spring is in the air

Spring seems to be arriving at long last. It's coming in fits and starts, but last week's three-day cold snap is alleged to be the last (knock on wood). This spring is definitely in like a lion so let's hope it's out like a lamb. 

Buttercup has been in swimming twice. Easter Sunday was a good day for it after a long walk and some reflection on how much we could use some renewal and rebirth about now. Her Easter swim was a puppy play date with another boat dog, who was having a birthday. Buttercup also got her first dingy ride, and did a good job. I'm truly blessed to have such a loyal companion with a sweet temperament. She has her moments of being stubborn or scared, but so do we all I guess.

I'm trying to clean up the boat but of course every day it feels like two steps forward and three steps back. So much of the organizing I have to do involves upending everything and so piles seem to be in a constant rotation from dinette, to settee, to nav desk, to sole, and round and round we go. But I keep telling myself I'm almost there, just one more turn of the rubik's cube and it will all fall into place; right? It seems to be about all I can do to stay on top of the usual loads of laundry and dishes, much less to make headway on the real organizing and the real repairs. But I am working on renewing and maintaining my focus on myself and my projects so I just need to get in a groove and make it happen.

I know for certain one serious leak is coming from a shroud/deck/chain plate connection. I fear there has now been water coming in at some of the others as well. I am going to act on the assumption that all are suspect and in need of proper sealing. That will be a significant project to cut away the toe rail at each shroud, fill in as much as possible around the chain plate with epoxy, and then seal the top with butyl tape. Once I manage to tackle that project, I will have to come up with a strategy for addressing the water damage. Water has come through behind and under lockers in locations that are inaccessible without removing the internal cabinetry--which may or may not even be possible. Well, I can obviously remove it, but whether I can do so without destroying it is another question. I clearly cannot afford to entirely refit the interior of the boat. However, I fear the cabin sole is soft and moldy where water has sat in these inaccessible locations. I'll tackle what I can with tea tree oil and airing out and fans to dry things out, but much of the damage will remain a mystery until I can take on the larger project of gutting the interior...something that may never be within my micro-budget. Even though the endless list of projects and repairs can be frustrating, overwhelming, and sometimes demoralizing, I am excited to tackle projects and do my best to bring the boat back to her former glory. She's a good, solid boat and the blood, sweat, and tears will be worth it when I'm sipping a cocktail enjoying the sunset or sunning on the foredeck anchored out.

Dockbox update: The air conditioning doesn't work in the Civic. Seriously? I drove my old Benz 560SL without A/C for a couple of years in Miami because I was so broke; that is a special hell I simply can't face again. Anyone want to take this baby off my hands...gee, I'm only in $2,700 so far. Ugh.

While I was on my once-weekly errand-running by car, I lost the keys to my PO Box, office, marina mailbox, and... the only key to the lock on my storage unit. Yeah, what a fun day off driving around without air conditioning retracing all my steps while staring at the ground praying for keys to magically appear. But with all this bad luck, something good is bound to come my way, right? Yeah, it never seems to turn out that way, but perhaps I'll be pleasantly surprised.

In the midst of being broke, and having car problems, boat problems, and such, running has been the one thing going my way. By the end of this month I'll have run almost as much so far this year as I did all of last year. I've run 100 miles in the past 30 days and I'm running faster than I have in a couple of years. While my "long" runs right now are only ten and twelve miles, rather than the fifteen to twenty I used to run each weekend, I am running them strong, and at--for me--a decent 10:00 to 10:30 pace per mile. It's always hard to lose weight while increasing mileage because, well, running makes me hungry. But I know it is a tried-and-true recipe for slimming down and getting stronger if I keep running and don't reward myself with more pizza than my metabolism can handle. I can feel my legs and lungs getting stronger, breaks getting shorter and fewer, and if I stick with the program I'll be back in distance running shape by the time I need to gear up for the Seashore Nature Trail 50K that I'll run in December. I would love to set a new 50K personal record as a Christmas present to myself.

So, I need to keep my new year's resolutions top-of-mind and focus on taking care of my pets and myself. Our little pack is what I've got and we have to stay strong for ourselves. I also need to remind myself of my resolution to stop spending time doing things I don't want to do or with people I don't want to hang out with. Social pressures to be polite and friendly make those ones tough, but I always regret an evening lost that I could have spent relaxing on my own, enjoying the company of someone I do want to hang out with, or giving my pets the attention they always crave. And sadly, I'd just rather catch up on Game of Thrones than hang out with most people. C'est la vie.

So I need to keep up the running, stay focused on taking good care of the pets, give the boat the attention she needs, and not let myself be (too) distracted by boys. It would be so nice to be in love during the springtime, to have someone to bake for and play with, have someone to just lose track of time with, but I have to remember to keep focused on taking care of myself because no one else will. 

bienvenidos a miami

It's been a hectic couple of weeks since my last post. A project took me on short notice back to my old home: Miami. I had to get packed and make arrangements for the pets on the fly. I quickly called my local vet to see about boarding the cats since I wouldn't be able to leave a heater running to keep them warm while gone for several days. I'd be departing the next day, and the vet's office said they'd be open until 7PM, so I'd drop them on my way to the airport. Pup dog would stay with a friend. I didn't want to leave so much stuff visible in the car while it was parked at the airport, so I brought several items aboard, including a black ballistic duffel I planned to use on another upcoming trip.

I packed frantically, somehow fitting everything for five days in a little roll-aboard and satchel, with room to spare. I was running late, of course. As anyone with cats knows, catching them and putting them in carriers is an art. I managed to get them in their little black carriers, loaded my suitcases in the car first, and then went back to collect the cats. I set the carriers on the deck and locked up the boat. When I picked up one carrier I said to myself, "Gee, this is really big; how is the cat filling up this entire thing?" Then, "$hit, f*ck, f*uck, f*ck! It's a suitcase!" Yep, I left one cat carrier below and was about to drop off a black duffel bag at the vet. Of course the lock was a hassle to get back open and when you're in a hurry everything takes ten times longer or at least feels that way.

