tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-87449195972893501342024-03-12T18:21:02.074-07:00The Adventures of Tessa"The Adventures of Tessa" chronicles the experiences of live aboard sailing while traveling the Great Loop Route. Follow the adventures here with Tessa (a 50' Gulfstar) along with her crew, Captain Gary (Frugal Captain) and Lori Milson.Frugal Captainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10232269205887179909noreply@blogger.comBlogger148125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8744919597289350134.post-20504609807018368912013-11-04T11:10:00.000-08:002013-11-04T11:10:10.730-08:00THE BOAT HAS BEEN DELIVERED!<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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I awoke this morning at dawn, snuggled in my Captain’s arms,
and lay quietly listening for some sound of recognition. It always takes a
moment when we are on a journey and going to sleep somewhere different each
night. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Are we under way? In a port or
harbor? At a dock or at anchor? <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Wind
screaming through the roller furling masts, or sighing through the rigging? <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Waves crashing or gently lapping against the
hull? <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Weather forecast calm or
foreboding? </div>
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<br /></div>
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I heard the human like screech of a Blue Heron. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And slowly the lovely realization washed over
me….we were safely secured to our dock at our winter port of Fort Myers
Beach.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I whispered to Gary “Baby, the
boat has been delivered!” and we pulled each other close in a celebratory hug.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Back in 2008, we were self-proclaimed live aboard cruisers,
but Don Dunn requalified us as Boat Deliverers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>When we departed Port Clinton that September five years ago, we were not
just following the winds and our dreams.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Gary had a Captain’s job waiting for him in Miami, and with Don’s help,
we delivered Tessa to our mooring ball in Key Biscayne, ready to report for
duty.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Since then, our cruising life has been a series of boat
deliveries.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>From Key Biscayne back to
Put-In-Bay, for Gary’s position at West Marine and mine at the Put-In-Bay
Winery.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then PIB back to Fort Myers
Beach and jobs at West Marine and the Nauti Turtle Restaurant.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then back to PIB for both of us to join our
friends David and Jessie Hill in opening and operating the Topsy Turvey Island
Grill at the Wharfside for the last two summer seasons.</div>
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<br /></div>
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We have become seasoned “Loopers” with very specific,
experienced advice to the newbies.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>“Never have a deadline.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It will
always get you in trouble.” And that it has done for us, every single time we
try to nudge Mother Nature and Murphy’s Law along!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Throughout our entire five years of looping
and cruising, we have neglected to heed our own sage words of wisdom and have
paid the price, all in the name of an agenda.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span></div>
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This trip south was an exception.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We let Mother Nature call the shots and were
rewarded with a beautiful journey filled with many new cruising memories.</div>
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<br /></div>
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The best part of the trip was having Chas with us to St.
Augustine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There is always a void on
Tessa when he departs, but we persevered down the Intracoastal to Daytona Beach
and Halifax Harbor. We docked next to two large power yachts who had earlier
teased us on the radio about being a slow moving sail boat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When they pulled into the nearby slip, I
told the cocky New Jersey Captain that they didn’t sound like just a bunch of
guys with short sticks on the VHF.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Our
dock neighbor on a sailboat next to us ducked down below his companionway
stating “Oh boy this could get ugly!” </div>
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<br /></div>
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The next evening we took a dock at the Titusville Municipal
Marina, with a great waterfront Tiki Bar within walking distance. We left there
at dawn to make fast tracks to blow by Vero Beach and the horrible memories of
no-see-ums associated with that anchorage.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>That night we made it to Fort Pierce City Marina which has become a
favorite stop.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Great ship store, great
people, and a GREAT Tiki Bar.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Gary had
to drag me away the next morning, with intentions of making it to the Lake Worth
Inlet to position for an outside passage.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Here we docked at Riviera Beach Marina with….another great Tiki
Bar!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Oh how we love Tiki Bars after
long, tedious navigating days on the Intracoastal!</div>
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<br /></div>
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We were surprised, relieved, and so thankful that the
weather cooperated for the ocean passage down to Port Everglades and Fort
Lauderdale. We listened to other cruisers radioing bridge after bridge (all
seventeen of them!) on the Intracoastal and rejoiced that we had smooth sailing
out on the Atlantic.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Dare we begin to
believe that this trip may continue to be ENJOYABLE and COMFORTABLE???</div>
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<br /></div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-q7y_ACsV0W4/UnfwrRh1OSI/AAAAAAAAAfo/JL7o2xk9P2s/s1600/IMAG0805.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="191" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-q7y_ACsV0W4/UnfwrRh1OSI/AAAAAAAAAfo/JL7o2xk9P2s/s320/IMAG0805.jpg" width="320" /></a>We anchored in Lake Sylvia nearby the Bahia Mar Marina in
the heart of the Fort Lauderdale Intracoastal, where we had plans to meet up
with David and Jeannie, friends made while working at Topsy Turvey’s Island
Grill. Spent a very pleasant evening visiting with them on Tessa in this very
well protected anchorage.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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Next port - Dinner Key Marina in Miami, where we docked next
to our friends Angie and Ed aboard their motor yacht Sanctuary.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We shared a wonderful evening and meal and
caught up with each other’s lives since we were together last winter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This dock was way to rich for our cruising
kitty, the highest dockage we have ever paid, so we developed Plan B.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There is a beautiful, completely protected
anchorage called No Name Harbor at the tip of Key Biscayne.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Here, we decided, we could comfortably wait
out the high winds and waves out in Hawks Channel.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This part of the trip was simply idyllic. Tessa relaxed in
the beautiful turquoise harbor while Gary and I accomplished numerous boat
chores left unattended while under way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Gary,
who is never comfortable at anchor, exclaimed “I could LIVE here!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We took long walks into Key Biscayne village,
reminiscing of the winter spent here in 2008.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Never have we so enjoyed being weathered in!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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<br /></div>
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Three days later, the party was over, and it was time to
continue the journey south to Marathon.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>We intended to anchor at twilight and rest up for the last leg of the
trip to Fort Myers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Late that afternoon
we checked the weather and saw big bad winds out of the north forecast for the following
evening, and the next three days after.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>“Nooooo” I moaned. “We do not want to spend four days, and four hundred
dollars for a dock in Marathon! <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We need
to get HOME!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-oLH68OZKPX0/UnfwtMZwZcI/AAAAAAAAAfw/m5Itzov8L7w/s1600/IMAG0819.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-oLH68OZKPX0/UnfwtMZwZcI/AAAAAAAAAfw/m5Itzov8L7w/s320/IMAG0819.jpg" width="191" /></a>“We could just keep going overnight and be home before the
front comes through” Gary tentatively suggested, acutely aware of my disdain of
overnighters. It was a beautiful calm evening.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>We were on the home stretch.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“OK,
let’s get this over with!” I agreed. We have never made a better call.</div>
<br />
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<br /></div>
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The star filled sky looked amazingly unnatural, like a
Planetarium visited on a high school field trip.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Gary pointed out lights that appeared to be
underneath the glass like surface of the water, following along beside us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“What are they?” I whispered. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“It’s the reflection of the stars on the
water” he softly answered, and we both were simply awestruck, and so very, very
grateful for the beauty of this last unforgettable night of our long journey
home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
Frugal Captainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10232269205887179909noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8744919597289350134.post-78455784870552958742013-10-26T06:02:00.001-07:002013-10-26T06:04:44.360-07:00St. Augustine! OH YEAH!!!<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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Sunday, October 13
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Loud music accompanied our arrival at Dudley’s Marina in
Swansboro North Carolina late Sunday afternoon.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>“It’s the annual Mullet Festival!” the dockhand informed as he caught
our lines.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Chas and I couldn’t wait to
see a festival of southern guys sporting mullet hair styles. Or was it all
about the fish?<br />
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We scurried across the bridge into town, but everything was
just closing up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A friendly patron of
the local watering hole informed us “You didn’t really miss anything.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No hair, no fish!” It was mostly a festival
comprised of junk food and crafts.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Darn!</div>
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<br /></div>
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Our plan was to rent a car Monday in Swansboro, drive back to
Great Bridge for our Jeep, then follow each other to Chas’s home in Sanford for
a brief layover.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Gary and I were happy for
the opportunity to see our wonderful Daughter-in-law Kerry and our “grand dogs”
Maggie, Bell, and Gracie.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It took us a
while to warm up to the newest addition to the family, Sonic the Hedgehog.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Still not so sure about Sonic….<br />
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Wednesday we departed Swansboro for an anchorage near Camp
Lejeune.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All evening we could hear the
very nearby helicopters doing take-off and landing exercises.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Chas fell asleep feeling as though he was
back in Iraq or Afghanistan. </div>
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<br /></div>
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A stop in Southport North Carolina is always a favorite, but
we made it a short one in order to take advantage of favorable conditions out
on the Atlantic. Captain Gary and Chas were confident we could do a comfortable
overnighter, maybe even two, and make it all the way to St. Augustine on the
outside. That would be a dream come true! </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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Their confidence was contagious.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The seas were calm, winds light and
variable.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I pictured Mother Nature
thumbing through her logbook of cruisers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>“Hmmmmm…looks like I was pretty rough on Tessa last spring.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maybe it’s time to cut them a break.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And she most certainly did.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Storms built first to starboard along the coast, then later
to port out at sea.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Chas took a picture
of the storms surrounding Tessa, with sun breaking through straight ahead, right
on our course.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After the first uneventful
overnighter, Gary and Chas presented several options where we could go
inside….or keep going on the Atlantic.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My
new best friend Mother Nature was cooperating, so I was all about continuing outside
to avoid the South Carolina and Georgia Intracoastal hassles. My dream of St.
