Boat Insurance! What is it good for? (hopefully... nothing)

With January drawing near, it was time to get serious about renewing Minerva's insurance policy.

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.

St. Martin as seen from the canopy tour

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.

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.

Typical bounty from a morning shore run to the French side of St Martin

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.

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. 

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.

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.

Grocery run to provision for a week of expected high winds

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.

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.

Chloe the super sailor dog in Philipsburg

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?"

Yeah... Sigh.

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.

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.

Quick Haul - it's always unnerving to see your boat mid-air but the guys at Bobby's Mega Yard made it look easy

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.

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.

Sidewalk crepes on the main drag in Marigot

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".

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.

Curacao, Desert Island Hurricane Hideout

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.

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.

The island is just large and modern 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.

Much of Willemstad is covered in murals and this is one of my favorites.

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. 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.

We found respite from the heat in regular snorkeling trips and afternoon cooldown swims at the local beach. Adding this to our routine became something we looked forward to each afternoon.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Another great mural in Willemstad

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.

We intend to see the rest of the Caribbean islands in a clockwise fashion over the winter. 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.

The Winter 2023-24 lineup

Hard Decisions

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.

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.

Weird fruit we picked up at the farmers market, similar to lychees

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.

Train swing bridge in Portland, our quiet neighbor

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.

Chain rode in need of repainting

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.

Adorable home on Harpswell Sound with a matching mailbox

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.

Rockland Maine

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.

Shiny new heat exchanger alongside old one

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.

Swapping out the heat exchanger

So this means head gasket, cracked block or cracked head. All major repairs.

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. 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; she'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.

Adorable architecture in Rockland

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.

Lobster, lobster everywhere. Even in the hotel parking lot.

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.

There was that yard in Portland... the one that folks brag about...

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.

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.

We crossed paths with this beauty on our way to Portland

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.

That's where we are. Nothing for us to do now but sit tight and wait for the engine to arrive, worry and wait.

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.

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

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

Goodbye Oriental NC

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

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

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

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

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

Goose Creek, the ICW, leaving the Neuse River

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hiding out from rainstorm #2 on borrowed chairs

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

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

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

We finally did it.

The new Andersen winch shines in the post-rain light

False Starts

We put the finishing touches on the electrical refit and decided Minerva was done. One more test sail and then we'd finally escape North out of the hurricane zone. We were invited to tag along with Phoenix for a Cape Lookout weekend sail. We were even smug enough to consider, for a moment, leaving right from there on the outside around Cape Hatteras and up to Virginia that way.

Oh, how the smug get smote.

We followed Phoenix down Adams Creek and out into the open ocean. In Beaufort we sailed out against the incoming tide - with all our sails out on a 15 knot beam reach we inched past the channel marker buoys which were leaning hard against the current and throwing up wakes of their own. It felt a little like those nightmares where you are running as hard as you can and not going anywhere.

Eventually we escaped the incoming tide and Minerva realized the speed she'd been straining for. We sailed alongside the shores of the Outer Banks in rather sloppy seas. It felt good to be out in open ocean for the first time on Minerva, she handles the slop like a champ. Ahead of us, we saw the wave action rolling Phoenix around near the mouth of Cape Lookout so we made the decision to take a longer but more comfortable approach which delayed our arrival.

By the time we came around the sandbar that makes up the hook of Cape Lookout, Phoenix had long been settled on her anchor way up in the protected part of the anchorage. Just inside the hook we turned into the wind, fired up the engine, and Lance started taking down the sails while I kept her pointed into the wind. As soon as I put Minerva into gear, she died. I started her back up again, put her in gear, and she died again, and again a third time. Lance was unaware of my struggles and yelled back "hey the boat is coming around you gotta turn into the wind so I can get the sails down" to which I shouted (first a string of cursing, then) "she keeps dying". He let go of his armful of sail to check the engine compartment; I watched in horror as the depth meter read 24 feet, 20 feet, 17 feet. He still had his head in the engine compartment while I ran up and dropped the anchor. In my haste I dumped some chain on top of the anchor instead of letting it set first and then paying out the chain carefully - a rookie mistake and I know better. He didn't find anything obviously wrong with the engine - the filters looked clean and water was entering and exiting like it should. All seemed to be running well until we tried to put her in gear.

The winds were howling and we were being blown against the lee shore.

We looked hopefully for an obstruction on the propeller, alas there was nothing to cut free. Which meant we probably had a transmission problem. Not so easily solved at this remote location. I reluctantly put away the dive knives.

The Lighthouse at Cape Lookout 

As the afternoon became night, the winds increased to a steady 40 knots. We inched towards the lee shore, in hindsight I think the chain was just freeing itself from the top of the new Mantus anchor, but at the time I was convinced we were dragging and so we set the second Fortress anchor. The shelf was disturbingly close behind us and so we took turns on anchor watch.