OK, cats in the car, on the way to the vet. Breathe. I'm running late but it'll be OK. Breathe. I race to the vet and pull up in front. I scramble out of the car and set the carriers down on the sidewalk. I look at the door and my heart sinks: Closed. Hours, Saturday 8AM to 1PM. It's 3:40PM. I have a 5PM flight. I now need to be at the airport in 20 minutes, but am a 30 minute drive away, have to then get from the parking to the terminal, and... I still have CATS!!! I started hyperventilating. The cats will freeze to death. I will miss my flight. Arrggghhhh! I call the friend who will be watching the dog. He agrees to feed the cats daily. I drop them back on the cold, unheated boat. I had a light bulb on top of of the engine block but plugged in some other lights for the cats to maybe let off a bit of warmth. I tell them I am so, so sorry.

I raced to the airport. My flight was departing at 5PM. I arrived at the parking lot at 4:22PM. I told the shuttle driver that I was having a panic attack, that my flight leaves at 5PM and I don't know what to do. He tried to keep me calm and rushed us to the terminal. I ran in frantically yelling to the gate agents to just tell me what gate I need. I run to the security line. Of course I forgot that this is BWI, not MIA. There are only about 3 people in line instead of 100. I get through security and run to my gate. I look at my watch: 4:30PM. Miraculous. People were just coming off the plane, so it'd still be 15 minutes before they even board. After an hour of heart palpitations I ended up being the first person on the plane; I relaxed in primera clase and enjoyed a couple glasses of wine.

On less than 24 hours notice my awesome friend Heather (pictured below) fetched me at the airport. We went to Catch of the Day for dinner and drinks. It's a great super-Latin spot with cheesey singers and people dancing on the outside deck. I had baby churrasco with chimichurri, black beans and rice, fried yuca, and some delicious tostones. I do miss Miami food.

I was back in my old stomping grounds in Coconut Grove, where I lived much of my many years in Miami. Breakfast on Sunday morning was right by my hotel at Berries in the Grove; I love the wraps there but somehow didn't end up having a wrap either time I went on this trip. Well, change is good; right? The Sunday afternoon crowded craziness in the Center Grove hadn't changed a bit since I left. Heather met me at Scotty's Landing, where I had a nice big Rum Runner, we watched the boats, and enjoyed the breeze. Scotty's is a nice locals spot right on the water. My one complaint is that they actually say on the menu that they aren't responsible for well done orders; so, I avoid the burgers there and stick with mozzarella sticks, chicken fingers, and the like. (I refer to this style of food as "deep fried crap in a basket," but that's not to say it isn't good.) OK, my other complaint is that the live music was often Jimmy Buffet cover band stuff. I may be a boater, but I'd rather chew glass than listen to Jimmy Buffet. We saw a bunch of jellyfish at the adjacent fuel dock; I rarely saw jellyfish when I lived there, though they are abundant in Annapolis.  Scotty's is also next to City Hall, where I spent so much time my last several years in Miami. So, some interesting walks down memory lane.

I took a 4 mile run that felt like 6 because of the heat and humidity. But it was so beautiful running through the Grove and right by the water. A route I have run countless times before. Passing over a wooden foot bridge I looked down and saw lots of needlefish; they seem to be everywhere there. On my run I passed a cute floppy-haired guy walking his dog; maybe there's potential in Miami to find a floppy-haired sailor who wants to go adventure on the seas with me. We'll see.

One night I spoiled myself with dinner at Le Bouchon du Grove. I stuffed myself on a basket of amazing bread and drank half a bottle of rosé from Provence. When I asked the waiter to tell me about the Chicken Fricaseé he was clearly enthusiastic about it, saying it was the best item on the menu. But it has bones. I don't like to deal with bones. I asked about the filet mignon in a green peppercorn sauce. His reaction was lackluster. I know from personal experience if your server tells you to order something, trust them. They see what gets devoured and what gets left behind. So I "lived on the edge" and got the chicken. It was delicious, served with a creamy cheesy risotto. Easily enough for two to share. I tried my best to finish it but just couldn't. The waiter offered to wrap the rest to go. A while later he returned to my table and looked at me quizzically; where was my chicken? I said it never came back. He looked for it but it had disappeared. It really wasn't a big deal, (and turns out I did not have a mini fridge in my hotel room as I had convinced myself), but he gave me a complimentary glass of lovely dessert wine nonetheless.

Despite this post being filled with my gustatory conquests in Miami, I was there to work on a project and work I did. People have this image of Miami as a vacation hotspot where everyone is on island time and lazing by the pool. The reality is that people who would be "rich" in many American cities, the doctors, lawyers, and accountants, are the Miami middle class. And the hours they work are New York hours. Intense, fast-paced, long hours. Locals don't have tans because they spend their time running from air conditioned house to air conditioned car to air conditioned glass office building, day in, day out. That Monday I worked from noon until 4:15AM. Got to sleep at 5AM. Back up at 8AM. Out the door to catch a train downtown at 9AM. When our meeting wrapped at 6:30PM it would have been nice to call one of my friends working on Brickell to grab drinks. But no chance any of them could slink out of the office before 8:30PM, so I didn't even try.

When I was walking from the Metrorail to the meeting that morning some guys were walking just behind me and I hear "Hey, fancy-dress lady, you erasing that tattoo?" "Yeah," I explained, "but it won't all come out." His friend says "Yeah, you can't have that now you're in the Brickell life." I looked at them and laughed, "Oh, no, I left all this bullshit behind," I said, waving at the skyline of awful glass towers. "All these people," I told them "they work too hard to buy shit they don't need." The friend says "Oh, you live off a lot of savings now." "No, no; I'm just poor." He seemed to think that's bad. "Being poor is good," I explained, "it keeps life simple."

Miami is so many things, so many contradictions. So fake. So focused on money. Everything is about shopping and conspicuous consumption. No one can ever have enough. But then there is all the natural beauty. The tree canopy. The water. The needle fish and wild peacocks and iguanas. When I lived there balance was impossible to find. Values become warped. I love Miami. Its beauty, its vibrancy, even its seamy underbelly. But it is a place one has to fight every minute to maintain balance, a grip on what is real and important.

These little Cars2Go are all over Coconut Grove

Tropichop and fried yuca from Pollo Tropical... yum!

I had been planning to crew on a major Pacific passage and had the opportunity while in Miami to catch All is Lost, about a singlehander lost at sea in the Indian Ocean. When the movie ended Heather grabbed my arm and said "Don't go!" The couple sitting next to us said, "We're not going sailing tomorrow." I enjoyed the movie and Redford, but there are 100 or more things any serious sailor would've done differently. We debriefed about the movie over eats and drinks at a new-to-me spot in the Grove that Heather recommended: Lokal. Definitely worth the trip. Burgers are their specialty, but the blue cheese wedge salad was amazing.

