on the dock

Wednesday, circa 3:00PM: I'm sitting on the dock at the Aitutaki harbor. It's a pretty quiet place. When I finally managed to get online earlier in the afternoon I was sitting across the road from the telecom office on a low wall in the shade. The majority of folks get around the island on scooters, and a woman on a scooter pulls up to ask if I'm alright, if I'm looking for something. I explained I was just trying to find a spot where I could get some wifi. It's funny how people are here; either very friendly and helpful, or distant and circumspect. I think I have an easier time than a lot of folks because I'm willing to just go wherever, ask locals if I need help, and if they are distant at first they usually warm up to me eventually. But I'm not everyone's cup of tea. So, I'm sitting on the dock. 

I'm not sure I'll travel with anyone again for a very long time. I don't know why when people travel they feel they have to spend every moment together, eat every meal together, et cetera. I can take a few hours of that a day at most. That's probably why my nice 6 miles this morning alone were the highlight of the day. The captain seemed annoyed that I didn't want to go back to the house for lunch, but I was trying to be efficient and use that time to get online and take care of my affairs, especially since I hadn't been able to let anyone know I'd arrived safely. When I met back at the dock to get back to work on the boat for the afternoon he took the dink and left me on the dock. I sat there for about an hour and a half and then just walked the couple miles back to the house. I suspected that despite my best hopes to the contrary, he expected more than just "crew" for the trip and was being pissy, and, indeed, my suspicion was correct. I'm ever hopeful that not every single guy on the planet has an agenda, but 99% of the time my hopes are dashed. Sigh. I don't think he was satisfied when I told him "Dude, you are totally in the friend zone. And the friend zone is Hotel California; once you check in you can never leave." C'est la vie; I just never learn.

Thursday evening: Yesterday we found out that the new batteries for the boat and the paint for the deck had not made it on the ship that had just been unloaded. The guy in Rarotonga told the captain that they wouldn't make it over until September first. I honestly don't even know how to fill two weeks here. I mean I can always run and write, but I tend to get bored out of my skin just laying on a beach. And in five days here I've only been down to the beach once because I'm cooking and cleaning around the clock. I've only seen maybe two cute local guys. Between everything being very expensive and the conservative culture, I don't really see a lot of partying happening. All the tourists seem to be couples, so I don't think I'll find some hottie Kiwi or Aussie to sweep me off my feet. 

Gratefully, I didn't even head down to the dock today. I ran my six miles, tried out the solar shower (a big improvement over cold water even if no pressure), hand washed my laundry and the captain's, hung everything on the lines out back, and cooked all day. I kept telling people this was not a vacation, now perhaps they'll believe me. I mean, who travels half-way around the world to hand-wash laundry, take cold showers, and be eaten alive by mosquitos for vacation?   Not this girl. We have to move out of the little house on Sunday, which means moving to the boat. Well, the facilities/showers at the dock are filthy, no paper, and certainly no hot water. The captain won't get the head aboard operational despite my lobbying and plans to just bolt a toilet seat off the aft deck. Shitting off the back of a boat is most definitely not my idea of paradise. So moving aboard will be a major downgrade. Ah, living the dream...

Anyway, I chopped and chopped all day, garlic, basil, tomatoes, onions. The pasta sauce smells pretty good and the pesto will be delicious. The chicken still hasn't thawed, however, so it may just be pasta tonight and chicken tomorrow. Today I've been surviving on PB&J and cheese sandwiches. Plus a small apple and half a coconut. And Lion Red beer from New Zealand. One of the local dance shows is at an adjacent resort tonight, so I'm hoping to go down there and watch it. They have internet there but I think I have to buy their credits and can't use my ones from Telecom Cook Islands. It may be worth it, though, not to have to schlep all the way "downtown" to get online.   