Augustine was slowly becoming reality. </div>
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<br /></div>
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We felt absolutely victorious tied up to the St. Augustine
Municipal Marina dock! Even though there are many miles ahead of us, we are
finally back in FLORIDA.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Monday, Chas flew back to North Carolina for a job
interview, so Gary and I have been on our own since then. I sure miss hearing
them talk (aka argue and debate) electronics and Perkins issues for hours in
the cockpit, while all I had to do was read and relax.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But as long as my bff MN and I continue to
feel the love, we will be fine. Next stop Miami this weekend of October
26/27.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>South Florida turquoise waters
are beckoning!</div>
Frugal Captainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10232269205887179909noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8744919597289350134.post-32173566473663529702013-10-14T05:27:00.000-07:002013-10-14T05:41:44.581-07:00The Adventures Continue<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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As we crossed Currituck Sound’s calm peaceful water
yesterday, it was hard to imagine how the same body of water could have been
mean enough six months ago to break our spirits.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We admitted defeat. Mother Nature was the
victor and she sent us packing to Put-In-Bay via rental car, leaving Tessa
behind, secured at Atlantic Yacht Basin just south of Norfolk on the
Intracoastal Waterway.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The dreaded Albemarle Sound, which beat us and Tessa up for
several horrible hours, was equally as cooperative yesterday, only dishing out
light winds and chop.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We made it to
Alligator River Marina just before dark, and glided right to the dock instead
of the three hair raising attempts last spring while 30 knot winds drove Tessa
every which way but in the slip. The dockhand remembered that struggle, when it
took five guys playing tug of war with Tessa to get a dock line secured.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He proclaimed Gary a trained professional
this visit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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<br /></div>
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How, we wondered, could it have been that bad to make us surrender?
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And then we began recalling the voyage
of last spring……</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
From the very start this trip was a challenge.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Strong south winds kicked us in the teeth
when we departed Fort Myers the first of April, prompting Gary to turn back to
our dock without even a discussion.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Five
days later, the winds diminished slightly and we made a run for Marathon. The
wind became favorable for sailing, but when Gary tried to unfurl the headsail,
it was totally locked up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No sailing in
our immediate future was a big disappointment, but not a deal breaker to make
Marathon.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Ahhh, the beautiful turquoise water of the Keys, this trip
churned up with frothy white caps on top of choppy waves. Strong winds blew straight
out of the north, our heading. Nothing dangerous, but uncomfortable enough for
us to duck into Marathon instead of fighting an overnighter. In addition to the
roller furler, the Autopilot had also now decided to freeze up, so a stop in
Marathon would enable us to address both issues at a dock near a West Marine.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Five days, $500 bucks in dock fees, and a couple grand
dropped at West Marine later, the winds subsided and we continued north, now
ten days behind in our six week schedule. The day was glorious.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Beautiful water, great wind direction for
sailing, picture perfect.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We should have
taken a picture, because it was the last day of good weather for the remainder
of the trip.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We sailed through the night comfortably, but when the sun
came up, so did the north wind and waves.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>For the second spring in a row, we had to use the Fort Lauderdale Port
Everglades inlet and continue the journey on the Florida Intracoastal to avoid
adverse weather on the Atlantic. Our plan to stay outside (on the ocean) all
the way to St. Augustine was blown away, literally!</div>
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<br /></div>
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While entering the inlet, when a GPS is critical, the Garmin
decided to blink off. At the same time as sheets of rain decreased visibility
to “right in front of your face”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Things
were not going well for Team Tessa.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Captain Gary kept his cool as we began the Florida
Intracoastal Bridge Hell.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A little
cruising trivia...there are 69 bridges on the Florida Intracoastal from Fort
Lauderdale to Georgia.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>39 of which have
to open for boats to pass through. Many of which, Gary suspects, are run by
bridge tenders who have a running competition for who can do the meanest things
to delay boaters progress. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I am the VHF operator on Tessa.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Gary is convinced that a female voice has its
advantages.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Somewhere in Florida, I
decided that our VHF wasn’t transmitting properly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I also noted that we weren’t hearing VHF
chatter, except for the stronger Coast Guard transmissions. Something was
definitely wrong with the VHF. We switched to the handheld radio, which seemed
to be working fine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When living on board, life is much easier when there is a
place for everything and everything is in its place. MY place for the handheld
was on the seat cushion next to wherever I was sitting.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>GARY’s place for the handheld, once, was on
top of the Garmin enclosure at the helm.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The enclosure that we often grab onto when moving about the cockpit
area. Which I grabbed onto, and knocked the only properly working VHF radio on
board onto the sole, where the impact caused it to QUIT WORKING. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Another point about living on board. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When things go wrong, it gets very, very
quiet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So after long moments of silence,
Gary suggested I put it on the charger to perhaps restart it. Which did indeed
work! </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Just south of Daytona Beach, heading for our marina
reservation for the evening, I happened to look aft and noticed excessive
exhaust steam or smoke.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Take the wheel”
Captain commanded as he rushed down below to the engine room. I heard loud
noises and saw frantic movement from below.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Not good.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Suddenly, he threw what
resembled a fire hose out of the cockpit over the side of the boat, and water
began rushing out of it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Definitely not
good.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Call TowBoat US and tell them we are taking on water!” Captain
shouted from below.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I did, several
times, but did not get a response.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
then hailed a passing trawler and asked them to begin relaying my
transmissions, as our handheld signal may have been too weak.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They also hailed TowBoat US with no
response.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But our knights of the water,
the Coast Guard did. Then we began the inane litany of questions unrelated to
the emergency.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Do we have our life vests
on, blah blah blah, until their final request for our TowBoat US membership
number put me over the edge.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“TELL THEM
THE CAPTAIN IS IN THE ENGINE ROOM PUMPING OUT WATER AND CAN’T GET TO HIS WALLET
RIGHT NOW!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Really, Coast Guard???????? </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Gary determined he had control of the situation and next
instructed me to call off the Coast Guard and hail the marina to see if they
could haul us immediately.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They could
not, but directed us to another marina that could. Gary navigated us right into
the haul out slip and within less than ten minutes, we were high and dry in
their boatyard.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In less than five
minutes after that, we were sharing a much deserved cocktail with the yard
workers. Shortly after that, Gary addressed the packing gland around the
propeller shaft, which he suspected was the problem.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Next morning we launched, pulled up to a dock, and went to
West Marine, Gary’s normal M.O.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Upon our
return Gary was disturbed to find water in the engine room again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Where was it coming from???<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>By process of elimination he discovered the
plug came out of the heat exchanger and water was coming from it, not from
outside of the boat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Problem solved,
after sustaining severe damage to the cruising kitty, off we went toward
Georgia.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Georgia delivered its own set of issues. Very skinny water
with dramatic tidal variations, a couple of groundings, followed by big sounds
to cross with much bigger winds than predicted, as always.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We both dreaded crossing St. Andrew Sound, as
we had a bad experience the last time we crossed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is wide open to the Atlantic and with the
wrong wind conditions it is treacherous.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>And we were experiencing the most perfectly wrong conditions.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Upon our approach, Gary calmly suggested that
we do a practice run with our safety harnesses and jack lines by hooking
securely on INSIDE THE COCKPIT. OMG I was scared because I suspected this was
something more than a safety drill. The Captain was exercising extreme caution.
