ0bKfrZjEbYhGB394PJFZM71OG2TTOUYf8Ylg/s4032/PXL_20220704_200048840.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSXKDoF5l0I20CnCh55jQRGA1yoTrNNhqgcDkrwt4KNl37FrC6cHrjtT-JlIiyGTLJ4koR-mXY0ko8gaCYyM2wqgVf5glciSWMNl7zTthVtrK-r32KUPanc4r1DA8eNjagOBEcysdTQg9V2zKT5OBotJ0bKfrZjEbYhGB394PJFZM71OG2TTOUYf8Ylg/w400-h300/PXL_20220704_200048840.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Al and Elsa showing us their favorite dog beach in Rockland</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p></p><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><u>Al, Elsa, and the S/V Hoss:</u></b> Cruising with a good friend just can't be beat. We sailed alongside Al and his dog Elsa for many weeks, sharing meals and resources. Al has been sailing for more than 30 years, we learned so many great techniques from him, things he does every day automatically. One example: rowing is his default setting for dinghy runs. We'd become so accustomed to fidgeting with our motor, by the time we had it all situated Al would often be back on his boat already, or rowing circles in the bay waiting for us. Lance has adopted this way of life as standard, and I'm trying to learn but am still terrible at rowing.</span></div><p></p><p style="text-align: right;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: right;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKJqxEftNILIQHfJl1SKNXLm1hPuHwjVnTcMkg1DOvdK9xWRSrqAGrhDJnrvTP5-sjsyIUzJDTp_mdM3v9Jv_E3UMDrHmbdxZKplzSjq7lTosCWWAS6ej4F729hAm7OS1vE_sl0_oMuPYvXvMRH7kKS3Dxbgk_CT2Bih04VTNjoL2hjZQd335oV9gl6g/s4032/PXL_20220813_234656513.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKJqxEftNILIQHfJl1SKNXLm1hPuHwjVnTcMkg1DOvdK9xWRSrqAGrhDJnrvTP5-sjsyIUzJDTp_mdM3v9Jv_E3UMDrHmbdxZKplzSjq7lTosCWWAS6ej4F729hAm7OS1vE_sl0_oMuPYvXvMRH7kKS3Dxbgk_CT2Bih04VTNjoL2hjZQd335oV9gl6g/w400-h300/PXL_20220813_234656513.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The sun sets on Wharton Island </td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><u>Somes Sound:</u></b> At the advice of a friend we sailed up Somes Sound on Mount Desert island. The little harbor at the far North end was too cramped for us so we anchored at Valley Cove in Acadia National Park, and hung out for 4 days. During the days tour boats and power boats lapped through, and hikers walked the beach at the end of their long day of trail exploring, at sunset we reverted to wild Maine. The harbor seal swam up to peer curiously at us. The seagulls pestered the eagle, the raven pestered the seagulls, the peregrine falcon soared above it all on the pressure ridge caused by the high granite cliffs. The fish boiled out of the sea as the dolphins herded them into shore. The fog peeked around the edge of the island at us, and now and then snuck in to envelop us into our own little bubble. On one night the fog was so thick, the sound moving so strangely, the three of us howled at the cliffs just to hear our voices echoing back at us, multiplied and softened.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqv9ahwpEXhHT3i7UkIgji8KI2J4rYVGZE2Bt2XlhY8y3VHkRU-uhv1qKmtvZvL4Mw6vnupRvVbkV5P6hBFwn8HNvFJMqpI_UrztvEJ4oe1r6XvHP0Mquy07bJiSW5pkndK7foSX8yVY2K8k0jpLLCmHmS_nNQwmfXhxIOl4PGmeNQpXhJ9WDn_4yZvg/s4534/PXL_20220805_183914685.PANO.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1634" data-original-width="4534" height="189" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqv9ahwpEXhHT3i7UkIgji8KI2J4rYVGZE2Bt2XlhY8y3VHkRU-uhv1qKmtvZvL4Mw6vnupRvVbkV5P6hBFwn8HNvFJMqpI_UrztvEJ4oe1r6XvHP0Mquy07bJiSW5pkndK7foSX8yVY2K8k0jpLLCmHmS_nNQwmfXhxIOl4PGmeNQpXhJ9WDn_4yZvg/w525-h189/PXL_20220805_183914685.PANO.jpg" width="525" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Valley Cove, Somes Sound, as seen from the beach. Acadia Mountain is dead center.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><u>Eggemoggin Reach:</u></b> We were sailing East through Egg Reach, an area known for sailboat racing due to the tricky winds around the islands. The wind was at a close reach, and we were lightly heeled over, sort of putzing along when we realized we'd been following the same sailboat, Scout, for some time. As they sailed under the Deer Isle bridge we decided we'd had enough of looking at their backside and trimmed the sails to overtake them. We came up on them quickly, and knew the exact moment they realized we were racing because their sails tightened down too and then it was officially <i>on</i>. Scout is also a heavy bluewater cruiser, a lot younger and a little lighter, still well-matched with Minerva. We tacked through Egg Reach, focusing on every little twitch of the sails in the ever-changing wind, sometimes passing and sometimes following Scout, until we approached Swan Island. By the time we diverged in our paths we were 300 feet or so ahead of them; they peeled off to the right and we peeled off to the left, each to our respective chosen spots for the night. We ended up rejecting the first, second and third spots we'd picked out on the chart due to depth, crowds, or lack of wind protection, and our fourth selection found us motoring into Swan Island just before sunset. Who was anchored at the back of the pack? Scout. The crews of both vessels nodded to one another as we passed by and dropped anchor a few hundred feet away. No words were exchanged.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRzQJvwHDkiAZneDV_pY70taWranomq6T1T4xPovBgWiXXbEJynOFaiDX7SURIAgvsPpc5OXcITshlAnTY1Xwmibth20NIrjMHFzIuv8-9vgdX15vXBSZqil2_ahR_ClozIHyftksCqH8-5wiQyqQG2mag2KKtzXXLYSMEV9-Amhhb3Cg2ohlRe6E4FA/s4032/PXL_20220702_192510153.MP.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRzQJvwHDkiAZneDV_pY70taWranomq6T1T4xPovBgWiXXbEJynOFaiDX7SURIAgvsPpc5OXcITshlAnTY1Xwmibth20NIrjMHFzIuv8-9vgdX15vXBSZqil2_ahR_ClozIHyftksCqH8-5wiQyqQG2mag2KKtzXXLYSMEV9-Amhhb3Cg2ohlRe6E4FA/w400-h300/PXL_20220702_192510153.MP.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The wild ocean side of Hurricane Island</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><u>Hurricane Island:</u></b> this location was recommended by Maine Island Trails Association, and the mooring ball for the night came with a donation to the science program and Outward Bound school program onsite. The kids are growing scallops with a focus on sustainable aquaculture, and they're very proud to show you their progress. Long net bags with an assortment of scallops and colored tags hang beneath the dock, and they also maintain the many trails on the island, the trail markers direct hikers past retired granite quarries, hidden coves and ancient forests.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitcS_zmEue5hVH_O4ARbJn3X_nGDUbdtx5wNj98Jo_5gxApuSHq2LqBQRI-yaEowrrhMc99D3Ibaak_BeCDQatqhUuOIlzQXkuhz39u2SjPh2Qwd0xSWosPyKHFS1xiL7I8r1cjW832Wqsh3tXrttITK6m3oKjQ7-nF9nGbL-3CuHsyrWSyYtl3Nhbng/s4032/PXL_20220812_152441528.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitcS_zmEue5hVH_O4ARbJn3X_nGDUbdtx5wNj98Jo_5gxApuSHq2LqBQRI-yaEowrrhMc99D3Ibaak_BeCDQatqhUuOIlzQXkuhz39u2SjPh2Qwd0xSWosPyKHFS1xiL7I8r1cjW832Wqsh3tXrttITK6m3oKjQ7-nF9nGbL-3CuHsyrWSyYtl3Nhbng/w400-h300/PXL_20220812_152441528.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The GPS can't decide which boat will collide with us first</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><u>Rockland and the NYYC:</u></b> We were motoring South past Rockland on a windless day. To our right, the city of Rockland. To our left, 40 or more boats hanging out. Not at anchor, not sailing, not motoring, just hanging out. Silently. Weird. We continued on our course despite the fact that the GPS was convinced every one of them was planning to run into us and making big ugly red collision indicators on our screen. Thankfully we turned the audible alarms off, the scary screen alarms were bad enough. Every boat had several people on it, hanging out quietly, watching us pass by. Nobody said anything. It was eerie. Later we found out they were the New York Yacht Club on the return leg of their summer cruise, waiting for wind to begin a scheduled race, and the wind never showed so the race was abandoned long after we'd passed by.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtXk31PpMJayQWrbpjImFmLQbT-v7p7RxhqNL29KlymAa2wIh9x7Vp6M2C17DvuvxfipS_VQ1_3IQfbt-IHPkhRm9__ZDWu3depDQ1Q8v_pkX0Ef2Eu1BL4My6DfmzMNBrdK7kRlv8qUhpanVlmRU8SoJshZoomWfNWhQ0oRMvk9bKoVXEWiCeYazvzg/s4032/PXL_20220808_161108158.MP.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtXk31PpMJayQWrbpjImFmLQbT-v7p7RxhqNL29KlymAa2wIh9x7Vp6M2C17DvuvxfipS_VQ1_3IQfbt-IHPkhRm9__ZDWu3depDQ1Q8v_pkX0Ef2Eu1BL4My6DfmzMNBrdK7kRlv8qUhpanVlmRU8SoJshZoomWfNWhQ0oRMvk9bKoVXEWiCeYazvzg/w300-h400/PXL_20220808_161108158.MP.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">hello spinnaker, let's be besties</td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><u>Spinnaker Sailing:</u></b> On our way to Belfast we decided it was high time we pulled our spinnaker out and played with it. It's been over 5 years since our last spinnaker sail on our previous boat, and we had never pulled Minerva's spinnaker out of its bag. The wind was 10 knots at our backs outside of Brooklin, and we were running for Belfast, expecting a downwind sail all day. The conditions were perfect. The first setting of the sail... not so much. She had not been packed away with any lines, so we rummaged around in the hold to find some lines that would serve as temporary sheets, the resulting lumpy tie onto the clew was clunky and resisted smooth operation. It took us a moment to figure out how we wanted to mount and route the lines to Minerva's winches, and the sail itself was all twisted in its sock. It took a few miles of cursing and wrangling before we finally got her out of the sock, full of air and trimmed properly but once we did Minerva took off like a shot. We sailed that spinnaker all day, up to 90 degrees of wind. When we arrived in Belfast a boat that had been following us all day chased us down to be sure we got the pictures they shot from their position behind us. It was the most amazing sail day. We are once again in love with spinnaker sailing. We'll be buying some dedicated sheet lines in Portland and tying them on permanently with a much sleeker knot.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The folks of Maine are sure friendly. Going back the slow way has a silver lining, we'll get to spend a little more time with them along the way.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: right;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDUIzPvYdGjOUJpAnSLJqMPOQulYisp3XdDEfLpwHTnCLzZR1Qm1YfWB19wEYcLHjNb0MeUABU-d_0yZ0f4Do25W8Mrr2Vu5Ao8da9o5W45rz-723MKmDVQZAQfEp6co61boCd89bYURRIKqq2FX8M5H7Cut9oLxEiQrch4NoBD_NAejdQnDlzTTONoA/s4032/PXL_20220817_181657802.MP.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDUIzPvYdGjOUJpAnSLJqMPOQulYisp3XdDEfLpwHTnCLzZR1Qm1YfWB19wEYcLHjNb0MeUABU-d_0yZ0f4Do25W8Mrr2Vu5Ao8da9o5W45rz-723MKmDVQZAQfEp6co61boCd89bYURRIKqq2FX8M5H7Cut9oLxEiQrch4NoBD_NAejdQnDlzTTONoA/w400-h300/PXL_20220817_181657802.MP.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We hid out from a Nor'Easter at Brewer Marine in South Freeport. This is their clubhouse. We could actually live here forever.</td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p style="text-align: right;"><br /></p>Rhumb Linehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06125310003658481179noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1449360842608447395.post-7455858662782415542022-07-20T16:41:00.004-04:002023-05-26T10:03:26.064-04:00Logistics of a Liveaboard Dinner Date<p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Loaded with farmers market fruit, fresh laundry and with our good friend Al and his dog Elsa sailing their boat alongside, we sailed out from Rockland and spent a couple of weeks sailing in good Easting winds whenever we could, and ducked and hid from the occasional squall. One after another we picked lonely little island destinations where the dogs could frolic on the beach together leash-free.