Sailboat Bay view from Coconut Grove Sailing Club

Sunset on Spa Creek

Totally unrelated to seeing the movie, I did pass on the Pacific trip. It's not the right trip right now. Other opportunities will arise. Nonetheless, I am likely casting off shortly. Despite the cold and blustery weather, I am trying to mentally, physically, and financially prepare myself to head south for a while. Trying to rustle up some crew to help me make the trip. Trying to get various equipment installed and little fixes taken care of. So now I am consumed with trying to figure out marinas, mooring, a reliable dinghy, moving, and boat insurance that will triple if I stay south of latitude 36 come June 1.

It doesn't have to be forever. I won't ever let myself be tied down, it defeats the purpose of living on a boat. And I can't go back to the Miami grind. But it's time for some adventures, a change of scenery. I feel ready to move on from Annapolis for a while. It was a necessary stop, a respite where I could heal and center myself. And there are so many things I love about Annapolis. But "home" will never be a metropolis or a village for me; home just means something very different to me now that I'm aboard; my boat is home, and so home is anywhere, and everywhere. My boat is this vast potential to call "home" wherever the wind and sea allow.

Annapolis sunset on Spa Creek

A chilly 22 degrees in Naptown

Hard aground

It was 45 degrees on the boat when I got home. Chilly, to be sure, but certainly survivable, particularly with cuddle cups to curl up in. But the cats wouldn't even look at me the first few hours I was back. Nonetheless, it wasn't long before they both crawled on my lap for a snuggle and all was forgiven. At least now I know I have someone who would stay aboard with them so I wouldn't have a repeat of the stress about whether they were OK.

Following up on my last post, kudos to my local True Value, which readily swapped the oil-filled radiator for a new one, despite my not having a receipt, box, et cetera. Unfortunately, the replacement heater died within 30 minutes. Rather than try for a third, I returned the replacement and used the credit toward a DeLonghi oil-filled radiator, which is keeping the boat toasty warm. (It actually got up to 75 last night and I had to turn it down because that is too warm for me!) The heated mattress pad continues to be fantastic; highly recommended for anyone wintering aboard. I have also been gifted a heated blanket, but haven't broken it out yet.

This past Saturday a fellow liveaboard on the other side of Eastport called me: "The pump out boat is running. It's heading under the Spa Creek bridge right now." I quickly got on the radio to hail them. The buildings between us made the connection spotty and they asked me to call on their cell. They put me on the list to visit as soon as they came to Back Creek. Yes, I clapped and jumped for joy because the pump out boat is running in winter! It's a liveaboard thing.

When I'm very stressed I tend to have these recurring nightmares that I'm surrounded by sharks. I've never actually seen one in the wild, but I have a paralyzing fear of them. I can't even swim in a swimming pool without looking behind me to make sure there aren't any. Seriously. Sometimes the sharks are circling and I have to get the cats, dog, and myself to shore from a sinking dinghy. Gratefully, I haven't had the shark nightmares in a while. But lately I'm having a new set of recurring nightmares. We're on the boat and awaken to find that someone has untied all our lines and set us adrift. It's too cold out to get the diesel engine started. I'm trying to navigate the boat adrift in a maze of a marina without colliding with anything. Who would be so cruel to us to set us adrift this way?

finding the groove

This past week was intense and exhausting, but also a huge step forward. Monday through Friday from 9AM to 4PM I was at J World Annapolis for my Basic Keelboat certification course. Monday morning was a scramble as I had promised Travis I'd get him to an Amtrak station to catch a train south to his boat. The day before I had volunteered at the Annapolis Ten Mile Run pouring beer, so two days in a row of 6AM wake-up calls were tough on this gal who usually sleeps until 9AM or 10AM. Traffic to Baltimore wasn't bad and we were just making it in time that he'd make his train and I'd get back to Eastport in time for class. But for my iphone GPS having other plans.

When I told the GPS I wanted to go to Baltimore Penn Station it instead decided to send me to Penn Street. Unfortunately, Penn Street is near Orioles Park and still a ways south of the train station, which is just south of Charles Village. Once we realized the GPS was sending us in circles on one-way streets nowhere near where we needed to be, I managed to get the correct street address entered into the GPS app. But now time was of the essence, especially to catch a train that only runs once a day. So, with the navigational mishap and morning traffic it took an hour to make it to the train station. I flew south back to Annapolis in half the time, calling J World to let them know I was running late and trying to get there as fast as I could. Although I seem to be perennially 15 minutes late, a condition I blame on spending half my life in Miami, I actually hate being late and keeping others waiting. I was 20 minutes late to my first day of class, but gratefully they hadn't jumped aboard and shoved off from the docks without me. I apologized profusely to the staff and my one fellow student.

It was nice having just two of us for the course. We got along well and it meant we each got plenty of time at the helm and working on sail trim. Early on it was clear Luke enjoyed the thrill of burying the rail and that I don't seek it out, though I am certainly more comfortable than I once was with pretty significant heeling of the boat. Day one was about sailing upwind close-hauled and downwind on a broad reach, sailing to the telltales or jib sheets, learning how to find the groove to sail as close to the wind as possible, feathering up into the wind briefly to control excessive heel, and tacking and jibing. Day two we had a father and son along as well who were making up a day in their weekend course that had been cancelled due to weather. Day two we worked on "rock around the clock," with each student taking the boat in succession through close-hauled, close reach, beam reach, and broad reach on both port and starboard tacks. As we headed out on day two I spotted a wayward fender and convinced our instructor, Andrew, to let us sail close enough for me to hoist it aboard. Those puppies are about $95 new and even $45 used, so I'm happy to have added a free one to my collection!

Days three through five we had a different instructor, Channing. Both Andrew and Channing were great coaches and I highly recommend J World. Although I am not interested in racing and J World is definitely racing oriented, you don't need to be an aspiring racer to have a productive and enjoyable learning experience at J World. The three coaches I've had there (Mark, Andrew, and Channing) were all knowledgeable, supportive, and professional, equipment is kept in good condition, and they get you right out on the water.

Luke burying the rail as Channing holds on.

Waves crashing aboard as we bury the rail sailing upwind

Channing and I smiling for the camera.

