this is not a sailing blog

Apologies for the long gap between posts. I don't have any good excuses; sometimes life just gets in the way. 

A couple months ago I was reflecting on my dissatisfaction with work and financial aspects of my life. I decided to try writing down the things I enjoy and the things I am good at. Unfortunately, the overlap between those lists is slim. Pretty much writing and cooking. There are other things I'm good at, but I don't enjoy like arguing and lawyering. There are plenty of things I enjoy, but am not very good at like singing and snorkeling.  I don't know that I'll be able to limit my work sphere to writing and cooking any time soon, at least not if I want to put food on the table, but I think I do need to place greater focus on finding a path that may eventually lead me there.

I also started writing down the things I don't enjoy and the things I'm not good at. At the top of both lists: sailing. I don't know if I don't enjoy sailing because I'm not good at it, or whether I'm not good at it because I don't enjoy it. Probably a mixture of both. But it was a relief to let myself acknowledge that reality and stop forcing myself to do it just because everyone expects me to. I love being out on the water. I enjoyed heading out fishing before dawn, the water glassy, hardly another boat to be seen. I enjoyed the days in Miami when I just threw lines and drank rum runners, took sun on deck, and snorkeled a bit, with no responsibility for navigating or taking the helm. But far and away most of my pleasant boating memories are from power boating. I can't say I have ever enjoyed sailing; sailing is something I suffer through to get from point A to point B or because I feel pressured to learn and try. 

I understand that many people are passionate about sailing and can't imagine life without it. For me, taking the boat out is about the last way I want to spend my sparse, precious free time. Particularly because I live aboard and have all the stuff of life strewn about, (cue the sailors looking down their noses at me for still owning more than two pairs of shoes). Getting the boat ready to take out involves hours of preparation and then hours getting things settled upon return. Taking the boat out means a day of stress; I can't relax, can't enjoy some cocktails, have to be on constant guard not to run aground, not to tangle up in crab pots, not to draw the attention of the Coast Guard or DNR, having to make sure guests know where flares and fire extinguishers reside, and making sure there are PFDs to go around. All of that is "work" in my book; it is not play, or fun, or relaxation. If other people enjoy it, that's all well and good; I wish them fair winds and following seas. I enjoy running but I don't expect everyone else to think it's the cat's meow or somehow "better" than anyone else's chosen hobbies.

The boat is my home, the only home I have ever owned. I do love her and she has saved my life in many ways. I plan to stick with living aboard for a while more to save money and, with hope, save up for a down payment on a house. From the outset this blog has been about how the world is not enough. It's a blog about a girl rebuilding her life, the challenges of pets, being broke, the ups and down of love and loss, and now and then it's about making boat living work. I hope the story here continues long after Ambrosia has found a new captain to sail her away to bluer seas. But this has never been a sailing blog.

stars

Sometimes the stars just align. Even for klutzy, crazy girls like me. After plenty of roller-coaster riding and hanging in there, the universe has cut me some slack or rewarded my resilience and sent some blessings my way. Normally, I might be worried that bad tidings are on the horizon with so much good feeling around me right now. But I'm too busy feeling energized, hopeful, and grounded to let worry harsh my mellow.

A friend convinced me to take a little cruise across the Bay to Kent Narrows to meet up with some friends for drinks and live music. It would be a 20 minute drive from Annapolis, but a five-hour sail. I hesitated to spend the bulk of the weekend in transit when I had studying to do, but with Labor Day weekend likely being the last opportunity to make such a trip with my friend before winter sets in, I decided to just go for it. 

We made good time, raised all the sails, and burned off stale diesel. It was my first time "cruising" Ambrosia away from her home dock overnight. A baby step, perhaps, but a start, a great shakedown sail, and the cats made it there and back with all their bodily fluids kept in check. 

