plotting a course to somewhere

Yesterday the outdoor thermometer at the marina was at 30 degrees when I took the pup out at about 7:30AM. By early afternoon the temperature had risen to just shy of 60 degrees. But once night fell the cold set right back in and come 8:00PM we were at the freezing mark. I pulled out one of the work lights, plugged it in, and set it on top of the engine. There is a light socket in the engine room, but I haven't figured out how to switch it on; it would be much easier to use that than to run work lights in there. I filled the water tank today though the marina owner said he won't turn off the dockside water until it gets consistently colder. I go through a tank of water in about two weeks, so it would be nice to at least get to the next fill-up before having to run a hose from the bathhouse. The boat is pretty chilly and an upgrade to a heated mattress pad will need to happen sooner than later. I could just sleep on the settee in the salon, where it is warmer, but it's so much nicer to be able to stretch out in the large v-berth.

Tides are my enemy now. The tide dropped so far yesterday I had to go loosen up lines that needed to be tightened the day before because the winds were whipping. Those same winds blew the water out of the bay and left us pretty dry in the marina. I could see the barnacles on the exposed portions of the bottom and the few inches of rudder sticking out above the waterline.

Pup dog does not like going ashore when we have very low tides because her ramp is at such a steep angle. I sat next to the ramp yesterday to reassure her and told her it'd be fine. I may have spoken too soon. Just when her front paws hit the dock the ramp slipped backwards towards the boat and off the dock. It's tied to some eye-bolts so it won't fall into the water, but it does end up hanging down several inches below the dock when it falls off. I kept telling her I'm sorry but that she's OK and she's so brave. I tightened up the aft spring line to keep the boat from moving forward and tightened up the stern lines, as well, though the boat wasn't really able to move around much being stuck in the mud. When I tried to get her back aboard she just looked at the ramp, looked at me, and then laid down in the grass in protest. She gave me a plaintive but determined stare telling me she was terrified of the ramp, didn't want to be in trouble with me, but also had no intention of moving an inch. Poor girl. I got some treats, showed her that I was holding the ramp and that it was firmly planted. After some coaxing and false starts, she scrambled down the ramp to plenty of praise and treats.

I usually ignore the many emails I receive from West Marine but yesterday's one-day-only deal was too good to pass up. 25% off the chart plotter I had been coveting. Touch screen. NMEA 2000 plug and play. Built-in GPS. Pre-loaded with US Coastal and northern Bahamas charts and able to take additional charts via SD card. Once I can afford an anemometer and a radar, they are easily hooked up to the unit. I may route my depth sounder's data to it or I may wait and add a newer transducer later on to add the sonar to the chart plotter display. So, I raided a good chunk of my little "cruising fund" built up from the sale of most of my worldly possessions, but having a real marine chart plotter will be a major convenience when cruising. And once I add on radar I will feel more comfortable on the water at night and in heavy rain or fog. This is my biggest single purchase for the boat since buying the boat. Now I just have to install it!

I'm still not sure where I'll be at the end of this month. I should be running a marathon after Thanksgiving and an ultra in December for which I am woefully undertrained. I may be here, running, drinking "special cocoa" with peppermint schnapps, wintering over in Annapolis. I may be sailing to Hawaii and beyond. I may be donning foulies to take the boat to southern climes. I simply don't know. And that's just fine by me.

all wrapped up

Mike and Jen helping fix the inside-out jib.

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

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

The dinghy dock high and dry.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

another one opens (project: fix companionway door part two)

Having an actual working door feels like such a luxury. I keep trying to grab it and pull it out like when I was using it like a dropboard. We're getting fancy-schmancy over here now.

Having given the plugs a few days to set in the epoxy, yesterday I roped my friend Mike into helping hang the door on its hinges. The first step was sawing off the protruding portions of the wood plugs. Once I did that, Mike then sanded them smooth. I set the hinges in place and we jiggled them around, discussing the best angle. We held the hinges where we wanted and I marked the door where I would drill the pilot holes. The new holes are pretty far from where the old ones were, which makes me wonder if poor placement of the screws before put unnecessary pressure on the wood and that is why those screw holes didn't work out.

I'd love to get all that old Cetol off the door and frame, but since I didn't do that before the big epoxy patch job last fall, there will always be Cetol trapped under that epoxy. I'll probably just leave it alone for now. Down the line, it would be nice to sand all that Cetol off and either teak oil the door or paint it. Maybe I could get someone to paint a nautical mural on it... hmmm... we'll see. For now, I'm just enjoying the luxury of a door that opens and closes and isn't going to blow away.

