goodbye dock water (with photos)

Although we are only flirting with lows in the upper 30s right now, the dock water at the marina was turned off yesterday. In preparation for the inconvenience of having to take a long, long hose down the dock to fill my water tank, two days ago I tried to get the most I could from the water at my slip. We had a day warm enough for flip flops, so I washed the decks. Filled several gallon jugs with water for the pets. Filled my water tank. A certain cat decided the freshly washed decks were a perfect place to leave some kitty tracks.

Although terrified of bringing a hose into the boat since the primary bilge pump is not running properly, I brought the hose in and sprayed down the bilge to get rid of (or at least reduce) the general ick and primordial soup that lives there. I took the musty, swollen hatches from the floor and set them in the sun on deck to dry out while I cleaned and ran the secondary bilge pump at regular intervals trying to clear out as much water as possible. In my little cleaning frenzy (and these only come along in short, intermittent bursts) I elected to change out the cats' litter boxes. One of those boxes resides adjacent to the area where the bilge hatches had been removed. Naturally, I took one misstep backwards, my leg fell into the bilge, and I careened into the space heater. I hurt in so many places that I decided it was best if I just laid there on the cabin sole a bit before determining where all I might be bleeding. Although banged up a bit, the only real damage is a little chunk missing from my shin. It's looking rather unhappy so I'm trying to slather it with antibiotic ointment and hope the primordial ooze in the bilge doesn't get in my bloodstream. Two days later it looks much angrier than in the photo below, taken right after the fall.

In my misstep into the bilge I managed to smash into electrical wires and the secondary bilge pump had ceased running. Luckily, I found two wires that looked as though they belonged together, dried them off, and re-connected them. Voila! Secondary bilge pump back online and crisis averted.

But the day had just begun! Worried that with dock water being shut off, pump out facilities may start shutting down, too, I wrangled a friend into helping me take the boat over for a pump out. He asked me if I wanted to take the helm bringing her out of the slip. Since it's a tight parking space and fancy, expensive boats at the snooty marina across the way that I risk hitting, I was pretty nervous. But he is good at leading me to believe he doesn't fear for his life with me behind the wheel, so I went for it. There were some frantic moments as the boat did not seem to want to reverse and I headed for a boat and piling across the way, but we managed to get out into the channel without hitting anything. Little by little I will get more confident with running my boat, but it does take some getting used to and does not steer like a car! There was a long line of boats waiting for the pump out, so everyone was hovering and circling and drifting while the seventy-degree weather also brought heavy traffic to the channel as everyone enjoyed what might be the last warm day to get out on the bay. With so many boats all around and feeling I was getting blown too close to a boat docked along a bulkhead, I had a minor panic attack and my friend had to take over. (Thank you, Phil, for all the help, for backing her into the slip like a pro, and for nudging me to go ahead and take the helm.)

Once we finally got pumped out I coaxed the pup dog topside and we took a little cruise out of Back Creek before heading back to the slip.

Although I am not there yet, within a year I am certain I will be, and I think the most important things I will gain from becoming a liveaboard will be freedom (to cast off the lines and just "go"), confidence that I can tackle whatever problem gets thrown at me, and the friendships with the wonderful, colorful, and generous liveaboards who have cruised into my life.

just keep running

The process of boat shopping, office hunting, and moving came smack in the middle of training for the NCR Trail Marathon and the Seashore Nature Trail 50K. I lost about a month of training and had to make a quick decision whether to go forward with the races, which are two and five weeks away, respectively. I missed at least one 16-miler, possibly two 18s, and a 20-miler, as well as many, many short runs (which are the backbone of training). Got out last Saturday for 16 and today pulled off a 20-miler. I'm 30 miles so far for the week and will top it off with another 5 tomorrow. The 20 was slow, long, hard, but I think if I get in all my runs for the next two weeks I'll be able to survive the marathon--though my time will surely be slower than when I ran it two years ago.

Another concern with completing the races is budget. Although registrations are paid for, the 50K is in Virginia Beach, so I will need to drive down and back and have a place to stay. The idea of spending on hotel when I am struggling to come up with money for bills and boat repairs was rather disheartening. Luckily for me, I have found a place to stay gratis in Norfolk, so I won't have to spend for hotel. A dock mate who is also a runner suggested I stay with he and his wife if I ever want to run the Shamrock Marathon or other Virginia Beach races and I piped right up that I actually have one around the corner. They confirmed the dates are fine and I'm welcome, so the running gods must want me to go ahead and knock out my fourth ultramarathon.