Like me, Channing was an undergrad philosophy major and Luke has a definite philosophical bent, so we had some interesting conversations and philosophizing while out on the water. They laughed that I certainly was a philosophy major when I mentioned the irony that learning to anchor and dock, to tie my boat down, are the skills that will set me free. One day Channing was telling Luke to be more gentle with the tiller, that sharp, sudden movements on the tiller and rudder just make you lose the boat speed you're looking for. I smiled and piped up  wryly, "Not unlike making love to a woman." In both cases, once you find the groove, it's smooth sailing, but be too rough or inattentive, and an accidental jibe or auto-tack will ruin the moment! Ay...I just need to find a floppy-haired sailor who understands how to find the groove with this mermaid.

At the helm as we get close-hauled.

We did lots of man overboard drills, learned how to heave-to so we could stop for lunch, spent time trimming sails to a course and sailing to a particular point of sail. We covered rules-of-the-road in lecture and then applied those rules over and over while out on the water. Surprisingly enough, we had more sailboats violate the rules of the road than powerboats. We were hove-to on a starboard tack (so we would have right-of-way) enjoying our lunch and some old guy on his sailboat would've just plowed right into us if we hadn't moved! As the written and on-water exams neared, it was clear that Luke was nervous about the written one, which I knew I'd nail, and I was nervous about the on-water, which Luke would excel at. I learned rules-of-the-road and boat terminology quite a while ago, so the majority of the written exam was not new to me and I'm a test-taking machine. I ended up with a 96% and, being a grade-junky, I had to look up the correct answers to understand why I missed those three questions I got wrong! I think I sailed better on Thursday than on Friday during my practical exam, but I passed. I'm not ready to singlehand under sail, but it won't take long to get there. For the most part it's just a matter of practice, practice, practice. The course was on a tiller boat and mine has a wheel, so I will need to get used to that difference, but wheel steering is more intuitive for me so I think it will make sailing Ambrosia easier for me.

The last day of class was the windiest and also had the most boat traffic on the water. We managed to get the boat surfing and reached a max speed of 8.7 knots as I sailed downwind. The water was choppy with plenty of waves being kicked up from the wind. As we approached the channel to return to the dock I had the boat surfing. We hit an area where the waves and powerboat wakes were in contradiction, the winds were shifting, and a gust hit. The tiller was very hard to control due to the strange wave action and "Boom!" accidental jibe. Channing told me to remain calm, which I was, and not let the boat round up. I quickly got her back on track and he looked at me and said, "There, you had your first accidental jibe;" and then very sternly and seriously, "now don't do it again!" All was well, no one was hurt or even shaken up, but an accidental jibe can easily send an unsuspecting crew member overboard as the boom swings wildly across the boat with incredible force. It is particularly sneaky because the sensation is that there isn't much wind at all and the boat isn't moving fast because you aren't feeling the wind in your face and the boat isn't heeled over. But the reality is that the boat may be moving very, very fast and the boom may be swinging almost 180 degrees from one side of the boat to the other. Although it's not good to have it happen, I'm actually glad it happened while I was in a course and could learn from it. It was a great, but very exhausting week. A big thanks to my mother for making the course my birthday present.

To celebrate successfully completing the week-long course, I popped a bottle of Chandon gifted by my friend Michelle at the boat re-naming ceremony. Sure, I could down a nice bottle of bubbly on my own, but celebrations are better with friends, so I fêted with my good friends from S/V Octopussy. I showed off my fancy new "official log" that looks like a passport and has a shiny holographic sticker documenting my Basic Keelboat certification. Certifications and fancy logbooks don't make a good sailor, and I have much to learn and practice, but it will be nice to have a handy place to document time on others' boats as well as my own, since my ship's log is only for Ambrosia's journeys.

Yesterday I finally managed to connect up with a friend who had offered me a 4hp outboard motor for my dinghy. Yay! Now once I get the dink patched up I can pirate all over Back Creek in search of wayward fenders and other flotsom. And, of course, a dink with some vroom-vroom can get me and pup ashore when anchored out and having adventures. Thanks, Jody, for the outboard, and thank you Mike and Dave for carrying it aboard and mounting it to the rail. I'm blessed to have generous friends in my life.

Vroom-vroom!

don't drink and dink

Be forewarned, this is a serious post. "Don't drink and dink" sounds cute and tongue-in-cheek, I know, but drinking and boating is something people just don't take seriously enough. Please read on. I'm not going to judge you for drinking ten Painkillers and being ridiculous or silly, I promise. I just want us all to get home safely and be able to enjoy the water (and roads) without getting hurt.

When I discuss potential marinas in Annapolis folks always suggest a couple that are lovely, but a drive away from everywhere I want to go out. I explain I don't want to drink and drive, and I also don't want to cab it. I would rather just live in walking distance of my watering holes. The standard response is that I can just dinghy back across the creek so I won't have to drive. Really? Somehow I think that driving a dinghy home drunk at 2AM involves as many if not more perils as driving a car home drunk. Yes, one is less likely to get caught... but my concern is not just that spending a night in jail rather sucks, but I also want to arrive home safely, without hurting myself or anyone else.

So, what inspired this post? Maryland legislator Don Dwyer can't learn the simple lesson not to operate motorized vehicles when inebriated. After a drunken boating collision a year ago on the Magothy River, he just got arrested for DUI and over a dozen other charges after driving home drunk from Baltimore. Read the Capital Gazette article here and Washington Post article here. Naturally, Dwyer blames his drinking on marital problems (hey, idiot--it's the other way around, I promise you).

Apparently--and this actually turns my stomach--prosecutors in the drunken boating case have reached a plea deal that involves no further jail time. Seriously? Seven people were injured in that boating accident. Dwyer himself had to be hospitalized. This is NOT a situation where he had a couple hefty glasses of wine with dinner and then blew .08. His BAC was three times the legal limit. Read the Washington Post article on that incident here. Both boat operators were charged in that collision and apparently both failed to follow rules-of-the-road, but only Dwyer was charged with alcohol-related offenses as well. This guy shouldn't be operating motor vehicles on or off the water, period. When prosecutors just give a slap on the wrist they are endangering my life. It terrifies me that I am sharing the Bay with an idiot like this, not to mention the countless others who are only emboldened by the laughable "punishment" being doled out.