When the captain came home for lunch he said the local boy helping him went up the mast, so I won't have to do that after all. He also found out that one of the locals he's friendly with has still been lobbying on his behalf for him to be able to start a business here. The trip to Tonga is to find a friendlier place for a foreigner to start a business (though I'm not sure Tonga will be that much more welcoming). The captain has been living here for six months or so and would rather stay here than go to Tonga, but had been told the island council wouldn't approve him. Now it's sounding like if he agrees to certain terms, the council may approve him after all. He should know after their meeting next Thursday. He asked if I'll be really disappointed not to make the trip to Tonga. I told him no worries, I'll roll with it. But of course I didn't come to hang out in the Cooks for a month and still have to figure out how I'm getting to Auckland for my flight back to the States. Money is really tight so as much as I'd love to fly to New Zealand and hang out there for a couple weeks, there is no way I could afford a hotel there. [Any readers in New Zealand, Tonga, or Australia want a houseguest for a couple weeks? I'm a really good cook.] There are a couple of boats in the harbor here and I'm curious if I could get a hop onward with one of them. The Swiss guy who's single-handing came from Venezuela down the coast of Brazil and around Cape Horn. Unfortunately it sounds like he's leaving Monday for Palmerston to deliver some parts needed for their disabled electrical supply. If I could just sail onward with someone and make it close enough to get a flight to Auckland, that would be ideal. I don't see any way of lasting 3 weeks here. The captain just never stops talking or singing or humming. I don't need or want entertaining and I don't need a soundtrack or for every silence to be filled. I looked up and saw the brilliance of all the stars in a dark sky, without all the usual light pollution of the city, and before I could even take a breath and enjoy that rare moment he was yammering on about the stars and the Southern Cross, and on and on without end. I was screaming inside, "Please just shut the fuck up!" Sigh.

I'm very, very glad I brought my own gear and only wish I had grabbed a couple more items, like my own solar shower, that I thought about and then passed up for space reasons. Other things I'd add if I did this again: a mosquito net, a sleeping bag, and a hammock. But now that all the gear I brought for the captain is unloaded, my gym bag is folded down into the bottom of my large duffel and everything I have will fit in the duffel and my small backpack. My friends in Annapolis know I was sad not to buy a GoPro camera to bring on the trip but the cost was just prohibitive. The money I would've used for it was more responsibly spent on a waterproof case for the iPad and a solar charger that will charge small items like my phone, VHF, and iPod, and also charges a rechargeable battery pack that will charge the iPad. One of my best buys for this trip, and that I should have made as soon as I moved aboard: Sea to Summit Tek Towels. They pack down super small and light, pull the water right off of you, and dry in a couple hours. I think they'll become my basic daily towels aboard, though the large is just a bit too small to cover all the important parts if I'm wrapping it and walking anywhere, so an XL will be on my wish list.

So, I'm not exactly enjoying it out here in "paradise," but every adventure is an opportunity. Now I know it's unlikely I would want to permanently settle someplace like this, I can confirm I prefer to travel alone but will always be on the lookout for someone I can enjoy traveling with, and it's always nice to have a new running path now and then. I have a flight on September 15 from Auckland, but what lies between now and then remains to be seen.

kia orana

So, where has this adventure taken me? I've gone from Annapolis to Los Angeles to the South Pacific. 

Kia orana! Be well and welcome to the Cook Islands! 

the beach behind me in Aitutaki

I had planned to check a duffel and just carry on a small pack, but ended up needing to bring various additional gear and supplies for the trip (e.g., chartplotter, 5200, duct tape, and batteries), so I needed to carry on a gym duffel along with my small pack. The luggage became a stressor both in terms of sourcing and weight limitations. At 6:00PM the night before I left I was frantically digging through every locker trying to find my big black duffel bag to get packed. It was no where to be found. I had looked longingly at a blue-greenish Patagonia duffel at Fawcetts boat supply just an hour earlier, but thought I had my duffel and could ill afford to spend money on a bag when I need all my funds for the trip itself. But now Fawcetts was closed and I had little choice but to settle for whatever I could find at West Marine. I grabbed a huge gray West Marine duffel I found on sale and hurried back to the boat. 

I packed the large duffel and even though I had few clothes and shoes, it seemed to be getting heavier and heavier. Air New Zealand is very strict on baggage limitations and weight and the duffel was heavy and unwieldy. I tried to weigh it on my scale but there was no way to put it on the scale and read it. I culled my stash of 24 Clif Bars down to 6. I pulled out a couple bottles of sunblock and of bug repellent. My clothes and shoes would easily fit in the small gym bag, but I also needed my life jacket, snorkel gear, and foulies. I was very worried the bag would be over the 50-pound limit but it weighed in at just over 45 pounds, so I guess I could have held onto my Clif bars and sunblock after all. As I already mentioned, I pulled an all-nighter packing, organizing, doing laundry, and cleaning. I was literally doing the dishes the last 20 minutes before I kissed my cats goodbye and loaded pup dog and luggage in my friend's car (borrowed for my last-minute running around) and headed to his house to scoop him up as my ride to the airport.

It turns out that while the gray rubbery tarpaulin material the duffel is made of seems somewhat sturdy, the zipper pulls are the absolute cheapest crap you could imagine. At BWI I tried to unzip an outside pocket to stow the shoulder strap and the zipper pull broke right off. On arrival in the Cooks I popped into a restroom to wash my face and brush my teeth and on zipping the bag back up, there goes another zipper pull. Perhaps needless to say, I'll be demanding my money back from West Marine when I get back to Annapolis. 