Kent Narrows may not be an exotic location, and at about the same distance perhaps "We sailed to St. Michael's" sounds more sailor-y. But not long after docking we were at The Jetty and those rum runners went down so smoothly. The early band at The Jetty was fun, but we found out the later band would be hip-hop so rather than have to guard my tush from jerks grinding their junk on me without invitation, we decided to find another spot for the night's eats and drinks.

A group of us enjoyed the marina pool, jammed out a bit aboard over drinks, and then looked at our watches and realized it was getting late. Not having eaten, we now had to find a fun spot with a kitchen still open. I figured Ram's Head Shore House would have live music and a hopping scene, and the kitchen would at least be open until 11pm. We piled in a car and headed out, but when we arrived there were literally two people there other than the bartenders. Then they said the kitchen was only serving appetizers. I felt terrible having convinced the gang this was the spot where we wanted to be. But there was a pool table and my friend is a pool shark, so the games ensued. 

I needed another beer and headed over to the bar to order something. More people had arrived, but still there were only two or three people sitting at the bar at that point. I could choose any spot along the bar to find the bartender, but I "might" have picked a spot near a cute, floppy-haired surfer guy, just because. He quickly struck up a conversation that lasted until my friends came over and said they were heading back to the boat if I wanted a ride. My friend had been the consummate wingman and let me enjoy my chat uninterrupted. I said my goodbyes and gave the guy my card. Some twelve hours later he texted me that he wanted to continue our chat and the rest is history as they say. I could dish all kinds of wonderful things about him, but I don't ever want him to feel he'll be dissected here. Let's just say he's a great tipper, a Southern Gentleman, and makes me want to sing for him, bake for him, and take care of him.

Trying to keep up and build up my running, I headed out last Saturday for a six-miler. I was killing it for just shy of the first four miles until this happened. Gratefully, a cyclist and some drivers stopped to see if I was okay, and the kindness of strangers got me home alright.

I may be bruised and bloody, but I always bounce back. The scars just remind me that I'm out there, living life, seizing the day, and seeking out adventure. I would take a thousand scars over a day of the zombie-like life I escaped. 

Finally, among the blessings that have come to me of late, my friend sold me his old car. So after over a year without a vehicle, at last I have the freedom to get to work, school, the store, and fun when the whim strikes me. The car and I are tight; she wants to be driven fast and decisively and has plenty room for pup dog and a massage table. 

You never know where great friends will come from. Someone who was once among the "friends I haven't met yet" became a true friend in "real life" over time and only because of that friendship did these blessings find me, Ambrosia's first cruise, the freedom of a vehicle, and meeting a wonderful man in whose arms I've never felt so safe and at home. And so I am starry-eyed and so very grateful for the blessings that have fallen like shooting stars at this mermaid's feet.

waves

The past month has been marked by waves. Waves upon waves of sadness, but there have also been waves of joy. Water, life, they ebb and flow, bringing bad tidings and good, but ever changing. Knowing that a high tide will come and wash the tears, blood, muck, and hurt back out to sea makes the low tides of my days survivable. 

First things first, I owe you photographs of my beautiful new battery box. The wooden box was custom fabricated and epoxied. It holds my house bank of four 6V "golf cart" batteries and the black box in front is the group 31 dual purpose start battery. The bottom photograph shows the water pump relocated forward near the engine rather than laying loose atop the batteries as in the past.

I finally removed the stand-up portable air conditioner and returned it. It never condensed any water and just operated as a glorified fan. The boat is actually cooler without it! I have the window unit running over the forward hatch and it keeps the v-berth frosty and the rest of the boat comfortable enough. 

I had to finish sanding the brightwork. Here are snaps of the brightwork, before, during, after, and one of me after the final 8-hour day of sanding. I haven't finished the hatch, but can't currently afford the mural I want painted on it, so I figure it's better to leave what varnish is left as protection until I can tackle that project properly.