At my marina, at least two, (probably more), boats come back to their slips with virtually every person aboard trashed. Always loud and obnoxious, with volumes of beer cans in the recycling that actually shock me (and, trust me, that takes a lot). But sometimes staggering and slurring right when they step ashore. Who exactly was at the helm? And, no, these are not just power boaters. It scares me that I'm out on the water with these people.

I admit I have come back to the boat, both on foot and on another's dink, with little recollection of getting back aboard. I'm not proud of it, but it does happen to most of us now and again. And I am not judging folks who party to the maximum, and I'll just brush it off if others want to judge me. But we can and should judge behavior that objectively puts others' lives at risk.

Unfortunately, there is such a taboo around DUIs that virtually everyone denies that they ever drive when they shouldn't. I think that is usually just lying to ourselves, but it is also partly that people simply do not understand BAC (blood alcohol concentration) or how many "drinks" for BAC purposes are really in every "drink" you have. It isn't the most beautiful or easy-to-read BAC chart, and uses too many European measurements, but the one from Wikipedia doesn't have any axe to grind, as do most sites posting BAC information. (I am absolutely not a fan of MADD or other temperance movements.) This chart is much easier to work with, but comes with the message that any alcohol in your system makes you unsafe to drive.

For their own safety, everyone should know their BAC table. As a woman, I can have two drinks the first hour and one drink an hour thereafter and (theoretically) be just under .08. (And I really don't think you want to be anywhere near .08 and get pulled over lest you plan to spend the night in jail.) If I'm flabby, my BAC will be higher; if I'm muscular, it will be lower. Yes, the fat guys we would think could handle their liquor actually get drunk faster than the lean, muscular, fit guys. I rarely drink liquor when out if I'm going to be driving because no bar in Annapolis pours a drink with 1.25 ounces of liquor. Think two or three times that. Not many wine pours are only 5 ounces, and the volume is very difficult to judge because of the diverse wine glasses used in different restaurants. And a pint of beer is not one drink. A 12 ounce beer is one drink, so a pint is 1.33 drinks. I actually count my drinks very, very carefully if I am in a position where I will be driving.

When I took friends out for a cruise Saturday before last I did drink. It isn't illegal to drink while underway and I don't think it's irresponsible per se. But how much did I drink? Six drinks spread out over eight + hours, and with plenty to eat. Food does not prevent alcohol from reaching the bloodstream, but the right food (fat and protein) does slow it down. My BAC was probably about .04. Some people will take the view that anything over 0 is too much. I understand their reasoning, but I think that is extreme. But I do take my responsibility at the helm seriously. The safety of my friends and crew (including my pets) depends on it. It's good seamanship. I want to have fun on the water and hope everyone can, but, yeah, it's better not to drink and dink.

bruised but not broken

Now the bruises have really come out. Black and deep purple. Large ones and small ones. Smaller ones dot along the inside of my right arm, and a light but painful one on my left forearm. A huge black one about 5" by 1" beside my knee distracts from many others along my leg. On the left side of my midsection it looks like someone punched me in the ribs. And centered at the small of my back a small but very dark bruise. We'll see how long these mementos of Thursday Night Races linger, having been tossed back and forth, bouncing off winches for two-and-a-half hours. Not my idea of fun.

Initially, I wanted to shake it off and hope for a better experience next Thursday. But my precious few days off need to be focused on making progress aboard and enjoying myself. I think I'll focus on saving up to replace a few pieces of the running rigging so I can get my own vessel under sail. I've been urged to do so before the much gustier winds of September and October arrive.

So, the port tube on the dinghy is once again deflated. I rushed the job because I generally prefer to work on these projects on my own. But now I will take the time to pull up the prior patches, remove the current adhesive, and use Hypalon contact cement a friend is donating to the cause. I'll have to hope for a day that the weather and my work schedule are both clear. The GFlex epoxy on the bottom of the dink may have sealed up some holes, so I still need to check that and plan for patching the others on the bottom as well. The remaining GFlex should work well on the threshold of the companionway; I just have to find a day I can leave the boat open for the 7 to 10 hour cure time.

The hard sailing dinghy had been in the water since January, so I seized an opportunity to get a dockmate to help me pull her out of the water. He volunteered to scrape the barnacles, so I wasn't exactly going to say no.

She was immaculate when given to me, so I feel bad that she looks so rough now. But I couldn't have undertaken some of my projects without her. I just wish the dingy dock at the marina did not have the owner's dink somewhat permanently on it, otherwise it would be far easier to drop her back in the water now and again to practice sailing with her.

I don't know what is in the new propane tank that was supposed to be purged, but so far I have not had any problems with cooking and baking. Yesterday I made cheesy garlic biscuits, yum.

I had three biscuits left, sealed in a ziploc bag on the galley counter. Breakfast for this morning. When I got up I found an empty ziploc bag, cleanly sliced open, on the cabin sole. Apparently, as I slept some sneaky cats stole my biscuits! I'm not sure if the dog was in on it, I would usually wake up from her jumping off and on the bed, but only Hunter is sneaky enough to have stolen the bag off the countertop. Well, at least I got two-thirds of the batch.

deflated

On Monday I finally managed to drag out the inflatable dinghy that was gifted to me by the marina owner. I was forewarned it leaks and needs patching. A dockmate helped pull it out on the grass and pump it up. He poo-pooed how rough it looks and opined I'd be better off buying one off craigslist. I don't want anything that looks worth stealing and prefer not to just treat everything as disposable. Besides, the other dinks in the marina don't really look so much more pristine.

I had the dog jump in and out of the dinghy, though we were just on the marina lawn. I figured getting her acclimated to it and comfortable jumping over the tubes and laying down inside would only help when I need her to board when it's afloat. She seems to like the dink. I can see us having some fun adventures and excursions in our little inflatable.

A little less than two hours after pumping her up, the port tube was noticeably soft. After 48 hours, it was substantially deflated.

On Thursday I hosed it off, gave it a quick wash and scrub with the deck brush and set all the floor boards aside in the sun. I pumped the port tube up again and went over it inch by inch with soapy water to find the leaks. The only places I found bubbling were at the edges of two prior patches.