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"></p><span style="font-size: medium;"></span><p></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><span style="font-size: medium;"><div style="text-align: right;"></div><div style="text-align: right;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPcENbheyQx2DcQ3ccU97qc0kmw4hmmwBAHDF6XYuUCdc7-VdnZy96y_yuptQ01RbkFIZ89w8dD5Lynruoq4rki2nVcWvVFVVP2XGBvdwddXc54cF0m3FUTnKxbzSq7gNy55mS8prhl-KnUBMmtgdnjdxaIVKpKUCIN5-eP8iXwJRueSdf2rjdR_HKcA/s4032/PXL_20220703_002804244.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPcENbheyQx2DcQ3ccU97qc0kmw4hmmwBAHDF6XYuUCdc7-VdnZy96y_yuptQ01RbkFIZ89w8dD5Lynruoq4rki2nVcWvVFVVP2XGBvdwddXc54cF0m3FUTnKxbzSq7gNy55mS8prhl-KnUBMmtgdnjdxaIVKpKUCIN5-eP8iXwJRueSdf2rjdR_HKcA/s320/PXL_20220703_002804244.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sunset on Hurricane Island. Once upon a time it was a very active granite quarry, now the island is home to students of Outward Bound studying a variety of nature items, including sustainable scallop farming. For more information on the Outward Bound program, click <a href="http://hiobs.org" target="_blank">hiobs.org</a><br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHKpfQ8KUAK0MH0RdVuQOJD_dnKFJBiLHYuAyCU8vImGJWhSldNOHhWiROdwQockJftDKO_TtnoENvpGzAdyYrM7nf3guzynMS-UAolVFCe5cReWTHBLQB74G0c56h-wh4SVXHBfK6vFDV4eXwE4oibpAde9HgSgnv7tRPKyRlfdp6qcTcNJD9mj0WXQ/s4032/PXL_20220702_192903704.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHKpfQ8KUAK0MH0RdVuQOJD_dnKFJBiLHYuAyCU8vImGJWhSldNOHhWiROdwQockJftDKO_TtnoENvpGzAdyYrM7nf3guzynMS-UAolVFCe5cReWTHBLQB74G0c56h-wh4SVXHBfK6vFDV4eXwE4oibpAde9HgSgnv7tRPKyRlfdp6qcTcNJD9mj0WXQ/s320/PXL_20220702_192903704.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chloe and Elsa exploring the quarry at Hurricane Island</td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table></div></span><p></p><div style="font-size: large; text-align: right;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Eventually Lance tired of cooking and I tired of doing dishes so it was time to find a restaurant and take the night off. Now, most folks do this regularly and it's not a big deal. But since we are hopping around mostly deserted Maine islands on a boat, a restaurant meal requires strategy.</span></div><p style="text-align: right;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJogE3VFplDp3hrOKG8kkZ359ovduDX99mjp654uFjSsCGKdKUv_ukDGsupJ3uDAvSDCYHu8QyshVnHzsTMV5Y9jyTpn4sgnBxksNHMtBbnD-pJ77zQGWYLZpPnAJIUM4YZnNpbzN4PxqX_Sb2ektVZ5rWOlrLztVjsOwsVsyOvO8TASWN-MpL5wDmrA/s4032/PXL_20220704_141522781.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJogE3VFplDp3hrOKG8kkZ359ovduDX99mjp654uFjSsCGKdKUv_ukDGsupJ3uDAvSDCYHu8QyshVnHzsTMV5Y9jyTpn4sgnBxksNHMtBbnD-pJ77zQGWYLZpPnAJIUM4YZnNpbzN4PxqX_Sb2ektVZ5rWOlrLztVjsOwsVsyOvO8TASWN-MpL5wDmrA/s320/PXL_20220704_141522781.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Green Isle, this one wasn't even a charted anchorage, we just liked the look of it so we threw our hooks in among the lobster floats and settled in<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">First up, find a restaurant that is close to the water. This required a restaurant search on Google Maps.</span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVcksMZB7YpoaRYSUZpl4bLHpKoEfwznJIkXNgmDJbhdHVItIEMv51x08qBrE7qTt-2Us2LJA1JySHkBtMzBbcJcC5ZMWxF71JUD6xmaQt-WiWA-BK84U4sB4pLc5IjZ7R34E6vt5f7dpDLRl2cSAWPU8E_RBXuY_o3UFMaBZdsKD6_rhmzM6QFjrbVw/s4032/PXL_20220704_145857550.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVcksMZB7YpoaRYSUZpl4bLHpKoEfwznJIkXNgmDJbhdHVItIEMv51x08qBrE7qTt-2Us2LJA1JySHkBtMzBbcJcC5ZMWxF71JUD6xmaQt-WiWA-BK84U4sB4pLc5IjZ7R34E6vt5f7dpDLRl2cSAWPU8E_RBXuY_o3UFMaBZdsKD6_rhmzM6QFjrbVw/s320/PXL_20220704_145857550.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chloe on Green Isle, with the Fish Stick</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">After a few of those were picked out, I weeded out the ones that aren't dog friendly and made note of the restaurant hours.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Now, of those that were left, the goal was to get the boat as close as possible, so the restaurant needed to be reachable by dinghy. Time to switch from Google Maps to the chartplotter. One of them had a boat ramp for the dinghy and a spot to anchor Minerva closeby, protected from every direction except the East. Switched to a weather predictor, planned out what day works for winds to sail there, and whether any big winds are expected from the East, don't want that swell rolling into our anchorage and spoiling our night. Verify the sailing and anchoring plan jives with the restaurant open times.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Has anyone ever planned so well for a basic dinner date?</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"></span></span></p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><i><span style="line-height: 107%;">👉<span style="font-size: medium;">A side note about lobster pots: </span></span><span style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">We are learning to come to peace
with the plentiful lobster pots, in that we have decided it's OK to drift among
them as long as our prop isn't spinning. So now we anchor among them, knowing
we will drift over them while Minerva is at anchor, and the only one
that is concerned about this is Chloe, who has decided the perimeter of the
boat must be defended, and so she barks at them as we swing over them. To her
it surely looks like they are coming to board us.</span></span></i></span></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><i><span style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">We came to this conclusion
quite by accident, after we struggled to find a spot to anchor in a
lobster-pot-free zone, only to wake up to find them planted all around us, and
no harm having come to anyone at all in the night. This opens many more anchoring opportunities.</span>👈</span></i></span></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"></span></span><blockquote><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"></span></span><span face=""Avenir Next LT Pro", sans-serif" style="text-align: center;"></span></blockquote><span face=""Avenir Next LT Pro", sans-serif" style="text-align: center;"></span></blockquote><span face=""Avenir Next LT Pro", sans-serif" style="text-align: center;"></span><p></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br />At the end of all of this legwork, the answer was a cool little restaurant right in lonely Webb Cove, on the island of Vinalhaven just around the corner from Stonington. The restaurant had an interesting menu. Reservations were made.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5ksCshJbb5Rht1ICR8edA5oBjS6bNtSl3tT8P6IzAtwTQCFW_CCo6DuOJkRz1MqGQsBn_hSNIDpR5KelyaZGORkq4w8Ee7IEIkw38BKMCmgnff07XvX43p0zXC4xSQpLgGS8BKCZbv75XN4Q2tSCEpUzZ369-F0DFkZhq1AeE5W9drb9ZeIeXDJu8aw/s4032/PXL_20220707_202642871.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5ksCshJbb5Rht1ICR8edA5oBjS6bNtSl3tT8P6IzAtwTQCFW_CCo6DuOJkRz1MqGQsBn_hSNIDpR5KelyaZGORkq4w8Ee7IEIkw38BKMCmgnff07XvX43p0zXC4xSQpLgGS8BKCZbv75XN4Q2tSCEpUzZ369-F0DFkZhq1AeE5W9drb9ZeIeXDJu8aw/s320/PXL_20220707_202642871.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Cockatoo Portuguese also had a full bar. Hello Sangrias.<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The predicted winds didn't show up on sailing day, so we had to motor there, not a big deal. As we were rounding the corner into the anchorage Lance said... "where do we get groceries?" Groceries? That wasn't part of the plan! And it's impossible. There's literally nothing else there except a restaurant and a lobster processing plant nearby. Groceries, that's a whole different strategy. For a different day.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: right;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguM-u0KJGvqbp-b_EJ0_qfARitgGKP7bzfJYjokwMYd5mSVKUB76yAHNMUhVmuGRYSjVSAv_y9yew8kUpN6LKzZw8gwKURr_2xJQCM6dcDRyXS5Yif8mGes6ECPoJ6XDuVkqG1-Ib6GBLnM9z1EJhjxS5l1PekrkfgFL62vP1kZYmh7fI-k9Uqsa48-A/s4032/PXL_20220707_192109166.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguM-u0KJGvqbp-b_EJ0_qfARitgGKP7bzfJYjokwMYd5mSVKUB76yAHNMUhVmuGRYSjVSAv_y9yew8kUpN6LKzZw8gwKURr_2xJQCM6dcDRyXS5Yif8mGes6ECPoJ6XDuVkqG1-Ib6GBLnM9z1EJhjxS5l1PekrkfgFL62vP1kZYmh7fI-k9Uqsa48-A/s320/PXL_20220707_192109166.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A quick island tour before dinner</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Dinner at the Cockatoo Portuguese restaurant was well worth the legwork. For the next few days the dogs frolicked on a nearby lonely beach, and the anchorage was well protected and peaceful, and we enjoyed watching the lobster boats work.</span></div><p></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">It turns out there were no groceries to be found on the island at all, just an ice cream shack and a small convenience store, more or less the same story we'd been finding at all the lonely islands. Perhaps the locals don't eat fresh fruit or vegetables. Or maybe they grow their own.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7riH8-NYLuh-Vkp291q75TaRaNZeAlbB6eoc6mX8x-yS4mmknpTOMQV4yyuuMCpf-VIKq7ojdk47f8mQfD_TSJWRik3BhBFHTgSN3SkAXzIRaAkocgC74UISSLZ03EJPdsCw_-gwaet72TFL0nbH9c9LqmQ6vLwmzZljuiSSmu3yT2MM5UyWaJNOO4A/s4032/PXL_20220708_181145288.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7riH8-NYLuh-Vkp291q75TaRaNZeAlbB6eoc6mX8x-yS4mmknpTOMQV4yyuuMCpf-VIKq7ojdk47f8mQfD_TSJWRik3BhBFHTgSN3SkAXzIRaAkocgC74UISSLZ03EJPdsCw_-gwaet72TFL0nbH9c9LqmQ6vLwmzZljuiSSmu3yT2MM5UyWaJNOO4A/s320/PXL_20220708_181145288.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Al, Elsa and I walked the mile and a half to the town of Stonington. Alas, not a fresh fruit or veggie to be found. It was a lovely walk nonetheless.</td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">As we rounded the corner we found ourselves approaching the lobster boat race starting line. Yes, it's a thing in Stonington in July and it's a total madhouse, complete with lobstermen taunting one another on the radio, and big Coast Guard and harbor patrol vessels doing their best to keep the racing separated from the spectators. We skirted the edge of the pandemonium for a while before deciding our best course of action was just to go around the island the long way and stay way out of their way.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6Ai7Gq9b7JR8ugSsIP80Vi4EP_obwWlMRnPyDr4c5JJCA1rbDnA-1nihAZWgAsG_0r8VrlF2FBOS76wf1BkKbJfe1uVB6lOAyg_GTNm6MTppmXcAaabh-9LLnIxE3S-T-D4thSADlaHwNjICpVtDC1wnXyuE8TmgWV8yhuztcjDcq-dcAlkfdspMPBA/s4032/PXL_20220708_184137086.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6Ai7Gq9b7JR8ugSsIP80Vi4EP_obwWlMRnPyDr4c5JJCA1rbDnA-1nihAZWgAsG_0r8VrlF2FBOS76wf1BkKbJfe1uVB6lOAyg_GTNm6MTppmXcAaabh-9LLnIxE3S-T-D4thSADlaHwNjICpVtDC1wnXyuE8TmgWV8yhuztcjDcq-dcAlkfdspMPBA/w400-h300/PXL_20220708_184137086.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Stonington is very much a blue-collar working town. The guidebook warns that they actively discourage visitors. All our contact with the locals was friendly, but all the same we kept our visit very brief.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhfTswcKLmy_p7vHthKv_i2u5OZhPvUi4c1E8YTtw13NYM2BCMG5FyuWEDoqudZVJVpLafpyzT0Req_T6uJiMcdnmVGtmdkVnO8rzWwqoh2dJLJZeqs5_QBxaHhdvHvaSjo5mgxjNbBRSVoGEWFZDJNCxq-tfKb9nAvPc2LaCdxdxWvSyoWc30Z3sZFg/s4032/PXL_20220708_182033007.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhfTswcKLmy_p7vHthKv_i2u5OZhPvUi4c1E8YTtw13NYM2BCMG5FyuWEDoqudZVJVpLafpyzT0Req_T6uJiMcdnmVGtmdkVnO8rzWwqoh2dJLJZeqs5_QBxaHhdvHvaSjo5mgxjNbBRSVoGEWFZDJNCxq-tfKb9nAvPc2LaCdxdxWvSyoWc30Z3sZFg/w400-h300/PXL_20220708_182033007.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The mooring field at Stonington, all lobster boats and no pleasure craft tell the story. We're working here. Go vacation somewhere else.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p></p><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Somewhere during this couple of weeks of anchoring out, we discovered that we just don't make enough power to keep up with day-to-day living aboard, and were having to run the motor to top off the batteries every few days. So back to Rockland for some new solar panels for Minerva. Oh, and fresh fruit and veggies. Can't be getting scurvy after all.