Air New Zealand was a very pleasant and comfortable contrast to flying US domestic flights. I had a preferred seat, but still in basic economy class. Nonetheless, even with my legs fully outstretched only my toes reached under the seat in front of me. I wished I'd known dinner would be served, since I'd have skipped the outrageously pricey pizza and beer at LAX. (But then I'd have missed out on meeting Dan and Omar.) But I ate most of the dinner offering and enjoyed a couple glasses of complimentary New Zealand wine with my meal. I managed to get about 5 hours of sleep, listened to some podcasts, and then they served breakfast. The announcement went something like this: "Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls. Our cabin crew will begin serving breakfast shortly. You have a choice of omelette or fruit plate, served with freshly brewed coffee, assorted juices, and spirits for those of you brave enough to drink them at this hour of the morning."

Monday, circa 8:00AM: I'm currently sitting at the Rarotonga airport. I fly onward to Aitutaki in the afternoon. Our flight arrived early, at 5:30AM, and after clearing immigration and customs I waited for someone to show up at the Air Rarotonga counter to see if I could go ahead and check in and check my bag. He couldn't check me in, but better than that he offered to hold both the huge duffel and the smaller carry-on. I just have to return an hour before my flight to check in and get the carry-on back. Although it's overcast and raining, I'd still like to use this brief opportunity to see Raro, so now I'll be able to much more comfortably bus and walk around the island with just my small backpack. I pulled my foul weather jacket from the bottom of the duffel so I don't end up soaking wet. Prices I've seen so far, just here at the airport, are staggering. About $6 for a cup of regular coffee, about $12 for a sandwich. These are not sit down restaurants, just food stand shacks. I'm glad I ate and had coffee on the flight and I'm currently nibbling here and there on Twizzlers I bought in LA. I still need to find a Telecom office to buy  wifi credits, find the immigration office to pay a NZ$25 fee for my approval letter to enter, and hopefully I'll get to walk around downtown Avarua a bit and ride the bus the circumference of the island. Although I turned the cellular function on my phone off, some local carrier still grabbed onto my phone and T-Mobile sent me text messages warning that it would be $.50/text, $4.19/minute for calls, and $15/MB for web/email while roaming. Yikes!

Monday afternoon: I was trying to figure out where to catch the bus into town and a woman from Air New Zealand said it would come around past where I was but then asked where I needed to go. I told her I needed to get to Avarua and pay a fee at immigration. She explained where the office was and then just waved for me to follow her. I thought she was going to show me a better place to wait for the bus but she moved things around in her car and told me to get in. She pointed out where "downtown" mostly started, where I could go to get some wifi credit, where the bus should pass to go back, and then dropped me by the immigration office. I'm very blessed by the kindness of strangers in my life. I had to wait until immigration opened at 9:00AM, and it was the same officer I had had at the airport. I had taken out some cash at the ATM so at least I was able to pay the fee in New Zealand dollars. While she had been somewhat stern at the airport, she softened up as we chatted about the islands and fishing. She wanted to know what the fish I'd been catching, rockfish, was like and how we cook fish. I said most people grilled or broiled it, and she nodded, "ah, same as we do." I think Americans are not that common here because people seemed curious to ask me what America is like and how much it costs to fly here from there. A Kiwi here at the airport made a point to say he likes Americans, just not our policies, and that all the Americans he's met over the years have been good people. 

It drizzled, rained, and misted most of the morning so I was glad to have my foul weather jacket and its hood to keep me dry. I walked the length of downtown a couple of times, window shopping, getting a credit for 150MB of data for NZ$10, taking photos, and checking out Polynesian Tattoo. (Hey, it's a souvenir that doesn't take up space on the boat.) As I headed back toward my starting point near Boogie's Burgers, My path intersected with a floppy-haired glacierologist who had been sleeping in the seat next to mine waiting for our flight from LA. I made a comment about our having made it a long way from Los Angeles and we began chatting and walking. We ended up sitting down for lunch and a couple of hours flew by before I knew it.  He was taking a few days in the Cooks before heading to a conference about Antarctica in New Zealand. Small world that it is, he is also a trail ultrarunner, though surely faster and more accomplished than I. It was fun to hear someone else's passion for that kind of running and now that the sun has come out, hopefully he's enjoying a hike up into the island. I had to get going and he needed to get to his hotel, so I gave him a card and told him to email me sometime. Hopefully, he'll drop me a note about some great trail race adventure he's having and perhaps fate will have us bump into each other out on a run someday. I really have to remember to register for my Seashore Nature Trail 50K when I get back to Annapolis.