Although using two-part glue for Hypalon would be the best course of action, it is a little complicated and time consuming for my taste. Having heard of positive results from using GFlex epoxy (or even 5200), I will use it for my first patch attempt. Unlike the two-part glue, it has other uses for me around the boat and is also a less hefty initial outlay. My plan is to use scary-toxic MEK to loosen the edges of the patches and clean the area. Then I will sand both sides with 80-grit sandpaper and apply GFlex adhesive epoxy. Another upside to GFlex is a fast cure time: 7 to 10 hours. If the GFlex doesn't work I can always go back and patch it with the two-part glue.

I also found two small holes worn through the bottom of the dinghy and two areas close to wearing through. I bought a small piece of Hypalon and will cut patches to apply on those four spots. If all the patches hold, the other project will be either rehabbing the floorboards or making new ones. I have some marine plywood at my disposal for the latter approach, but would need to come up with a saw and saw horses. New boards would definitely be an improvement.

Last night when I came home I found the starboard tube soft. It had been perfectly hard only six hours earlier and had held up for three days with no signs of a leak. What could have happened to it while I was gone? I was upset but tried to just shake it off and look at it as one more project to tackle. This morning when I took the dog out I expected to find the starboard tube further deflated but instead it looked just fine. And of course it then occurred to me that it was simply the much cooler night we had last night that made the tube seem deflated. With the warmer temperature this morning the air inside had again expanded to fill the tube.

My week was somewhat derailed when in the midst of cooking lunch on Tuesday the burners went out and wouldn't re-light. I guess all my recent baking ran through the propane faster than during the first quarter of the year. I couldn't just run out to refill the tank because it's old and lacks an overflow preventer. The hardware store had told me they would not fill it again. If I was going to have to spend money on a tank, then I wanted to get a good fiberglass one. The fiberglass tanks are lightweight, will not corrode (the mild steel ones rust quickly), and--in theory--one can see the level of propane in the tank through the fiberglass.

Fawcett's did not have any and the hardware store no longer carries them. So I settled for going to West Marine and special ordered one for $130. (Yes, you can get one less expensively online, but the extra cost was well worth being able to make coffee aboard this morning!) When I picked it up yesterday I was disappointed that it was green. I had definitely been expecting it to be gray. Bright green on my aft rail is not the look I'm going for. But I really should cover the tank for UV protection anyway, so I am going to find a way to be okay with it.

I don't know about being able to see the propane level; it definitely isn't very clear. The hiccup I'm most worried about is that the hardware store just went straight to filling the tank and it would only take 3.5 liters of propane. I had paid for 4.2 and the tank holds 4.7. I insisted the tank is brand new and empty and should take 4.7. The woman filling the tank asked if I'd purged it. I didn't even know what she was talking about, so obviously I had not. Of course there was a sticker right there on top of the tank telling the filler to purge the tank first. I hadn't been looking for it and she clearly didn't notice it when she hooked it up to fill. I've used the stove successfully this morning without incident, but worry about what exactly is in the tank with the propane and whether it is a hazard, bad for my stove, et cetera. But in the meantime, I'll be heating up some chicken and italian sausage for lunch and cooking up the chicken that has been marinating in olive oil, garlic, and Old Bay. Let's hope it hasn't also been marinating in Salmonella.

Yesterday evening I headed back to Thursday Night Races at J World. Your skipper definitely makes or breaks the experience. The entire evening was unpleasant and when they called for a third race I was disappointed that we weren't heading back to the dock. I was assigned to the jib. I quickly learned that between just not having much upper body strength and constantly nursing a torn rotator cuff, I can't pull in the jib against the wind and the winch is virtually impossible for me to crank. If I don't have the strength necessary for the jib on a J/80, I certainly won't be able to fight it on my much larger boat. A couple of the crew had to help me on every tack (of which it seemed like there were an infinite number) because I simply couldn't fight the sail in by myself. By the end one of the other crew members and I had gotten down a bit of a "system" that made it less unpleasant, but to the bitter end I was constantly left cleating the sheet and trying to grab the winch handle as the skipper buried the rail and barked, and I was scrambling to hoist myself up to the high side of the boat.

Perhaps as a marathoner I should have more appreciation for racing. Except that I don't even like running races. They are just a way to challenge myself, keep myself honest and on track with training, and it is more convenient for very long distances to have someone put out food and water for me. Racing sailboats just does not compute for me. I simply can't wrap my head around getting upset and hyped up about what is really a meaningless competition and I fail to see any fun in sailing nowhere around some marks. To each his own; I know a lot of folks are very serious about racing and seem to enjoy it. My interest in racing is entirely deflated.

One happy note to this long and tiring week: a cheerful pair of Keen sandals.

I was looking at various models at Fawcett's and asking about other colors, being picky about those sort of things, being a bit of a girly-girl and all. The salesgirl asked what size shoe I usually wear. It turns out that the largest youth size in the Keens fits me. At almost half the cost and with more "fun" colors, I was sold. These sandals are so "me," and make me think of cotton candy and bumble gum and jelly beans. They are amazingly comfortable, to boot!

And finally, as I write this Hunter has brought in an icky not-quite-dead thing. I told the marina owner yesterday that he must have mice under the shed because the cat had been watching a particular spot intently. He's been playing with it and licking it and then jumped up on the settee with it. Yuck! But he is a helluva mouser.

thursday night races

Although the racing culture really isn't my thing, going out for J World's Thursday Night Races is a free way to get practice on a simpler, smaller boat than my own. Racers are also very focused on completing maneuvers quickly and trimming sails efficiently, so it doesn't hurt to have exposure to that even if my cruising will be a far more relaxed approach. I had been told the slots can fill quickly and to be sure to call between 8:00AM and 8:30AM to secure a spot.

There were five of us aboard for last night's races. The helmsman from J World has been racing since he was 10 and is clearly very steeped in that world. The crew had varying levels of experience. I told the helmsman I am a total newbie so he could assign me an appropriate position. I'm glad I did, and glad I wasn't merely regulated to rail meat. However, I think I too often underestimate my skill level and overestimate that of others, when the marginal difference in skill level is likely not as large as I tend to assume. The helmsman discussed tactics and sail trim throughout the race, so it was like a mini-lesson if one paid attention. The helmsman also gave a clear explanation in advance of what we would be doing and who needed to be where at each major maneuver. That was definitely helpful since we had five people aboard who had never met and with varying levels of experience. 