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But we made it with Tessa kicking and
screaming amidst the wind and waves.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
think even she was starting to lose her patience with this day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And then it got worse.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I had made reservations the day before at the Brunswick
Landing Marina, where Chas and Kerry were to meet us the following day to do a
leg of the journey north.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The dock
master was confident we would have no problem getting into our assigned slip,
even though they would be closed and not available to grab our dock lines.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now, after getting spanked all day, my
confidence level was shaken.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I called
again, reminding them that it was REALLY WINDY and was there ANYONE around to
assist.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Just point your bow right
between the pilings and you’ll glide right in” she assured me in a nice
southern drawl. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Well, we did not glide into the slip. Driven off course by
the wind gusts, from the perfectly wrong direction, we were driven into the
slip sideways!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Gary manhandled the helm,
I ran fore and aft fending off pilings, nearby dockers came running to help,
and eventually the chaos ended. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The next day the Calvary arrived to save the day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When Chas is on board, Tessa is charmed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Usually.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Except on this trip.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We have
turned that Perkins key and pressed start without fail for 22 years, but on
that day we got nutthin! The starter had nutthin left to give.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Gary and Chas put their heads together and
explored all options, finally our only one being to rent a car and drive to
Macon Georgia to buy a rebuilt one. The four of us packed into a compact rental
car and off we went on a Georgia road trip. After our return to Tessa that
evening, the two of them worked for hours installing the replacement so that we
could depart early the next morning. Another delay and another severe dent in
the battered cruising kitty sent us moving on.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We experienced two uneventful fun days and one calm peaceful
night at sea toward Southport North Carolina.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I am not a fan of overnighters but proclaimed that if they were all like
that one, I could go around the world. Soon after that the wind and seas kicked
up for a rough time getting through a skinny break wall into the marina. Mother
Nature had me fooled for a minute there. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Southport was a whirlwind of fun after Nick and Lynne James
drove all the way from Port Clinton to celebrate Lynne’s birthday with us on
Tessa.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We all went to Sanford to see
Chas and Kerry’s new home, then it was back to Tessa alone again. I was
dreading what was looming on the horizon.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Days and nights on the North Atlantic with just the two of us for moral
support.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We have done it before but it
absolutely does not get any easier, because the conditions are unpredictable
and usually less than desirable.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not to
mention the fact it seemed that everything that could go wrong had gone wrong
so far.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
At this point in the journey, the pressure increased
steadily every day because we had lost so much time dealing with weather and
mechanical issues that we were way behind schedule.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We committed to being back to work at<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Topsy Turvey Island Grill by mid-May latest,
and the probability of that happening was very doubtful. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We progressed ever so slowly northward expecting each new
day would be better than the last. Conditions had to be due to improve, and
sooner or later the strong north east winds had to diminish. David sent a text
from work. “When will you be back? We are very busy!” We were stressed out and
were so anxious for cruising to become comfortable again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But comfort was not in our future.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
However, Albemarle Sound was.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We stood on the break wall the morning of our
intended crossing, clothes whipping in the stiff Northerly breeze, and watched
the whitecaps pounding southward. “Screw it!” Gary snapped. “Let’s go have
breakfast!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We’re not going today!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I knew it was my comfort that he was
concerned about, and I knew if it wasn’t for me he would go.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So I sucked it up and convinced him we needed
to go.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“It’s not going to be any better
tomorrow or who knows when.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Let’s just
get it over with!” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The wind howled and the waves crashed over our cockpit enclosure
for nearly seven hours. We were tired and beat up but we put it behind us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Neither of us remembered Currituck Sound from
previous trips but this crossing made a big impression.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The relentless wind and waves tried hard to
push us out of the narrow channel, the depth alarm beeped and beeped, but
Captain Gary persevered.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We tied up at
Atlantic Yacht Basin and listened to the weather forecast. The Meteorologists
predicted five more straight days of 35 knot northeast winds, waves 7 to 10
feet on the Atlantic. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My strong, confident,
optimistic Captain, has loved nothing more than being on the water with Tessa
for 22 years.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I’m done” he said in a
soft, sad, defeated voice.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I put my arms
around him and cried.</div>
Frugal Captainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10232269205887179909noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8744919597289350134.post-27668123190540759322013-04-18T06:33:00.001-07:002013-04-18T06:39:10.809-07:00What Dot does in Ft. Myers Beach, stays in...NOT!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</xml><![endif]-->My Mom!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My crazy
wonderful wacky Dot!<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-QxaUi2WTjJ4/UW_y7gDyNwI/AAAAAAAAAdE/ePHp5p0Sna4/s1600/IMAG0497.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-QxaUi2WTjJ4/UW_y7gDyNwI/AAAAAAAAAdE/ePHp5p0Sna4/s200/IMAG0497.jpg" width="119" /></a>I knew it would be tough to enter your Powder Blue Palace
after just saying goodbye at the airport.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I took a deep breath, opened the door, looked for you at the table, and
couldn’t breathe. It hurt that bad.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I grabbed my phone and tearfully dialed Nick James for some
emergency cheering up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He reminded me
that I go through this every time we part, and his advice is always the
same.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Sit down, have yourself a good
long cry, and then cheer yourself up with all the memories.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And OH BOY did we make some memories this year!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Gary had the RV decorated with a beautiful flowering
bromeliad and tacky flamingo palm tree lights (his <span id="goog_174108853"></span><span id="goog_174108854"></span>Christmas present from Jon
and Jaci) for the start of Dotfest 2013.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>This immediately turned in to Foodfest 2013 when you received a “Welcome
to Fort Myers Lobstergram” from Cuzzin Debbie and Mike.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Can you still taste the delectable crab cakes, crab claws, lobster
claws, and jumbo shrimp? The three of us had such fun evenings planning what to
eat next!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-R_kKvxfSbdw/UW_0F-q2bsI/AAAAAAAAAeA/ExQBcO9W5-E/s1600/IMAG0543.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-R_kKvxfSbdw/UW_0F-q2bsI/AAAAAAAAAeA/ExQBcO9W5-E/s200/IMAG0543.jpg" width="119" /></a>You said you wanted nothing more than to sit on the patio
each day and “soak it all up.” I loved hearing you shout “HI!” to all the park
passersby. No one is a stranger to my Dot! But you know what I loved the most
of the quiet days we spent together? Singing along together to the romantic
oldies on that great radio station we found.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I hadn’t heard you sing in a long time and that memory will always warm
my heart.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As happy hour
approached each day, the continuous parade of Ebb Tide friends began.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You must have been really ticked that I told
RC you couldn’t have your highball until you finished a red solo cup of water
first! She never let you forget it, did she?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It was so great to watch you sitting in the afternoon sun with such
wonderful friends, laughing about anything and everything. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ITD7l_PaahY/UW_0FXAYRAI/AAAAAAAAAd4/m_yolS3x_GU/s1600/IMAG0536.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ITD7l_PaahY/UW_0FXAYRAI/AAAAAAAAAd4/m_yolS3x_GU/s200/IMAG0536.jpg" width="119" /></a>Did I mention quiet days?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Well, there was NOTHING quiet about Sundays!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Gary would wake you up shouting “It’s Sunday
Mom!” And you would shout back “DEK DAY!”. Who would have thought that you
would get such a kick out of a local biker bar? We started going there for the
$10.00 pitcher and pizza deal, but you had more fun listening to the roar of
the Harleys and watching the camaraderie of their riders! What better way to
spend the day, hanging out with Shirley and Bill, listening to Tequila Tom on
the guitar, eating pizza, and sucking down Mimosas, huh? But this last Sunday,
in front of Cuzzin Debbie and Mike, you took it a whole new level. We have to
keep re-watching the video Debbie took of you climbing on the back of a Harley
to believe it really happened. OMG Mom!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-fDQ0hC-K6qI/UW_z_tnmj5I/AAAAAAAAAdg/yV46Obnr9Mo/s1600/IMAG0462.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-fDQ0hC-K6qI/UW_z_tnmj5I/AAAAAAAAAdg/yV46Obnr9Mo/s200/IMAG0462.jpg" width="119" /></a>January flew by and soon it was time for the arrival of The
Golden Child!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Wasn’t it great for him to
visit for an entire week, and have him all to yourself for three days while we
were in Key West? <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We almost didn’t want
to go to Key West; you two had so much fun planned! But first we had fun at the
Ebb Tide pool party.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>David got to meet
all of your friends and see how Snowbirds rock out an afternoon!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We had a tough act to follow when he departed. Going to see
Gatlin not once but twice?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Going to the
Beach Pub to sit with your feet in the sand?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Did you really participate in a Walker Race?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After about the fourth or fifth “I miss my
David” comment you made the day he left, I sent him a text joking that you were
starting to annoy me, but I felt the same way.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
How will we ever forget the Ebb Tide Horse Races?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was hard to imagine how it all worked
until we got there and you and your boyfriend Mikey jumped into the first
race!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Everyone was laughing as he pushed
your wheelchair to the next space upon each roll of the dice.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You didn’t win that race, but you won the
next two you were in, and we all cheered as you crossed the finish line.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That’s my Mom!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-i6pPdBhyCr0/UW_0CZfzz3I/AAAAAAAAAdw/y9UQu0rJFRE/s1600/IMAG0502.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-i6pPdBhyCr0/UW_0CZfzz3I/AAAAAAAAAdw/y9UQu0rJFRE/s200/IMAG0502.jpg" width="119" /></a>Next performance by you and Mikey was the water balloon
battle at our third pool party of the season.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Was that really my Mom giddily throwing water balloons at the most
handsome man in the pool? I shouldn’t have been surprised. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Speaking of pool parties, our last one didn’t go so well,
did it?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You were not thrilled with Bill
when he slid over to the table next to us, where two younger women were
sitting.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As we were leaving, you looked
back over your shoulder and in a disgusted tone snarled “See ya later Bill!”
Then promptly wheeled away, whispering to Vicki “Men are so fickle.” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You and Bill made up in a hurry when he offered to take us
on a sightseeing adventure to Sanibel and Captiva Islands.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was such an excellent chauffeur and tour
guide, telling stories of his times spent there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The grand finale was lunch at the Lazy
Flamingo, where we slurped the best oysters ever.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What a great day we had.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-YC0OC9w7FjE/UW_z7hDX1NI/AAAAAAAAAdY/5fIxNzzQEzM/s1600/!cid_36796419-D288-4E68-9777-4BA76BD1CA13.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="149" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-YC0OC9w7FjE/UW_z7hDX1NI/AAAAAAAAAdY/5fIxNzzQEzM/s200/!cid_36796419-D288-4E68-9777-4BA76BD1CA13.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Gary and I loved having you supervise us as we worked on
Tessa projects at our dock.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Our boat
neighbor Tom was quite taken with you and soon became overprotective, in my
opinion.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Just because I left you in the
Jeep for a few minutes (well maybe ten or fifteen) one day while waiting for Mother
Nature to decide to rain or not, he claimed it was abusive.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Did you at least leave the windows cracked?”