Wednesday, circa 6:00AM: As soon as I landed in Aitutaki on Monday afternoon we had to head to the dock and move the boat out into the little harbor because a ship would be coming in with supplies and the container barge would need the dock. A Swiss cruiser also needed to move, so we helped each other tie off sterns to coconut trees ashore and drop anchors off the bow. At one point we needed to shuttle back and forth by dinghy and the Swiss guy got out of his dink to get on his boat and move it. Suddenly I realized I was the one who had to shuttle the dink back to the other shore. Except that I've only rowed my old dinghy, and never ran a tender with an outboard. So I was pretty much having heart palpitations as I would push the tiller the wrong direction and turn the throttle handle too far or too fast and was zig-zagging haphazardly around the tiny harbor trying to get the hang of it and get over to the boat. It was embarrassing and a little scary, but the captain said it was the best way to learn--on someone else's boat! 

We finally made it to the little house by the beach where we're staying for $10 a night until Sunday, when we have to be out. If the boat isn't ready to go at that point, we'll at least have to have it in shape to stay aboard. Yesterday morning I finally managed to get a shower. I don't have to worry about the hot water running out since there isn't any to begin with. I definitely wasn't going to stand under the cold water when I didn't have to, but it wasn't too bad. Today I will try to use a solar shower as well to have some warmer water to rinse off with, but I don't think the solar shower will have much time to heat up since I'll be heading out for a run at sunrise and need to run though the shower an hour later. The day yesterday was full of running around in a borrowed truck getting groceries, dropping things off at the boat or the house, and seeing the entire perimeter of the island. Groceries are very expensive and the selection is very limited. Prices varied wildly; a cabbage was NZ$5.50 at one store and double that at another. Only one place had cheese. I saw blocks and blocks of Colby at another shop and got excited, until I saw the sign that said "Cheese is NOT for sale!" We picked up a bicycle that I'll use to get around. Today we have a lot of work to get done on the boat but I really need to get a run in, so the captain will head to the boat to get started and I'll bike down shortly after so I can get in a run. Down at the dock there should be wifi access, so hopefully I'll be able to post this! Not sure I'll be able to include many photographs (I've taken a lot), since the wifi access is by data not time. It was $10 for 150/MB credit from the Telecom shop. So, the video I shot and lots of photos I've taken may not get posted up here until later. Rates are still high but better in Tonga, and at the end of the trip in New Zealand I think access and prices will be more akin to the US.

Wednesday, circa 10:00AM: Managed to get in a good 6 mile run this morning, take a cold shower and walk 40 minutes to the dock. The bicycle seat was a couple inches too high to be remotely tolerable, and I have hated being on a bike ever since a bad accident in law school. So, I hoofed it, and happily spotted the place that sells delicious cheese bread, so that fueled the later half of my walk.

Wednesday, circa 1:30PM: At last! Internet at last! It is incredibly difficult on the iPad to post photos. The blogger app lacks a lot of features I need but in Blogger via Safari, when I try to insert a photo or video it doesn't "see" any of the ones on my iPad. Arrgghhh! So, I'm going to try just putting a lot of photos in a stream in "the cloud" with a link for those who want to check out the photos. I'll try to have that in the next post.

NB: Please note that I try to get comments posted quickly (they are moderated due to the amount of spam comments that come through), but there may be significant delays while I'm out here due to my limited internet access. So, don't take offense if a comment takes a while to post.

For now, I'll leave you with this. But let me assure you, it isn't all fruity rum drinks and palm trees on this trip. Stay tuned...

city of angels

I had to pull an all-nighter to get packed and on my way. On the plane, crying babies on both flights. But I made it to the City of Angels and one of my oldest friends scooped me up from the airport and delivered me to a little garden oasis where I relaxed, took care of last minute bills, emails, and such, and chatted with King Leo, her sweet and majestic semi-wild Santa Monica jungle cat. She insisted that I sleep in her bed and let her take the couch, so I got a great night's sleep sinking into the mattress and pillows up in the loft. She could certainly live on a boat, for her house is diminutive but everything in its place and beautifully decorated. Far more organized and downsized that I have managed so far.

I also met up with an old college friend and even if only for an hour and change, it was so great to catch up. We always make new friends throughout life, but those ones who were with us in our formative years, our wild and crazy years, when up was down and such, they are something truly precious.

I had hoped to post here nicely formatted rows of photographs but it seems impossible to select text that I want to select on the iPad. Indescribably frustrating. I just want technology to work, to do as I tell it. It does not know best. Sigh. At least I was able to select my sigh and make it italic. Sigh.