In the morning we hashed out our options over coffee. The Saturday morning winds were changing direction a bit too haphazardly and we were too close to the 3' shoal to try sailing off the anchors into deeper waters, and the afternoon and next two days were predicted to be the same high winds blowing us onto the lee shore, followed by flat calm on Monday. Ultimately we swallowed our pride and called TowBoat US; they agreed the best course of action was to tow us into a safer part of the anchorage closer to Phoenix for the time being rather than drag us off the lee shore after running aground later, and do the long tow on Monday when conditions were calm.

Wild ponies of Shackleford Banks

With our plan established we explored all we could between rain squalls. By Monday Lance decided rather than getting towed to a shop he wanted to return to our Oriental slip, pull the transmission and replace it himself with the help of a local mechanic in Oriental.

Our tow ride home on Monday was smooth as silk. At the end of the ride I signed a document for $0 towing fees. Yay unlimited towing.

The open ocean portion of the long tow home

The mechanic gave us some good news: a whole transmission replacement wouldn't be necessary - just a cable which was obviously frayed - a readily available $30 part. We were up and running again quickly. We thought the problem was solved, so we scheduled another "last" shakedown cruise before our big escape.

The following weekend we took out a handful of friends for an afternoon sail. It was glorious... until time to put the sails away and go home. I powered her up, turned her into the wind, put her in gear, and she died. Exactly the same as the weekend before.

This time we were close to home, had a nice beam reach, and lots of able-bodied sailors aboard, so the decision to sail her into her slip was a natural one.

Now, if you've never sailed a boat into a slip, let me tell you - getting the speed juuuuuuuust right is of the utmost importance. Too fast and you'll destroy something on the boat or the dock, or someone will get hurt trying to prevent just that from happening. Too slow and you'll drift uncontrollably in the anchorage. In both cases the boat will seek out the most expensive thing to run into. Lance and I practiced this with smaller previous boats; Minerva weighs in at a beastly 16 tons.

Nevertheless, luck was with us. We landed at just the right speed, placed the lines easily, and stepped off the boat like pros. It went off perfectly, largely because the wind was just right for such a maneuver, and also because we had plenty of agile crew aboard. Despite being the only ones aboard with any experience in this maneuver (or perhaps because we were) it was only Lance and I who appeared to suffer from flop sweat. From the outside it probably looked impressive. I still shudder when I think of all the ways it could have gone wrong.

Once we'd waved our friends goodbye, we moved on to problem-solving. Clearly the transmission cable was A problem but not THE problem. More troubleshooting required. Our daily mantra.

The mechanic is a busy guy. While waiting for him to find room for us on his calendar Lance started poking around on his own and discovered some errant belts around the shaft under the engine, probably used by the last technicians to align the propeller with the engine after the last service and then forgotten, and also the transmission was empty. As in NO fluid at all empty. Lance flushed it out - thankfully discovered no glitter - and replaced it with new transmission fluid. By the time the mechanic arrived she was purring like a kitten and smoothly shifting into forward and reverse in the slip, straining against her docklines, ready to go.

With quite a bit less confidence we launched shakedown attempt #3. We joined in with 3 other boats headed to Ocracoke for the long holiday weekend. We put her in reverse, pulled out into the river and pointed into the wind. All seemed well. We motored for a while, then sailed for a while. When it became clear we were not going to make it against the contrary winds to our destination before sunset we tried to fire up the motor again. No love. Turned the key on and... no go.

Once again Lance had his head in the engine compartment while I watched the depth gauge free fall towards zero. When I decided it was getting too shallow I turned her around, filled the sails and we surfed back to the marina on following seas and a strong tailwind. Marina staff towed us into our slip when it became clear there wasn't enough wind in the marina to land her the rest of the way on our own.

Our good friends Janet and Joe, who had been watching our inReach breakcrumbs and guessed we were in trouble when they saw us turn around, were waiting on the dock to catch us, and accompanied us for a commiserating evening of alcohol abuse.

Time to quit. This girl needs a drink.

The next time we opened the engine compartment - a broken spring glinted in the sunshine. Yep, you guessed it, its job had been "kill switch". A 25 cent part; Lance swapped it out in less than a minute. She fired right up, purred like a kitten, shifted smoothly and strained against her docklines in forward and reverse.

We're hoping the third time's a charm, and that we can escape to safety soon. Storm after storm rolls across the Atlantic, we've witnessed two of them become hurricanes, and they are likely to keep threatening us through October. I try not to lose sleep over when the big one is coming for us, and my obsession with weather websites might be bordering on excessive.

It's starting to feel like we will never leave Oriental.