he demanded to know. “Did she have any fluids?” Caring neighbors are overrated.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dzAUPm35FFGzxVcBp0WKLPY3KiKUTleCT2oO2mQl8rd4U_mcI0aPLo21dtfI3yj7yjKjVBsJ1JccNPXR0-r5A' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe>And now, the GRAND FINALLY OF MEMORIES!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Gary and I ran into a Charter Fishing Captain
at Lani Kai happy hour, and before one drink was consumed, you were goin
fishing!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Secretly we were all hoping that
you caught a fish.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At least one fish.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
He assured us that you could step right onto his pontoon boat, no
problem. Gary had to work that day, so your bestest friends Tom and Barb came
along.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Captain Greg casts our lines toward the dock pilings
searching for Sheepshead.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Before my line
made it in the water, you snagged the first keeper of the day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Yea Dot!” everyone cheered.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then you caught another and another.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Dot 3, Lori 0. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Next we went further out in the bay and began drifting for
any variety of fish, with Mackerel being the most desirable catch.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Tom and Barb took turns reeling fish in.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Tom, Barb, Dot, lots of fish, Lori 0.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Before I had a chance to redeem myself, Captain announced
last drift.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I heard him whisper
disappointedly to Tom “I really wanted Dot to tangle with a Mackerel.” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EKNsaVzMsaA/UW_zksd304I/AAAAAAAAAdQ/gxFtSnedRK4/s1600/IMAG0520.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EKNsaVzMsaA/UW_zksd304I/AAAAAAAAAdQ/gxFtSnedRK4/s200/IMAG0520.jpg" width="119" /></a>“WHOA!!!” you screamed as your body did a quick 90 degree
turn.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZING went your drag! </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“REEL IN!” Captain Greg shouted to Tom, Barb, and I as he
fired up the outboard to turn the boat toward the direction your whopper was
swimming.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Away you cranked, laughing
with determination.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Slowly he began to
rise to the surface, Captain Greg dipped the net expertly under the thrashing
fish, and you had landed a two foot long Spanish Mackerel! With a little help
from Dad coaching from above, David said when he saw the picture.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We celebrated with a fish fry to feed the masses of Ebb Tide
and you basked in the glory of still being the queen of the rod.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was so proud of you my fishermother!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-XUCM0eimX6k/UW_1WtmEwjI/AAAAAAAAAeQ/UoMilpchsx8/s1600/IMAG0573.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="119" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-XUCM0eimX6k/UW_1WtmEwjI/AAAAAAAAAeQ/UoMilpchsx8/s200/IMAG0573.jpg" width="200" /></a>One evening Gary was working late, so you and I joined the
Ebb Tiders at Parrot Key for Happy Hour.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The hour turned into hours as we celebrated together, and it began to
feel chilly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I ran back here to the RV
for your jacket, and as I approached the Parrot Key entrance, I had to do a
double take.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You were on the dance floor
with Danny! I believe the last time you danced was at Amy’s wedding. “Oh Danny,
I hope you are holding on tight” I prayed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>By the time I caught up, you were slow dancing with Dano.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At that point my phone rang with Gary’s usual
check in to see if we needed anything as he headed home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Just get home fast Honey!” I pleaded.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I have lost total control of this
situation!”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Gary hightailed it to Parrot Key in time to wheel you home
as you sang “GET DOWN TONIGHT!” all the way to the RV and all the way to bed. We
just shook our heads in wonder.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Where
did THAT come from?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Just this past week, you were over at Dano and RC’s
visiting, when Danny showed up at our door asking “Can we take Dottie to Parrot
Key for Happy Hour?” I groaned and told Gary “You go. I’ve had enough!” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-J3lyTNePGTc/UW_1WXksb5I/AAAAAAAAAeM/yi3a2NAyQHs/s1600/IMAG0574.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-J3lyTNePGTc/UW_1WXksb5I/AAAAAAAAAeM/yi3a2NAyQHs/s200/IMAG0574.jpg" width="119" /></a><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All too quickly the
days of March ticked by toward your departure, and way too soon, it was time to
plan your farewell happy hour. We invited your closest friends Tom and Barb,
Dano and RC, and Danny.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At 4:00 sharp,
they were all here.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And then came two
more neighbors carrying lawn chairs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And
then two more.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>By the time Gary pulled
up from work, he exclaimed “Wow!” There were twenty chairs in a big circle,
everyone talking and laughing at once,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>in honor of YOU!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You announced
you were going out with a bang, and that you did!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Lots of tears and hugs later, everyone
departed….but returned Friday morning for one final farewell as you climbed
into the Jeep.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-dxW5_qZfZ58/UW_1WJDEWxI/AAAAAAAAAeI/Lp_wYo378yo/s1600/IMAG0575.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-dxW5_qZfZ58/UW_1WJDEWxI/AAAAAAAAAeI/Lp_wYo378yo/s200/IMAG0575.jpg" width="119" /></a>We were confident you would be perfectly fine flying the two
hour non-stop trip to Columbus, but it is always stressful to deal with
airports.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Security went fine, next stop
ladies room. There was an announcement that a ladies hat with a blue flower was
left at security.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ooops! “Mom, you stay
here and finish up and I’ll run back to security” I said as I hustled away,
grabbed the hat, and ran back.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now we
were very short on time before boarding.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I opened the door and said “we have to hurry” and out we went when I
suddenly realized that you were pushing your own wheelchair instead of sitting
in it! OK, I guess I was more nervous than I thought!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But we laughed all the way to the gate!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The attendant came to take you and another lady to the gate
and I stopped him with a request.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>“Jerry, could you please advise the flight attendants that Mom can have
no more than five drinks on this flight?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Laughter erupted around us. Then he was wheeling you away from me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As I was desperately trying not to sob out
loud, I heard you say to the other wheelchair lady “Wanna race?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-DSuXKjZeTlA/UW_1X4B_ioI/AAAAAAAAAeg/jB6Y7JABvNY/s1600/IMAG0578.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-DSuXKjZeTlA/UW_1X4B_ioI/AAAAAAAAAeg/jB6Y7JABvNY/s200/IMAG0578.jpg" width="119" /></a></div>
Race on, Mom!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Race
on!</div>
Frugal Captainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10232269205887179909noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8744919597289350134.post-81133833802971177132012-11-04T07:13:00.004-08:002012-11-04T08:16:24.473-08:00WHAT I DID ON MY SUMMER VACATION<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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WHAT I DID ON MY SUMMER VACATION</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
By TESSA</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-6QGMsOfoNIE/UJaUrHf0YzI/AAAAAAAAAcw/a0u39b6dyQo/s1600/Image11032012182613.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-6QGMsOfoNIE/UJaUrHf0YzI/AAAAAAAAAcw/a0u39b6dyQo/s320/Image11032012182613.jpg" width="191" /></a>They said it was going to be a vacation for me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No trip up the east coast.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No fifteen foot waves slamming against my
bow.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No unstepping and restepping my
masts.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Just lots of r & r hanging
out in Glades Boat Yard near Moore Haven, Florida.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Tessa could use a break” Captain Gary
admitted.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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Hah!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It didn’t start
out well last April when they both cried as they patted my hull in farewell. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’d overheard conversations about new jobs and
not enough time to make it all the way back to Put-In-Bay with me, but it didn’t
seem real until they drove away in the little Jeep. The dust settled, all got
quiet in the boat yard, and for the first time since the spring of 2008, I was
alone.</div>
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<br /></div>
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First I tried to relate to the other boats in the yard but
most of them had lost hope of ever seeing their owners again after being
abandoned for so long.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What a downer!</div>
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<br /></div>
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I heard Gary and Lori tell the yard guys to have happy hour
out by me so I’d feel at home, but none of them drink beer, so that idea
bombed.</div>
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<br /></div>
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When Hurricane Debby blew through it was really scary.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I mean, I can handle anything in the water
where I belong.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But up on these skinny
little stands?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Come on people, give me
something to work with here!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I watched
for some act of preparedness from the other boats, but none of them made any
effort. </div>
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Thankfully all we got was high winds and rain.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Twelve inches of rain!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now I am totally drenched down below, as
“someone” didn’t re-bed the leaking forward hatch before they left me here. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Oh, and did I mention the stinking bowls of
MOTH BALLS everywhere?? We will NEVER get rid of that smell.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Supposedly they deter bugs, but that idea
bombed worse than the happy hour one.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Spiders appeared, and without Lori there to chase them away with bug
bombs, the adults and eventually their offspring just took over the place.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Creepy!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Then came the mold.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Just imagine getting covered with mold and slime and having no one
around to clean you up for five months.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It was totally disgusting and I was helpless to do anything about it
myself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It grew on my teak, upholstery,
(new) window shades, headliner, sole, their bedding, and all their clothes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The dirtier everything got, the angrier I
got.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This has never happened
before.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Why now?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Why me?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I became seriously depressed and almost joined the rest of the abandoned
boats at their pity parties. But I kept hearing my Captain’s voice telling me
to stay proud and be strong, and so I did. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The days dragged by and the mold continued to prosper. I
passed the time remembering past summers at Put-In-Bay.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Wonder where they are having happy hour, if
not on me?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How are Myassis Dragon, Sane Asylum,
Kokomo, and Janie B?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Where did Chas,
Greggie Boy, David and Sandy, and Mark and Carole stay when they came to visit?
How did Lori make breakfast for Captain Don and the Boardwalk Water Taxi crew?
