on the move

With no particular reason to head south or budget to do so, I needed to find new digs in the area. Since I learned too late that my last marina was too shallow and too boisterous for me, I have repeatedly sworn not to sign another annual contract. I figured I would find transient slips, move every few months, and just see where things go. As usual, my life is in flux, and I’m just fine with that. What I have never been good at is being trapped, tied down, locked into anything.

My understanding was that my slip had been leased out as of March 1, so I was feeling under the gun to find a new slip and get moved. One key problem I faced was most of Back Creek was frozen. Every sunny or warmish day I would stand on the bow staring at the ice and praying for enough of it to melt to let me out.

I spoke with the dock manager at a sought-after marina on the Spa Creek side of Eastport hoping to find a slip for March and perhaps April. I dropped by a couple of days later to check things out… which slips might be available, the laundry and bathhouse facilities, and find out details about what would be included in the rate. To my surprise, I was offered an annual liveaboard slip, for which there is often a lengthy waiting list. I was caught off-guard by that choice, and had to give it some thought. I crunched the numbers, mulled it over a bit, and knew it was the right thing to do. The problem: the entire annual payment is due up front and I live hand-to-mouth even in the best of times. I managed to rustle up a loan for the slip, and then anxiously awaited the arrival of the lease in the mail. Once everything was signed and official, I celebrated (duh!) and then I studied the upcoming weather to find the likeliest date the creeks would be thawed so that I could move.

Four or five relatively warm days were coming, culminating this past Sunday. Friday I filled the water tank. The ice was looking softer and receding, but still impassable. I also urgently needed the pump out boat to be able to get to me because the tank was completely full. Thankfully they were able to make it around the remaining ice so I had the boat pumped out and flirted with the hottie pump out guy I’m still crushing on. (Saw him briefly at the pub on Friday night, but he otherwise remains elusive despite regular texting for several weeks. Sigh. What's a mermaid gotta do to catch this one?!) Saturday I also had a second ammeter installed (love it!), finally got the propane line routed off the aft rail (yay!), and got a lesson on changing the oil and filters on my Perkins 4-108 diesel engine (double yay!). So, after a highly productive Saturday, Sunday was moving day.

A liveaboard friend offered to help me move the boat over to the new marina. I know I could handle her by myself, but it never hurts to have another sets of hands to assist when coming into a new marina, where I don’t know the quirks as to wind, current, and depth. The ice had floated further out into the cove and we dragged some alongside as we slowly crept along. Once I was past the ice I tried to throttle up, but the shifter didn’t want to move up any further. The engine was only hitting 700 rpm. We kept puttering along slowly, but I was surprised and concerned about the throttle not working since I hadn’t had any problems with the engine the day prior as we changed the oil, oil filter, and Racor fuel filter.

My friend and I were brainstorming what the problem might be and I was studying the instrument panel, when I took a green day mark a couple feet to the wrong side. I promptly went from 8 feet of water to 4 and ran aground for my first time. I could have easily backed right off of the shoal… if I had any throttle. I hit the BoatUS app on my phone and it automatically sent my GPS coordinates to the tow service. A boat went by and my friend kept signaling to them that it wasn’t his fault, it was all me. Ha! Yep, it was my bad. It was a beautiful sunny day, I wasn’t in any particular rush, and we were just nudged into mud, so I didn’t see any reason to worry. Everyone runs aground; that’s just part of boating. The wind started kicking up and blew the bow off 90 degrees. At the same time a gentle wake came and lifted us just enough. I saw the depth sounder go from 3 feet to 5 to 7 and quickly put her in reverse. Even if I couldn’t throttle up, I wanted to at least try to back into the channel. And just like that I backed her up, did a 360, and headed out. I let the tow captain know I was no longer aground but opted to go ahead with a tow due to my lack of maneuverability from the impaired throttle. The wind on the Severn and on Spa Creek was much friskier than on Back Creek. There were also gobs of little sailboats out for the Sunday afternoon frostbite races. Because I’d be motoring, they would have right-of-way and would be zig-zagging all over right where I needed to go. But if I was under tow… well, they would all have to give way to me. Knowing your COLREGS comes in handy! Naturally, it was the same tow captain who towed me last September and then towed a friend’s boat when I was aboard helping him move it for a haul out. I’ll admit it’s a little embarrassing to be on a first-name basis with the local tow captain. C’est la vie.