</span></div>Rhumb Linehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06125310003658481179noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1449360842608447395.post-84451039131865506152022-06-27T15:05:00.003-04:002023-05-26T10:04:11.496-04:00Bodies in Motion, Maine edition<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhseZWaFZnPwjHiSxLQ_KgOpkhJN6IOlVlOGrn98zKh17-ZAaC1dy_dIvshDX_nATxi0abNLvgd9JUUwKilfwPXzvxcpXv3JB9Dl6vOC-yrs7B_eoSYPNq3LYrmYw9cECyh1d2yEA2VhxFAGOIRon1aKIQ62GQPkwjR02sZaYZRkX6T6vkppag6rG7dQ/s4032/PXL_20220623_194120699.MP.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhseZWaFZnPwjHiSxLQ_KgOpkhJN6IOlVlOGrn98zKh17-ZAaC1dy_dIvshDX_nATxi0abNLvgd9JUUwKilfwPXzvxcpXv3JB9Dl6vOC-yrs7B_eoSYPNq3LYrmYw9cECyh1d2yEA2VhxFAGOIRon1aKIQ62GQPkwjR02sZaYZRkX6T6vkppag6rG7dQ/w400-h300/PXL_20220623_194120699.MP.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Recommissioning after the long winter took longer than planned, but in the end we got it done. All the 12v power was restored and we ended up installing a new freshwater pump, a new saltwater pump, and fortunately were able to recover the water heater and refrigerator. We rebuilt the 12v panel with modern switches and swapped out some suspicious wiring in the area of the circuit breaker panel. We put away all the tools, tidied up the boat, loaded some groceries, and considered the chart and weather.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">It was about here I started having sweat-inducing nightmares about potential boat drama. Things that might pop up, things that we might not know how to deal with, just crazy worries that didn't make any sense in the glare of the morning sun. Upon reflection in the morning over coffee, I believe it to be anxiety related to once again stepping off into the unknown. A body at rest tends to stay at rest, a body in motion... well, we need to get our bodies in motion. Weird how the brain can play tricks to keep you in your comfort zone.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgki10txBrg6h7LYp-6VdV2uXFyAiAh-5ZGOI9MhHxmc2Lq7r6kkrgcMspxkVvhnPaxfaU7tOc88XxgfP2mBKMke1ChnFQG-1HXeFc5DLtJL1mL-00aioZ5748-mEdFJLFJTr7ujTOU-gRPGoD8Rsa5TWM9nwB-6jebEy311ae2atHj25NSkbawaPLftA/s3264/PXL_20220617_162034112.MP.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="2448" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgki10txBrg6h7LYp-6VdV2uXFyAiAh-5ZGOI9MhHxmc2Lq7r6kkrgcMspxkVvhnPaxfaU7tOc88XxgfP2mBKMke1ChnFQG-1HXeFc5DLtJL1mL-00aioZ5748-mEdFJLFJTr7ujTOU-gRPGoD8Rsa5TWM9nwB-6jebEy311ae2atHj25NSkbawaPLftA/w300-h400/PXL_20220617_162034112.MP.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tradition called for a crew party after a long work season. In celebration of Minerva's splash and pending departure, we hosted a pizza lunch party. It was good to have the yard crew in one place and hear their stories of their own adventures with Minerva over the winter. They also had suggestions for their own favorite sailing spots in Maine, we made note of them all. </td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">We were set to leave the yard on Sunday, which greeted us with gray skies of steady 20 knots with gusts to 25 knot winds and intermittent rain. We needed fuel before heading out, and there's some low tide shallow spots between Minerva's slip and the fuel dock which meant we needed to time our departure carefully. Our tide window opened at noon and every time we went to remove the lines another strong gust of wind would try to blast us into our downwind neighbor. We played this game with the slip lines for a while until we finally got the tide and gust window right, escaped and motored down to the fuel dock. And then the skies truly opened up and fat raindrops starting dumping.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy6j8RV61RW480vciW4yK8gwkcXcCiFQsL6bLzUnagvVAmjsp8aQbYgk9rJBps8JNEPZ9RctniC_phH3mj5OcaRrXQHBcLNVod6D1YiNMq8D9uVaPAXb5F36GKu1_sXk1DQdEmFdfHbsEyHEyJUSqOw2YeZ7PrIkN3Yhnh28LhpNNaO970MlCVwqaZ1Q/s4032/PXL_20220619_214904753.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy6j8RV61RW480vciW4yK8gwkcXcCiFQsL6bLzUnagvVAmjsp8aQbYgk9rJBps8JNEPZ9RctniC_phH3mj5OcaRrXQHBcLNVod6D1YiNMq8D9uVaPAXb5F36GKu1_sXk1DQdEmFdfHbsEyHEyJUSqOw2YeZ7PrIkN3Yhnh28LhpNNaO970MlCVwqaZ1Q/w300-h400/PXL_20220619_214904753.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The next morning's carnage from dumping rain, everything still hanging out to dry</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">All the training we did with spring lines came in handy. Our exit from the slip was not graceful but it was effective, our approach and exit from the fuel dock was much more elegant thanks to a solid spring line strategy. We tied the outside stern line of Minerva back across her backside to the dock, and Lance powered forward and bow-thrusted out and away while I paid out, pulled in, paid out and released the line. With these tricks we smoothly turned Minerva around in a space that was not much wider than her length. In a driving rain. We didn't care. We were going anyways.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI5K1A6NGrtc1gyh4CgOzhecw6p2qBF69pzd7eQbCaLzfndJ1e2EQt8fgSzcTHHmgXQtazurMh-E_g4U5Ji9bOriluVIjYpX5eiZFp24G59xZUZzbq8kCn9M267a0IKj678SC71ou4vamuDWglT6oFHmE2iCAXemqA_dOdBhQQkEjqAdqStyW2wpLkdQ/s4032/PXL_20220621_140934523.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI5K1A6NGrtc1gyh4CgOzhecw6p2qBF69pzd7eQbCaLzfndJ1e2EQt8fgSzcTHHmgXQtazurMh-E_g4U5Ji9bOriluVIjYpX5eiZFp24G59xZUZzbq8kCn9M267a0IKj678SC71ou4vamuDWglT6oFHmE2iCAXemqA_dOdBhQQkEjqAdqStyW2wpLkdQ/w400-h300/PXL_20220621_140934523.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cliff Island - we had this side of the island nearly to ourselves </td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Captain Fatty Goodlander's policy prior to a big journey is to go "just over there" and anchor, hang out just out of reach of land life and get settled into the new sail life rhythm while settling the boat for a journey. We decided that was good enough for us, so we motored in the cold driving rain and strong North gusts "just over there" to a quiet anchorage just North of Falmouth with protection from the winds, made some hot tea and snuggled under a blanket. It didn't matter where we were that first night - we were finally free to roam. Floating on our anchor that first night, despite the howling winds, I slept nightmare-free.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirglPyYPcb2FoA_wA78mO_a4GODbCqDCUYIN-FH40emkJBEbtSNYsALLOGifLOEeX85ls020vC6agw2o4vxB9TG8_EOsWsEhSWL08CBnnSN_AlKNAuTqExfDgXTAvW3FBnnDUmn9u_p7mAkPJIQtD2UbCf4k68yRAoH7z0HdkT8N9jnyrqc5yRlVHcJA/s4032/PXL_20220623_193616879.MP.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirglPyYPcb2FoA_wA78mO_a4GODbCqDCUYIN-FH40emkJBEbtSNYsALLOGifLOEeX85ls020vC6agw2o4vxB9TG8_EOsWsEhSWL08CBnnSN_AlKNAuTqExfDgXTAvW3FBnnDUmn9u_p7mAkPJIQtD2UbCf4k68yRAoH7z0HdkT8N9jnyrqc5yRlVHcJA/w400-h300/PXL_20220623_193616879.MP.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Seguin Island Lighthouse</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBnVP3LazxZHT1FAV9blD1lhM8UU2-hZo4BNCtsROlPCHcdcFNfg0FZgUUCEOEflkHUs8uYE3WeDI4McC_2JmerrtOIXsjOdGPU2v70q_9dEdl-pv8bxnlUoxvNW4Ng5PF1AmoXTQjdTKngbIsjkAGh0LqlN5pLyM54heE5wHUYPiFum_WlpjGL6_3sw/s4032/PXL_20220623_201246061.MP.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBnVP3LazxZHT1FAV9blD1lhM8UU2-hZo4BNCtsROlPCHcdcFNfg0FZgUUCEOEflkHUs8uYE3WeDI4McC_2JmerrtOIXsjOdGPU2v70q_9dEdl-pv8bxnlUoxvNW4Ng5PF1AmoXTQjdTKngbIsjkAGh0LqlN5pLyM54heE5wHUYPiFum_WlpjGL6_3sw/w300-h400/PXL_20220623_201246061.MP.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looking through the Fresnel lens, shot by Carol the lightkeeper</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">We're trying a new philosophy this year. Rather than try to fit our sailing life into a schedule, we're going to go wherever the wind is going on the day we need to leave, OR hang out and leave on a day with a favorable wind for our next intended destination. Ultimately we hope that by focusing more on the wind and less on an agenda we will sail more and motor less.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhafwXSBrt1dlI2iV76yzJXl9ZVLmcFduK15K-PohfONAkKML0Snbw_tkVRlb23CC_rc7YHX68Tnmj7LEowA1GpBQfa-Qdy5PLznTEQ56fJe1LoyH_5Y7QQviNkZfJhPzgwGrhjDxhlEQY5dMHVgAloYGhYM9WYGCUmv5K0x9RWmhEB_mdwjYgabmZ_rA/s4032/PXL_20220623_200220151.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhafwXSBrt1dlI2iV76yzJXl9ZVLmcFduK15K-PohfONAkKML0Snbw_tkVRlb23CC_rc7YHX68Tnmj7LEowA1GpBQfa-Qdy5PLznTEQ56fJe1LoyH_5Y7QQviNkZfJhPzgwGrhjDxhlEQY5dMHVgAloYGhYM9WYGCUmv5K0x9RWmhEB_mdwjYgabmZ_rA/w300-h400/PXL_20220623_200220151.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Beautiful fancy work done by a Coastie who was stationed here in the 60's</td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">So we put our new plan in motion, and ended up sailing on a loose schedule from lonely anchorage to lonely anchorage, and on to the Seguin Lighthouse (pronounced Sah-GWEN).</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQnw-9mfCGAc_AoeOOW66y8G4jyHzP9BmKnlDxcXXRah0_AmzTeY7vaJi6MrPRVyfffxAYSrVuS8W9IlwN6jGqUiEQOGpQXxOPth6XgOU0xRykEvTRhC936ecdHFfjHC9ft5KhOVRZ57caH8Q4tqmJIW3Q7mIrACaDVNGedxx3Nxxb6gTNRYuC5WW4Jw/s4032/PXL_20220623_201945124.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQnw-9mfCGAc_AoeOOW66y8G4jyHzP9BmKnlDxcXXRah0_AmzTeY7vaJi6MrPRVyfffxAYSrVuS8W9IlwN6jGqUiEQOGpQXxOPth6XgOU0xRykEvTRhC936ecdHFfjHC9ft5KhOVRZ57caH8Q4tqmJIW3Q7mIrACaDVNGedxx3Nxxb6gTNRYuC5WW4Jw/w400-h300/PXL_20220623_201945124.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chloe waited impatiently for us to finish the narrow stairs portion of the lighthouse tour without her</td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span>Seguin Island Lighthouse was originally commissioned by George Washington himself, to protect the business interests of the Kennebec River. The lighthouse that stands today is the third one on the same piece of property, and boasts a first order Fresnel lens with a 40-mile reach. When the Coast Guard planned to decommission the lighthouse, public outcry resulted in the formation of a non-profit group who call themselves the FOSILS (Friends of Seguin Island Lighthouse), who felt strongly that the lens remain exactly in place, and to that end they became involved in arranging annual lightkeeper caretakers as well attending to the property's needs. This year's caretakers were a couple from Massachusetts</span><span> by the names of Carol and Steve. They graciously showed us around the property and made us feel right at home.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">If you're interested in learning more about the lighthouse, here's a link to the <a href="https://www.seguinisland.org/" target="_blank">FOSIL page</a>. The caretakers were connected to this seasonal opportunity through a service called <a href="http://caretaker.org" target="_blank">caretaker.org</a>, and it's not their first caretaking gig. Who knew interesting projects like this exist!</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn_9wKV1dgZIM7BNs2o3YkvL55zmOefD5JlIxLkCW3Q_M35imDiNJUMiQLaN3y4WMdp2Ml0yzmxvjnvEwLwT8Sg8zpsvQC3X9-Qe03INRVswAJ3SNUXVYOuV2lYJi1K7drYn-th5_kIMcuvRHkzkq6wO3kAWcgb-K7R__3qjb8n1KHqSPFmDCU44bBKA/s4032/PXL_20220623_190908206.MP.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn_9wKV1dgZIM7BNs2o3YkvL55zmOefD5JlIxLkCW3Q_M35imDiNJUMiQLaN3y4WMdp2Ml0yzmxvjnvEwLwT8Sg8zpsvQC3X9-Qe03INRVswAJ3SNUXVYOuV2lYJi1K7drYn-th5_kIMcuvRHkzkq6wO3kAWcgb-K7R__3qjb8n1KHqSPFmDCU44bBKA/w400-h300/PXL_20220623_190908206.MP.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><p></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The anchorage on Seguin Island has 4 mooring balls that line the perimeter of the North Cove. None of them will allow a boat of Minerva's size to swing safely on the shifting tide, and there are signs posted not to anchor because of underwater cables. We were rightfully concerned about swinging onto the rocks, and considered our options carefully, late in the afternoon we ended up making the rather piggy decision of snagging a second mooring ball for our stern anchor. We decided if anybody came out they could raft up to us but nobody else showed so we enjoyed the cove all to ourselves, and slept soundly knowing that we wouldn't swing onto the rocks in the night.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8hd-RCybRALCZpvOXIOgJ8rIgce4lww6Wf19FbAQ0fb8gCZd53mJKRVIQhfecXx-J0k6W0CoRnQ1qH-e03uDCh8FhzSIZtLFr0ClZrh5XM4ImjBlccqIsTr4Nkn1868DZ1dD5mLVSUjhD/w400-h300/1656344438523058-0.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="400" /></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Beautiful architecture in Boothbay Harbor, check out this mint green spiral staircase to the full-roof widow's walk</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