The new batteries and wiring didn't solve my engine problems, so the electrician removed the starter and took it up to Best Battery in Baltimore for testing. It failed the test so they did a rebuild. Before and after:

In the midst of all the repairs, the electrician had to disconnect and reconnect the water pump frequently to access the starter. Something must have jiggled loose at some point and the pump ran continuously, dumping half my water tank in the bilge. Below is the icky old automatic bilge pump that wasn't doing its job. Now there is a beautiful new automatic pump running well (donated by Doria, thanks!). It gives me peace of mind when I see the red light come on the electrical panel and the pump gurgle for a few seconds to clear the bilge (while my galley sink drains overboard, the head sink drains to the bilge...so the bilge is always getting a fresh influx of water when I wash my face or brush my teeth, yuck.)

I received a lovely bottle of port from a reader. Thanks! (Also pictured a bottle of Italian red I haven't opened yet, a gift from a dockmate). 

The electrician installed the rebuilt starter and miracle of miracles, the engine started right up. Of course, I had 45 gallons of old diesel in the tank I was worried wouldn't cooperate, but I gave it a good dose of tank cleaner and haven't had a problem. (Knock on wood.) Friday the new starter went in and Sunday the boat was out of the slip for the first time since the end of February 2014. 

A friend came to help me on the adventure--a trip down to Thomas Point Light, anchoring out a few hours, and then the hardest part--docking! Coming out of the slip we had our first big surprise. I had the wheel hard a-port but the boat was heading hard to starboard. I freaked out, backed her back in the slip, and fretted a bit. My friend hopped off to look at the rudder and indeed, the steering had gotten reversed. Apparently when my old mechanic and I installed the new engine control cables a year ago and the chain slipped down into the binnacle, we lost the twist in the chain that is needed for the correct steering. We didn't let it stop us, though it made for stressful moments when dodging shoals, crab pots, other vessels, and when docking. 

We went almost to the lighthouse and then headed back north looking for a spot to anchor. Everything shallow enough to be feasible was a minefield of crab pots but we managed it. We anchored out for a few hours, had lunch, and enjoyed the sun and breeze. Enjoying some waves of joy getting my beloved Ambrosia away from the dock at last.

We took some decent waves right on the beam--unable to turn into them quickly enough due to crab pots-- which caused the mini-fridge to tip open and spill its contents everywhere. The fan on top of it tumbled to the floor, pulling the power strip and the computer monitor connected to it to the floor as well. Luckily, nothing was broken, but since every surface on the boat is cluttered, I have a lot of work ahead of me to clear all those surfaces and secure appliances and such with shock cord to prevent mishaps in choppy seas or when heeled over. This was, however, the first cruise when no cats puked. I put them together on a towel in a pop-up dog crate so they wouldn't be able to get sick in some remote locker unbeknownst to me, and so they would be safer from falling objects. It was a good plan that worked out well.

On the way back north we opened the jib and got an extra knot and a half. Naturally, the furling line got fouled beneath the drum rather than wrapping onto it, so I had to go forward and unwind it while carefully jumping back whenever there was slack since the sail would take the slack and fill, spinning off the furler with force. Yes, that is my lovely hatch A/C in the photo. It is too much of a hassle to remove it so we just let it be. And, yep, below you can see the ratty weathered bungee cords keeping my main halyard from slapping against the mast. Don't judge me.

Docking was a major challenge and I freaked out quite a bit. I really don't want to hit another boat so I get very trepidatious in close quarters maneuvering; this is a tight docking situation and a slip I'd never docked her in before. The reversed steering situation didn't help. Gratefully, the dock master was waiting on the pier to throw lines and give advice and we eventually made it in unscathed. But I think next time I will try backing all the way down the fairway and into the slip. I really need someone very experienced to come help me spend three hours going in and out of the slip over and over until it's in my muscle memory and my crocodile brain. But all in, a great trip, a huge relief to get out on the water, and some much needed waves of joy and relaxation.