I got tucked into the new slip. I had planned to dock stern-to but the neighboring liveaboard warned that the slip would get shallow at the far end and that gawkers in the spring and summer would be able to look right down into my boat if I didn’t come bow in. I hadn’t considered the latter issue, but the new marina can definitely have a fishbowl feel, so I’m glad I took his advice. Pup dog is having to adjust to jumping from the deck to the dock at the boarding gate amidships, rather than using her ramp, but she’s been a trooper and adapting with less fuss than I expected. The cats are peeved that I haven’t let them outside yet, but I’m scared they will get lost or hurt in this much more commercial marina with a large parking garage. (It doesn’t help that this morning my neighbor said there has been a dead cat floating around the marina since January and to let him know if I see it so he can fish it out. He said it’s black; I would’ve thought it was Max and freaked out. The whole thing makes me sad.)

So, how are the new digs? Well, let me just say I love bottomless hot water even more than bottomless mimosas! At the old spot there was 15 minutes of hot water, then it went completely cold. I have long hair and long legs, so I could never both shampoo my hair and shave my legs in the same shower at the old marina. And after a run in the frigid cold I would need 15 minutes of hot water just to be able to feel my fingers and toes again. So, I am loving having all the hot water I want, with great water pressure, and facilities that are cleaned daily—by someone other than me! There are two shower stalls, which are separate from the two bathroom stalls, as well as two sinks with shelves, electric outlets, and a courtesy hair dryer. So, yes, I’m feeling I made a serious upgrade.

I also have laundry at the new marina so now I can toss in a load whenever rather than having to drive to a laundromat and pay a lot more than the marina charges. I also have covered, card-key-access parking and generally get a spot right next to my slip. The dock management team are very nice and gave me a welcome bag with a t-shirt, floating key chains, wine key, baseball hat, bathhouse key, and my parking card. Another, and likely the biggest, benefit of the new marina: water under my keel so I can go sailing! I’m even closer to my local haunts, so that’s nice, too.

Oh, and did I mention that ELECTRICITY IS INCLUDED?! So, although I’m paying a mere $17 more a month at the new marina than I was before, I’m actually saving at least $100 a month because I don’t have to stress about whatever mysterious astronomical electrical bill will arrive every quarter, or randomly a month later. My electric had averaged about $85 per month all year until this winter. The bill for the last four months: $615! Since I was freezing my ass off on the boat and trying to run the heat as little as possible, I can only assume I am being charged for the ice eaters that benefited all the boats and the docks. Very, very glad I won’t have to worry about that anymore.

More later about the engine and such, since the mechanical matters deserve their own post. But really pleased to be moved to my new spot. Many thanks to everyone who helped me get her ready and be able to move into our new slip. I'm very hopeful we'll be happy there and that we have fair winds ahead.

feng shui (project: organize and paint)

I bought some dry erase boards in hopes of mounting them and using them to help stay organized and on top of things. Naturally, the one that I mounted promptly fell off the wall in less than a day. One laid on top of the pile of crazy consuming the nav desk and said "Get your space organized and zen and your mind will follow." Guests aboard looked at it, looked at the crazy piles of stuff everywhere, and laughed.

But your space and your insides do seem to reflect and influence each other. I aspire to make the boat clutter-free, with nice matching cushions and such. I had bought cotton net bags to hang for storage and after initially buying a set of multiple colors decided I should go with all natural off-white ones so it doesn't look like some Deadhead rainbow inside the boat. But the reality is that the colored ones are me and the plain dull ones are what I aspire to, but will never be. Similarly, wind chimes on a boat are nutty and mine are very hippy-dippy. I have this theoretical vision of the boat without them, just clean lines, dull and "yachty," but I simply couldn't do it. I have to have my wind chimes that say "breathe" and "namaste" with a simple bell beneath them. Yes, I'll have to toss them in a drawer when sailing, but the little tchotchkes make me feel at home, they say something to me or remind me of some trip or time in my life that I'm not ready to forget. I know they are just stuff, just things, but I've lost, sold, and given up so much, I can't quite let go of the little I have left.