We were feeling sporty and I had just borrowed a heat gun from a fellow liveaboard. I've never used a heat gun so Mike suggested he show me how to use it and how crazy hot it gets. The project: removing the old non-skid glued to the companionway steps. It is hard and the dog doesn't like to step on it. My plan is to make braided rope mats that I will tie or nail to the steps. The varnished steps are slippery if left uncovered, so the rope mats will function as non-skid, but softer on paws and bare feet and--fingers crossed--will be prettier, too.

The heat loosened the glue very quickly and the non-skid peeled right off. What remained were these big patches of rubber cement. I rolled it off and very little residue is left behind. A little dish soap and a gentle scrub with a Dobie pad should clean it right up. We also learned that the smoke detector works: the fumes from the glue kept setting off the alarm, which both beeps and says "Fire! Fire! Fire!" Now the pressure is on for me to make some Marlinspike Sailor-style rope mats and see if the dog will finally tackle the steps on her own.

Winter aboard has definitely arrived. The cats are cuddling together to stay warm. I slept with a heating pad under my back since the v-berth is the coldest spot aboard. When I took the dog out this morning it was only 36 degrees and there was frost on the marina lawn. Fingers crossed the tides are high enough to get in and out of the slip on Sunday for a crisp fall day sail.

when one door closes (project: fix companionway door)

When I bought the boat the door was actually broken into two pieces. Gluing them together was my first little epoxy project. Although it isn't pretty, that repair has held fast despite the door being blown out of my hands and thrown across the cockpit a few times by high winds. However, after over a year I still hadn't gotten around to hanging the door back on its hinges. Most sailboats seem to have drop boards, but mine has a hinged door which I mostly treat like a big drop board. No one else can ever get it seated quite right, and if I rent the boat out to go have an adventure, I think the door ought to be properly installed.

What's the problem? The holes for the hinge screws had been worn out and someone else's prior attempts to fill and re-drill were beyond their useful life. The plan has been to drill holes quite a bit larger than the hinge screw diameter, then fill them with epoxy and wooden plugs. I bought 3/8" plugs which are 1 1/2" long. I wanted enough new wood for the screws to bite, but didn't want to drill all the way through the door. I used a hack saw to cut the plugs in half. Thirds probably would have been just right, but tough to do with a hack saw and hindsight is 20/20.

Above are photos of the upper and lower holes before and then the upper one part-way through the process. I used three different drill bits, working my way up to 3/8" as I drilled out the old holes. This was my first time using my new Dewalt cordless drill that was a gift from my Amazon wish list from a very supportive reader and friend. There are a lot of drills out there to choose from, but I really like this one because when I had used a similar one it was smaller than most drills and so a better fit for my smaller hands and for fitting into tight spaces aboard. A big, heavy drill may be fine for quick projects, but for jobs like removing the old boat name, that took several hours a day for several days, having a smaller, lighter-weight drill made a big difference in comfort for my arm. I bought a titanium bit set, so I should be able to drill through anything but concrete!

I have some standard West System epoxy kits--small batch sets of resin and hardener--but had already opened some West System G/Flex when trying to patch the dinghy, so figured I should use up the G/Flex. It mixes in a simple 1:1 ratio. I used the empty yogurt cup from breakfast for a mixing bowl. I put a dollop of epoxy into each hole and then used a wooden hammer for cracking crabs to hammer in the plugs.

I still had a lot of G/Flex I could use and--always looking for a way to put off my 16-mile training run--decided to tackle the dry-rotted threshold that I dug out last Thanksgiving and had planned to seal with Git Rot. The gaping hole had simply been covered with blue painter's tape all this time, but once I had dug out that dry rot and taped it over, the leaks onto the nav station and galley counter during rain storms had stopped. I poured a bunch of epoxy into the threshold and then decided it really needed to be thicker. I added thickening powder to get a more peanut-butter-like consistency. There was a through-and-through at the starboard side of the threshold, so I smushed as much epoxy that way as I could and then cut a couple small pieces of fiberglass cloth and painted epoxy over them to create a patch.

When I stuck my head back inside the boat I noticed big globs of epoxy were dripping from the threshold and onto my printer at the nav station. Oopsy! If the rain had been getting in that way, I guess the epoxy would too. Wish I had thickened it up more from the outset. I cut a couple more pieces of fiberglass cloth and used them to create patches along the leaking seams. Once the epoxy began to set, the dripping subsided and the patches sealed up.

I didn't realize that the hardened epoxy drips would be razor sharp. I sliced the back of my hand when reaching below the threshold to flip breakers on the electrical panel. I'll go back over them with a file and sandpaper to smooth them out. The repairs may not look pretty, but if they buy me a few years before having to replace the entire door and frame, I'll be thrilled.