I was assigned to the mast. When we rounded the first mark my job was to be ready to hoist the spinnaker as quickly as possible. I was glad I had brought along some old racing gloves gifted to me by Phil from s/v High Life! When we rounded the next mark, it was my job to help the spinnaker trimmer pull in the spinnaker quickly as we switched back to the jib. Obviously it was a relatively simple job, but I'm glad I have very good sea legs because I spent most of my time far from the safer confines of the cockpit. I stood on the cabin top, leaned back into the shrouds for leverage, and hoisted as fast as I could; any failure in my balance and I'd quickly be overboard as we were making a sharp turn around the mark. I then generally stayed forward of the cockpit, either beside the mast or on the side deck, with little to hold onto and hopping back and forth with each tack or gybe to help distribute weight efficiently. At times I could easily have been rolled right under the lifelines and into the drink. I wore a life vest most of the time, but it was so bulky I would probably have felt safer without it to have the increased agility. A fancy Spinlock Deckvest with a safety harness to hook into jack lines is on my wishlist, but at about $360 I just have to spend the money elsewhere for now. I'm getting a simple PFD for the time being so I will have one handy for dinghy hops and such.

I was disappointed that I had forgotten to use my new Navionics app to track my course during my lesson on Tuesday, so I made sure to turn it on and then stow my bag below before we shoved off. Below is our track from the two races last night, imported into Google Earth.

I'm pleased with the Navionics so far and will enjoy using the chart plotter as I dinghy around. Next little project to tackle: inflating and patching my inflatable dinghy. I should be getting an outboard next week so I want to get the dink ready to go... which also means I've got all the registration paperwork to take care of with the Department of Natural Resources. At least they are helpful and efficient; definitely better than a trip to motor vehicles.

taking inventory

The past several days have been busy! Saturday was a bit of a milestone, having pulled out all the sails for the first time. My friend Phil from Sublime Sustenance came over to help me take inventory of my sails, evaluate my running rigging, and help me understand what all the running rigging does. The heat was brutal, but Phil cheerfully spent almost three hours helping me pull sail bags from the depths of the lazarette, lay the sails on the lawn, fold them back up, hoist and lower the jib at least three times because there's something hinky going on with the roller furler, and hoist the main.

Among the discoveries: The main has two sets of reefing points. The metal jib halyard is beginning to split in places and needs replacement. The sheet for the furler is badly worn and needs replacement. Although I do have jib sheets hung on the rail, they look rather tired and will likely also be replaced. (Ouch, all this line is gonna cost me!) Some sail bags were marked as having a 100% jib and a Genoa, but both turned out to be back-up mainsails. The one in better condition I marked as back-up number one. The other may also stick around as a back-up, but when I get around to learning my way around my sewing machine it may become sail bags or a harbor shade. I also have a storm trysail, which looks to be in new condition, and an anchor riding sail for life on the hook. There were no sail ties to be found, and several of the bungee cords being used as sail ties gave up the ghost once unhooked. (So I have a good excuse to buy pretty brightly-colored sail ties at boat show in October.) And the big blocks on the toe rail appear to be placed for a spinnaker, so I will likely need to buy additional ones to install for the jib sheets.

Even though we didn't cast off the lines, it was good to evaluate the sails, know what I have, and what I need to get. That's the first step to taking her out under sail, hopefully sooner than later.

Monday I tried to row over to Port Annapolis to visit a friend and hang out by the pool. I had to begin by bailing out the dinghy, which was half full of water from a few days of torrential downpours. When I shoved off and tried to get underway I discovered the oars are too long. Previously, I had only rowed the dink with friends, so each of us could take an oar and one would sit forward, the other aft. Rowing solo, when I extended the oars to grab each by the handle and not have them crossed, the oars did not want to lift back out of the water after each row. I had to abandon rowing and just use one oar to paddle as if in a canoe. What a chore! The wooden oar was heavy to repeatedly lift from one side of the bow to the other, and the current simply wanted to push me back from whence I came. I made it, but was very glad to just get a dink hop home with my friends towing my dink behind us.

Tuesday was my first real sailing lesson. Well, I took some lessons many moons ago at Community Boating in Boston, but quickly met an instructor who would just take me out on the bigger keel boats and heel us over dramatically. Let's just say it was all flirting and no learning. So, yesterday I headed to the other end of Eastport and had a 3-hour "TrySail" lesson at J World. It was a LivingSocial deal I couldn't pass up, and for the basics getting started it's usually better not to let your dad, boyfriend, or close friends teach you to drive. The class can be up to four people but I lucked out and got a one-on-one lesson. Because I already know most of the equipment terminology we were able to jump quickly to points of sail and understanding wind direction, and got away from the dock pretty quickly.

I was a little surprised to be at the helm from the outset. The instructor did all the sail trim, but only took the helm a couple of times when we got in tight quarters and needed to act very quickly. I was very nervous about how far heeled over we were but the instructor promised me that even if we put the sail flat on the water at 90 degrees, the keel would pop us back up. We came out of Back Creek, sailed around the Severn River, went into Annapolis Harbor, and then reversed course to return to Back Creek. Most of the time was spent heeled over, at times even burying the rail. At one point the instructor noted how much more comfortable I'd gotten with how much we were heeled; I didn't tell him I was keeping my eyes on the tell tales and on my course so I wouldn't look down and notice the gunwale grazing the waves!

I have no sense of direction and often can't even get right and left correct. So the points of sail and judging wind direction was something I was prepared to be mostly awful at. There wasn't much wind at the dock, but once out in the river it kicked up quite a bit. The instructor's tips for finding the wind and knowing when you are directly into the wind, both by judging the wind on your face and by the reaction of the sails, were very helpful. By the end of the lesson I could tell him accurately whether we were close hauled or on a run and had started making adjustments on my own when the tell tales started lagging.

One regret of the day is that when I headed out in the morning I was running late and forgot my phone. It's not that I needed to make any calls, but it would have been cool to turn on my Navionics app and track my course tacking and gybing through Annapolis Harbor and all. So, next time I have to remember to do that!

Although I am glad to get a good lesson under my belt and look forward to going out and becoming a competent sailor, it is still a mode of transportation to me, not an end in itself. I know how to drive, but I don't "enjoy" driving. Driving is simply something necessary in life to conveniently get to places one wants or needs to go. I want to go to far away and interesting places without breaking the bank on diesel, therefore, I need to be able to sail and be able to singlehand my boat. And whether under power or under sail, I will gradually build my seamanship knowledge and skills (which, sadly, are already better than some more experienced boaters I encounter). I would jump right in and do the 5-day basic keelboat course if I had an extra thousand dollars laying around, but I don't. Although racing culture is not my thing, it is a free way to get more experience, so perhaps I'll start signing up to crew for J World's Thursday night races.