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</span></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The next morning we headed off into a windless sky to the closest place we could motor, Boothbay Harbor, which turned out to be an expensive tourist trap but at least we enjoyed a free concert from our cockpit, with the live music from the nearby patio bar reaching out us in the harbor. Just one night there set us up for a downwind run into Rockland.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbuHqR7mVRu_AuodqDvYgLBBUYnyegeKwC9YpXbNVZKK31gt3zZfmnuwbETRhcv6juvFrR_rj-AWKiHLIjb53HAkLuCgNI8YdEhW54TiI0bZ-nFjrv_Wg1cz_hyiTQqKmCf7yWbk0JC9QG_pZCbRLhaFD8B91LrED47K3bjEXlJKfj0MSa29VKk9juKA/s4032/PXL_20220625_220648463.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbuHqR7mVRu_AuodqDvYgLBBUYnyegeKwC9YpXbNVZKK31gt3zZfmnuwbETRhcv6juvFrR_rj-AWKiHLIjb53HAkLuCgNI8YdEhW54TiI0bZ-nFjrv_Wg1cz_hyiTQqKmCf7yWbk0JC9QG_pZCbRLhaFD8B91LrED47K3bjEXlJKfj0MSa29VKk9juKA/w400-h300/PXL_20220625_220648463.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Owls Head lighthouse</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The wind in Rockland always seems to howl just before the final approach into town, and so we took the sails down just before the Owls Head light and motored around the corner, carefully picking our way through the lobster pots and landed on the town dock for a couple nights of catching up with a friend, groceries and a round of laundry.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Everywhere we go in Rockland people love on Chloe. A common phrase we hear from Mainers is "she's wicked gah-juss". And so she is. This life suits her, too.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin7AAau_jixFWLfzkZGJZiKHxz7KSR5Abh4ISd-8mzrkFeeZj3RMv0jFv_svk_9lWTJFKW37Y3vke3HPLfeX2xSxSvqasSsOgS4-Nuaz7oh8Q-Mar91fbCt90_NvUXD5ApmGOZ5SpVYUYn/s1600/1656344436217767-1.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="400" /></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This smiling dog is getting lots of beach time</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</div><br /><p></p>Rhumb Linehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06125310003658481179noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1449360842608447395.post-85556345772171400982022-05-28T15:17:00.001-04:002023-05-26T10:04:57.214-04:00Road Trip America, Home Sweet Floating Incomplete Home<p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGzwdaq-NZ4W1IMlJWBE_USlh7bqFoHQXeYGA2H8mXrA0iol2HvXdYmysgOO-vUBtdQonq-b3fUak1Y9zT7oGA2cNNZ0STPKoNgPv1QKN2JaZhN80I9ee8781zkQZHzPE-BmjUwv3jUaC2yaR1Y9rHuA_b1u5U7ikkibWh0Xv1D9yIXoaTJY6Q7W698Q/s4032/PXL_20220514_143423441.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGzwdaq-NZ4W1IMlJWBE_USlh7bqFoHQXeYGA2H8mXrA0iol2HvXdYmysgOO-vUBtdQonq-b3fUak1Y9zT7oGA2cNNZ0STPKoNgPv1QKN2JaZhN80I9ee8781zkQZHzPE-BmjUwv3jUaC2yaR1Y9rHuA_b1u5U7ikkibWh0Xv1D9yIXoaTJY6Q7W698Q/w400-h300/PXL_20220514_143423441.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Lance showed up to pick up our rental car and they rolled this beast of an Explorer out. They told him it was the only car they had for us, despite the reservations we made weeks ago for a small SUV. Fuel mileage @19 MPG during a fuel crisis. Sigh, it's gonna be an expensive crossing. On the upside, all that stressing I did about the size and weight of the parts and other items we've been stockpiling over the last 8 months was moot. Packing was easy, and visibility was 100% out of every window.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">By the way, Ford, WTF? Our RV got 10mpg, and it weighed 22,000+ lbs, it was old when we bought it, and it was also a HOUSE. Ford couldn't do better on the mpg for a large SUV in the interim 25 years since the RV was built? No wonder gas is so expensive if new vehicles coming out have fuel demands like this.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">But I digress. We loaded up the giant SUV and rolled out.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiqgR8lbuVyyQorMmEMojxH9vZ1k5FLHwAQrHR1Bz8_q67Q7R7prwPaJrYZen-TAXKJrUph8zP0angACpxb4i_9K3xZp2flwYwzNtaUQgnS1nUaJfVF9NgzWB1go_2-8a6E_CWm_cN3xAzA9r-0zUZX6fOfwJilJeUqOZqnUzSvStKy7-fbKVNLlEbvg/s4032/PXL_20220513_170329644.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiqgR8lbuVyyQorMmEMojxH9vZ1k5FLHwAQrHR1Bz8_q67Q7R7prwPaJrYZen-TAXKJrUph8zP0angACpxb4i_9K3xZp2flwYwzNtaUQgnS1nUaJfVF9NgzWB1go_2-8a6E_CWm_cN3xAzA9r-0zUZX6fOfwJilJeUqOZqnUzSvStKy7-fbKVNLlEbvg/w400-h300/PXL_20220513_170329644.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Highway 50, the loneliest highway</td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbXl0iOPK-I46WAavGgAygAAXAHfuIl5wvytLyHUIFH6b6b-hgLgi8w-fcUWIz0UyQEpnVTgeh9-VLJZhDbWAcNEy_L1oBBIm08mhS1RTgH1Ijt_rmiwbfv8MEOQ6XRS0Kh8lffJsbh-hI5iiyEX6jELhqGrOX4cLga-9T-EUsgNxth97z-UTyRJ08UQ/s4032/PXL_20220513_185105953.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbXl0iOPK-I46WAavGgAygAAXAHfuIl5wvytLyHUIFH6b6b-hgLgi8w-fcUWIz0UyQEpnVTgeh9-VLJZhDbWAcNEy_L1oBBIm08mhS1RTgH1Ijt_rmiwbfv8MEOQ6XRS0Kh8lffJsbh-hI5iiyEX6jELhqGrOX4cLga-9T-EUsgNxth97z-UTyRJ08UQ/w400-h300/PXL_20220513_185105953.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Eureka, Nevada</td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW8pXVK_UngAgkNjbTLEKxjHdwVWb1z3onmfUdZH26E-MRnka0xX8G8_V6oovq66GmEISboOD1aMD2Jv1Oz-sfDwHZuMMqbgzdp0_vgUIPm8aSAou5JelFnx8ZDYj_UbBbm6-KnZilUHizcWxrRYVXQZd0T1viwS6HVY895TI1h7WiaTXkgrzAubkLSQ/s4032/PXL_20220513_171631126.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW8pXVK_UngAgkNjbTLEKxjHdwVWb1z3onmfUdZH26E-MRnka0xX8G8_V6oovq66GmEISboOD1aMD2Jv1Oz-sfDwHZuMMqbgzdp0_vgUIPm8aSAou5JelFnx8ZDYj_UbBbm6-KnZilUHizcWxrRYVXQZd0T1viwS6HVY895TI1h7WiaTXkgrzAubkLSQ/w400-h300/PXL_20220513_171631126.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Austin, Nevada</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">We took the advice of family and friends and crossed Nevada on Highway 50. It was a beautiful drive full of old mining towns, breathtaking valleys and a national park called The Great Basin, which we flew past this time but will come back and explore some other day. For our first midday break we took a walk through some petroglyphs, and ultimately landed in Salina Utah, our longest drive day ever at 657 miles.</span></p><p></p><p style="text-align: right;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwZbUx09t0hzzQehhu7BJ51hI-7GTLy09FFVuX6sOEJh_6BEihOQeQEIeIw9gVuX6lILEKAYgim_5lh9U15GRzKn2E-gGc_zr-A1UUfFyChoDJPm6F2rOJoxX_iaPkQTq7t6t1mXcppQtG3T_76hDTYKNgljeTq8oWbDoTYArl4neJLsVPouhxalWNRw/s4032/PXL_20220513_180203565.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwZbUx09t0hzzQehhu7BJ51hI-7GTLy09FFVuX6sOEJh_6BEihOQeQEIeIw9gVuX6lILEKAYgim_5lh9U15GRzKn2E-gGc_zr-A1UUfFyChoDJPm6F2rOJoxX_iaPkQTq7t6t1mXcppQtG3T_76hDTYKNgljeTq8oWbDoTYArl4neJLsVPouhxalWNRw/s320/PXL_20220513_180203565.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hickison Petroglyph Recreation Area</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: medium;"><p style="text-align: right;">Bright and early the next morning we rolled out for the Denver suburbs, eager to make in time for a birthday party date with Victoria, who turned 7. After that we were able to slow our roll quite a bit.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2mZWK3PLQIZqq8yvrMzif6CYQhe2qa2wN6jU6hKiSu7UkEzCQrIRfAabntexQFfCvYGfoVRj98bJme1EBLug9gSNE_6WfemituxZciFDnlZwWeMY9ck13Gwc3KDWPHtKnxRtjc_n4n2RRyCJYQhHD_wCyvYIcybflHx4MVl9nTdtieX0Fe9L9DHyS9A/s4032/PXL_20220516_001412403.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2mZWK3PLQIZqq8yvrMzif6CYQhe2qa2wN6jU6hKiSu7UkEzCQrIRfAabntexQFfCvYGfoVRj98bJme1EBLug9gSNE_6WfemituxZciFDnlZwWeMY9ck13Gwc3KDWPHtKnxRtjc_n4n2RRyCJYQhHD_wCyvYIcybflHx4MVl9nTdtieX0Fe9L9DHyS9A/s320/PXL_20220516_001412403.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Victoria's birthday party was a smashing success</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p style="text-align: right;">West Kansas had some crazy winds, like it usually does this time of year. We fought the wind and landed in time for BBQ at Arthur Bryant's, as recommended by our friend Ceri, a Kansas City native. We stuffed our faces with great BBQ and passed out in a hotel not long afterwards. Of all the driving we do, fighting the wind takes the most out of us.</p></span><p></p><p style="text-align: right;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz11NF42MzgCZlDT8Ghg1SZg22IZvSWSN8jXtgXlQlEdgU9sAi_lHPtqdwcjzmJcT7R2nWmfOat4u1Xb0NkUZXqAAOE6C-xUzKT4WKrlw7rOzSS0_hjqugsy7Q6VkCkZZezn1aGN5ofuia_m7mQcFPlx0GMr4VI4hXyFmnahJgGxGYifGpmfYA6qPjTg/s4032/PXL_20220516_235940824.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz11NF42MzgCZlDT8Ghg1SZg22IZvSWSN8jXtgXlQlEdgU9sAi_lHPtqdwcjzmJcT7R2nWmfOat4u1Xb0NkUZXqAAOE6C-xUzKT4WKrlw7rOzSS0_hjqugsy7Q6VkCkZZezn1aGN5ofuia_m7mQcFPlx0GMr4VI4hXyFmnahJgGxGYifGpmfYA6qPjTg/s320/PXL_20220516_235940824.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Get to Artur Bryant's early if you want their renowned brisket, sometimes they run out and you'll end up with pulled pork like I did. The baked beans are undoubtedly the best I've ever had and were just as good cold the next day. </td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">From there we continued North and East on to see friends in the farmlands of Michigan close to Port Huron. They put us up in their swanky 5th wheel and took us out to see the beautiful town of Port Huron, from which the Mackinac Race departs annually in July.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKKgnoebKTNwjKypMku2L8fhe-dEugV9S1pswEOnECyOYGTrVkRgAD_v5__016BYO9QT6HehhN9OS9P_ra3XYhos0KVGNsHxz_y28-7Qpv_MPVBXa0hCWl9KOFF9ZgYWUBIMCQjssrX8ndjfov9J7mUnh3JechO0cxbtB0pOHaTl4vzWlFbTms4ze7XA/s4032/PXL_20220519_222154794.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKKgnoebKTNwjKypMku2L8fhe-dEugV9S1pswEOnECyOYGTrVkRgAD_v5__016BYO9QT6HehhN9OS9P_ra3XYhos0KVGNsHxz_y28-7Qpv_MPVBXa0hCWl9KOFF9ZgYWUBIMCQjssrX8ndjfov9J7mUnh3JechO0cxbtB0pOHaTl4vzWlFbTms4ze7XA/s320/PXL_20220519_222154794.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bluewater Bridge at Port Huron</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfmahlNS7UBCjy8g2N-vSMNgtU0LIQXO5V0L1tObcCNNBOeEcOazOIsYBD2iajldtn5cso2oh-Uq1W70T1xUIm0dg92Ce0xptt0poNNCHWt_TE3bvNEF524DArZF5HnmpkHeD4FGOsci4peyjatB5jN19d2R9QJzwc5B_SZHLk9JvP0w7U6jwhF6qxpg/s4032/PXL_20220519_121751476.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfmahlNS7UBCjy8g2N-vSMNgtU0LIQXO5V0L1tObcCNNBOeEcOazOIsYBD2iajldtn5cso2oh-Uq1W70T1xUIm0dg92Ce0xptt0poNNCHWt_TE3bvNEF524DArZF5HnmpkHeD4FGOsci4peyjatB5jN19d2R9QJzwc5B_SZHLk9JvP0w7U6jwhF6qxpg/s320/PXL_20220519_121751476.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chloe discovered her first skunk in Michigan</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Then we got a picture from the yard. Minerva had splashed early. The rest of our journey was rearranged to route us directly to the boat. Our new direct path took us right through Canada, entering at Port Huron and exiting into the North East corner of Vermont.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPiP2cmTawyk7eiExt1cnHkEXCkgLwK2QTbIPRFkTW38t9_jQM2xvC0-55gVOKwXv3gNFMxwtJ2DfIGViPCITEkwnOQs-TD7EqI2W_UZJWbI2HFgRUeI1citY0kWMWUuhQDo0fcLAKdToW87TPHfpOzACcj_F0-Q9OhwDyD0VLBETYnP45RWVi_ARigQ/s4032/PXL_20220521_153938112.