Here's a nugget of truth to remember: bad tippers are bad lovers (and bad bosses, friends, ...). People who are stingy and selfish in one area of life, like money, are often also stingy in other areas of life--in bed, with their affection, and with their time. The same goes for people who cut in line, cut people off in traffic, and generally seem to have missed the message about the Golden Rule.

I've been running a fair amount, though not back up to my desired 30 miles per week. But I am trimming down, building muscle, and getting faster. Running is my meditation, my church. I listen to Matisyahu, take in nature, feel the connection of my body, mind, and spirit. Sometimes I am overwhelmed by grief and have a panic attack and hyperventilate. But it happens less and less now. So many days I just want to stay in bed, don't want to head out on that run. But I always feel better that I did it, even if it was slower or shorter than my goal. I need to focus on taking better care of myself physically, emotionally, and financially. In a sense, my body is all I have and I have to make taking care of it, making it the best it can be, my priority. 

I started school this past Monday. It seems crazy to be going back to school yet again, but at least this path (massage therapy) feels like it has potential both as something I can do while traveling and that is actually in demand (which is not the case with law). And after many years of lawyering and hating it, it will be nice to do something that reduces the level of stress in the world rather than increases it. Law is just a soul-sucking endeavor and I feel like I need to do something with a far better karmic balance. And it turns out that colleges are full of cute, young guys...so that's not so bad, either. I am juggling only being able to get in 30 hours a week of legal work in DC, so that's a $1,000 a month less income when I need it most. So, I need to make a better push to find something local and lucrative that will accommodate the school schedule for this next year.

But more seriously, I am nervous about whether I will be any good at massage, because if I'm not great at it I won't succeed. But I am also nervous about getting through Anatomy and Physiology, which will be the toughest course in the program and I am taking right now along with Swedish Massage. I've been a professional student, had an amazing memory, was a test-taking machine. That's how I got through law school, an MBA, three bar exams, and into a couple Ph.D programs I abandoned along the way. But since all that I've had two serious concussions. My memory has never been the same. The effects of a traumatic brain injury are so cruel and unpredictable. There are times I look at close friends and for the life of me, I have no idea what their names are. So, more waves. Waves of sadness at the loss of a skill I was very good at, at the loss of memory, at the effects I may never shake, but waves of joy at the potential for a new life, at some new chance to find a purpose, meaning, bliss.

close hauled

Sorry for the delay in posting... life has been hectic and I've been sailing upwind literally and figuratively.  I managed to get out for a sail on Easter... not on my boat but on a J/80 at a local boating club where a friend I work with is a member. We headed out again a couple weeks later. The wind was very light at first but kicked up as the afternoon progressed. I only wrapped the jib sheet counterclockwise on the winch once. Doh!

The big project I am thrilled about is the removal of the old RV HVAC unit from the cabin top. It was hideously ugly and so embarrassing. And I couldn't see over it when sailing. I can't afford the proper replacement hatch ($1049 for the Bomar 100 Series hatch on Defender), but I have a piece of plexiglass over the hatch as a temporary fix. The plexi didn't take well to the old 4200 we tried to use, but it isn't leaking and before I try again with black silicone I may see if someone can build a wooden hatch top without breaking the bank since the prior owners had left the old hatch bottom piece in place when they put in the air conditioner. Here are some photos of the old AC unit and my new temp plexi fix.

Of course I am currently without air conditioning which will become intolerable for me and the pets in about a week. I'll likely have to spring a few hundred for a portable room air conditioner and figure out how to vent it out a hatch without letting rain in. 

I also made it out fishing on the second day of trophy rockfish season. I caught the only fish of the day, a big girl just shy of 36". We ran 16 trolling lines, 14 off planer boards. For the fisherman: the keeper was caught on a white parachute on a tandem rig. 

I caught up with one of the charter captains from that marina and gave him my card. Lo and behold he called me a few days later asking if I could work charters this Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday, but I had just picked up a project in DC and had to decline. I was definitely disappointed to turn down the chance to go out on another boat since every captain does things differently, which is a great chance to learn. And getting paid to spend the day on the water fishing is never a bad thing. Hopefully I will be able to sync up with him at some point this season when I am between DC gigs. 