There is still more to be done and it will always be a work in progress, but here are some "before" and "after" shots of the cabin. Yeah, don't judge me; I'm doing the best I can.

The galley is still a work in progress, and let's just not talk about the nav desk yet. That's on the "to do" list for later today... or tomorrow. The real "project" aside from cleaning and organizing was painting the cabin. The painted area had been horribly moldy when I bought the boat. Although the mold has long been dealt with, the black stains left behind were not going to come out. I bought some anti-mold paint and had it tinted. The first coat came out bright white rather than the soft cream I was going for. It had this stark "production boat" feel I couldn't live with. The light color also made the nice headliner, which is a bisque color, seem dingy.

I set aside enough of the original color to do a base coat on the other side so that both sides would match and then took the 3/4 of a quart back to the hardware store to see if they could re-tint it for me. They had to experiment and just sort of make up a color, but it worked. It's not a shade I would've originally chosen but I actually love it. It's sort of a clay color; not quite tan, not quite gray, with a hint of green. It definitely makes the cabin feel warmer and looks much classier than the shabby mold-stained walls I had before. I spent a few hours cursing prior owners for the tacky rope light and gazillion screws they put in the walls to mount it that I had to remove before I could clean and paint. My plan is to run a piece of line where the rope light had been, using some of the gazillion holes already drilled there, so I can hang the net bags between port lights for more storage space for small, lightweight things like hats, gloves, and sunglasses. We'll see; these ideas usually take a few iterations of brainstorming and tweaking to get worked out. I also took some natural-colored cotton fabric and spray-glued it to the Reflectix "curtains" in the larger windows that don't open. It's nice not to have all that shiny silver everywhere making the boat look like a space ship. However, the mast still looks like a big shiny silver disco pole... for now.

The cove I'm in, and from the looks of it all the way across Back Creek, is frozen over and covered with snow on top of the ice. Can I just say I'm ready for spring now? The water pump keeps freezing up, so I haven't had running water aboard for a couple of days. I keep flipping on the water heater trying to generate enough heat in that section of the engine room to thaw the line, but it's getting pretty frustrating. Both sinks are full of dishes and taking them ashore will be a total pain in the ass, but likely the only option at this point. The few days of warmer weather can't arrive soon enough. Last week we had two dangerous winter liveaboard incidents here. First, a liveaboard downtown slipped on his icy deck and fell in the water; luckily other liveaboards heard the splash and, together with the fire department, rescued him. Second, two boats in Eastport burned to the waterline and were destroyed; luckily no one was aboard either at the time. These are things my nightmares are often made of nowadays.

I put silicone at the area around a shroud that had been the apparent source of a leak. Unfortunately, that isn't solving the problem. I think melting snow and ice are now getting through from underneath the toe rail. Another Gulfstar 37 owner is solving this problem by removing the toe rail. The replacement toe rail has breaks at each shroud, so there is no way for water to sneak under the toe rail at the chain plates. A very nice solution, but I'm concerned about how costly that change will be.

I missed a week of running with all the snow and bitter cold, but all that cleaning, organizing, and painting was still a decent workout. This week we're back on track and pup dog was a trooper running six miles in the bitter cold with me. I had the benefit of Yaktrax but we had to stop frequently to pull snow and salt from between pup's pads. It feels great to be running again and although the dieting is tough right now, I know it won't be as hard once my mileage is back up and my metabolism is faster.