I got to the airport early and had time to stop for a bite to eat and a couple of pricey ($11 a pint, ouch!) beers. I chatted with Omar, a Mexican living and working in New Zealand, and Dan, an Aussie returning home after a month-long tour of the major American cities. Very cool to meet interesting, smart, and adventuresome fellow travelers. Hopefully we'll all find what we're looking for, though it secretly is always already within us. Sometimes we just have to have an adventure to see that.

two years in the blogosphere

It feels like just yesterday that I started this crazy adventure. But at the same time, it feels like I've been at it--blogging and living aboard--for as long as I can remember. It's funny the tricks time and memory play on us. A big thank you to my readers who have followed along from the beginning, the middle, or just happened upon our tale. 

I don't really think I'm doing anything particularly brave living on a boat at a fancy marina in a sophisticated metropolitan area of the "civilized" world. Living aboard feels so natural to me that I couldn't really imagine life any other way now. But it is a "different" and "challenging" lifestyle, so I guess that's why when out walking my dog a couple of ladies thought this single girl living aboard with a dog and two cats, staying aboard through last winter, is so brave. But living aboard doesn't seem brave in and of itself to me, even a girl doing it on her own. Brave is being willing and able to do anything on your own, walking away from the "safe" and "predictable" with no idea what lies ahead. 

I'm on the plane and miss my pets already. But I told them I love them and I know they will be alright and it's just a month without me. So it's a few minutes to wheels up and the adventure will begin.

the world is my oyster

I'm not really sure what that means: the world is my oyster. I mean, oysters are kind of ugly and slimy. They are pretty stuck where they are, not big world travelers. But they do take an annoyance, e.g., sand, and turn in into a beautiful pearl. I can crack open the oyster and who knows what I may find. But I feel like the saying is more akin to being on top of the world, and I haven't noodled out the analogy yet. I guess I could just check wikipedia. Or not. But I think, perhaps, the world is my oyster. I'm still broke. No car. No "real" or "steady" job. No fancy digs. No savings or back-up plan. But the world has thrown all kinds of shit at me and still hasn't taken me down. I'm gonna carpe the hell out of the diem and enjoy all the adventures that lie ahead.

My friend dropped back by Saturday morning and we managed to get the steering and engine controls reassembled. I think the tachometer is on the fritz. It was stuck on 700 rpm and now on 1600. But we got her started up and let her idle in the slip a bit. Unfortunately, there is some piece attached to the engine that is badly corroded and should be replaced before I take her out. C'est la vie; that's boat life. Always another project or repair around the bend. We had initially set the housing with the controls on the binnacle upside down and I kept sort of looking at it askance. I knew the shifter was on the left and the throttle on the right, but the range of motion and where the levers were placed seemed off. My friend didn't believe me at first but I convinced him to give it a try and indeed we had them upside down! Everything about reassembling parts at the binnacle was a puzzle, which can be both fun and frustrating, like any game I guess.

A few weeks ago I finally admitted that after almost two years I was in fact never going to make little marlinspike-sailor-y mats for the steps. I looked at getting the Treadmaster nonskid pieces for steps but ended up with a much more economical (about $1.00 per foot) nonskid adhesive tape from 3M. I cleaned off the steps, then wiped them down with alcohol. I cut the tape into three pieces per step and then took something round and drew rounded corners. I honestly don't remember if it was a cup or what now. I trimmed the corners and then carefully tried to get all the pieces lined up nicely. I actually think it came out well. It feels secure but not abrasive on my bare feet and the pup dog seems to like it. She can definitely go up the stairs by herself but doesn't yet realize it. She still makes me boost her up the first step but I am letting go of her earlier and earlier to try to convince her she can do it on her own. She is still jumping down from the top step which I think is really bad for her shoulders. I need to get someone really good with dogs to help me teach her how to walk down the stairs. I've seen other dogs go up and down them with no problem, so it is all in her head. But that doesn't make it any easier.

I am in the weeds on getting ready to leave. The boat is still a disaster zone but has to be spic and span before my friend staying aboard arrives. I still have gear I need but am nervous about buying anything and being short on funds. I'm hoping I'll have three solid days of work in DC this week, but it does seem like the end is near on the project. I need to upload documents to the cloud, print tickets, just get all the loose ends wrapped up. Still need to nail down my pet back-up people and write a good tome on the care and feeding of my beloved furry crew. But everything is coming together. There is still some work to be completed on my friend's boat when I arrive, but I don't mind the hard work and enjoy the hands-on chance to learn whatever I can on repairs and installations.