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPiP2cmTawyk7eiExt1cnHkEXCkgLwK2QTbIPRFkTW38t9_jQM2xvC0-55gVOKwXv3gNFMxwtJ2DfIGViPCITEkwnOQs-TD7EqI2W_UZJWbI2HFgRUeI1citY0kWMWUuhQDo0fcLAKdToW87TPHfpOzACcj_F0-Q9OhwDyD0VLBETYnP45RWVi_ARigQ/s320/PXL_20220521_153938112.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Vermont in the Spring</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Vermont is always beautiful, and somehow we always are rushing across it. Someday I will come back and explore it more slowly.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizTmfr_oaK9UU3TGoSXIi9OVS3kqQSo8G2gl1pCAF-N8muxkjEJ8rdSeH-hygEpJtcqn6HG-LD9JkOcmHv1QEesKQW9TwXo7NMEr4MBJYLqXZ2-qKZRGajjP6bMQxW7iTMIDKZTHOZNYSs89AQpPYi5JUrz6dZeYlq6FBIFUaA-gMpTHZK9icY7XdIXg/s4032/PXL_20220522_222348606.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizTmfr_oaK9UU3TGoSXIi9OVS3kqQSo8G2gl1pCAF-N8muxkjEJ8rdSeH-hygEpJtcqn6HG-LD9JkOcmHv1QEesKQW9TwXo7NMEr4MBJYLqXZ2-qKZRGajjP6bMQxW7iTMIDKZTHOZNYSs89AQpPYi5JUrz6dZeYlq6FBIFUaA-gMpTHZK9icY7XdIXg/s320/PXL_20220522_222348606.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">We arrived to Portland Maine on a Saturday, four days ahead of our projected arrival date. Total miles 3600. Minerva was completely torn apart still, and mastless.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGwsxjEe5gDMn3VGdn7wCEWGAMnj4ktOcBL2jmghfFw856YKD6idYu2dmi6ITDcvMtxLlQqCoLXGKeXchOLk-82WZzaZqpg7t8cjVL4qyFQvXdjyHkAyeYDa6_3_3-_w9xlFABGSuU3xup3w9UGtICcBY_Qywe5ULNuX7dv-V8WaFdDC8aLYU4viWw6w/s4032/PXL_20220522_230954801.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGwsxjEe5gDMn3VGdn7wCEWGAMnj4ktOcBL2jmghfFw856YKD6idYu2dmi6ITDcvMtxLlQqCoLXGKeXchOLk-82WZzaZqpg7t8cjVL4qyFQvXdjyHkAyeYDa6_3_3-_w9xlFABGSuU3xup3w9UGtICcBY_Qywe5ULNuX7dv-V8WaFdDC8aLYU4viWw6w/s320/PXL_20220522_230954801.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The contents of the topside locker spewed in the salon</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The boat is a mess. There's no water, no water heater, the 12v isn't working consistently so there's no fridge, no interior lights, and no control panels. Everything that normally lives in the topside lockers alongside the engine compartment is stacked in the salon, so there's no access to the galley and nowhere to sit. The only space that wasn't torn up or piled high and deep was the master cabin. That's one space I can control, so I started there. Out came the bedding I had washed and sealed in watertight bags before leaving, I made the bed and settled our shoes, clothing and laundry. We pulled out our solar lights and an ipad and settled in to bed for an early night with some YouTube and snacks in lieu of dinner.</span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhVvPd0vc0Ju8c4CLmu4HemJ54pimVFQouwWjDzmsHkBEtMuUj6u-MOcbTY5SUGL4pR-NUBj88_eJmhOr4VzttI0v9qeD5OB2JMzmW7boKrW2Sq9H14ifD_-d7zGD0hLeqvpCpO3hOcj_jsAcAPWPorZUkDji_nO7qfpJlU2a6NEU4nPYOGclN1hOpKA/s4032/PXL_20220522_231012794.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhVvPd0vc0Ju8c4CLmu4HemJ54pimVFQouwWjDzmsHkBEtMuUj6u-MOcbTY5SUGL4pR-NUBj88_eJmhOr4VzttI0v9qeD5OB2JMzmW7boKrW2Sq9H14ifD_-d7zGD0hLeqvpCpO3hOcj_jsAcAPWPorZUkDji_nO7qfpJlU2a6NEU4nPYOGclN1hOpKA/s320/PXL_20220522_231012794.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The electrical compartment under the mainmast</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></div><p></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The yard tells us they are short-handed. They've got two out on Covid and a third stepped on a nail last week and is home recovering. So it'll take them a while to re-commission us.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">By day 4 I had a little meltdown because of the general cluttered mess. There was nowhere to sit down and so I'd been carrying my laptop to the clubhouse to work, which is a rather social place and therefore not conducive to focus on the client work that was stacking up. The next morning we rearranged the pile so there was seating to work in the salon and access to the stove and sink. This meant that I could work on the boat and we could prepare simple meals until the pump access was no longer an issue and the stuff could be moved to its proper place and out of the salon. The yard crew never showed up to re-commission us, so we started working through the systems one at a time on our own. Total things discovered so far as non-functional, victims of the winter and/or shop projects:</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"></p><ul style="text-align: left;"><li><span style="font-size: medium;">Fresh water pump. Lance replaced it last summer with one a friend had gifted us. It was older too, so time for a new one.</span></li><li><span style="font-size: medium;">Saltwater pump. It always leaked and there was never sufficient pressure for a timely anchor rinse anyways. Time for a fresh one.</span></li><li><span style="font-size: medium;">Water heater. This is a new problem and perhaps it just needs a reset, we hope this is just part of the re-commissioning we don't understand yet.</span></li><li><span style="font-size: medium;">12v intermittent, affecting refrigerator and chartplotter among other things. This is a new problem, and likely related to the electrical work done in the new engine compartment. Lance will need to go through this carefully as there are now all kinds of discarded electrical from the old engine to be removed too. We expected this to be completed fully as part of the engine replacement and are really disappointed to be dealing with such a huge electrical mess, yet again.</span></li></ul><p></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Once the first three items are resolved we can put all the stuff back in the locker and return our salon to an orderly state, so those top three are taking precedence. After the salon is sorted we can do a big provisioning run and fully engage the rest of our galley. Between now and then it will be simple meals since we can't access all our food compartments, and because the refrigerator behavior is inconsistent (it runs on 12v).</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSpeRfoOtbiZvzrqB6lx0I9BUAmx0WM115xTEJv-Im2TbowESxpbgXo4wRqg-Y5XfMvr6zmZ_8axUp7OlL9i5cA-hteAn6WXlvDPYDJSlf-WaYpshv0rtushixOYL6xjZ7EyTdn6PXsypGtRTrjMs4Pg1MUdboWleWa009xwn82u11mMpEB2bAhRfyTA/s4032/PXL_20220528_160457617.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSpeRfoOtbiZvzrqB6lx0I9BUAmx0WM115xTEJv-Im2TbowESxpbgXo4wRqg-Y5XfMvr6zmZ_8axUp7OlL9i5cA-hteAn6WXlvDPYDJSlf-WaYpshv0rtushixOYL6xjZ7EyTdn6PXsypGtRTrjMs4Pg1MUdboWleWa009xwn82u11mMpEB2bAhRfyTA/w400-h300/PXL_20220528_160457617.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lance replacing the saltwater washdown pump, item #2 on our checklist</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">On Thursday the riggers fetched Minerva and put her mast on. It was really something to see, it's all been documented <a href="https://www.facebook.com/Rhumblineadventures/posts/5176091985820940?__cft__[0]=AZXXJZCAggh91fQWJbLmcD4V3qnriyoqSDDXHPzIyutrTbreHpSn2roFYQxEe0eVjmGw0Oj_TSKZ3bbbuoiZagq0yzRahXrbQQ3Y8oZkKhZZTS-Rf6OTPHHu_Ao2WkUyl5qh22FhcHQtNiR6AkYUXxMSSVGJXRMGtn-rUV_ojneI3jmcqKLJnZJ5RiiwaayJefg&__tn__=%2CO%2CP-R" target="_blank">here</a>. The repair we ordered last September to the main halyard has not been completed, and so we can't mount our sails yet, that will have to wait. We are also hoping the shop comes out to finish their electrical work in the engine compartment so that Lance doesn't have to jump into the middle of their project, but we'll do it if we must after the first three items are resolved. After all, there are puffins to see.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">On Friday we returned the rental car. Without access to the lockers, the remaining gear schlepped out from California ended up in the vee berth on top of the sails for sorting later.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZsucUIOXoDRpmJcidbL2h_Aizif6dWww8QSC9b3qgpw8K8jJw86kF5Ar3jxflAvmljCcbvu22nb0R9nItJluSsmNVfkiX8cG-fkAwStwH56iXzH9K82VoyLaf4B4rq6NZRhXFdrItVxP1EPfVvjzhJAsiKooO5LafDb5013_-Bb4OCunf0rspnnfrvQ/s4032/PXL_20220528_140635438.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZsucUIOXoDRpmJcidbL2h_Aizif6dWww8QSC9b3qgpw8K8jJw86kF5Ar3jxflAvmljCcbvu22nb0R9nItJluSsmNVfkiX8cG-fkAwStwH56iXzH9K82VoyLaf4B4rq6NZRhXFdrItVxP1EPfVvjzhJAsiKooO5LafDb5013_-Bb4OCunf0rspnnfrvQ/s320/PXL_20220528_140635438.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The vee berth will be the last thing we sort</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">It's funny to us, when we visit non-sailors they ask what we do all day. Well... this. This is what we do. Fix, sort and clean. Home sweet floating home.</span></p>Rhumb Linehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06125310003658481179noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1449360842608447395.post-13542773018337404662022-04-28T18:51:00.000-04:002022-04-28T19:07:39.608-04:00The Long, Long Winter<p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span>Shortly before the yard crew went home for the Christmas holiday, Minerva wriggled her way into the shop alongside the box containing her shiny new Beta 62T engine, putting her first in line for attention after the yard staff returned. The snow piled up in the yard while she patiently waited </span><span>her turn, </span><span>cozy and dry.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSsXUTVD4ZJK66MtDwTASnTp4QioCZK91J-6hVwOqJMkfKE3RdM29rYkUE5bE7RrKVCb-MfLZR3tdTb7btB7A3BJsUfpAl-nCy3JeA7S4ZdvrXnJAOlZ7XJOkMdBW4p5AT1FwjVHsIV-gr0ePUlFGs9bHz9fqGa0TC17Pf4BKLr_kCHfyPLbPy9Bh_yA/s2016/Boat%20pic%204.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2016" data-original-width="1512" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSsXUTVD4ZJK66MtDwTASnTp4QioCZK91J-6hVwOqJMkfKE3RdM29rYkUE5bE7RrKVCb-MfLZR3tdTb7btB7A3BJsUfpAl-nCy3JeA7S4ZdvrXnJAOlZ7XJOkMdBW4p5AT1FwjVHsIV-gr0ePUlFGs9bHz9fqGa0TC17Pf4BKLr_kCHfyPLbPy9Bh_yA/w300-h400/Boat%20pic%204.jpg" width="300" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /><span><br /></span></span><p></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">When the staff came back from holiday, they brought Covid with them and it swept through the yard crew, introducing delays while they battled the illness.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Eventually the old Perkins was removed and the Beta put in place. Although we had the mounts made at Beta to match the custom width of the old engine bed, the new engine still refused to settle into place without additional customization to raise the engine up off the hull so </span><span style="font-size: medium;">some space could be created beneath it and to better align the shaft.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ27W-6A7XjTmZF5Afs1kXv7KdGRyZVNomkoVH8jLogYXwhsvay-QZPG7MhV_UM7_drFX1ACeT1Cc_NKX7B-84dLoZLcpBxbAOH_sDaOuCHVmxZFk1DQwQIt2o3rP1_WNKcGsIjPdNN-SdO26OOIBK5DuBrICTrFpcgWKuQ8aQaNgf81wGjN96h6oeDQ/s2016/Engine%20beds%201.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1512" data-original-width="2016" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ27W-6A7XjTmZF5Afs1kXv7KdGRyZVNomkoVH8jLogYXwhsvay-QZPG7MhV_UM7_drFX1ACeT1Cc_NKX7B-84dLoZLcpBxbAOH_sDaOuCHVmxZFk1DQwQIt2o3rP1_WNKcGsIjPdNN-SdO26OOIBK5DuBrICTrFpcgWKuQ8aQaNgf81wGjN96h6oeDQ/w400-h300/Engine%20beds%201.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The risers are made from sticks of non-compressible fiberglass which should give us years of trouble-free life supporting a heavy, hot engine vibrating under workload</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO4rhLM24nQLZngiKrNW9k5y0I05ZZnASKYb3XBWnR7afzw64kV1rOgyuKkDXtBcjUxnwnGRIAoypzLndOfuzpNv2ujguNvFf_VRE-LCcQ02kMU_ppC2TzJncKTmHpkQqu1i3gOTWgP_f-NZVzm62AspXjhOMqfUBxyQqGE2ArkiSA_LHOu-qVisy_SA/s2016/Propeller%20shaft%202.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2016" data-original-width="1512" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO4rhLM24nQLZngiKrNW9k5y0I05ZZnASKYb3XBWnR7afzw64kV1rOgyuKkDXtBcjUxnwnGRIAoypzLndOfuzpNv2ujguNvFf_VRE-LCcQ02kMU_ppC2TzJncKTmHpkQqu1i3gOTWgP_f-NZVzm62AspXjhOMqfUBxyQqGE2ArkiSA_LHOu-qVisy_SA/s320/Propeller%20shaft%202.