Who was on my H ball all summer? I even missed A dock at the Boardwalk….except
during a strong northeast or west wind.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even
then, I had my Captain to look out for me.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Wait a minute!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
recognize that little black Jeep bouncing along the road!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It has to be them coming back for me!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I listened for their familiar voices and sure
enough I felt a pat on my hull and heard Captain Gary say “We’re back Baby!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If I had any way to shed my own tears, I
would have at that moment. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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I was still angry at them for leaving me though, and felt a
bit of satisfaction when Gary climbed up the ladder and saw the green slime all
over my topsides. I was totally vindicated when Lori came down below and ran
right back up the companionway steps screaming “EVERYTHING IS RUINED!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Serves her right!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now I’m starting to feel sorry for her as she
lovingly wipes every inch of my surface clean of the nasty dirty mold and
empties bucket after bucket of black water down the drain. It also sounds like
I grew over the summer, because they keep saying the bottom paint and waxing
the hull is taking twice as long as it did last time.<br />
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<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>While Lori was
pressure washing algae off my topsides, I told her it was good to be together
again. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Later, I overheard her telling
Gary “Tessa spoke to me again.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>DUH! <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had to send her some kind of message that I
was OK with everything that happened. She needed to know that it’s over and
everything is going to be just fine. Gary knew it all along.</div>
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I have to tell you, it was a relief to overhear them saying
they would never leave me again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
three of us really do belong together.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>And that was certainly no vacation!</div>
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P.S.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s a good
thing they have that RV to stay in while they are cleaning me up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>RV??? What the?!?!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></div>
Frugal Captainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10232269205887179909noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8744919597289350134.post-75396980282517987372011-12-19T14:26:00.000-08:002011-12-22T09:23:30.249-08:00A Room with a View<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-4NXoF-u1ZKg/TvNkMw4WBmI/AAAAAAAAAb4/BugdwKipNmU/s1600/DSCN4313.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" rea="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-4NXoF-u1ZKg/TvNkMw4WBmI/AAAAAAAAAb4/BugdwKipNmU/s200/DSCN4313.JPG" width="200" /></a>The first time I set eyes on the patio of Unit 105 in 2009, the seed was planted. It was right after we arrived at Matanzas Inn at Fort Myers Beach to pay for our mooring ball. An older couple sat there enjoying sunset cocktails, and my heart decided that some day, some way, Mom would take their place on that same patio. </div>
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This year with a great deal of planning and family coordination, on the Tuesday before Thanksgiving, she arrived. Dreams do come true!</div>
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Brother David and wife Sandy kicked off what we referred to as the “Dot Delivery” by flying the friendly skies down to Fort Myers Beach with her. Our concerns about air travel were totally unfounded. She loved it!</div>
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It didn’t take long for all three of them to acclimate to the sunny climes. Sandy went straight from the airport to the pool at Harbor House Inn, leaving it only long enough to hydrate and renourish. Dot was content to sit by the pool and read. All she wanted to do was “soak it all in.” We did manage to divert Sandy’s attention once the sun went down to play several rousing card games. </div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wGc__LYPdRY/TvNlEynj8jI/AAAAAAAAAcE/kNlZrr6fznE/s1600/027.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" rea="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wGc__LYPdRY/TvNlEynj8jI/AAAAAAAAAcE/kNlZrr6fznE/s200/027.JPG" width="200" /></a>We spent a joyful untraditional Thanksgiving day just soaking up rays while the turkey stuffed with Gary’s freshly shucked oyster dressing baked in the community room oven. Gary headed off to bartend at the Nauti Turtle while I grabbed a chaise lounge next to Mom and read a book feeling guilty...a little. Honestly. Upon his return we kicked the party off with an untraditional appetizer of fried gator tail. Followed by our first ever candlelight Thanksgiving feast enjoyed……outside! We dined on the veranda, toasted to the successful Dot delivery, and felt oh so thankful. </div>
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Friday Gary wheeled Dot down Estero Boulevard to our favorite Beach Pub. We buried our feet in the powdery warm sand and people watched on the beach all afternoon. After dreaming of being with Mom on the beach, I sighed with contentment and happily checked that one off the list! </div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JP7Tvb6y-HE/TvNlfIbFUoI/AAAAAAAAAcQ/uVXfHbiuNmI/s1600/DSCN4312.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" rea="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JP7Tvb6y-HE/TvNlfIbFUoI/AAAAAAAAAcQ/uVXfHbiuNmI/s200/DSCN4312.JPG" width="200" /></a>Sunday arrived and it was time to introduce David, Sandy, and Dot to The DEK. It’s a friendly biker bar that offers $1.00 drinks and $10.00 pizza and pitcher combo, perfect for a cruiser’s budget. Dream of Dot partying at the DEK….check!</div>
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We drove David and Sandy to the airport with heavy hearts Monday night. After packing so much fun into the six days we were all together it was hard to say goodbye. Although Gary and I were anxious for Mom to begin chapter two of the visit at her very own room with a view at Matanzas Inn, Unit 105. </div>
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The first day I became very anxious and overwhelmed at the prospect of taking care of Mom for the next ten days. It would be fair to say that I was a basket case! I wanted everything to be perfect for her and was so afraid that something would go wrong. Would she be ok alone through the night?? What if she falls?? Is she coughing too much?? Why hasn’t she needed oxygen?? Will she be able to get in and out of the shower?? What if the wheelchair breaks??</div>
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It took Gary’s loving concern and several stern “get a hold of yourself and calm down you’re being overprotective and smothering her and she is doing great and she’s having a wonderful time and she can do much more for herself than you think and everything is going to be fine” lectures to talk me back into a reasonable frame of mind. We eased into a comfortable routine and just as Gary predicted, all began to feel right in our world.</div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-F_pD3V9XwMY/TvNmKFUVIiI/AAAAAAAAAck/B4d7Kb1C1rs/s1600/029.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" rea="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-F_pD3V9XwMY/TvNmKFUVIiI/AAAAAAAAAck/B4d7Kb1C1rs/s200/029.JPG" width="200" /></a>Mom loves her sleep and needs a lot of encouragement to rise and shine. Each morning after sunrise we would check on her and gently suggest that she start waking up to enjoy the Florida sunshine. Ever so slowly we moved through the morning rituals. Shower, wardrobe choice, pills, breathing treatments, and her favorite Florida oranges with blueberries and yogurt for breakfast on her patio. Then we livened things up by doing hair and makeup like a couple of teenagers preparing for a hot date. We shared many quiet hours just sitting quietly on the patio reading. We spent some days wheeling around Times Square, window shopping, or just gazing at the sparkling Gulf of Mexico. Lunch one day was sushi and mango margaritas, another day her and Gary’s favorite bologna and onions. Every time she exclaimed “I’m just soaking this all in” I silently rejoiced in her happiness. Mom marveled at the beauty of the hibiscus in bloom, and we marveled at how she was blooming herself right before our eyes.</div>
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Gary suggested Dot get off her butt and cook for us. “I can do that!” she claimed. She chopped and diced and served up some mouthwatering swiss steak. We needed an hors doerves for the annual Christmas boat parade. “How about your shrimp mousse?” I suggested. “Sounds great!” she agreed. I laid out the ingredients and told her to get on it! It was as delicious as ever. We invited our friends Dick and Ann for lunch. How about a shrimp salad? “Sure” she replied. I laid out the ingredients, told her to go for it, and we never tasted a shrimp salad that good. Sunday came, “Mom, what’s for breakfast?”. “Pancakes” she replied, and made us the most perfect silver dollar cakes you could envision.</div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-p5q8HieLEBI/TvNlvJntRBI/AAAAAAAAAcY/z0jyK1aWhec/s1600/IMAG0188.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" rea="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-p5q8HieLEBI/TvNlvJntRBI/AAAAAAAAAcY/z0jyK1aWhec/s200/IMAG0188.jpg" width="119" /></a>Our wonderful friends Trace and Diane surprised us by arriving from the east coast while Dot was here. They got such a love fest going that Gary and I were almost jealous. She giggled like a school girl at all of Trace’s antics, and Diane doted on her like a long lost daughter. We decorated for Christmas with lights and a poinsetta, and played Christmas music while cooking and drinking and dining. I had dreamed of her making new friends but she adopted Trace and Diane as family. </div>
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Each day, as she was a bit more active, she grew stronger and stronger. We would notice her carefully moving around the room without her walker, and soon agreed to walk to the pool without it, as long as she had an arm to hold on to. When we suggested water aerobics, she smiled that Dot smile and said “I can do that!” And that she did! These were dreams I had not dared to dream, yet they came true!</div>
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Mom, you are a lovely, wonderful, funny, amazing woman. You made us and yourself so proud during this visit. I told you that I wanted to be just like you when I reach 84. Will it be possible to get that good in just thirty more years?</div>
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Your memory is not what it used to be, and neither is mine. But I know in my heart that neither one of us will ever forget our special times together, as you made all my dreams come true.</div>
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Whenever you are ready to make some more memories, just say the word. I know the perfect room with the perfect view. </div>
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<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dwqsxf-SVWicrzZGcU6j9qj-U7brYtlwz7NJIs_CT6_inFk51qXuml-TqY7g4YdJY-g3qz5xIQomE7nymCvbg' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>Frugal Captainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10232269205887179909noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8744919597289350134.post-76702922867171228092011-11-12T11:00:00.001-08:002011-11-12T11:01:59.452-08:00Drama King & Queen"MORE DRAMA! I WANT MORE DRAMA!" my director producer demanded as we departed Steinhatchie last Tuesday. The tempermental Gulf of Mexico finally decided to cut us a break and welcomed us back with sparkling, moderately choppy seas. As the day progressed calmly without any unexpected issues, I commented to Gary that I wasn't going to have any drama to report for Nick James. I spoke too soon. <br />