I wonder if Minerva's cursed. Lance believes she just wants to show us all the areas she needs attention up front and when she is content she'll behave. He believes she's testing our worthiness. She's certainly testing the limits of my sanity.

There are worse places a person could get stuck, surely. At least the sunsets are pretty.

Another beautiful post-squall summer sunset behind the Oriental bridge

Sandwiched Between Two Squalls

"All the little boats are going in. Should we take the hint and follow them?" Lance was standing amidship, the mainsheet in his hand, squinting at the stream of little sailboats high-tailing it for the safety of their slips in the Oriental Harbor Village Marina.

The line of demarcation between squalls

We were on a downwind run with all three sails out. For the first time, I was sailing wing on wing on wing; something I'd been wanting to try since I first saw this boat in the yard.

Sailing wing on wing on wing

We had been watching the storm raging over the town of Oriental for some time. The wall of black sky which had approached from the West was still hugging the shoreline. The town was getting battered. It wasn't bothering us at all out on the river. In fact we were quite enjoying the lightning show. Over there.

"Nah" I said dismissively. "We don't want to try to dock in that, besides if we hang out here long enough it should blow away on its own. Then we'll go in when it's calm." I surreptitiously adjusted the wheel just a scooch to keep the boom on the downwind side, once again it was trying to jibe in the gusty blasts and I was enjoying the cat-and-mouse game of keeping the sails on their proper side.

Less than 20 minutes later the alarm on the VHF radio went off. When Lance pressed the stop alarm button we were directed to the weather channel.

Sustained winds of 45 expected, gusts to 65. Quick-moving weather front crossing Emerald Isle and heading North. Steady lightning and thunder, golf ball-sized hail expected. All boats should seek immediate shelter.

"Where is Emerald Isle?" Lance asked. I shrugged. I assumed it had something to do with the storm we were watching - that squall was still raging over Oriental and now we were all alone on the Neuse River except for the shrimp boats which had suddenly appeared from thin air and were screaming towards us from every direction.

I wonder where they're going I thought to myself, and turned Minerva to fall in with them. It was then that I saw another black wall coming towards us from the other side of the river, and they were heading directly into its outside edge posthaste. This second squall had sneaked in behind us and was closing on us quickly. We got the sails down and secured just in time for the first blast of wind and whipped up water.

Minerva rocked sideways like she'd been slapped in the face, then popped right in to the boiling waves that followed behind the wind surge and stubbornly held her course. Lance and I exchanged wide-eyed glances. That blast would have pinned us down for a while in any of our previous sailboats and we definitely would have been wrestling for control with the subsequent whirlpool wave action. But Minerva took it like a professional boxer with a "that all you got kid?" smirk. My soul filled with pride and relief. We had chosen well. This boat can handle herself in a blow.

We quickly decided the best course of action was to follow the shrimp boats into the narrow and protected channel of Adams Creek on the South side of the Neuse River. Once we got past the tree line the wind and waves settled right down. We found a shallow spot out of the channel and settled the anchor. Lance started dinner while I pulled out the map and found Emerald Isle. Yep, it was just South of us. The strongest wind we clocked on our short journey in was 35 knots so it had lost some steam on its short ride from the Outer Banks to us on the Inner Banks.

Sailing into our sunset slip

The squalls here are fierce but generally short-lived. By the time I'd cleaned up the dinner dishes we were treated to a peaceful ride home under a spectacular pink sunset.

Note to self: when studying the charts and planning the daily sail, also take a moment to look over Google Maps and become aware of the nearby towns and their relationship to the day's planned sail. Lesson learned.

Minerva, a real head-turner

A few weeks ago we were driving to meet another boat broker. This time we were headed to Brunswick, GA, a town that we liked, to see a catamaran we had high hopes for.

Prout Snowgoose 37

Here's the thing about catamarans. Yes they would be better for Lance's lame foot and balance issues. Yes they often have sliding doors and are easy to get around for the pets. Yes they have lots of top-side sunning area, room for wrangling dive gear, staying out of the sun, etc. Yes they are shallow draft and can therefore skitter into really shallow water places where the monohulls can't get. All of that is true.

They also don't sail as well as a monohull, all that space does not shake out to efficient living space like it should, and the bottom line is...

they are ugly.

There, I said it.

I hate the way they look.

The catamaran vs mono subject will be debated to the dying breath by any sailor who has owned one or the other. If you think I'm exaggerating, ask any sailor you meet. Type catamaran vs monohull into YouTube, pull up a chair and relax. You're going to be there for a while. You might open a beer, better yet... drag over the cooler.

Stern deck of the Endeavor

Anyhoo... we were driving to Brunswick to look at the Endeavor catamaran. I was hoping she would change my mind. From every logical standpoint, an Endeavor would make the perfect liveaboard  for the shallow waters of Florida, the Carribean, and the Great Loop. On the way to see her we crossed a bridge and drove along the high road next to the marina and my head nearly snapped right off my neck.