The next project I began tackling was stripping the chipped, yellowed old Cetol off the teak. I hate the look of it and that it is all chipped and peeling makes the boat look shabby. It will be a labor-intensive, time-consuming job, but if I can knock out little sections for a couple of hours here and there I'll eventually get it all off and be able to start lightly sanding and then sealing the teak. I definitely do not see varnish fitting into my lackidaisical lifestyle and I actually like the soft gray of weathered teak, so I am thinking about using clear Semco sealant to give the teak some protection without changing the color. We'll see; I was all psyched up to knock it all out quickly since I wasn't expecting any projects in DC until mid-May, but I just picked up a small project and with the cost of all the boat projects I can't afford to turn it down.

This past Saturday I had my old batteries removed and new ones delivered. It was so worth paying for a couple of young guys to deal with removing the huge, heavy 4Ds! I was definitely maxed out lifting the new 6V batteries that are going in and those only weigh 64 pounds each. The battery box needs some work and the water pump is (crazily) installed right on top of the batteries, so my friend doing the install just hooked up two of the 6V batteries and the new group 31 dual purpose (i.e., high cold cracking amp and deep cycle) starting battery. We'll relocate the water pump, fix up the box, figure out a good strap system to keep the batteries from sliding around when sailing, and set the bank up properly. The four 220AH 6Vs will be two series that are then paralleled together to make one bank with 440 12V amp hours. Knowing it is bad for batteries to ever be drawn down more than 50 percent, that gives me a maximum electrical budget of 220 amp hours before charging, but I will try to avoid ever cycling them down that far. My single biggest electrical draw (outside of heat or air conditioning, which are only possible when hooked up to shore power anyway) is my 12V fridge, which draws 5 amps when running. In the heat of summer that could add up to as much as 120AH if the reefer is going 24/7. Power management is probably the hardest thing for people to adjust to moving aboard and so critical. Luckily I went into the process knowing that and never buy any electrical appliance without asking how many amps it draws (which always raises eyebrows with non-boaters). Here's a photo of one of the old 4Ds and then my shiny new batteries.

The battery replacement project was primarily driven by the need to get the engine to start. Unfortunately, when I tried to start her up yesterday it was the same sad sound of the starter just not making anything happen. So now I've got another mystery to solve and project to tackle. I just want to get her out of the slip! It's incredibly frustrating being a dock queen when I want to get her out as much as possible. As usual, I either have the time to work on the boat but no money for parts and labor or I am making money but have no time to get to the projects. I'm just trying to find a balance and plow ahead to make progress as best I can. 

Yesterday I went to the spring sailboat show. It was the first show in Annapolis when I could actually buy something. Every other time I've gone I'm broke. I usually buy one overpriced Painkiller from Pusser's and a couple of sail ties. This time I could spend up to $200. I was hoping to find a nice pair of flip-flops and a good foulie jacket a little lighter weight than my offfshore one. But the spring show is just so small there aren't very many vendors. I also went with friends who are boat-shopping, so we spent most of the time climbing on used boats for sale. I don't normally look at any of the boats at the show since I already have a boat and seeing fancier ones just makes me feel bad. But going with a group makes it much more fun. So all I ended up spending was a $5 tip at the complimentary Paladar rum and food tent and $12 show ticket. 