After these races I plan to take a hiatus from long distance running. Although my total mileage for the Miami to Key West Ragnar Relay is almost 19 miles, it is cut into three segments, the longest of which is only 9.1 miles. Once the 50K is done I plan to cut down to 30 miles per week made up of three 10-milers. With a few days a week of ice skating added to that, I should stay in good shape and still be able to eat with abandon. Once skating season ends I can up to four 10-milers if I feel the need.

I have to learn to enjoy running again. I dislike the hooplah and crowds involved with races and only register for races to either have something on my calendar forcing me to stay in shape or because it is an interesting location (Miami to Key West, including running the 7-mile bridge) or bad-ass bragging rights (North Face Endurance Challenge San Francisco 50K). What I really want when I run is solitude. A place to clear my head, settle my mind, lose myself in music. I also want to be fit, both for my health and to look and feel good. I do not need to run 20-milers, dedicate huge chunks of every weekend to such long runs, and beat up my legs that way to stay fit. Forty miles a week is still quite a lot, but 10-mile chunks are doable, and won't require buying expensive electrolyte mixes and gels.

So, I will find my way to love running again. And just keep running.

south for the winter

My floppy-haired sailor guy set sail today, headed south for the winter. He will be sorely missed. No one else I would want to stay up all night with discussing the art of bread-baking, or arguing politics, or drinking, dancing, and making love.

I suspect the feeling of distance of late arose from a mistaken perception that I only wanted him around to fix things on my boat. As priceless as his help has been, (I wouldn't trade for anything the afternoon learning from him how to splice my own docklines), I do not care if he helps me with my boat. I just wanted to enjoy as much time together as possible; had wanted so badly to get my boat cleaned up enough that he would be willing to come hang out, perhaps spend the night aboard my new home. He turned down my requests for him to come have drinks and never got to see the surfaces uncluttered and significantly cleaned up. Misunderstandings abound in every human interaction, I guess, but still I wish I could get a chartplotter for my heart so I can avoid running aground. Hopefully he will keep me close even as he heads for warmer climes.

in need of some power (and power tools)

All these projects before me, large and small. I am trying to educate myself about them to undertake as much of the work myself as I reasonably can, but not having used power tools since middle school shop class, it can be a bit daunting. Hard to believe I used to help my grandfather run a lathe and make table legs when I was a young girl. But I always had a fear of the drill press in his wood shop. And witnessed plenty of shop and chainsaw accidents to instill a healthy (or overblown?) fear of the dangers of saws.

Nonetheless, I am trying to learn and gain the knowledge needed to undertake projects without causing more harm to my boat than good. I also try to rely on store clerks to be knowledgeable and helpful. Unfortunately, often they are dismissive (either because I am a girl or a new boat owner, or both), and the advice I receive is oft wildly conflicting. I feel I should be able to say "I want to fill some wood so I can re-sink screws in it," and readily be directed to the right product. But no matter what I do or buy, someone says it is the wrong product, or won't work, or could have been solved better, faster, cheaper, et cetera. Since it gets tiring to be cut down every time I ask a question or mention an impending fix, I'll likely stick with Don Casey and Nigel Calder, whose books are conveniently absent of criticism of my lack of an encyclopedic knowledge of boat repairs. I would rather do for myself, but I also have to learn from someone; as much as I prefer to thoroughly study a problem in textbook style first, I need to see and practice hands-on before it sinks in. So I will still have to ask for help.

I've been told by the floppy-haired sailor guy that my problem is a lack of self-confidence, which is plainly an annoyance to him. It's ironic because I'd venture to say every other person who knows me thinks I'm one of the most self-assured people they know; I take on crazy new challenges without batting an eyelash--whether running daunting trail ultramarathons, leaving my whole life behind in Miami and starting over with hardly a penny to my name, or buying a 36-year-old project sailboat and moving aboard. I've had a lot of help along the way, and while I don't want anyone to carry me, we all deserve to surround ourselves with friends and lovers who want to lift us up.

storms keep a blowin'

Feeling overwhelmed by everything before me. Struggling to unpack my office, where there simply never seems to be space enough for everything; a similar challenge aboard, of course. Just want to feel unpacked, settled in, centered. Instead, simply attending to each little crisis as it arises and then crashing, exhausted--physically and emotionally.

Some five weeks feeling like camping is wearing me down. I cannot even store clothes where they need to go on the boat because I still have not managed to eliminate the holding tank odor that seems to comes from the vent line. Bought hose and hose clamps yesterday to replace the vent line, which I suspect is permeated. Hoping that will be a solution, but unsure of my ability to tackle this little project on my own.