I'll want to fill the rest of the hole at the threshold with something. I'm still thinking about whether that will be more epoxy or some other sealant. Of course, it would be nice to cut a piece of wood to fit into the space and not just have some random hole there. But for now, function is more important than form.

Function and fun simply outweigh form and formality. It will likely always be that way in my world. I've never been much of a housekeeper and doubt that's going to change any time soon. But my bar tends to be well-stocked and good eats are a-plenty in my galley. I think good food, drink, and conversation far outweigh fancy cushions and spotless varnish.

Just be careful when you reach to flip the breakers.

bundling up

The marina thermometer: Brrr....

Friday held a few "firsts" of the season. First time this fall for donning my Uggs, wearing gloves, and turning on the oil-filled radiator space heater aboard. Pup dog had curled up in a tight ball on the settee and gave me a plaintive stare with those big brown eyes. "Okay, fine. I admit it's cold in here; I'll put on the heat!" It was 60 degrees inside the boat and only about 45 outside. And that wasn't even the overnight low. The heater brought it up to a cozy 65 or so. As friends can attest, I keep the boat a pretty chilly 55 to 65 degrees. Since I have metered electric, I am cost conscious and opt to bundle up inside rather than face enormous electric bills. The space heater is also running off the main shore power line, so it takes about half the total amperage I can run on that line at once. Running it on high around the clock may trip a breaker, (or much, much worse fry the shore power cord and lead to a boat fire), so I try to run it at a lower heat setting and not use it 24/7 if I can avoid it. I know "winter" technically doesn't start until after mid-December, but to me "winter aboard" begins when one needs to turn the heat on. Friday I also hailed the pump out boat and was told the boat would be out of service for the next five days or so for repairs and maintenance. I sure hope that's all it is and they aren't taking the boat offline this early like they did last year. Fingers crossed the harbormaster keeps the boat running at least weekly through the winter. Further proof that winter aboard is here: condensation on the window frames this morning. Let the winter battle against mold begin.

The next tidbit isn't even worth mentioning, so I only do so as a little post-script to one storyline for those who have followed along from the outset of this journey. Friday I was walking along over the Spa Creek bridge engaged in two different sets of private messages and typing away furiously. (Yes, I know, texting and walking is bad...but I was messaging about important boat stuff if that makes it any better.) I glanced up so as not to walk into either vehicular or pedestrian traffic and briefly saw the floppy-haired sailor guy about to pass me. "Hmm. It's [him]." And I simply went along walking across the bridge, engaged in my correspondence, and otherwise went about my business. No reason to acknowledge him. He simply isn't on my radar. I have so many things on my plate, so many stressors, and so many wonderful people lifting me up and supporting me. To me, he just isn't there at all; just a blank. And that's just fine. I am not going to feign friendliness or friendship with him, and I also don't see any point in giving him a lecture or telling him off. He doesn't deserve any effort from me positive or negative, I'm just too busy keeping my life moving forward.

Keeping my injured middle finger buddy-taped.

Friday I also heard from the captain who asked me to crew from Los Angeles to the Marshall Islands. I had mostly written off seeing that trip happen since I hadn't heard back from him. He'd been out of touch due to a family emergency. I had been so excited about the passage and disappointed to set that plan aside. I still think it's an amazing opportunity to develop my sailing skills and confidence and to see parts of the world I wouldn't take my boat as long as I have pets aboard. He's now targeting a late November crossing so I'm cautiously optimistic that the stars will align and I will be able to go have an amazing adventure this winter. Whether it is smooth sailing or a terrifying ordeal, I think there's no doubt I would learn a lot about sailing and about myself so it's an opportunity I need to seize.

Buttercup working on her T-bone.

The two other liveaboard boats who have been my neighbors the past few weeks have now headed south for the winter. Brilliant cast off on Friday afternoon. They gave me an old halyard that I'll repurpose--perhaps I'll finally make rope mats for the companionway steps--and a 2.5 gallon jerry can for gas, which will be a handy back-up for the dinghy. This morning we waved good-bye to Eleanor Q. Buttercup will be sad to see them go. Frank would toss the ball for her regularly and they brought her an enormous bone from a T-bone steak last night. You can follow their adventures here. Unfortunately, within only a few hours of their departure a different boat I had hoped not to be neighbors with again returned to the slip next to me. Sigh. Another reason to never, ever sign an annual slip lease: ultra-annoying dockmates.

The Eleanor Q leaving her slip.