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is what 40 years of prop wear on a bronze shaft looks like. Not bad, considering.</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The prop shaft was condemned by the machine shop; 40 years of wear had worn a waist where the bar should have been straight, weakening it right at the point where it passed through the hull. Since a new shaft was being made for us anyways, we decided to make it a smidge longer and add a line cutter. This will give us some peace of mind while moving through the plentiful lobster pots and crab traps all up and down the East Coast, because although we try with all our might to miss them, it's probably only a matter of time before we snarl one.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfNivw4EqbN9uiAmhzq099dexDqAi8aBUI338wcW0SSg14l3inaERyRI7jSt7-JV6_ANMZlCnj7URzfWNeRKeC4p7hFsNay0DORPbkePw7drcAML-3EOaw40Az4gvibJe4-wMIdAKb1_drVphe-HHDIoe79pYjI1csBvwDdruXkw3fvqhjEKIsk8Xw4Q/s2016/Prop%20and%20shaft%201.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2016" data-original-width="1512" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfNivw4EqbN9uiAmhzq099dexDqAi8aBUI338wcW0SSg14l3inaERyRI7jSt7-JV6_ANMZlCnj7URzfWNeRKeC4p7hFsNay0DORPbkePw7drcAML-3EOaw40Az4gvibJe4-wMIdAKb1_drVphe-HHDIoe79pYjI1csBvwDdruXkw3fvqhjEKIsk8Xw4Q/w300-h400/Prop%20and%20shaft%201.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Shaft Shark line cutter</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span>We were originally planning to do a basic bottom job ourselves upon our return, but realized this would delay our splash by a month or more, since getting bottom paint to properly adhere requires a minimal daily temperature fluctuation not usually achievable in a Maine yard until late June, so we asked the shop to remove the old paint (what little there was left), and lay down fresh bottom paint while she was in the cozy shop where they could control the temperature. What they found when they started working were several previous bad repair decisions, and it took a significant amount of labor to get her bottom up to snuff. Without a doubt Minerva's previous owner knew about this and hid it from us - looking back with this new knowledge, some of his weirder eccentricities that we encountered during the purchase process come closer to making sense. Well, now Minerva has a shiny, smooth new bottom, it's been done properly and we shouldn't have to do anything more than a gentle scrubdown for quite some time, putting us in prime position to sail unencumbered for a couple of years </span><span>before our next haulout. It cost a small fortune but now that it's been done properly we can proceed with confidence that she will remain strong, dry and upright for many years to come.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span><br /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhzv4icq4RbHyvCMBgcU6voy5evrdtlfIq1oK1K-i9UcXH3PF-yC0KhZpktBZUMKJdeEVxe25MaCi5fI5HUfKR16JAXSXM8dY5l2LfOTerIrNmE6c64vscggc1Z5RbA8-_I0-MryMrcKWmltkN1PooKN2bZVqFoOdlH8eaRe5gvhMvX5lhPlgQjbqkNg/s2016/Bottom%20paint%202.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1512" data-original-width="2016" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhzv4icq4RbHyvCMBgcU6voy5evrdtlfIq1oK1K-i9UcXH3PF-yC0KhZpktBZUMKJdeEVxe25MaCi5fI5HUfKR16JAXSXM8dY5l2LfOTerIrNmE6c64vscggc1Z5RbA8-_I0-MryMrcKWmltkN1PooKN2bZVqFoOdlH8eaRe5gvhMvX5lhPlgQjbqkNg/w400-h300/Bottom%20paint%202.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lots of fiberglass repairs, two coats of epoxy barrier coat, one coat of primer, and four coats of bottom paint. She's back out in the yard and ready to splash.</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: medium;"><span><br /></span></span><p></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The shop will start splashing boats on May 15th, and the weather should be pleasant by Memorial Day. Once Minerva is in the water they'll run some tests to ensure the new engine, new shaft, and old prop all play well together, then they'll reassemble the masts and rigging. We booked the one-way rental car for our ride back out and intend to arrive somewhere in the last half of May and will likely jump in somewhere during the rigging process. The hope is that we make it in time to see puffins doing their annual mating dance, but even if we miss them we'll still enjoy sailing Maine for the summer and will follow the weather back down the coast pausing to leaf-peep from the Hudson River in the Fall.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: right;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic0j_yIB_zhkDXzt4jcXvAH_j-35eRaWDAVCUAs5M97TKlH_tBKYFHfJpJa86RLyeg_jCWirdu2Ep_bXXGHiIWJJZZNagF9uM_dMn2sLLZ-A1JxmW-RogfuVGr8LTBnpR4T8hPhXqwhMhe0mYCZ3rxaZJU38EitfZhWpfKuu1SwGSnE19zQjYc8rfkkw/s2016/Engine%206.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2016" data-original-width="1512" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic0j_yIB_zhkDXzt4jcXvAH_j-35eRaWDAVCUAs5M97TKlH_tBKYFHfJpJa86RLyeg_jCWirdu2Ep_bXXGHiIWJJZZNagF9uM_dMn2sLLZ-A1JxmW-RogfuVGr8LTBnpR4T8hPhXqwhMhe0mYCZ3rxaZJU38EitfZhWpfKuu1SwGSnE19zQjYc8rfkkw/w300-h400/Engine%206.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The new engine rests happily in its new bed with its accompanying higher-capacity fuel filtration system, water intake and exhaust systems, enlarged muffler, and a super-powered alternator to make quicker work of recharging the batteries. Minerva's new engine takes up less space, is more powerful and far more efficient. Our fuel range just increased significantly.</td></tr></tbody></table><p></p>Rhumb Linehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06125310003658481179noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1449360842608447395.post-44646163514223014602021-12-24T20:00:00.012-05:002022-04-28T19:08:01.226-04:00Aliens Adrift in a Landlubber World<p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">To say we're suffering from culture shock is putting it mildly.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Our drive across the country was quick. From Maine to my sister's house in Northern California Gold Country was 3166 miles; we could have done it in 5 hard driving days, we booked the rental car for 10 so we could pause here and there if something caught our attention, and to get some laptop work done as needed.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">We ate so much garbage on the way. Fast food. Drive through. Mmmmm how we've missed it. At first it was a treat, something we rarely access as sailors, but so very convenient from the highway for our whirlwind drive.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhnLlzXpkmouAtkr7uJ94xAQefL5BAJtM2WH_hlYhAalkNpwikddAaATVFbupqqqzAW0yaJkxlGJT83RpzWJAhhO34RIehB0jYVpnt3IctfgTdEuqAIGWd5SfLBdsIqV7OMO6MZSrzXZpSTh1ynkHjBVYB41yNF5T573zj-JapwnrymDiY-jJLEQ7HGIQ=s4032" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhnLlzXpkmouAtkr7uJ94xAQefL5BAJtM2WH_hlYhAalkNpwikddAaATVFbupqqqzAW0yaJkxlGJT83RpzWJAhhO34RIehB0jYVpnt3IctfgTdEuqAIGWd5SfLBdsIqV7OMO6MZSrzXZpSTh1ynkHjBVYB41yNF5T573zj-JapwnrymDiY-jJLEQ7HGIQ=s320" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chicago Style Deep Dish, in Chicago</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">By day 4 we'd had our fill of junk and were craving some good fresh fish and vegetables so we hit the pause button in Laramie WY, settled into a decent hotel to explore the area for a few days, catch up on some laptop work and get in some salads and sushi. We've found there's always affordable healthy food in college towns, and downtown Laramie is home of the University of Wyoming. Right across the street from the football field was some excellent sushi, and fresh salads and tasty tacos could be found anywhere in town.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhnDBN-_hS9irJ9fqiMX5XHghvZHeUQZPKFdtPZl3kozjMkrWejzJnzbG4LA5IW-6yn0zELlfaXba2sDk_-XzCb2-k1BuISY0k7ZIdGVqmjfc5WmXn-sTa7FmTlTZlDvnEzC_lT0zJAjqitlEy4O2Cs1ybjypk3crQioo91ZZeVWD3y7ZbQMvNsmjfeLA=s4032" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhnDBN-_hS9irJ9fqiMX5XHghvZHeUQZPKFdtPZl3kozjMkrWejzJnzbG4LA5IW-6yn0zELlfaXba2sDk_-XzCb2-k1BuISY0k7ZIdGVqmjfc5WmXn-sTa7FmTlTZlDvnEzC_lT0zJAjqitlEy4O2Cs1ybjypk3crQioo91ZZeVWD3y7ZbQMvNsmjfeLA=w400-h300" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The University of Wyoming football bleachers, as seen from the main drag</td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Our rental car came with all the bells and whistles. Seat heaters meant we wrestled less over the dash temperature controls, adaptive cruise control was most helpful on the lonely highway, bluetooth connectivity meant books on tape and unlimited Amazon music. We were well rested, warm and dry. Culture shock.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">We gobbled up the miles and arrived to my sister's in comfort, a day early, with a milkshake in the cupholder and french fry rubble on the floor.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgT_mvfLaN4nz3433v0bD_NxIzFr9a3HiHuR6mYfjQdA28IKXzUlNhkcPaNI_Kmg4G5pLFvCgkKLa1tm8TupVY1ygNgHMlAGuaVcjerx-KOlPD0cIG2cu_0OmG0xdw10IwCiWZDS605jWrNz-UK1__LVIr5ZGOHBO3wg1h-d8ZWEodlYY3PjfFsJzGlkg=s4032" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgT_mvfLaN4nz3433v0bD_NxIzFr9a3HiHuR6mYfjQdA28IKXzUlNhkcPaNI_Kmg4G5pLFvCgkKLa1tm8TupVY1ygNgHMlAGuaVcjerx-KOlPD0cIG2cu_0OmG0xdw10IwCiWZDS605jWrNz-UK1__LVIr5ZGOHBO3wg1h-d8ZWEodlYY3PjfFsJzGlkg=w400-h300" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bonneville Flats, Utah</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">My sister was heading out to the grocery store and asked what she should add to the list. I'd noticed the bagels and the toaster (yes... toast!) but no cream cheese so asked her to bring some home. Here's what she bought. The picture doesn't really do it justice, it's a huge tub of cream cheese - 48 ounces.</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhtjiliKlU17RSLjkYvTV2M4D5pIGoX6iToNl4EQq5vSVb1wuH0zBVM_TYEVkkgvc4dEeftnhDGH6OmwSeebXdJpM-h20H8qvBqZmTiGIvMlwjoYl3WttcRm8wzzVyk32orCZxnMNZEmnb7Pl_4nYv2VwaNM94xgGrh_5QsC4UBK5rqvS3FiwzrzKPqnw=s4032" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhtjiliKlU17RSLjkYvTV2M4D5pIGoX6iToNl4EQq5vSVb1wuH0zBVM_TYEVkkgvc4dEeftnhDGH6OmwSeebXdJpM-h20H8qvBqZmTiGIvMlwjoYl3WttcRm8wzzVyk32orCZxnMNZEmnb7Pl_4nYv2VwaNM94xgGrh_5QsC4UBK5rqvS3FiwzrzKPqnw=w300-h400" width="300" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Now, keep in mind that the groceries are my responsibility to stow on the boat and it's a perpetual challenge to eat everything we bring aboard before it goes bad. Not only does it require additional strategy to retrieve groceries without a car, but there's a process to storing them too, particularly for refrigerated items like cream cheese. Her casual point was this: she was at Costco already, this giant tub costs $7, and a little bar at the grocery store would be $3.50, so this was way more cost effective. She didn't need to mention there was plenty of space to store it in her cavernous refrigerator, or that with two teenagers in the house who also enjoy toast the five of us were likely to eat it all long before it started to grow fuzzy. She is right, her way makes sense. Even knowing these things I couldn't stop my hands from sweating at the sight of it. Culture shock.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">In no time we were surrounded by family and friends. We jumped right into planned activities: Halloween, Thanksgiving, birthday parties, house projects, visits with long-time friends. All good stuff. One day I realized a whole week had gone by without us witnessing a single sunset, that I hadn't checked the weather app for days and in fact hadn't even set foot outside the house in two days, food had been delivered and my nose had been stuck in my laptop, catching up on work postponed during our whirlwind drive. What was going on outside? No idea. Culture shock.