My hair has gotten insanely long and the ends are rather dry and frazzled, so with making a little money and working in DC I've been really excited to go get a cut from my fav guy in Georgetown. I haven't had my hair cut since last November in Miami and before that it had been a little over a year. That was the last time I went to my usual guy, Thomas, in DC. I first went to Thomas six or more years ago when I still lived in Miami and came up for a job interview. I wanted a good blow-out and landed in his chair. He's the only hair stylist I've had whom I trusted completely. He knew that I came less and less frequently because I simply didn't have the money to keep my hair up anymore. The last time I saw him he asked if I needed some help with the cut or color but I insisted he needs to make his money, too. But when I got to the counter he'd already comped my whole session (north of $150). I'd bring him butterscotch brownies since he couldn't have anything with nuts or chocolate. He was there with me through a divorce, several silly boys, and a few heartbreaks, including the death of my father. I remember sitting in that chair and joking that the one good thing about being so depressed over losing my father was that I'd lost a ton of weight! Even though I hadn't made it out for a cut, we had messaged on Facebook now and then. I thought about briefly popping back on Facebook to shoot him a note but just went ahead and called the salon to book an appointment for next week so my hair would be refreshed before my big trip. The usual guy at the reception desk answered and I told him I'd like to make an appointment for a cut with Thomas. He paused a second and then "I'm sorry, but..." Oh, great, he moved to some other salon, I thought. Or back to St. Louis. "I'm sorry, but Thomas passed away three months ago. He had advanced pancreatic and liver cancer. He only had a month." Why do the poisonous people have to live so long and the really wonderful people go too soon? The world shined a little brighter because Thomas was in it, and I just hope he knows he's truly missed.

So, I'm still here, they haven't gotten me down yet, and one of these days I'm going to figure out what it means, but the world is my oyster.

the best laid plans

It really doesn't get cuter than ducklings. Well, unless it's baby bunnies. I never see bunnies here... I think all the foxes get them. Growing up, I had pet ducks and a rabbit. Plus mice, a rat, a chameleon, and many fish. I think I've always preferred non-human animals to people. I suspect I'll be better suited to an anchorage full of wildlife than a marina full of people, noise, rickita-rackita, gossip, and uninvited advice. Four months into an annual contract at this marina and I regret it. If only I had followed my own advice to never, ever sign an annual slip lease again.

The plan was to fix the engine controls last weekend but things didn't fall in place. I crawled down into the engine room a few weeks ago to water the batteries and luckily the stamp on the transmission cable was somewhere I could get to to read it. I ordered new control cables, 9 and 12 feet, and upgraded from "red jacket" to Teleflex "extreme." The big difference: the extreme can tolerate a 4 inch bend radius rather than 8 inches for the red jacket. I don't want to put any tight turns in the cables but knowing they can handle a little tighter curves is nice. Yesterday the diesel mechanic I've befriended came by to help me install the cables.

The thing that is both incredibly frustrating and interesting is that these sort of projects are puzzles about how to put all the pieces back together. I had a cup full of screws that had come out of the binnacle and steering mechanism, but couldn't tell you which one went where. I was trying various screws on the housing that holds the cables tight inside the binnacle, and we discussed why each one would or would not make sense. Then I was digging around inside the cup and "eureka!" a big, short screw and washer with remnants of white paint. Clearly, this was the one that had been on the binnacle when it was painted. One section of the puzzle solved. Off to a good start! The mechanic was not expecting me to be much help so I think he was surprised when I had grease up to my elbows and shoved my (conveniently smaller) hands down the binnacle to wiggle pieces in place while he pushed the steering column back in.

It became even more of a two-person job when my greasy, slippery little hands managed to lose ahold of the string tied to one of the chains that runs to the steering cable. It was one of those slow-motion moments when all you can do is stutter... no... no... no... and down, down, down it went into the dark recess of the binnacle. We spent what seemed like an eternity trying to hook the chain with a wire but ultimately had to disconnect the steering cable and use the slack to push the chain far enough up the binnacle that I could see it to catch. I held onto it with both hands and didn't want to let go! We had to call it a day, but next Saturday we should be able to get it finished up and get this poor boat out of her slip! And whereas I learned nothing about the steering system and engine controls when they were disassembled, now I know exactly what is going on inside the binnacle and will be better prepared when I need to troubleshoot or repair these parts down the line.