Frank and Mary Marie heading south.

can i get a little freedom over here

I don't much get on a political soapbox anymore; I generally can't be bothered to care about political things. Well, I care deeply, and that is why I can't let myself get caught up in it. Unfortunately, we just don't make much of a difference on a large scale so my being upset about things only increases my blood pressure, but doesn't phase the system at all. I am mostly disgusted by our government, by how it treats its own people, by how it spies on us and has pissed all over the fundamental values of the Constitution, by how big money and big business consistently trump people-focused policies and intelligent spending of our tax dollars. I will be thrilled to be on the seas, off the grid, and none too long under the thumb of any particular authority. I don't like or respect authority because authority doesn't like or respect my freedom. Authority pretends to protect my freedom, but all it really does is trample it.

So, what inspired this little political rant on my soapbox?

I recently read an article about slavery worldwide today. It is good to see someone bring attention to the reality that slavery remains a widespread practice in our supposedly modern world. I think the article sugar-coats it a bit, particularly when it comes to Haiti, and it entirely fails to mention how it arrives via Haiti to the United States. Anyone who thinks the Haitian immigrant community in South Florida hasn't brought restaveks along is very much kidding himself. And one is also wearing blinders if he or she thinks the young girls are only enslaved as housekeepers; among their household duties they are often expected to sexually service the men in the household--and the lady of the house may well be the one making sure they do so. It's a cultural mindset that won't be soon or easily broken and one I don't like seeing imported to the U.S. In any event, slavery has likely existed from time immemorial and will likely never be eradicated. Deep-rooted cultural views that simply don't value human life, and less so those of women and children, are prevalent in the areas of the map where slavery is most abundant. But those of us in the more affluent, and supposedly more enlightened, areas of the map shouldn't kid ourselves that slavery isn't in our own backyard. What can we do about it? I don't know. I sure wish we had Khaleesi to come set us all free.

While I'm on my soapbox, I'll share an odd little story. A few days ago I jammed my finger hard into a door and it may be broken. I don't have health insurance and last time I went for an x-ray to see if a finger was broken it wasn't...but my bank account was. $500 for that emergency room foray. Oh, sure, politicians want you to think it was actually free to me because us uninsured people never pay and just burden the system. But the reality is that uninsured people like me get not one band-aid free...we are the ones paying the full price that the insurance companies are not paying. We're the ones subsidizing the insured folks who get over-treated for every silly sniffle. Oh, wait... I wasn't even going to rant about how forcing me to buy health insurance just rewards the insurance companies who are the problem while rubbing salt in my broke-ass wound... no, this was going to be a totally different rant.

So... I did the best I can without seeing a doctor and buddy-taped the injured finger to its neighbor. It made my job a bit challenging, but I wanted to protect the finger as best I can. And if it's just a sprain, it will heal up better being buddy-taped. There's a guy at work who tends to talk too much nonsense in my opinion, like telling me I need to marry a Latino guy because then I can just stay home and the guy will pay all my bills. (The kid clearly doesn't realize I'm an over-educated professional. Or that I did marry a Latino once.) Well, the cute little comment this guy had about my taped-up hand: "Don't you know you're not supposed to resist? If you don't resist you won't get hurt."

Hmmm. It took a minute to sink in. Oh, of course, he was making a joke about rape. Because it's such a hilarious subject and all. I'm one strong, independent woman and I'm not too easily offended. I know the kitchen guys probably say all kinds of sleazy stuff about me once I walk out of the kitchen, but I'm thick-skinned enough that it doesn't get in the way of my doing my job or make me feel threatened. I hate the political correctness police and don't think people have some right to not be offended. If you aren't getting offended now and again, you are living in an isolated vacuum with no fresh or challenging ideas circulating around you. But to joke about rape...yeah, that actually creeped me out. It's not as if I feel threatened by that guy; if he laid a hand on me he'd lose his hand before he knew what happened. I believe in meting out my justice hard and quick on the spot. (That's why when friends drop by late at night and board the boat, they are usually yelling "Don't shoot, don't shoot, it's just me!"). But it reminded me again, like the article about current slavery, that there are cultures and people who just don't value human life, or women, or even animals much at all. It makes me sad for the world and makes me look over my shoulder a little more.