A few weeks ago I had called the pump out boat but they were frozen in. The following Saturday they were socked in with fog. So the next Saturday I tried again. The tank wasn't yet full, but another couple weeks and I'd be in a jam. But I was in luck, it was actually a relatively nice and warm day for this winter full of polar vortexes and such. When the boat pulled up I was surprised to see the cute floppy-haired guy who'd been running the boat over the summer; I hadn't seen him since fall arrived. It's hard to explain or pin down why, but when I see him I perk up. I'm sure you've had that happen; someone who just makes your eyes light up, your posture straighten, a smile spread across your face. That's what I think of as the power of pheromones; mother nature just saying there is chemistry there. To me, it's an absolutely necessary, but not sufficient, condition to being with someone. If you don't have that spark right off, it won't ever come. I could definitely be wrong, but I feel like the chemistry is mutual.

He asked about the pup dog, which was sweet. I told him I was planning on leaving soon to head south, and he said we had to stop talking about getting a drink at the pub and make it happen. I scurried below to fetch a card and gave it to him. Time to walk the talk if he's for real. The older guy on the pump out boat was probably rolling his eyes and looking at his watch as we chatted away while vacuuming the shit out of the boat. A handful of hours later he texted me. But it's been 10+ days of texting back and forth and...  that's it. I don't want to play games but I also don't want to scare him off--not everyone can handle my bluntness and the subtleties of sarcasm and teasing don't translate well by text so I try to avoid them. But, seriously? If you've asked this mermaid for a tour of her boat and she's saying "hey, let's get together," just make it happen. I'm always catching sailors I'm not trying to hook and when I finally have one I want on my line, I can't seem to reel him in. Sigh.

pup waiting for me to come ashore

ice kept creeping closer to the boat

the tide got too low for the ice eater

The loose working plan has been to leave Annapolis as of March. I believe my slip has already been rented out. I was thinking that I'd just be underway for a week and then stop somewhere for a month or two to work and keep doing that until I ended up somewhere I wanted to stay longer. Of course, I still have a lot of work to be done on the boat to be able to head out, such as get and install solar panels, but even with cash in hand I can't get guys in Annapolis to show up to do the work. Everyone here just wants to curl up for the winter and drink. But as I am used to in this life, the brief upswings never last long. The work in Miami dried up a little over two weeks ago. Back I go to looking for research gigs or, more likely, waiting tables. Fingers crossed I line something up within the next two weeks as I never have much of any financial cushion. Looks like my big cruise this winter will probably just be over to Spa Creek. I'm disappointed, of course. But the devil you know is better than the one you don't; right? I just need to make the best of my time here and my friends here and keep living the dream.

feed your head

I've definitely learned that I prefer my solitude to social obligations. Now that Showtime has killed the Borgias series and being in the off-season of the few other television shows I enjoy, (and figuring I won't have television in a couple of months anyway), I need to entertain myself (i.e., have ways to procrastinate on projects) and try not to have everything be boat-repair or sailing books, since my world already revolves around life aboard. I'm trying to get back to listening to a variety of educational and entertaining podcasts, which I can listen to while running or doing dishes or just walking about. Although I like my podcasts, I am very picky about what I listen to. I tried to listen to a sailing podcast but deleted it due to the sing-song of the guy's voice and the dull material. If anything is remotely reminiscent of talk radio or NPR, it's a no-go. I might actually dislike NPR even more than I dislike Jimmy Buffet music.

So, here are the podcasts that are on my plate as I feed my head:

Notes in Spanish: Inspired Beginners. They also have intermediate and advanced Spanish podcasts. It's a big change in accent for me because it is Spanish Spanish, rather than Latin American Spanish, so some of it is difficult for me to understand and I don't want to pick up the lisp. But since I have a lot of exposure to Latin American Spanish it is good for me to hear even more variety in accent and vocabulary. The beginners' level is too easy for me but since I don't live half my life in Spanish the way I did in Miami, it's good to refresh my ear as I work my way into more advanced levels. Despite college courses in Spanish and Portuguese and strong vocabulary in both, I never managed to get comfortable with future and past tenses, and need to find a way to get myself there so I am not stuck with just shopping and dining out level ability. I'm going to try to watch more movies in Spanish as well for mini-immersion and to expand vocabulary. Spanish is handy in a lot of places and especially for cruising in the Caribbean and Latin America. Having learned that the Canary Islands and Malaga have pleasant year-round weather, perhaps I'd be willing to check out those other Spanish-speaking locales as well. And I have a long love of Brazil and Portuguese, so once I've got my Spanish back a bit more, I'll work on refreshing and expanding my Portuguese, which was at one time quite good.