What was that... down in the marina... there with two masts and two roller furlers... what a beautiful boat! I have never seen one like that before. Focus... we have a date to keep.

Somehow I managed to keep the Mini on the highway and we met the broker as agreed. The catamaran was exactly what I expected. Large. Inefficient. Plenty of dive gear space. No actual living space. Kitchen impossible. Sigh.

The broker sensed us slipping away. He started talking faster and faster, and I suddenly realized he wasn't talking to me at all, he was solely focused on Lance, so I used my new superpower.

Didn't I tell you I have a superpower? I just discovered it recently. Here's how it works... people that talk loudly without pausing for air and don't invite a word in anywhere are really just talking to hear themselves talk. They are not interested in a conversation or an actual exchange of ideas at all, and they can simply be ignored. My presence is not required; I can walk away. People talking like this don't get upset about it, in fact they don't even seem to notice. How did I make it to age 47 without figuring this out before? Now it's my new favorite thing.

So... with the broker speed-talking at Lance who seemed to be enjoying the opportunity to engage, I took a big step backwards, and then another, and when nobody tried to rope me back in I started speed-walking down the docks. I had to see what that boat was. The beauty from the bridge. It's like she was calling me.

She was 10 docks down. She had a sister parked alongside. They were unbelievable.
Amel.

French.

The name rolls off the tongue.

It felt like wine. And good cheese. And stunning sunsets.

I stood there gawking for a little while when a curious face popped up from down below. Barbara said "are you oogling my boat?" and then started giggling.

She told me all about Amels. How the company was built by a Henri Amel and when he died he bequeathed the company directly to the employees and how they still make boats today. And how they are popular in Europe but rare in the USA, and against the odds somehow there are 6 in Brunswick marina on any given weekend, all of them world cruisers which probably represent the sum total of all the Amels in the USA. She told me how the company brags that their boats will hold 400+ bottles of wine.

I was totally smitten. Then Barbara started spinning yarns about the places her Amel had taken her. I was still standing there on the dock mesmerized, perhaps hours or days or maybe even weeks later, when Lance came to fetch me and reluctantly dragged me home. Barbara's Amel is 53 feet long. It's called a Super Maramu and it's way more boat than we need.

I could hardly bring myself to focus on the catamaran we'd gone there to see that day, or the other boats we had lined up to see afterwards. It's like getting a glimpse at a Rolls Royce then going back to a Ford existence.

A few stops later we were close enough to reach Wilmington, New Bern and Oriental NC. We toured an impressive Gulfstar 44, which was in excellent condition but too short for Lance. He waved his bloody hat at me with a frown. Hard no. I cancelled the other tour scheduled that day - a small catamaran in which I could not muster up any interest at all. I just couldn't imagine seeing it in the marina and being proud to call it mine, it made me sad just to think about it. So we thanked the broker and went home. It was Saturday.

We had lined up some serious contenders on Monday, and found ourselves with nothing to do on Sunday. I was musing over breakfast to Lance about the Amel we'd seen back in Brunswick, and said "too bad they don't make a smaller one". He poked around on the internet for a minute, and guess what... Amel did make a smaller one; an Amel Marimu 46, with standard sails instead of roller-furlers (another neverending debate, hope you dragged that cooler over). And there was one in Oriental being offered for sale by its owner, which is how it had escaped our search efforts before which had been primarily focused on YachtWorld, a brokers' website. We called the owner. He was keen. So we popped down there at Sunday midday.

Minerva on the hard in Oriental NC

From the moment we pulled in and saw her on the hard we were in love. She was just like the one we had seen in Brunswick but a little smaller; but still frighteningly large with her whole hull exposed to the elements and a fresh coat of bottom paint. There was a huge ladder tied to the stanchions on her port side. It seemed to go all the way to heaven. Her name is Minerva.

She was under contract with another buyer at the time we met her. But that contract was contingent on the buyer selling his condo in Florida first. And the economy is scary... coronavirus and all... and we have cash stashed away from the house sale for this very purpose... I buckled in and did my very best negotiating while Lance paced nervously outside.

Our offer was accepted, and we are working through the process of making her our own. It'll take time. We are safe in Oriental with Loretta, Mr. Toad, and Minerva while we get it all worked out.

She is ours. The rest of the world can go totally haywire if it wants to, we found our boat and she is ours.

Enfin. Finally. Our long, long search is at an end.

Internet Speed Comparison Goose Creek Resort, Newport, NC Sampled 3/19/20 at 2:50 pm
	MB down	MB up
Calyx (Sprint)	3.14	2.02
Google Fi	2.66	6.48
Jetpack (Verizon)	7.35	2.61
Park wifi	Additional $ didn’t test