Freedom is a recurring theme on this blog. Liveaboards and cruisers often seem to dance to a different drummer, to seek a life outside the control of conventional society. Much of that freedom we seek is a conceptual freedom, to be free of societal constraints. Some of it is about self-actualization and feeling one with the universe, the sea, and the stars. Those sorts of freedom are important, valuable, and to be prized. But I also live hand-to-mouth most days, often not knowing how I'll pay a bill three days from now. Financial freedom cannot be underestimated, and, indeed, the only value I see in money is the freedom that it buys. As important as these kinds of freedom are to me, there are many others around the world, even here in the US, that do not have even basic physical freedom and safety, who are quite literally slaves. I don't know what, if anything, we can do about that. But I'll try to appreciate the freedoms I do have a little more, and work a little harder toward greater freedom for myself and perhaps the world.

ashore no more

At last, I am free from my office! It took weeks of selling things and moving things in dribs and drabs, having to paint when I definitely had an understanding I would not need to, and delays due to a week of rain at the most inopportune times, but I am moved out. I made a sad pilgrimage to the county landfill to push the then rain-ruined antique desk down the hill (if only I had had time to take it to the LMS before the rains came after the awful Goodwill incident). Bags upon bags of clothes, shoes, housewares, books, and board games went to the local Annapolis Lutheran Mission Society on West Street. Everyone there was incredibly friendly and helpful. My art collection went to the Anne Arundel County SPCA for use in silent auctions and/or to brighten their walls.

The past few weeks trying to get out of the office have been a stressful whirlwind. I'm glad that many of the finer furniture pieces went on to good new homes. I've even been invited to visit my beloved dining table, credenza, and the hope chest my grandfather built for my grandmother, to see them in their new home. Good friends make moving a slightly less painful experience and they really are priceless. My friend Denise kept me company and helped with my moving sale, making the stressful process go much more smoothly. My friend Phil is busy preparing for his own southbound adventure, but helped me load furniture into the truck nonetheless. And I can't thank my friends Mike and Dave enough...not only helping out with moving stuff, but painting the office for me while I sorted and bagged and loaded. Indeed, when I had to leave in a frantic rush to get to work, they stayed behind to finish painting!

I'd like to think I am 100% "ashore no more," but in truth my car is filled to the tippy-top with stuff, the cab of a friend's pick-up is filled to the brim, and I have commandeered about a 3' by 6' plot in a friend's dining room for boxes, bags, and an oriental carpet. Other than a lamp being shipped to my mother and boxes of photographs and CDs that a friend will store, everything else must eventually make it aboard. There are boxes of legal files that need to be sorted, scanned, and tossed. Galley items, candle holders, linens, and too many clothes. The first step will be cleaning and organizing what is already aboard, maximizing the storage space, and tucking everything away somewhere. There is an amazing amount of storage space aboard, but much of it is difficult to access (e.g., large, deep storage lockers beneath the v-berth) or blocks access to necessary areas (e.g., the engine, batteries, and water pump). Little by little I will get there. There is still a lot of work and sorting ahead, but I am incredibly relieved not to have to drive across town to the office anymore and to no longer have that monthly expense hanging over my head.

I still hope I can mediate, as it is very rewarding to help people in conflict move forward in a positive way rather than drain themselves and their bank accounts in litigation. But without a steady stream of clients it was simply impractical and financially burdensome to maintain an office and hope for clients to come. I can always rent conference room space if and when I need it. I still dream of finding a niche cruising the Caribbean and mediating the divorces of couples who retired and sailed away, only to discover that their marriage didn't survive the passage.

Friday I walked around at the boat show, drank Painkillers in the rain, and bought some sail ties. I was mostly nonplussed by the show, but it was fun to walk around with a friend and have some cocktails. I definitely have the itch to sail off and have some adventures, and when I saw one friend at the show I told her I'm not sure when or where I'm going, but I doubt I'll be tied to the docks here in six months. Friday night I got to meet folks from near and far at a Caribbean cruisers reunion. A couple who split their time between a home in the Annapolis area and living on the hook in St. Lucia graciously invited me to their annual boat show party and, as is the norm, the cruisers happily shared their tales, welcomed me, and encouraged me to sail away on an adventure. It's a big world out there to explore, but the cruising and liveaboard communities are small, so it is wonderful to meet folks here who I will likely run into in some far-off anchorage in the future. And I even met someone who is only about ten slips away from me, so it really is a small world.

Still much to prepare, many repairs to make, affairs to get in order so I can head off on my adventures. I am growing wary of heading south in the cold, blustery weather and may wait for warmer, sunnier days to head out. Now that the smell of fall is in the air, I'm not sure I want to miss fall and winter here. I enjoy a little snow, wearing hats and gloves and boots, going ice skating. Is winter aboard hard? Yes. But so are hot, muggy summers in Florida. (The weather is the single biggest thing I hated about Miami during all my years there.) I am still in this state of flux, preparing, edging closer, and itching to go. But still, the plan is that there is no plan. The key goal right now is to truly be ashore no more so I am free to go.