Wine for Normal People. From practical to geeky, but without the snob-factor. They cover different grapes, different regions, tips on developing your palate, and how to get good value in your wine selection. Check out episode 73 on alternatives to the expensive stuff and episode 55 on improving your palate.

The New Man Podcast. I'm a girl, it's true, but I still love this podcast. I'd recommend it to any guy and to most women. The tag line is "beyond the macho jerk and the new age wimp." It's for guys who are confident enough in their manhood to embrace having feelings, use them to better themselves, their relationships, their careers, and their lives. Explicit language and topics, but, hey, life is explicit. Good recent episodes with Alyson Lanier (#147) and with Kamal Ravikant (#144).

I also have a podcast audiobook of Robinson Crusoe to listen to and if I'm feeling sporty, I'll start the learn German podcast to refresh many years of German studies that are long dusty.

As some of you may know, I'm trying to buckle down, run more, eat less, and lose gobs of weight. I'm meticulously counting calories consumed and calories burned, using the web and iPhone app versions of MyFitnessPal. My target is to lose about five inches in bust, waist, and hips, and 20-25 pounds. One week into the new regimen I was down one inch and four pounds, which is nice motivation to keep me going. The other day I made a quick vegetarian burrito for lunch that logged in at 552 calories (follow the link for the recipe and photos). Not bad for a full plate of flavorful food. Not every day is easy; a lot of them are very hard. I don't do well with my tummy growling. I'd rather go run a few extra miles than be hungry. I'm trying not to be so strict that I go completely off the wagon, but I know that if I mostly hang in, the results will come.

So, with all this cold weather, the pump out boat was iced in and couldn't come out last Saturday. They put me on the list and will call me when they come out; I think I'll call them tomorrow just in case. Fingers crossed. Yes, I'm getting tired of winter aboard. Days when it's so icy and windy that I take a handheld VHF with me just in case I get blown off the bow or slip off the pier. When I bitch endlessly about the heat, humidity, and constant stickiness in the islands, remind me about how I bitched about winter aboard.

I recently had my scariest moment aboard yet. I was getting ready to do dishes and noticed smoke wafting from the engine room from behind the companionway steps. It was too thick to see what was going on in the engine room and my heart was racing with fears of burning to the water line while it snowed around us. But as I kept trying to see the source I noticed the smoke didn't smell like smoke. It was thick, but quickly dissipated inside the cabin. Gratefully, it donned on me that the "smoke" was actually steam from the water heater encountering the frigid air. I don't use the water heater often, but lately the water has been so cold that doing dishes downright hurts. So, I gave it an hour to heat up before putting on the water pump. Any time the water heater and water pump are both on, the pump runs continuously, so my loose theory is that there is a leak somewhere between them. Perhaps the boiling water began trickling into the cold, cold bilge, creating the cloud of steam that gave me heart palpitations.

But a real problem is that the leaks I had stopped are back after a year. Ugh. I think it's from the very cold and the resulting expansion and contraction of wood. For the one at the shroud, I think it'll have to be some silicone as a stop-gap to get through the cold weather. Once I have warmer, drier weather, I'll have to dig out all the 4200, fill with epoxy, and do the final seal with butyl tape.

I'll leave you with some snaps of pup on the snowy beach and Hunter in the snow.

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?

all wrapped up

Mike and Jen helping fix the inside-out jib.