A friend of mine dropped by for a couple beers and made the mistake of getting drawn into conversation with an overly loquacious kid from a boat passing through. The kid never stops talking and takes your presence in the cockpit as an open invitation to chat. He also likes to keep one foot on the dock and put the other on the boat. I realize he's just a kid, but one would think a liveaboard kid would have decent boat etiquette not to touch others' boats without permission. The dad doesn't do anything, but gratefully the floppy-haired guy who appears to be crew rescued me and cut the kid off this morning and took him to their boat. But this evening, no rescue in sight and the kid just kept yammering. I guess it's hard being a liveaboard kid without regular school friends and such. As he kept chattering on I was saddened to see how early the stereotypes develop. He asked where my friend was. I said he's back at his house where he and his girlfriend live. He asked where the guy who owns the boat is. I looked at him quizzically. "What boat?" I asked. "This boat," he said, "where's the guy who owns this boat?" Sigh. "This is my boat. I own the boat. It's me, the dog, and the cats." He looked sort of confused. We mermaids sure are a rare breed; and dumb guys all too common.

I was planning on working right up to my departure. The project I'm working on might last this next week, but fingers crossed it will continue as close to my departure date as possible. I've got to cover bills while gone and would like to be able to enjoy myself a little. If I can scrape enough together I may get the GoPro I've been wanting so I can get some action shots and video to keep you all posted on my journey. I'll be out of contact during passages but should have access to Internet here and there to upload posts.

A friend is going to boat and cat-sit while I'm gone and I think pup dog will go to another friend's house for "sleep away camp." I know they aren't human, but they are still my "kids" and they are closer to me than any people in my life. I just hope the "sitters" can show them compassion and attention, because they hate being separated from me and from each other. Look at how adorable they are holding paws while napping. I think my friends are worried I won't come back, but even if I were in paradise I couldn't leave my loyal pack behind. But to give everyone a little peace of mind that I'll return, at least for a bit, I've got my return ticket in hand. So, two weeks from now I'll be on a plane heading for sailing, snorkeling, fishing, and most importantly, adventure. 

we definitely haven't come a long way, baby

The daily grind, on the commuter bus stuck in DC traffic. The days are long with a four-hour round-trip commute. The work is mind-numbingly dull and soul-sapping. I try to just keep my eye on the prize: fixing up the boat, sailing away somewhere, escape, freedom.

Once upon a time I had a job. On my second day my boss said my tank top was making it hard for him to keep his hands to himself. I was shocked and creeped out at the comment, both because it was so patently inappropriate and because he was easily old enough to be my grandfather. Being caught off-guard by the comment and in dire need of the work, I basically ignored the comment and never wore that top to work again. But looking good is a major factor in good tips--if anyone thinks good service alone cuts it they are kidding themselves. Beauty is rewarded in our society and I have to use my assets as best I can. But that means look, don't touch, and if you have to be told that then you need to be smacked upside the head, or worse.

There are respectful ways to appreciate beauty and there are creepy, inappropriate, and illegal ways. There is a great New Man Podcast episode on how to appreciate women without being a creeper. Really, a must-listen for men and women. Looking someone over approvingly with a smile is very different than leering or catcalls. So, yes, I do think it is OK to look, to compliment respectfully, but not to leer and definitely not to touch. Us girls check guys out all the time (uh, you think girls watch football for the game...sorry to disappoint you, but the tight uniforms don't hurt...) but we sure don't smack waiters' asses or catcall guys walking down the street. I confess I expressed my disappointment to a scuba diver who was out of his wetsuit but putting on his t-shirt too quickly... it was a nice show; and I confess I'll probably hire him to clean the boat bottom because he was a hottie. But I didn't get "handsy" with him. It wouldn't even occur to me to invade someone's personal space that way.

Despite banning that tank top from my work wardrobe, things just got creepier. He gave me this pathetic nonsense about his girlfriend having died and being alone and really needing a hug. So I was cajoled into hugging him every day at work. I try to give people the benefit of the doubt. Figured he's just a grandfatherly old man. But it was very creepy. And when you really need the job, you can't say "No, I think I'll pass on the hugging nonsense." (And, gee, that's why there are lots of seminars and lawsuits and such related to this topic.) Then I got guilt-tripped into having dinner at his house on the (likely bullshit) pretense of teaching me how to make the fishing lures. When I was sitting in a chair and couldn't get away he leaned over and tried to kiss me. Thankfully, I'm pretty skilled at turning quickly enough to make sure it just hits my cheek. But seriously?! What insanity has to be going through a guy's head to do that to a woman half his age who works for him. I mean, it's not like I'm flirting him up or something. Jesus. I feel like it's rude to just tell every guy I meet "Dude, you know you're in the Friend Zone, right? You know I will never, ever sleep with you, right? Because if you didn't know that, you know it now." That just seems rude to me. Guys should just assume that is the case unless I explicitly tell them, "Hey, wanna fuck?" Ugh. But being ever-too-forgiving I tried to just brush it all off and keep at the work of fishing. Then one day when I was forced into another hug his hand was firmly planted on my ass. I was, truly, just stunned that someone would do that. It's so beyond the limits of what is acceptable in our society that I honestly didn't know how to react. It's like I was outside my body looking down, saying, wow, is his hand actually on my ass? No. Fucking. Way. My skin crawls just thinking about it. I think I worked three more times. I would show up as late as I possibly could to avoid spending any time around him alone and similarly race off as soon as I could. Just so incredibly creepy, disgusting, disappointing. As if I needed my lack of faith in humanity renewed.