No propane hooked up, (and me with no idea how to do it), so unable to cook. A pot of soup on the propane stove would also be my best and only source of heating the boat if today's nor'easter knocks out my shore power. Galley sink only generates a trickle of water, though pressure is strong in the sink head, so even washing dishes will be a chore. Fridge compressor did not seem to be running and was worried one of the few items on the boat that works had died. On the upside, the compressor was simply off as the fridge was plenty cold. On the downside, the canned beer and soda had frozen and several sodas had exploded; got to unload the entire fridge and clean up frozen diet Dr. Pepper everywhere.

Worried about finding a way to get the boat hauled, seacocks replaced, and main bilge pump serviced with the very limited funds I have left. Would prefer to learn how to do the work myself, but with the seacocks and bilge pump being the most important parts to keep the boat afloat, I am fearful of making any mistakes.

Bought an oil-filled radiator-style heater yesterday and that has helped to warm up the boat a bit. I am still very nervous about leaving it running when away from the boat. Several people have suggested it is safe to do so, and I hate to leave the cats and pup alone and cold overnight when I stay elsewhere or when I am gone for long periods during the day.

Deeply sad to see my floppy-haired sailor guy leaving town in a couple of days. Had hoped at least the last week would have been an opportunity to enjoy each other. Had thought there was something real and lasting afoot, and was foolish to let myself fall for him. I just want the days back when he wanted me to fall in love with him and we stayed up dancing together all night. Wish I could at least get time together to let him know he will be truly missed.

A marathon is on my calendar in less than 3 weeks for which I have not trained. Must soon decide whether to slog it out and try to make it to my ultramarathon in December, or whether to throw in the towel. I hate to quit; perhaps I can pull myself together and get out in the cold this morning for a run.

the little sacrifices

They may not seem short to some or at least not short enough, but my nails took a major cut-down from where they had been. Both index nails had been severely broken in the past three weeks. I'd feel better if there were some dramatic story of how I broke a nail battling Sandy's winds or one snapped as I wrestled a kraken, but, alas, both fell victim to a sticky cabinet door. In any event, I warned my nail tech that we may be taking them even shorter. But I still had to have my little bling: some purple flowers, which soon will match my toenails, and already match the several dozen bruises, a/k/a boat bites, I've acquired.

perhaps not everything survived the storm

Had met a floppy-haired sailor guy a couple of weeks ago, and, although very different in some ways, I had thought we clicked on some deeper level. He thinks I'm "bat shit crazy," (and the feeling is mutual), but neither of us seemed to mind. As any of my friends know, I am fiercely opposed to "dating," which I consider a form of torture. I have had an occasional moment of weakness, but have generally stuck with my solitary life for the past few years, without regret. For the first time in three years, I was surprised to meet someone I might care for, might want to become entangled with. Naturally, it would be my luck that he would be leaving town soon for the islands. At first I thought "how nice to find someone with a natural expiration date" so as to avoid entanglement. Unfortunately, he rather grew on me and I became quite fond of him. But such is life, and winter is only long when one is lonely. I had thought there was a mutual affection. He said he'd keep me up all night playing music until I fell in love with him. When I protested that I needed to rise early and run, he said "What's more important, falling in love or running a marathon?" I just want to have both.

But it seems some gust during the storm blew us apart. He went from caring to icy without explanation. His departure has been accelerated a week. I had been looking forward to the next couple of weeks just enjoying each others' company, arguing politics (ok, I actually hate politics), listening to music, hopefully getting to cook aboard together, literally and figuratively. But I've gone from sweet nothings to radio silence. I did try to tie a bowline around him, but he wriggled away in the nick of time.

Add to some heartache that I've been missing my father terribly. Nine months since he died and I still want to pick up the phone and call him, the only person who always supported me no matter what.

Headed for the marina shower late in the evening today, a glass of wine in tow. Seemed like a safe time not to be holding anyone up if I drained the hot water (which doesn't last long anyway). Kept the window closed and decided to throw caution to the wind and sing in the shower. Singing seems to be my only solace when I am wrecked--whether heartache or grieving the loss of my father, or as in these past days, both. Got through my triptych relating to the sea: I cover the waterfront (Billie Holiday), Never Been Gone (Carly Simon), Sea of Love (akin to the Cat Powers version). Could not even get through the first verse of Amazing Grace before breaking down. I seem to have been caught up in a storm surge of sadness. Once I had applied all my lotions and potions, donned my pajamas and down coat, and opened the door, there was a guy sitting on the floor outside the bathroom waiting on me. He'd probably been there long enough to hear me singing and crying; a major downside of semi-communal living.

Normally rather "girl versus food," today I ate two pieces of string cheese, Amy's cheese enchiladas, and two (about to be three) glasses of pinot grigio. All in, about 1000 calories and far less than I normally consume. Forgetting to eat is never a good sign for me. I will have to make an effort to get back on track with both running and eating. Perhaps I will break down and eat some Goldfish crackers now before bed.