Lots of projects ahead and an upside-down hectic life as usual, but I still wouldn't trade it for the world. 

milestones

A lot of milestones this time of year. Yesterday marked two years since I closed on Ambrosia, the first and only home I have ever owned. It is bittersweet insofar as I feel I should have made so much more progress on boat repairs, sailing skills, and miles under keel than I have. But I live hand-to-mouth and there is only so much one can do on such a constrained budget. I either have time or money, but never both, and both are necessary in order to afford equipment and make repairs. So I plod along and do the best I can. If that isn't good enough for someone, they can, well, fuck off. Apparently a lot of people relish giving me crap about being in a floating apartment and not sailing my boat enough. But they aren't cracking open their checkbooks to fund the repairs so they can shove it. And to the great disdain of many sailors, the sailing just doesn't really matter to me. I don't live on a boat so I can daysail around the Chesapeake. I live on a boat so I can be rocked to sleep by the sea and so I can experience endless locales. Cruising for me has nothing to do with raising the sails and everything to do with reaching a peaceful anchorange in Paradise and then a bustling port full of a cacophony of sounds, smells, flavors, and new adventures to embrace. It's great that some people love just sailing around even if they never get anywhere in particular. But they aren't better than me and I'm not better than them. There are a myriad of reasons people choose to live aboard and/or cruise and people would be wise to respect that and be more open-minded, but, yeah, people are stupid. I've been connected to the water my entire life and can't imagine being land-locked, but boating for me is similar to loving a roadtrip but disliking driving (which is also very true for me). I love the personal/spiritual journey, but otherwise it's all about the destination and that adventure. The actual transit, whether by boat or car, involves time, stress, and money, I can't relax or have a cocktail, so it's work. That part is something to be endured so that I can get to some interesting new destination. I guess I'm quite the opposite (and thankful for it) than all the folks who enjoy their sail to the Bahamas and then never spend a dime ashore because they are too cheap and would rather eat all their Costco provisions from Florida and/or who are too scared to leave their boat and venture around the islands actually experiencing anything. Okay, I do think I'm better than those people, so sue me.

Last night I had a strange nightmare that most of the lines on the boat snapped and the boat lurched and rolled when only a stern line held it in a storm and I was flung in the air, trying desperately to hold onto the bow railing. I was tossed about but survived and the pets were all okay.

Another big milestone today: Hunter's first swim. After a long day commuting to DC for junk project work, I got home, walked the pup dog, and took a shower. Shortly after I got back from the bathhouse I heard Hunter wailing. He only makes that kind of loud, guttural cry if he's in a fight or hurt, so I popped my head out the hatch and called to him, but I didn't see him. Then I looked down. Halfway between the dock and the water, there was Hunter, soaking wet and bedraggled, clinging to the piling by his claws and wailing. I immediately talked to him so he knew help was there and jumped off the boat. At first I was going to try to get him to grab the mat I had tied off to a line just for this purpose, but figured if he had any more climbing in him he'd have kept climbing up the piling. I had to lay on the dock and hang over the edge to reach him. He was slippery and thin, and I was worried about him sliding out of my grasp. But I got ahold of him and started pulling him up. He leapt to the dock and ran right onto the boat. The cabin sole was soaked and he tucked into the very forepeak, trying to lick himself dry. I kept trying to towel him off, but he resisted. Eventually his brother came in and helped him dry off, likely explaining that he's "been there, done that" twice already and everything would be okay. Just a mintue or two after I pulled Hunter up a dockmate came by asking if I'd gotten him out. He had heard the cat crying all the way at the other pier and come to help. It's a good thing that cat has a set of lungs on him and I'm grateful there was a dockmate alert enough and who would care enough to come help. I feel bad for Hunter, but it's a lesson better learned at the dock in early fall than while under way or in the winter. He's a brave kitty and I'm glad he's got a good survival instinct. 

In just a few days it will be my two-year anniversary of living aboard. I'm grateful to say that I can't imagine living any other way and I don't regret moving aboard at all. Are there things I may have done differently in hindsight, of course, but working within the financial, logistical, and tempero-spatial constaints I have, I think I've done well, adapted well. While living aboard is definitely not for everyone, it suits me. I've also found that I have a lot more inner strength, stick-to-it-iveness, and determination than I or others gave myself credit, and--as when long-distance running--I know I have an amazing reserve of resiliency to draw on to get through just about anything life throws at me. My recent adventure was quite an adventure, though not at all the one I had planned. But I rolled with it, made the most of it, thoroughly enjoyed myself, challenged myself to leave my comfort zone, and found that my "centeredness" really does give me the balance and strength to do and survive anything.