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Now we have so much more drama to report that I am afraid to jinx us any more by writing about it until we are finally at our dock at Fort Myers Beach. We have only 90 miles to go and SHOULD be there tomorrow. <br />
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But a lot can happen in 90 miles.Frugal Captainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10232269205887179909noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8744919597289350134.post-26262845381060148592011-11-03T16:13:00.000-07:002011-11-03T16:13:11.426-07:00"Weather Window" half-opened or half-closed?Tessa, Nomad, and Vela Narcosis waited patiently in Carrabelle for a weather window to cross the Gulf to Tarpon Springs, while the crews did boat chores during the day and partyed with the locals at happy hour. Yesterday, day six of waiting, the crews began to get restless and impatient. Captain Bill from Nomad needed to find a port with more action. Gary and I were anxious to get to Tarpon Springs where our rendezvous with Bryan and Danielle would take place. Dennis and Wanda just go with the flow, which appeared to be flowing toward the Gulf.<br />
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All three Captains checked their favorite weather sources and came up with a consensus. They saw a weather window opening yesterday afternoon as soon as the winds subsided, as they were predicted to do. We could depart in 10-15 knots and 2-3 foot seas, which were SUPPOSED to subside to 5-10 knots, 1-2 foot seas late last night, and today was supposed to be totally calm all the way to Tarpon Springs. Let's go!<br />
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So using the "weather window" analogy, picture the five of us boosting each other up to the sill, squeezing through a half open window, and jumping through giddily just like a bunch of teenagers sneaking out for a night of underage drinking. In our excitement, not a one of us noticed the window SLAMMING and LOCKING behind us as we departed Carrabelle. <br />
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The first few hours were comfortable, and the sunset introduced beautiful stars and calm rolling seas. For a few hours. Then all hell broke loose. Suddenly, the wind began howling and the waves were crashing toward us in sets of three 6-8 footers. This WASN'T SUPPOSED TO HAPPEN! Gary checked the updated XM weather and we reported to the other two boats that it was still supposed to subside to 5 knots late last night. Everyone keep the faith and stay calm! <br />
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Bill (our Alpha Male Water Cowboy) did his best, single handing without an auto pilot, until his refrigerator broke loose and smashed his dining table to pieces, scattering table and refrig contents throughout his salon. We heard the frustration in his voice as he announced that "I'm gettin my a** kicked out here guys!"<br />
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We tried to make jokes and stay positive, expecting any moment for things to calm down, but it never happened. For hours and hours we charged through the mean nasty seas and finally decided to abort the plan to Tarpon Springs and head toward the eastern shore and the Steinhatchie River for protection and relief.<br />
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Gary and I were sure that we were the most comfortable with our autopilot performing beautifully and our new enclosure keeping us warm and dry. But we worried so much about our buddy boats, who have become such close friends and almost family during our time together, that we certainly could not relax for a moment. Bill kept his sense of humor intact, even though his boat contents were not, all the way to the river entrance this morning. Dennis announced that he felt like he fell off and was dragged by a horse. Wanda remained steady and silent...at least we never heard her announce on the radio that the weather forecasters were a**hole d***heads like I did. I read an entire book and avoided looking at the roiling seas rushing past us, sometimes even covering my head with a blanket to stay calm. Gary, as always, remained steady at the helm, reassuring everyone throughout the night that it was going to get better.<br />
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And it eventually did, after dawn as we approached the Steinhatchie River entrance, where we are safe and sound at a nice dock waiting for the next window to open. <br />
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The next time it better be ALL THE WAY OPEN, and STAY THAT WAY after we crawl through! Unfortunately, there are no guarantees like that when making Gulf of Mexico crossings. Last night Dennis thought a nice RV might be in their future. Wonder how Tessa would look on wheels???????<br />
<br />Frugal Captainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10232269205887179909noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8744919597289350134.post-10467779780695896062011-10-26T12:42:00.000-07:002011-10-27T04:13:53.054-07:00"Nerve"ana<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ZkwGx5MLm98/Tqk71yNoyQI/AAAAAAAAAaA/nE6mnRjvEMk/s1600/DSCN4152.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" ida="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ZkwGx5MLm98/Tqk71yNoyQI/AAAAAAAAAaA/nE6mnRjvEMk/s200/DSCN4152.JPG" width="200" /></a>Each day on the Tenn-Tom Waterway has been so peaceful and uneventful that there has not been much blog material. We have spent wonderful days and shared beautiful anchorages with new friends that we have been buddy-boating with since Demopolis. And then there comes a day like last Saturday. </div>
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We departed Dog River Marina to cross Mobile Bay to the Panhandle Intracoastal in bright sunshine and a forecast of "Winds less than 10 knots. Bay waters smooth". Not even "Moderate Chop" like it was on our way down the bay to Dog River. Smooth was even better! We are very cautious as the masts must stay on deck until Carrabelle due to low bridges. </div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-NT9MRFXGBe8/Tqk75nLkjcI/AAAAAAAAAaI/KohkOc9HoMI/s1600/DSCN4162.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" ida="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-NT9MRFXGBe8/Tqk75nLkjcI/AAAAAAAAAaI/KohkOc9HoMI/s200/DSCN4162.JPG" width="200" /></a>The channel from the marina to the main channel runs west to east and we had a north wind on our beam, which caused Tessa to roll in the waves. But as soon as we entered the main channel, the wind was on our stern and the ride seemed comfortable. About an hour into the four hour trip across the bay, I asked Gary "Are we going as fast as we can? I don't like the wind picking up." He gave her more throttle and we continued on. Except before entering protected land, we had to turn north east back into a stiff 15 knot wind and rollers that were now two to three feet. </div>
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Tessa began heaving and rolling as Gary struggled at the helm to maintain the best course with the least force of the waves. I couldn't stand to be in the cockpit watching the masts and stands....waiting for something to break! Gary kept assuring me that everything was holding securely and everything was fine, but I freaked out when he said we had FOURTEEN MILES to go.</div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xEeBavnggDk/Tqk79gaOzYI/AAAAAAAAAaQ/a39zc-G7lm8/s1600/DSCN4179.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" ida="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xEeBavnggDk/Tqk79gaOzYI/AAAAAAAAAaQ/a39zc-G7lm8/s200/DSCN4179.JPG" width="200" /></a>My Captain expertly steered us to the safety of the protected Intracoastal while I hid down below and clutched good luck charms left on board by Don Dunn and Jim Jordan. We made it unscathed. </div>
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We joined Nomad and Vela Narcosis at Homeport Marina, home of LuLu's (Jimmy Buffett's sister’s restaurant). Bill from Nomad was standing at the end of the dock waving us in to our assigned slip when Gary calmly announced that we had lost our transmission! No worries, he simply shut down the engine and guided Tessa along the marina wall next to a 125 foot luxury yacht, and instructed me to get a line around a cleat FAST! Unscathed again! The dock master exclaimed that we must have a lot of good karma around Tessa because he had seen that happen to another boat that crashed into their wall and did a lot of damage. Good karma and a great Captain!! </div>
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Now, if Nirvana had lost their transmission, they probably would have totaled their boat and any boat within striking distance. Talk about BAD karma!</div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-I5pvclAbZRc/Tqk8EOp4MDI/AAAAAAAAAaY/H1lV5sGXJEg/s1600/DSCN4187.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" ida="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-I5pvclAbZRc/Tqk8EOp4MDI/AAAAAAAAAaY/H1lV5sGXJEg/s200/DSCN4187.JPG" width="200" /></a>We first crossed paths with Nirvana way back on the Illinois River and a lock. Tessa and Muddy Waters had already waited patiently for two hours, struggling to maintain steerage and avoid going aground in the constricted waiting area, while a “red flag” barge locked through. Red flag indicates the barge is transporting hazardous chemicals and restricts any pleasure craft from locking at the same time. A boat throwing a big wake approaches rapidly, while we watch and wonder what the heck their hurry was. The lockmaster announced that it would probably be another hour wait. Nirvana rushed to the lock gate announcing to the lockmaster that “we have to get to Starve Rock Yacht Club and were told we could lock through with this barge!” What??? Once they were told they would absolutely not be locking through, Nirvana proceeds to crowd into the area already occupied by our two boats and another big yacht, and demands that the yacht move out of their way because they were aground! In less than ten minutes they managed to violate just about every proper river etiquette known. This is when I announced to Gary “That boat has BAD karma!” Once through that lock, after being waked by their rush to beat everyone else out of the lock, we hoped to never cross paths again.</div>
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No such luck. Running at power boat speeds, they stopped at different places, but twice more caught up with us and charged by creating a wake. Sooner or later, we thought, they have to get far enough ahead of us so that we never see them again.<br />
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No such luck. Several locks and days later, again we are waiting, about 45 minutes, for a Coast Guard work barge to catch up and lock through with us and our new Swedish friends aboard Horizon. The barge informs the lockmaster that a pleasure boat is a mile behind them. We all groan in frustration, as the lockmasters always want to lock boats within striking distance together. Horizon now realizes that due to the delay, they would not be able to make it to Demopolis before dark and will have to find a safe place to anchor with not many options. Gary thought we could still make Demopolis if we pushed it. No one wants to run the rivers in the dark!</div>
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So we wait and wait and the pleasure boat finally makes radio contact with the lock and identifies themselves. NIRVANA! IT’S FREAKING NIRVANA! <br />