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiYoBEYMNe6yEB9ryqH39f0SOWe6jx9roFDWtb8jUnFJJasrVfCiosFfC66yhHpz_vOXfzgcT6cRYtG0AKhxuUAQPx0ek93rVcYHPrpBz82hrULOZtfswU6YVjxoXcQgq9aXR6F5anZn0af4-ShCRzH9cMgi9OO5MpU_IwaE6w6qglESQDpXuAa7BJJaw=s4032" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiYoBEYMNe6yEB9ryqH39f0SOWe6jx9roFDWtb8jUnFJJasrVfCiosFfC66yhHpz_vOXfzgcT6cRYtG0AKhxuUAQPx0ek93rVcYHPrpBz82hrULOZtfswU6YVjxoXcQgq9aXR6F5anZn0af4-ShCRzH9cMgi9OO5MpU_IwaE6w6qglESQDpXuAa7BJJaw=s320" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Malfatti, a Napa locals tradition, cannot be found in restaurants. You have to pick it up from the local liquor store.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Lance commented he felt like we were in an alien world, but after a month or so we realize we're the aliens. We don't fit. All around us people are going about their normal, everyday lives and we're just not used to doing it the same way. We're the freaks.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Here are a few of the things I'm appreciating anew, and by which I am quickly becoming spoiled:</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Every morning I start my day with toast. And coffee. I can prepare them both at the SAME time.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">After every meal I rinse the dishes and put them in the dishwasher. No dish drainer required. I do not worry about the quantity of water used for this process (well, maybe a little bit, we are in California after all).</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">My sister loaned us her spare car, which is awesome. With it we fetch massive amounts of groceries. We don't worry about how many we can physically carry because neither of us has to wear them on their back. No Uber or other public transportation is involved in the grocery process at all.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh7HZxC43CLE3s7X7ubyLrV2G7gcnfoGXFcxYj1C4Dc5-KFi8coBUIiXdOXFYjQ1bpfcaR7x0kb5kie-E_pOUtbtCw-I7lx649FkBpKe7SK5UU5iNJkwm68mcrU1o0rNjfEPci4vKlb1cUVDhvESpWzM8sdgLzYBY8XNCjr6Ml1nZrF6PezeTXHLWJZZw=s4032" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh7HZxC43CLE3s7X7ubyLrV2G7gcnfoGXFcxYj1C4Dc5-KFi8coBUIiXdOXFYjQ1bpfcaR7x0kb5kie-E_pOUtbtCw-I7lx649FkBpKe7SK5UU5iNJkwm68mcrU1o0rNjfEPci4vKlb1cUVDhvESpWzM8sdgLzYBY8XNCjr6Ml1nZrF6PezeTXHLWJZZw=w400-h300" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chloe testing out the powder near Donner Summit</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Laundry... we carry it down the hall, wash it and put it away at our convenience. No quarters and no laundry carts are required, it fits right into the normal day around everything else and the process does not require onsite monitoring.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Internet is constant and fast. It does not require cursing, moving the house, or going elsewhere to access for the workday.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Amazon is not wearing a new path to the door, they were already coming here today anyways and it's fairly predictable what time they'll be arriving.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Food delivery is easy - at no point does our discussion with the delivery driver sound anything like "turn left when you see the boats on stands, we'll meet you at the top of Ramp E" or anything along those lines. A simple address is all that is required. I don't have to monitor their progress, they'll ring the doorbell when they arrive.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Wind? Rain? Dark early? Who knows. We drew the blinds three days ago when getting dressed and forgot to open them back up.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">We are definitely the aliens adrift here. When we are reunited with Minerva we'll have some adjusting to do for sure. In the meantime, we're getting fat and lazy living the landlubber life.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: right;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg4syeSJPMU_1WyKXijJFVLAc9EgSXlTSSLrR5WGZaK3iqLEwgUaYJpZiCl4qNLW8RSY7hdP7Z8V5cqRZ-qrdwzVJLytUZ3B-7vPVYa_9ux8P5VOeBzBogbgZwONsNS8EfECaWXTb-730I_dUuQOFr6kZc4eDhBDfQ5YITeV4ZOW_we7KZYCtHYaLZrtg=s4032" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg4syeSJPMU_1WyKXijJFVLAc9EgSXlTSSLrR5WGZaK3iqLEwgUaYJpZiCl4qNLW8RSY7hdP7Z8V5cqRZ-qrdwzVJLytUZ3B-7vPVYa_9ux8P5VOeBzBogbgZwONsNS8EfECaWXTb-730I_dUuQOFr6kZc4eDhBDfQ5YITeV4ZOW_we7KZYCtHYaLZrtg=w300-h400" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yes that's really the name of this little gas station convenience store chain located throughout the MidWest. Makes me laugh every time.</td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></p>Rhumb Linehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06125310003658481179noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1449360842608447395.post-22936692157535500552021-09-25T06:25:00.005-04:002021-09-25T06:36:34.710-04:00A new motor, a cold winter, and another epic road trip<p style="text-align: right;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY19Ro-vNiFTl-4dZNt9L7lkoPLE-He-UVH33TE-Xu7290MB3Sx82cWYirw99wga4yTo9o5USYKNxeWZXwqxlSoVmhrTOVhV3WdZZbEWLtngcrvODO9CEv3XbZxIrvwJ7bDY9EqZv9LqxA/s4032/PXL_20210922_224719734.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY19Ro-vNiFTl-4dZNt9L7lkoPLE-He-UVH33TE-Xu7290MB3Sx82cWYirw99wga4yTo9o5USYKNxeWZXwqxlSoVmhrTOVhV3WdZZbEWLtngcrvODO9CEv3XbZxIrvwJ7bDY9EqZv9LqxA/w400-h300/PXL_20210922_224719734.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Low tide at the MYC exposes the old dock legs, which remind me of chess pieces</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The new motor is on its way. They are building it as quickly as they can. I can't magic it here any faster.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Once it gets here, the mechanics will work on it when they can. We can't jump over other people who have had appointments for months. I can't control how easily the swap goes. It might be smooth as butter, but more than likely it will require additional parts and problem-solving. Rushing any of that isn't wise.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The winter weather is coming. I can't do anything about that.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZUy8b3eKxMCgCcrzDfbJx9ipH3Rd96o0abDP5YMiF5QS9xmQMae3SXomFp6HDmdoY4BH3hXWSbenph_WhB824UEST1K90JNpBQxtw-a-IHAWf1SJQxszEbGho2lwIyo22Oi55-WeGlFnu/s4032/PXL_20210918_124020869.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZUy8b3eKxMCgCcrzDfbJx9ipH3Rd96o0abDP5YMiF5QS9xmQMae3SXomFp6HDmdoY4BH3hXWSbenph_WhB824UEST1K90JNpBQxtw-a-IHAWf1SJQxszEbGho2lwIyo22Oi55-WeGlFnu/w400-h300/PXL_20210918_124020869.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Foggy morning view </td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Our plan was to get the new motor in and high-tail it South in November, catch up with friends and sail to the Bahamas for the winter. The soonest the shop could commit to releasing us is Thanksgiving. So... LATE November. Mmmmm OK... Possibly Sketchy between Maine and Virginia.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Every local who heard my plan made the same face. Eyebrows way up, chin tucked, lips pursed or in an o-shape. So maybe high-tailing it outta here in late November isn't a good idea.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">After seeing this face on yet another local for the umpteenth time, I realized that my desire to stick with the plan, to be in the Bahamas for the winter, was potentially putting Minerva and us in danger. Oh. The PLAN again. Once again I've somehow become attached to a PLAN. Haven't we learned this lesson yet?</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Lance and I must have both gone to bed thinking on it and we both independently woke up with the same solution. The smart, safe thing is to leave Minerva in Maine on the hard, and let the shop do the work at their leisure. When we reunite with her in May we'll get the added benefit of sailing Maine for the Summer of 2022. We can break in the new engine properly and slowly, no pressure attached. We'll get to sail the summer with Al. We'll be close to the shop that did the engine work, in case the relationship between the new engine and the old prop needs tweaking.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">So we reluctantly signed the winter storage contract, gave away all our canned food (apparently cans explode in a hard freeze), and picked up a one-way rental car for California. Cross-country road trip here we come.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5ONF_UIWBWxmibTC7V96krk7cBpYO790Nd9SaCxP7dP4DwFAyuJuSQPm83J8kvrxiYxBcKeRbDOAxda7DkTSrFAAGrN7iC5RVBVJJmx3OlcPGudVO6hNtUf9uDf5yKsbF5QKZmtnIuxNX/s2016/Boat+pic+1.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2016" data-original-width="1512" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5ONF_UIWBWxmibTC7V96krk7cBpYO790Nd9SaCxP7dP4DwFAyuJuSQPm83J8kvrxiYxBcKeRbDOAxda7DkTSrFAAGrN7iC5RVBVJJmx3OlcPGudVO6hNtUf9uDf5yKsbF5QKZmtnIuxNX/w300-h400/Boat+pic+1.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Minerva on her way to winter storage</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">As it turns out, it's possible to feel everything at the same time. Mad because the motor failed us - we were expecting another couple of years of service on the rebuilt engine and wanted to schedule the replacement at our leisure with our favorite mechanic in NC. Happy because our friends will sail on to warm water snorkeling adventures this winter. Sad because we won't be with them and we miss them already. Excited to see our West Coast peeps.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Starting to get excited about the road trip itself but haven't had the bandwidth to give that any energy yet.</span></p>Rhumb Linehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06125310003658481179noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1449360842608447395.post-59250705758067944952021-09-17T12:26:00.012-04:002021-09-25T05:38:44.623-04:00Hard Decisions<p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span>In Portland Maine we booked a marina which happened to be attached to a shop. The folks were friendly. One evening we struck up a conversation with Bryan and Polly who were having extensive work done on their 1979 C&C. They had only great things to say about the work quality at the marina. It's so rare to hear good things about shops nowadays, we filed it away and went on about our sightseeing. I logged Bryan and Polly's information in my phone and wished them well on their journey - when their boat splashes they'll be sailing to Bermuda.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Portland has a farmers market, bicycle paths, and some interesting food: hot honey which they put on pizza and waffles, and donuts made from potatoes.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqgfAYIVSYCggP4SM0sk1kcVBM_iLTsvZ9uE3TaVAci2qVAgUXoTzGKxp4ebrCljChcOeCy9c-HU0SokYemmCP2ROnPm-9H3cR2flgc78PE8iZQ89C2WfbGkq48nhsTW_aqSFHLyMtcGuE/s4032/PXL_20210831_221515485.PORTRAIT.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqgfAYIVSYCggP4SM0sk1kcVBM_iLTsvZ9uE3TaVAci2qVAgUXoTzGKxp4ebrCljChcOeCy9c-HU0SokYemmCP2ROnPm-9H3cR2flgc78PE8iZQ89C2WfbGkq48nhsTW_aqSFHLyMtcGuE/w400-h300/PXL_20210831_221515485.PORTRAIT.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Weird fruit we picked up at the farmers market, similar to lychees</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">There are a lot of lighthouses, and an antique train runs along the waterfront across from the marina a few times a day. I love that old train horn. The train swing bridge behind the marina has been abandoned in the open position for some time, evidence that once upon a time this old track used to connect to the cities in the North.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivMTFAUcBQIKhxzqRQQuPf5dWk_K4cL8QQh9510diw745vwYssTfsjeVI_YXzPz_LCFQZlxRg_eopIZ_CHNoNE6T0bR93oF1A1q4szWN_If8dCLsc74ZjSgPKb-7hFIoZGVLV55pxo0F-G/s4032/PXL_20210916_222353257.MP.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivMTFAUcBQIKhxzqRQQuPf5dWk_K4cL8QQh9510diw745vwYssTfsjeVI_YXzPz_LCFQZlxRg_eopIZ_CHNoNE6T0bR93oF1A1q4szWN_If8dCLsc74ZjSgPKb-7hFIoZGVLV55pxo0F-G/w400-h300/PXL_20210916_222353257.MP.