But, wait, it gets worse...

I happened to mention the "handsiness" to my mother. Well, apparently I'm really out of touch with reality because I "learned" that she had weeks ago seen this coming because...and I quote...I send out all kinds of sex pheromones so of course this would happen. And I shouldn't be burning any bridges. I should just politely say "I'm sorry, but this can't happen" and not hurt his feelings. As if it was some forbidden mutual attraction. Wow. Yes, I'm actually choking back vomit. Pray you never get her on your jury if you're a rape or sexual harassment victim because, ladies, it's your fault. And this from a woman who wants to dump all her unwelcome emotional baggage on me instead of her children she is actually close with or, more appropriately, a professional therapist. The scariest thing: that is not the most horrible thing she's said to me. Just, wow.

Here's a mother who will protect her babies. Does it get any cuter than ducklings? Make way! (Unfortunately, just about every day there is one fewer duckling in the parade... it's a dangerous life for those little ones.)

I'm trying to be a better mom to pup dog. I just finished reading Inside of a Dog and really appreciated her insights from both a scientific and dog-owner perspective. I need to focus less on "training" and "obedience" and more on the richness of our relationship, how I can afford her more opportunities to smell the world around her, bond with me, play, and enjoy the all-too-brief time we have together. I tell her I'm going to work harder to be a good mom and to understand her perspective on the world, to try to understand her umwelt. All these years we've been out walking with her dilly-dallying behind sniffing things and eating goddamn berries, and I've been yelling at her and tugging the leash: "We're on a WALK, dammit! We're not on a SNIFF!"

Well, it turns out that all this time we were on a sniff.

She was too kind to tell me how silly all this rushing around walking is when all we have to do is shove our noses in the grass and smell the world around us. Well, and swim; that dog just isn't any happier than when she's swimming back to shore with a nice, big stick. Because I've been getting up at 4:30am or earlier, last week we snuck in a couple of walks off leash, since few others are out walking at 5:00am.

I'm really itching to go have some adventures. I want my freedom so very badly. That's the only reason to have money, the freedom it buys. You just have to make sure you don't need the money; otherwise you're just a slave to the stuff it buys and the constant bills. I only wish I didn't have so much hanging over my head. And, of course, the biggest snag to my adventuring is the pets. I could easily circumnavigate as crew on others' boats, just hop-scotching my way around the globe, if I didn't have the pets. But I made a commitment to them for their lifetimes and I can't reneg on that. They have stuck with me through all kinds of craziness, moving all over Miami, moving all over the country, moving aboard. They kept me going when my father died and I just lost it completely. In so many ways I owe my life to them, so although it holds me back, I have to keep my commitment to them. And I don't resent them, they're my pack--that's for whom you make sacrifices.

But right now I'm so grateful it's just me and the beasts. We are our pack, all for one and one for all. Conversations with others can be such a drain, a drag. Everyone has some judgment to pass on my life or unwelcome suggestions to "fix" it, usually involving getting a cushy government lawyer job--the odds of which are longer than winning the lottery. It just gets so tiring, having people try their damnest to make me fit into their ticky-tacky-house world. But I can't do it. Won't do it. I refuse to live some sheltered, prepackaged life, all safe and risk-averse. Instead, I go to crappy neighborhoods (I recall some friends thinking I was seriously nuts looking at an apartment in Dru Hill in Baltimore--and they were right on that one!). I go to travel-warning countries. I ride the local bus. I eat street food. And, yes, I got dengue fever. But I'll take that any day over a white picket fence in suburbia or a [insert whatever brand] cruise ship vacation. So I'm going to keep tempting fate and taking risks. Sailing barefoot. Eating street food. Living.

I don't have all my ducks in a row yet. I still have to make various arrangements for the pets. Still need to work my ass off and make some moolah. But last night I bought a plane ticket to the edge of the world and a month from now I'm going sailing well beyond the Bay.