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The lockmaster tells them that once the barge is secure, the two sailboats can enter the lock, followed by Nirvana. Except that is not good enough for Nirvana. He radios back and suggests that wouldn’t it be better if THEY go first, since they will be passing the sailboats anyway??? Once the lockmaster ok’d it, we watch, stunned, as Nirvana guns it and wakes the holy heck out of us to rush into the lock ahead of us.</div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6YInel3-J5g/Tqk8IB-z_6I/AAAAAAAAAag/al-iyW5vXLg/s1600/DSCN4192.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" ida="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6YInel3-J5g/Tqk8IB-z_6I/AAAAAAAAAag/al-iyW5vXLg/s200/DSCN4192.JPG" width="200" /></a>The Demopolis Yacht Basin dock master advised us to pull up to the fuel dock for the night, as there are not many slips deep enough for us. As we approached at dusk, I told Gary to fully expect Nirvana to be blocking the fuel dock. Thankfully, they were there, but not at the fuel dock. We decided we did not want to be anywhere near that Captain and crew! </div>
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Gary and I were in the ship store settling up with Wayne the dock master when a lady resembling a street person bag lady type barges in and rudely interrupts us demanding the courtesy car keys. We wondered who could be so rude, and saw the answer written on the courtesy car sign up sheet. NIRVANA! Please get us away from these people!!<br />
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We joined several other cruisers at Moe’s Restaurant for drinks, food, and camaraderie. This is where we met Bill from Nomad and Dennis and Wanda from Vela Narcosis, who became fast friends and buddy boaters ever since. Small world, Bill’s friend Jerry was Captaining Nirvana since they fired the last Captain at Green Turtle Bay. In defense of Jerry, Bill explained that the owners were fruitcakes and driving Jerry absolutely crazy. Join the club, Jerry. And they weren’t finished driving people crazy. Wayne couldn’t wait for us to return to Tessa so he could tell us the ignorant things bag lady had managed..including keeping the courtesy car for an extra hour while others were waiting, then calling Wayne from her boat to tell him to come pick up the keys. Several blatant violations of proper marina etiquette. </div>
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The Demopolis lockmaster insists that all boaters coordinate a dawn departure to lock through together, so the next morning we followed Nomad and Vela Narcosis out at first light. No lights on Nirvana, so we assumed they were staying for another day. Good riddance!!!</div>
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We breathed a sigh of relief as we watched the lock gates close and the water began dropping us down. No more Nirvana. </div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-VRDgcEgWi68/Tqk8MdCI33I/AAAAAAAAAao/perqV4mswT4/s1600/DSCN4196.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" ida="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-VRDgcEgWi68/Tqk8MdCI33I/AAAAAAAAAao/perqV4mswT4/s200/DSCN4196.JPG" width="200" /></a>All of a sudden, I see the bollard…and the water…going up instead of down. Something was wrong! Nomad was right in front of us and he screamed back “We’re going back up for f#*!ing Nirvana!” We were speechless. Gary gave his slinkiest stink eye ever. We have gone through over 300 locks and never ever experienced this. We don’t know what those clowns said to pull it off, but it worked. </div>
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We had a great time anchoring and partying with our new friends Bill, Dennis, and Wanda for the next three nights. At Mobile Bay, they headed into the Intracoastal toward Lulu’s while we stopped at Dog River Marina so Gary could get a West Marine fix. And you probably already guessed it. Nirvana was there. Ricky, the Dock master, said many other cruisers had their own Nirvana experiences to share. It wasn’t just us! </div>
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That same afternoon, I snapped a quick picture of their departing stern, hoping it was our final glimpse of Nirvana. Somehow they managed to leave enough bad karma in their wake to cause our horrible crossing conditions on Saturday. There is no doubt that they are to blame, but Tessa’s good karma overcame their bad and we are now safe and sound and heading for our favorite spot, Apalachicola, to slurp some oysters tonight.</div>
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We didn’t see Nirvana in Destin or Panama City last night. They have to be days ahead of us by now. </div>
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Don’t they???? </div>
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<br />Frugal Captainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10232269205887179909noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8744919597289350134.post-86701206504135706472011-10-12T13:27:00.000-07:002011-10-12T13:27:15.924-07:0048 hours of foggyness in Clifton TN...We spent 48 hours in Clifton Tennessee with Bill Magers. It was way too much fun. The End.<br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OQ8_ib_nmP8/TpX31kVsKjI/AAAAAAAAAZ4/Jeg9JS0-rps/s1600/DSCN4150.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" oda="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OQ8_ib_nmP8/TpX31kVsKjI/AAAAAAAAAZ4/Jeg9JS0-rps/s320/DSCN4150.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Frugal Captainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10232269205887179909noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8744919597289350134.post-87493474582867924592011-10-12T13:23:00.000-07:002011-10-12T13:23:01.401-07:00October 9th, 2011We are crossing Kentucky Lake and the weather has been PERFECTION! Sunshine and warm weather since we left Chicago on Sept. 30th. <br />
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That's what I'm talkin about!! <br />
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Yesterday we arrived at Moors Marina on KY lake in very skinny water and right smack dab in the middle of the conclusion of a bass fishing tournament. So here's TESSA moving along at a snail's pace, anticipating a possible encounter with an underwater boulder at any moment, with all these impatient bass boats buzzing by like a swarm of mosquitos! We couldn't kick back a cold one fast enough once we tied up to the dock. <br />
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It was a well earned cocktail since we had also just gone through the Kentucky Lake Lock, which is a 55 foot lift of a great amount of surge pressing TESSA tight up against the lock wall. I don't like that lock a lot. <br />
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Tonight is Pebble Isle Marina. Then tomorrow and Tuesday nights we will spend in Clifton Marina where our good moonshine drinkin buddy Bill Magers lives. We love that guy!<br />
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I'm sure there will be some more good stories to tell after the next two days! <br />
<br />Frugal Captainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10232269205887179909noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8744919597289350134.post-49497486252643573142011-10-05T11:34:00.000-07:002011-10-05T11:34:11.838-07:00True Confessions<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ez7ScTwuxzs/ToyhT5CP07I/AAAAAAAAAZs/OJXa3pXwJhk/s1600/DSCN4107.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" kca="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ez7ScTwuxzs/ToyhT5CP07I/AAAAAAAAAZs/OJXa3pXwJhk/s200/DSCN4107.JPG" width="200" /></a><span style="font-size: x-small;">Come close and listen up. I have a confession to make. Not everything about this cruising business is perfect. Matter of fact, some of it </span><span style="font-size: large;">REALLY SUCKS!</span></div>
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First and foremost are the weather forecasters. We religiously check three different sources before attempting a challenging float plan. It is not uncommon for the conditions to be totally opposite of what they predict. We suspect that most of the meteorologists are listening to Al Gore whine about global warming instead of just STICKING THEIR HEADS OUTSIDE TO SEE WHAT IS REALLY HAPPENING! </div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-G6psSyQfJ0E/ToygvK6exbI/AAAAAAAAAZc/HbKHvCvjnS4/s1600/IMAG0138.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" kca="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-G6psSyQfJ0E/ToygvK6exbI/AAAAAAAAAZc/HbKHvCvjnS4/s200/IMAG0138.jpg" width="119" /></a>Great Lake crossings and ocean voyages are rarely enjoyable. It can be calm and clear one minute and the next minute we are getting out butts kicked. Invariably when the butt kicking starts, it goes on for miles and miles and hours and hours. As fortunate as I feel not having to wear my salesperson hat any more, on these days I would almost prefer giving a Ready Bender seminar to a classroom full of surly UAW tool and die makers!</div>
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Mast Stepping and Unstepping is quite a challenging chore. Last year and this year, our good buddy Bill Kane has been at Crowley’s Boat Yard in Chicago to help out. This year it poured down rain for the entire two days. I swear I would have been in the fetal position whimpering in our bunk if it hadn’t been for Bill. I wasn’t about to let a 76 year old man outlast me. We could barely keep up with him, and kept telling him to sit down and take a break. “What for?” he wanted to know. So we can take a break too, that’s what for! Brother Bill is an amazing man and a wonderful friend. How did we ever get along without him?</div>
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Traveling down the river system is a great experience but one must have lots of patience. Delays at locks can go on for hours, and become dangerous if you end up so far behind that there is no safe place to anchor or dock before dark.</div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-fd4A9Tr5ahk/Toyg7Nq6i2I/AAAAAAAAAZg/HnJKc6WIKqc/s1600/IMAG0139.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" kca="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-fd4A9Tr5ahk/Toyg7Nq6i2I/AAAAAAAAAZg/HnJKc6WIKqc/s200/IMAG0139.jpg" width="119" /></a>Each locking experience is different, and the Lockport Lock above Joliet proved to be a new one. We were directed to tie off of a barge instead of the lock wall, which was nothing scary. The guys on the barge were very helpful in grabbing our lines. (Except for the last boat in the lock, who threw a line that was not connected to their boat and ended up sideways in the lock. Oops!) Just as we were all secure, the wind began gusting to about 30 knots and we were literally sand blasted. As luck would have it, the barge was hauling sand! It covered the boat, and blew into our eyes, between our teeth, into our hair. Gary thought it was an adventure. I thought it was a nasty mess. Glass half full, glass half empty!</div>
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And then there are the days like we have experienced since Joliet that make all the pain and suffering fade away. My favorite customer in the world, Jim Herrick, and his lovely wife Jan met us at the Joliet Bicentennial Park wall. We had a great time catching up and dining at a local pub. <br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6q064eYUjEo/ToyhLE3RV7I/AAAAAAAAAZo/i7-olbP4PFA/s1600/DSCN4121.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" kca="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6q064eYUjEo/ToyhLE3RV7I/AAAAAAAAAZo/i7-olbP4PFA/s200/DSCN4121.JPG" width="200" /></a>As we crossed the sparkling waters of Peoria Lake in warm bright sunshine, I told Gary I was the luckiest woman in the world. No doubt he was silently wishing I would have remembered that on Lake Michigan while I repeatedly moaned I HATE THIS and questioned why in the h#*! we were doing it again.</div>
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The weather has been absolutely gorgeous as we cruise down the Illinois River. We were disappointed to miss our usual stop at the Ottawa City Dock due to low water, but were rewarded with a stunning anchorage just south of Ottawa.</div>
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Peoria was a wonderful stop as usual. We stayed an extra day to get a coat of varnish on the cowling and catch up on boat chores. That afternoon Gary insisted we walk the mile and a half across the bridge to Wal-Mart…with a couple of stops at local watering holes. All cruisers develop a new appreciation for Wal-Mart, as provisioning stops are few and far between. A good port of call is determined by a Wal-Mart, a liquor store, a local pub, and restrooms. Sometimes not in that order. </div>