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Train swing bridge in Portland, our quiet neighbor<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">It's been so long since we were connected bow-in to a solid marina dock, the anchor is right over the dock and there's plenty of elbow room to move about, so... seemed like the perfect time and place to put new markings on the anchor rode. The yellow paint we applied in Oriental didn't stick well, and there's been a few times I've questioned whether I had 25 or 50 feet out and had to either pull it up and start over or just err on the side of caution and put out potentially extra scope. That's less convenient when trying to fit in between lobster trap floats. As usual a simple task such as painting the rode became complicated by "project before the project"-itis, and we ended up doing a deep clean on the anchor locker to relieve it of some old mud that had been accumulating.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR6nPDXwo4SZnrOiY-Pj-x9i33XLGh9MpeHUgfLf6gS8q7T-kLxk0pBTmEUN45VOENjEtn59N2XAY7RyTNgmfeEmv81HqGS4Of7YOMAsH-c4OyiMAnw0Hq7Ydpj1jjbnsNtQFET705OfFi/s4032/PXL_20210830_135545286.PORTRAIT.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR6nPDXwo4SZnrOiY-Pj-x9i33XLGh9MpeHUgfLf6gS8q7T-kLxk0pBTmEUN45VOENjEtn59N2XAY7RyTNgmfeEmv81HqGS4Of7YOMAsH-c4OyiMAnw0Hq7Ydpj1jjbnsNtQFET705OfFi/w300-h400/PXL_20210830_135545286.PORTRAIT.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chain rode in need of repainting</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">On departure day Lance was doing the usual engine check and noticed a little sludge in the coolant overflow. Otherwise all was running smoothly, so he cleaned it out, topped off the coolant, watched it for a little while, all appeared OK and off we went.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN3tlWvBQ76DxGTVQoJvSeIy7jA0emvoNycJgcYVhmbA_9xT3LL4Zk7vTwxv2tKnoQ1w3XrLvd1mjuuOHTuinUkjYtjePQIozWwKxGeLSytQysUfK5E6a9YH3nfsDuHPflxFbxOaFzfyxW/s4032/PXL_20210905_143203181.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN3tlWvBQ76DxGTVQoJvSeIy7jA0emvoNycJgcYVhmbA_9xT3LL4Zk7vTwxv2tKnoQ1w3XrLvd1mjuuOHTuinUkjYtjePQIozWwKxGeLSytQysUfK5E6a9YH3nfsDuHPflxFbxOaFzfyxW/w400-h300/PXL_20210905_143203181.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Adorable home on Harpswell Sound with a matching mailbox</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">For the first time in recent memory we sailed all day, through the lobster pots to our destination. We swung on the hook near Harpswell Sound for the Labor Day holiday, and then island-hopped to Rockland Maine.</span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMjjuBFiX94sRMjLvGpf_Db6tYZCZ0QUBEPABQInW9r4MJN88qRCEBsXKIgQO2KQsj9X5WUqpKyjnN1G7SRgf-5xPjQwwbqQ2UfODJ8qnMMxKXdoRhROwuW1FXvWoG9nook8Y7UsMt6Yie/s4032/PXL_20210907_162348552.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMjjuBFiX94sRMjLvGpf_Db6tYZCZ0QUBEPABQInW9r4MJN88qRCEBsXKIgQO2KQsj9X5WUqpKyjnN1G7SRgf-5xPjQwwbqQ2UfODJ8qnMMxKXdoRhROwuW1FXvWoG9nook8Y7UsMt6Yie/w400-h300/PXL_20210907_162348552.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rockland Maine</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">We were very excited about finally arriving in Rockland because it meant we could finally catch up with our friend Al who we met in Oriental and had been sailing Maine for the summer. We've been chasing Al for 11 states. Unfortunately, we only got one evening with him as FEMA called him in to work that same week. The day we arrived was the day he'd just put his boat on the hard, retrieved a rental car, and started his journey South.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7kcLONie7t89oYMktuGIpZ_yaDf-2pjJtxR-V2yj_AEOpZHkgH_UXgP7QFPitkc6-VWojimilQ6tjKmyesWJjA4GBUjyc_BUwXM7uNY24OA6YZJDSA2fCbROEfvXxflhcLvukU2-AebTR/s4032/PXL_20210911_170504234.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7kcLONie7t89oYMktuGIpZ_yaDf-2pjJtxR-V2yj_AEOpZHkgH_UXgP7QFPitkc6-VWojimilQ6tjKmyesWJjA4GBUjyc_BUwXM7uNY24OA6YZJDSA2fCbROEfvXxflhcLvukU2-AebTR/w300-h400/PXL_20210911_170504234.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Shiny new heat exchanger alongside old one</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Lance had been monitoring the coolant situation and noticed it bubbling out the overflow tank, even when cold. We called our trusted mechanic in North Carolina, and his belief was the same as Lance's - a failed heat exchanger. Somehow Lance found one in the little berg of Rockland, and so we spent the day swapping it out. Our pockets were $850 lighter for the new parts and we spent a whole day doing the swap; the problem was still not solved.</span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt4X_YR-bCR6jalKAoQXKO9Vkv4C31H3kM0UnJDQKP7VEgAXAY-N29J92Vwv12o3KDwPlLCn-WaLuTlEif6Yd69OKmziNRp63k4mWNTKb2bhqfVBTJjYFdlf7Id9sdpRN5OPbO_4W1dJKT/s4032/PXL_20210911_170857294.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt4X_YR-bCR6jalKAoQXKO9Vkv4C31H3kM0UnJDQKP7VEgAXAY-N29J92Vwv12o3KDwPlLCn-WaLuTlEif6Yd69OKmziNRp63k4mWNTKb2bhqfVBTJjYFdlf7Id9sdpRN5OPbO_4W1dJKT/w300-h400/PXL_20210911_170857294.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Swapping out the heat exchanger</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">So this means head gasket, cracked block or cracked head. All major repairs.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span>Minerva's engine is a Perkins 4.154 and it has 8196 hours on it. I looked through copious notes from the previous owner and found that this was among other issues he fought, and likely the reason for the engine rebuild he'd had conducted at 7100 hours. </span><span>My suspicion is that the mechanic that did this service is likely the same one that "serviced" our transmission, the same transmission we spent last year fighting and ultimately replacing. That mechanic tended to forget small but important details. Throwing more money at this engine doesn't make sense; s</span><span>he's served faithfully but is 40 years old, and with our doubts about her prior care, we decided a smarter investment would be to just replace the engine.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /><span></span></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPPi19IQxjbfbYNZbd6-uKYxLmqRG8ugctQSEzDfji8-lPy6e-YZcA3lQdLU_aq6d4zJSdkZz7hfcjBd88eDitoP_qD4mvk9p0XUWiSGgAeH5WrZoGvJj7LDpbLn87YypOPRmfB1bAjDQh/s4032/PXL_20210912_171238133.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPPi19IQxjbfbYNZbd6-uKYxLmqRG8ugctQSEzDfji8-lPy6e-YZcA3lQdLU_aq6d4zJSdkZz7hfcjBd88eDitoP_qD4mvk9p0XUWiSGgAeH5WrZoGvJj7LDpbLn87YypOPRmfB1bAjDQh/w400-h300/PXL_20210912_171238133.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Adorable architecture in Rockland</td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">We seriously considered sailing directly to our favorite mechanic in North Carolina, Foster's Marine, where we know the prices are fair and the work is done properly. Then we imagined the actual logistics of that... we still have no autopilot so that means we are hand-steering all the way - making an outside passage difficult without time for sufficient rest. Harbor hopping down the coast means passing through the Cape Cod Canal, Hells Gate, and a whole lot of swing and lift bridges on the ICW which sometimes require Minerva to dance in place against the wind and the current while waiting for an opening. Any of these scenarios becomes quickly deadly without a reliable motor. Other people may be brave enough to try it. We are not.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWnjf1VAaEssYVVZ5dmzs2va1cgz-HkUFkjhHvV_WJkIZOzERGJvHQL-qC3tfP2MWyOD_mOW-pgj54JF5cVirn3qnCy8mUJA9wjalUc31chrHjY8jCONMpjlOjFzgMooLnNgFpoyInbFL2/s4032/PXL_20210912_171817139.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWnjf1VAaEssYVVZ5dmzs2va1cgz-HkUFkjhHvV_WJkIZOzERGJvHQL-qC3tfP2MWyOD_mOW-pgj54JF5cVirn3qnCy8mUJA9wjalUc31chrHjY8jCONMpjlOjFzgMooLnNgFpoyInbFL2/w400-h300/PXL_20210912_171817139.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lobster, lobster everywhere. Even in the hotel parking lot.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">It's September in Maine. The full-time sailors are already heading South. Those that live here are hauling out their boats and winterizing. They've been pushing their boats hard all summer and have reservations at their favorite yard for a winter of storage and repairs. All the shops are running as fast as they can to keep up.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">There was that yard in Portland... the one that folks brag about...</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">They said "leave her with us for the winter, we'll do the work over the winter, you can have her back in the Spring". Around here that means after Memorial Day - EIGHT months away. We tried to get an appointment for an engine swap at other shops near Rockland but they either wouldn't return our calls or offered the same winter storage plan. In a smaller town like Rockland services like rental cars, Uber, hotels or a winter apartment for us just didn't seem likely. Without a car our lives quickly become difficult when the snow arrives.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">We decided to top off the coolant, cross our fingers and motor back to Portland where Minerva could get the attention she needed and we were likely to find housing and transportation. Winds were expected in the afternoon, so our plan was to motor as long as we could, sail it in if possible, and call for a tow if we must. By leaving at first light and arriving as sundown we were able to make one long day out of it, where it had taken us three days to island hop there we were able to pick our way through the lobster pots and make it all in one day. Thankfully the motor held it together all the way and we landed safely at the shop in Portland. Communicating with Todd & Lorri, good friends in Florida who monitored our progress by satellite and were ready to lend a hand, greatly relieved anxiety.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFhCtgHX64LJV0ayhmoVAtZHkHTdLFSbaRO-L3AZ0cs7_nTZcs6Ho0wGcMLq7XkrTnrKXcEYeatGGVFHe6nWuvlUTHSqB7-MrO7EIOSorWTzu7aeudNfy2yub2l3fSMKY-f5YhAwRU2NIu/s4032/PXL_20210913_181435613.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFhCtgHX64LJV0ayhmoVAtZHkHTdLFSbaRO-L3AZ0cs7_nTZcs6Ho0wGcMLq7XkrTnrKXcEYeatGGVFHe6nWuvlUTHSqB7-MrO7EIOSorWTzu7aeudNfy2yub2l3fSMKY-f5YhAwRU2NIu/w400-h300/PXL_20210913_181435613.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We crossed paths with this beauty on our way to Portland</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The night we arrived we were talking with another boat owner and he suggested a bigger shop in town that might be able to get it done faster, and get us on our way before the hard winter sets in. They came out to look over Minerva, and they think it might be possible. So the engine is on its way, and if we can get it in time there's an outside chance we might be able to get it swapped and get moving South ahead of the winter weather.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;">That's where we are. Nothing for us to do now but sit tight and wait for the engine to arrive, worry and wait.</span></p><p style="text-align: right;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEituI4oKtTo8KBWZTj2fp19S5PBgL0US8tE7jmzJFUe-xztX3JVFMl9zHqyRnadmpLolOiEbsdzC_IBGY3cYHti4rHEHKyLFDbn951dUq939vgHc10-f0cMJPt31uTOJtyAXwcRjPOlMIGx/s4032/PXL_20210917_145924311.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEituI4oKtTo8KBWZTj2fp19S5PBgL0US8tE7jmzJFUe-xztX3JVFMl9zHqyRnadmpLolOiEbsdzC_IBGY3cYHti4rHEHKyLFDbn951dUq939vgHc10-f0cMJPt31uTOJtyAXwcRjPOlMIGx/w300-h400/PXL_20210917_145924311.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We arrived in time to witness the recommissioning of Bryan & Polly's C&C. They had to bring in a special crane to reattach the 96' mast. They'll be splashing today and heading for Bermuda soon.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p>Rhumb Linehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06125310003658481179noreply@blogger.com1