A little over a week ago I was planning a nice day cruise with friends. It would have to be shorter than usual due to the need to time the tides, and no one would want to go swimming in the 60 degree water, but it would still be a nice, crisp, sunny day for a sail. A lot of preparation was needed to get the boat ready to go, both because of loose items on deck and inside, and because the roller furler for the jib still needed to be rationalized. Mike, Jen, and I spent a good three hours getting her ready to go. I'd had a couple of experienced sailors not get the jib set up quite right, so we needed to unfurl it and figure out how to get the line to furl it in the right direction. It had kept wrapping inside-out. My jib has a wide blue border which when the sail is furled provides UV protection to extend the life of the sail. We needed to get enough line wrapped on the furling drum and then have the drum spin in the correct direction so that the cover would be on the outside. A few times unfurling and furling the jib and Jen used her geometry skills to figure it out for us. She may not be a sailor (yet), but she's smart and determined, which is exactly what we needed to fix the problem.

I had realized in an "a-ha!" moment back in September that the reason the jib wasn't trimming properly to sail upwind was that we were using the wrong blocks for the jib sheets. Prior trips out the jib sheets had been run through turning blocks just aft of the winches in the cockpit. To get a tighter angle on the sail to head upwind, we needed to first run the sheets through blocks farther forward. Those blocks have been shackled to some anchor chain up at the bow, likely for safe keeping when the prior owners traded her in. We shackled those blocks to cars on the jib tracks that run along the top of the toe rail on either side of the boat. I've heard that I can get horn cleats that will run on the jib track, which would be much easier for tying my spring lines rather than running the (very long) spring lines through the cars. I would also like to add cam cleats inside the cockpit below the winches as they will be easier for me to manage when singlehanding. The wish list never stops growing it seems.

The dinghy dock high and dry.

With the sails in order we secured the pets below and started the engine. In the cold fall weather it took a few tries to get her to turn over. In the summer she always started on the first go. Diesels just don't like the cold it seems. But we got her running. A couple of hours before high tide the depth sounder said 5 feet. I draw almost five, and the depth alarm beeps incessantly at 5.2 and below. We were now at high tide but when I turned the depth sounder back on we were in 4.4 feet of water. Three days of steady NW winds were blowing water out of the bay, so although the tide was coming in, the water level had continued to fall. We tried pulling her out of the slip on the lines. I tried gunning the engine, which probably just dug us deeper into the mud. After all that preparation, the sails finally in order, our day sail was hard aground. I repeatedly apologized to Mike and Jen but they were great sports and we just hung out in the cockpit and had drinks before strolling down to the pub for a late lunch.

The trip out wasn't only going to be a pleasure cruise, however. The harbormaster's pump out boat has been out of service awaiting a part and my holding tank was full. I also had no idea how much fuel was in the tank and it is best to keep the tank full over the winter to minimize condensation. I do have facilities at my marina and they are not far from my slip, but trust me when I tell you it isn't ideal to have to bundle up, climb up on the pier during a low tide, and run to the head at 3AM. Add rain or snow to the mix and it's even less fun. With the tank full that also means there is sewage sitting in the hoses; over time it will permeate the hose and make the boat very stinky. So, getting over to the fuel dock for a pump out was a priority.

My furry crew can't seem to handle a boat hook.

Midweek I popped by the pub for lunch to see if I might find someone willing to take a little cruise across the creek with me. I probably can handle taking her over by myself just fine, but because my docking situation is a little tight I am more comfortable having someone to help fend me off other boats or pilings while docking. I didn't manage to find anyone at lunchtime but went back about 3PM (circa high tide and the beginning of happy hour). The guy I asked for help initially chided me that I should be able to do it myself without help, but when I mentioned I had a cooler of beer aboard he agreed to come along for the ride. He's an old salt and knows his stuff, so he barked at me a bit for being trepidatious around other boats. He did give me some good tips though to keep moving between gears in short bursts to kick the boat in one direction or another and keep good control over her while docking or waiting to approach the fuel dock. I was surprised to only take 7.4 gallons of fuel. I put some cetane enhancer in before filling her up, but wish I had had stabilizer to add. Now I have the stabilizer, but might need to use up a little fuel to make room for it in the tank. This winter I really have to be diligent about starting the engine once a week to keep her happier, especially if I will have to take her out to find pump out facilities. The harbormaster's office said they will run the pump out boat on Saturdays through the winter, but I'm not exactly holding my breath since they don't even have the boat running at all right now.