In other news... a little update on the air conditioning situation during this brutal heat wave. Although my air conditioning blows cold, the V-berth is always 5 or 10 degrees warmer than the salon. I've tried various and multiple fans both in the V-berth and to pull cool air from the salon and blow it into the V-berth. Nonetheless, I toss and turn with it too warm to sleep comfortably, when only 6 feet away the salon is 70 degrees. Yesterday I picked up a small Vornado fan, which is supposed to create whole-room circulation due to the particular design of the blades et cetera. Vornados are about double the cost of other fans the equivalent size, but I decided it was worth a try. Well, within a few hours the V-berth was cooled off to the point I actually needed to sleep under a blanket! It seems to be pulling the cool air in from the salon but also re-circulating the warmer air from the V-berth out. Every little victory counts!

goodbye, christal star

My latest boat project was the removal of the old boat name, "Christal Star." I regularly joked that it sounded like a stripper name, especially since the hailing port was in Texas and the lettering was el cheapo vinyl stickers from a hardware store. Just not as elegant as I think my vessel deserves. And, of course, naming the boat gives me a feeling that she really is mine. Yes, the new name arguably also might sound like a stripper, but it's classic and universal. And, no, I'm not going to tell you what it is yet because I'm superstitious.

The lettering was fairly old, and chipped and cracked in places. Although many people use a heat gun to loosen the adhesive and then hand-scrape the lettering off, I wasn't thrilled about being in a tippy dinghy in the water holding a heat gun plugged into an extension cord. I also wanted to avoid nicking the gelcoat with a scraper. Below is a photograph of the small amount that I hand-scraped.

My friends on S/V Octopussy recommended an adhesive eraser wheel drill attachment from 3M. I had looked in vain for one at hardware and marine supply stores, until they explained you get it at any auto supply shop. I had been expecting a sander or similar, but it is a rubber wheel used by body shops to remove striping and the like. I guess the rubber grabs onto the vinyl and pulls it off. At first it didn't seem to do anything. I emailed Bond and Octopussy somewhat frantic asking if I'd bought the right thing or what I was doing wrong. Bond calmly talked me off the ledge and assured me it would work, though it would take some elbow grease and to expect sore arms. I also watched a couple of YouTube videos of guys using the wheel so I had a better sense of how it worked.

I think the hardest part of the project was all the preparation. Getting the dinghy behind the boat, (but without pulling the boat so far forward that the dog ramp wouldn't reach), loading gear into a dry bag to take on the dinghy, climbing in and out of the dink when it sits pretty far below the boat's deck. I spent an hour and a half on Tuesday before the drill's battery wore down. On Wednesday I used the first drill (recharged) but also had a second one ready with two battery packs, so when the first drill died, I swapped out for the second one so I could finish the job. It takes some trial and error to find the right angle and speed for the wheel to most effectively grab the old stickers and chew them off, but once you find that sweet spot the work moves pretty quickly. What slowed me down most was that because the drill doesn't have cruise control my trigger finger and thumb would get sore from gripping the drill. It's also best as a two-handed operation for stability and pressure, but that means my back and legs were working hard to provide stability aboard the very tippy hard dinghy I used as a work float.

Here is a photo with "Star" removed and below is one after all the lettering came off. You can see the shadowing that results from UV rays fading the non-lettered portion of the transom. After using the wheel, I applied Goo Gone to the lettered areas to remove any remaining residue and then washed the transom, giving it a good scrub.

After I finished removing the name, a friend came that evening and used polishing compound to buff out most of the shadowing.

With the old name removed, and plans for the new name to be applied this weekend, I threw together the de-naming ceremony on the fly. A handful of friends came out and the expected thunderstorms held off for the duration of the evening.

Buttercup thinks of M and Q from S/V Octopussy as her dog-harem, so she was pleased they came along for the festivities. My cat Maximus, however, was not as interested in meeting M as M was in meeting him. Max found himself blocked onto a finger pier with a big dog between him and the dock. Max hopped onto the nearest boat and then made a harried leap for our boat. I think Max may have been looking over his shoulder as he leapt, and for once his footing was not sure. Into the drink he went. Almost 9 months aboard before our first Cat Overboard Incident. I didn't see it happen but heard the collective "oooh" of the crowd. I jumped aboard and grabbed the fish net set aside for this very occasion. I saw swirling in the water but couldn't spot him. Folks ashore called out to Max and apparently he swam toward their voices, found a 4" x 4" beam along the bulkhead, and climbed out. I spotted him on the beam beside a piling, with no where to go. He stood dripping and bedraggled, crying out for his mom. I quickly scurried over the railing and into the dink beside him. It's a good thing I've got good balance and had been practicing that same climb in and out for the past couple of days. When I grabbed Max he wrapped his claws around the edge of the dinghy and didn't want to let go. I had to pry his little claws off and clutch him to my chest. I carefully stood up and released him on the finger pier. He ran down the pier and hopped aboard, still in shock over the impromptu swim.

So the festivities were off to a dramatic start! We all hung around with beer, wine, and nibbles, and when I saw the sun was soon going to set, I asked a couple of the guys to head out off the bow in their dinghies to photograph the ceremony from the water. A group of guys was hanging out in the cockpit of the adjacent sailboat and when they saw me walk to the bow with a bottle of Veuve-Clicquot they exclaimed "You're not using that good stuff are you?" Yes, indeed, I told them, laughing. Half the bottle over the bow and into the water. I'm not cheaping out on Poseidon and tempting fate! I popped the cork and encouraged everyone to come aboard to hear the incantation. I asked Poseidon to remove the name Christal Star from his ledger of ships, threw an ingot bearing her name into the sea, (a quarter with the name written in dry erase marker), and poured half the bottle of champagne on the bow and into the water from East to West. We all took a swig straight from the bottle and then headed ashore for more celebration with cava, beer, and wine.

The de-naming ceremony went well and early this morning the new name went on, nine months to the day after I bought her she is re-born with a new name. The lettering came out beautifully and it will be a wonderful birthday present for me to formally re-name her on Sunday.