A postscript/portmortem on the sleazy captain will come shortly. For tonight, I am thankful for my boat; every night I tell her that we love her, that she has saved our lives and we are working to save her, too. I am thankful for my pack, who love me even if they fall overboard, who put up with all the crazy I put them through. And I am thankful for all the amazing people I have met along the way in this cruise through life that has been anything but a "cruise." 

Here are a couple of snaps of the new ink now that it is all healed. I love the piece and hopefully I will make it back to the land of the long white cloud sooner than later and for the long haul.

off for a sail

Got in another run along the waterfront this morning and took some great photos. Unfortunately, stopping along the way to snap photos meant I got back from the run too late to make the walking tour from the hostel so I'll try to catch the one on Monday. I extended my room here at Nomad's for another 4 nights, so I'll have time to check out the city a bit, go to the zoo, and take the ferry over to Waiheke Island for winery tours and tripping around for a day out there. I haven't settled on what I'll do after that though I definitely want to see the Waitomo Caves with the glow worms and might even try to get to Queenstown if possible since so many people have said it's a not-to-be-missed place. Still need to sit down and sort the tight budget to see what I can swing.

Yesterday I passed a Korean restaurant with just Asians at the tables and a "top ten cheap eats" sign on the door. I decided to give it a whirl for lunch since it was right around the corner and I needed to get laundry done before going on the sailboat races this afternoon. For NZ$13 I got a plate of rice with spicy pork and vegetables, along with four small bowls of sides. I know one was cabbage and another bean sprouts (in a light vinegar dressing reminiscent of German cucumber salad), but all of it was delicious. And I manged to eat all but a couple grains of rice using just my chop sticks.

This afternoon I went out for the Friday night Rum Races in Auckland harbor on a Hanse 43 docked at the Royal New Zealand Yacht Squadron, somewhat "home" of the Americas Cup (so just don't mention this past year). I've only been racing a handful of times and it's not fundamental to my nature, but I always try to look at it as an opportunity to learn and I was thrilled at the chance to get in some sailing after so much sailing disappointment on this trip. I forewarned that I wasn't good for much but rail meat, and mostly did alright at that other than two tacks where I didn't scramble quickly enough and found myself somewhat hopelessly on the low side unable to pull myself across. The second time I had been poised to launch myself quickly to the other side during the tack but waited a nanosecond too long and the fulcrum swung against me. I began sliding backwards, head first, with little to grip to keep from sliding ever closer to the lifelines and the cold waters below. I shouted for help and scrambled to grab onto other crew to pull me up to the high side. Wet decks, a sharp heel, and gusting 30 knots or more; I was grateful those guys managed to pull me across that slippery foredeck quickly! Many thanks to Zane for bringing me along and to the owner, Kim, and all the crew for having me out. I've now seen Auckland from likely the two best vantage points, the water and the sky. And despite my not being the best rail meat out there, we came in first place with our handicap! 

One of the things I most like about New Zealand so far is that it has such great and varied outdoor activities. From mountains to beaches, geothermal hot springs and caving, sailing and surfing, the rugged terrain lends itself to an outdoorsy lifestyle and mentality that I like. It reminds me a lot of Oregon, but with good weather instead of endless gray drizzle.

Now It's only 8:00PM on a Friday night and I think I need a proper dinner (I inhaled chips, crackers, and brie aboard--it's embarrasing being a bottomless pit for food but when running this girl is always ready to eat). I'd like to freshen up and try to find a place to settle in for some wine and dinner and see if I can find some hot floppy-haired Kiwis out here, but I'm pretty exhausted so that may have to wait for tomorrow night.