My huge, sturdy, lightweight IKEA bag is great for laundry.

After the little cruise across the creek I resigned myself to an evening of laundry. There is free parking at one of the local laundromats, but that one is definitely the kind of place I worry about someone stealing something. Although parking is a nightmare downtown, I still head to the laundromat on Maryland Avenue, which is clean, uncrowded, and I don't worry as much about someone stealing my panties. Although Galway Bay is a pricey watering hole, it is directly across the street from the laundromat so I generally have a pint there and just run across the street to put items in the dryer et cetera. I managed to knock out three loads of laundry in an hour and only drink one pint of Magner's Cider. When I first walked into Galway, a guy stopped me and asked "Was that your plan all along?" I looked at him quizzically. "Was it your plan to put your laundry in and then come here and drink while you wait?" he asked. They seemed to think that was a humorous, but sound, strategy. It does make the whole laundry day experience a little more pleasant, though I would still prefer to have laundry right at my marina.

I tried to get the dog to dress up for Halloween but she wanted nothing to do with it. Myself, I was a corpse bride. I think next year I will wear the gown but have day of the dead makeup. It'd be really nice to have a whole group in that theme or at least have a skeleton groom to complement my costume. The party at Davis' was fun and then I met up with friends for dinner at Vin 909. I had to work the next morning, so I couldn't make it a late night, but it was certainly better than last Halloween.

Winter aboard is here in full force. I definitely need to add a heated mattress pad for the v-berth. The oil-filled radiator is warm, but even with a couple of fans going I am not getting the heat evenly circulated throughout the boat and the salon remains much warmer--perhaps by ten degrees--than the stateroom. I don't really mind bundling up to sleep with flannels, thick socks, a sweatshirt, and hat, but that isn't exactly a sexy nightie and it isn't exactly romantic when an overnight guest is shivering. Now you know the secret to my youthful appearance: the meat-locker temperature of the stateroom is like being cryogenically preserved every night. Just kidding... it's that 45+ sunblock, being a non-smoker, chipmunk cheeks, and being young at heart.

Perhaps the mattress pad should be a reward if I ever manage to clean up the interior of the boat! I have had her in a pretty good state at points, but the last flurry of cleaning and organizing was interrupted half-way, so now piles of clothes, kitchenware, and tools are stacked in every available space. I pulled everything out so I could clean and organize storage lockers, but now I am just buried under stuff. Then came moving out of the office, so more stuff came aboard and my car is packed to the brim. I need to get groceries today but there is no where in the car to put a 30 lb. bag of dog food much less any of the other groceries. I have sold, thrown away, or given away probably 90% of my worldly possessions, but let's face it: I still have too much stuff!

I have been storing pots, pans, and food in the cubbies behind the settee and the dinette but am now rethinking that approach. Because dog hair seems to get everywhere in the boat (sigh), I end up having to re-wash all the items stored in those cubbies before I can use them. I also cannot use all the space in those cubbies because I need clearance to lift pots and pans in and out. I am considering using one of the cabinets that currently houses clothes and shoes for the pots and pans, and storing off-season clothing and extra bedding and towels in the cubbies. Then I can fill them all the way up and they will act as insulation against the hull. The problem is those cubbies are prone to terrible condensation because they are against the hull, though it is not as bad now that they are all lined with Reflectix insulation. So, if I put soft goods there instead of pans I have to protect them from the moisture lest they be soaking wet and moldy. I may get oodles of zip-lock bags and/or space bags so items will stay dry. I just have to buckle down, find a few days I can set aside, and tackle the organizing head on. I need to get to it before too long so I can have friends over for cozy dinners aboard and "special cocoa" with peppermint schnapps and baby marshmallows.

I'll leave you with this: Max thinks the top of the dodger is a groovy hammock. Silly cat.