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Last night we tied up to an AEP barge in Beardstown. We followed our normal routine….tie up securely and find a bar. Mile 88 looked about as local as you could get and it did not disappoint. We were greeted by Kathy, a commercial fisherwoman who has been featured on National Geographic. Her and her husband net tons of Asian Carp a day. The dreaded fish threatening to invade our Great Lakes is known as a delicacy to the Japanese. </div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Y1UsUAnMAX0/ToyhjikevjI/AAAAAAAAAZw/8YNYmYHxOSk/s1600/DSCN4109.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" kca="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Y1UsUAnMAX0/ToyhjikevjI/AAAAAAAAAZw/8YNYmYHxOSk/s200/DSCN4109.JPG" width="200" /></a>In the same nets they catch Flat Head Catfish. “You just missed it” Linda said. “I just cooked some up and brought it here to the bar.” Darn, we said, we love fish. “I’ll just run home and get some for you” she insisted. I thought she meant the whole fish, so I said “Oh no, we’re good, don’t go to all that trouble” but she was already out the door and in her car. She returned with a foil covered plate of freshly fried Flat Head Catfish Belly, and by the sound of it, nothing I wanted to try. If Gary hadn’t shoved a piece into my mouth I would have missed out on some of the best fried fish we ever tasted. Delicious!!</div>
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After a few more MGD $1.00 drafts, the bar got a little lively. We heard the rumble of a motorcycle, which is not unusual in these little riverside towns. What was unusual was when the rider drove the Harley right through the back door and parked it in the corner. Apparently he was over served and the owner encouraged him to just bring it inside and park it so as to not be tempted to ride home. You can’t make this stuff up! </div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ShK9NOeh5C0/Toyh4Ujg4KI/AAAAAAAAAZ0/gN6MhhjmlBY/s1600/DSCN4131.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" kca="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ShK9NOeh5C0/Toyh4Ujg4KI/AAAAAAAAAZ0/gN6MhhjmlBY/s200/DSCN4131.JPG" width="200" /></a>Since Joliet, we have been buddy boating with a great family on board “Muddy Waters” a 48 foot Kadey Krogen trawler. They have an interesting blogspot at www.samwayadventure.com. Tonight we will dock together at Grafton Harbor Marina at the mouth of the Mississippi, then we will continue on while they visit St. Louis. It will be sad to separate, as we have really enjoyed our journey together. </div>
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The relationships developed along the way are absolutely the best thing about cruising. Maybe we should have Nick James make a video montage of every new friend we have made along the way that I could pop in a portable dvd player. The next time we are in pouring rain, high winds, and big waves and I am tempted to say “I HATE THIS!” the video will remind me of wonderful friends and how truly fortunate we are to be living this dream. </div>
Frugal Captainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10232269205887179909noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8744919597289350134.post-62743612610257967542011-09-24T14:24:00.000-07:002011-09-24T14:27:25.810-07:00Hell on Wheels!<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--J5d8P40Hiw/Tn5IIabHy5I/AAAAAAAAAY8/LzftuqamR5M/s1600/DSCN4081.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" hca="true" height="150" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--J5d8P40Hiw/Tn5IIabHy5I/AAAAAAAAAY8/LzftuqamR5M/s200/DSCN4081.JPG" width="200" /></a><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-0O5nfMVMmcQ/Tn5IcoEtuEI/AAAAAAAAAZE/1qjxGX0xX90/s1600/DSCN4088.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" hca="true" height="150" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-0O5nfMVMmcQ/Tn5IcoEtuEI/AAAAAAAAAZE/1qjxGX0xX90/s200/DSCN4088.JPG" width="200" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LtIzjCmvc6A/Tn5IlL8LGqI/AAAAAAAAAZI/KyMcjStlRpU/s1600/DSCN4094.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" hca="true" height="150" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LtIzjCmvc6A/Tn5IlL8LGqI/AAAAAAAAAZI/KyMcjStlRpU/s200/DSCN4094.JPG" width="200" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"> <a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hzlsseFVEMU/Tn5IQXf9geI/AAAAAAAAAZA/p5fE3kaOxZ4/s1600/DSCN4087.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" hca="true" height="150" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hzlsseFVEMU/Tn5IQXf9geI/AAAAAAAAAZA/p5fE3kaOxZ4/s200/DSCN4087.JPG" width="200" /></a>Tessa seems awfully quiet and empty without the James' presence. Especially after the Mackinaw City antics and then the funfilled Bon Voyage party last night with Tom and Marlene in Whitehall Michigan. This morning they loaded up the James' and headed for Port Clinton, while we headed for our next port of call, Saugatuck. </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Last Wednesday morning we arrived in Mackinaw City after an overnighter from Harbor Beach. Lynne limped back from the showers. Her little injured piggy now referred to as "roast beef" was throbbing and it was going to be very uncomfortable to walk around town all day. Nick James was not about to have his princess in pain, so off he went in search of a wheelchair. Little did we know how that loving gesture was going to impact our day!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-VdDPDzdZ8KA/Tn5IsViT-EI/AAAAAAAAAZM/VOyLSGw4nis/s1600/DSCN4096.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" hca="true" height="150" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-VdDPDzdZ8KA/Tn5IsViT-EI/AAAAAAAAAZM/VOyLSGw4nis/s200/DSCN4096.JPG" width="200" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
The streets, bars, and fudge shops of Mackinaw City became unsafe for normal pedestrian traffic. Although we did not witness it, Lynne claimed that he nearly threw her from the chair several times. We did however witness him racing her up and down the dock with a lapfull of laundry. It was like seeing a car wreck. You just couldn't help but watch even though you were afraid of what you might see. We breathed a sigh of releif when he turned it back in to the marina that night. Just go about your business folks, nuthin to see here. Thankfully!! </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Another overnighter to our final destination with the James' on board to White Lake yesterday. Now it is just the two of us for the rest of the journey to Carrabelle Florida, where Bryan Diveto and Danielle will join us for the Gulf crossing to Fort Myers Beach. </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-81aFWm0KBqI/Tn5I1OnLcGI/AAAAAAAAAZQ/qHsr1w6WQog/s1600/DSCN4100.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" hca="true" height="150" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-81aFWm0KBqI/Tn5I1OnLcGI/AAAAAAAAAZQ/qHsr1w6WQog/s200/DSCN4100.JPG" width="200" /></a>It sure is quiet on board.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div>Frugal Captainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10232269205887179909noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8744919597289350134.post-10529222044771280542011-09-20T17:37:00.000-07:002011-09-20T17:49:49.762-07:00RecipeTuesday September 20th<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-i6Xep9YKmJU/Tnk0eGAGF2I/AAAAAAAAAY4/x2BF9R8tRUw/s1600/Tessa+at+Lighthouse.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" rba="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-i6Xep9YKmJU/Tnk0eGAGF2I/AAAAAAAAAY4/x2BF9R8tRUw/s320/Tessa+at+Lighthouse.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>When weathered in waiting out 25 knot winds and 8 foot waves, try this recipe to avoid becoming frustrated and depressed. Combine great food with lots of red wine. Add a large serving of Lynne James and a small serving of Nick James. Mix in music. Heat up with SONG and DANCE! It worked for us!<br />
<br />
This is how we passed the time Sunday and Monday while tied to an unforgiving cement breakwall with large chunks of iron protruding from it, just itching to scar Tessa in a surge. The wall was definitely not part of the overnight accommodations I had planned. Harbor Beach Marina surprised me by having only five feet of water, just a smidge too shallow for Tessa. I guess I’m out of practice, as my normal m o is to always call ahead and check depths. The dockmaster suggested we tie up just inside the break wall near their lighthouse. We had to find somewhere to wait out the incoming storm fast, with no other harbors within striking distance, so it was our only option. <br />
<br />
Our first encounter with bad, unpredicted weather on Saturday reminded us all how unreliable the forecasts are. All the reports were favorable for our Friday afternoon departure. Less than 10 knot winds and calm water was in our future all the way to Port Huron. We entered Lake St. Clair before dawn on Saturday and were immediately slammed with a stiff 20 knot wind right on our nose for the next six hours. Not fun! <br />
<br />
Later on Saturday it cleared up and we enjoyed a lovely trip up the St Clair River into Port Huron for an overnight stay. We quickly found the local watering hole and Nick began harassing our server, who gave it right back at him, which made for lots of laughs. We walk into a bar as strangers but always leave friends behind. <br />
We made a meal of escargot and crusty bread, then lights out early for an early departure Sunday morning.<br />
<br />
Sunday evening after an hour of securing lines to the Harbor Beach break wall and some pipes on top of the wall, Lynne split the bottom of her foot open on some deck hardware. After we got her bandaged up, we felt secure enough to throw together the recipe for fun and had a great time. The wind continued to build throughout the night, which made for a lot of “what was that???” sounds to which we would jump up and check out. Morning brought a heavy downpour that lasted all through the day. We hoped the winds would subside enough to move on, but NOAA warned of 8 foot waves all afternoon. The crew decided on a predawn departure this morning, so we broke out the adult beverages and had a wonderful Italian Sausage Pasta dish, compliments of Mike and Debbie’s care package sent along for the trip. <br />
<br />
Today is absolutely gorgeous out on Lake Huron and we are truly appreciative of the bright blue skies and gentle rolling waves. Our plan is to continue overnight and arrive in Mackinaw City or St. Ignace tomorrow morning. After being confined here on board since Sunday morning, we need to walk on terra firma, diesel up, pump out, and check the weather window for the next leg of the trip. We hope to get the James’ to Chicago by Sunday at the latest. Tom and Marlene Kelleher have kindly offered to transport them back to Port Clinton. <br />
<br />
Chicago by Sunday is the best case scenario. Lake Michigan and Mother Nature will decide how that all plays out! In the meantime, the four of us are enjoying that Milson/James combination of ingredients that create a recipe for friendship, fun, laughter, and lots of memories!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dxeAl3bmqHIIAhBkAF8Bn2sG2tSsWfoPqq1MEGzNoFbZpbnNeT0ylrdmJxbaKrv5CePimZVm5P9XH1U-aX4cA' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>Frugal Captainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10232269205887179909noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8744919597289350134.post-64726035286251712012011-08-10T07:42:00.000-07:002011-08-10T08:26:16.604-07:00Thinking of you Don!<div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-1FO_uiwY6gI/TkKi7LuJTTI/AAAAAAAAAY0/daZwfL-oa3o/s1600/DSCN3580.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" naa="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-1FO_uiwY6gI/TkKi7LuJTTI/AAAAAAAAAY0/daZwfL-oa3o/s320/DSCN3580.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>"Since everyone is thinking and worrying about Don, we thought you might enjoy reading a couple of stories about our travels together. Don has a huge heart filled with love, kindness, and tremendous optimism. With all of our love and optimism added to his, we will get through this together! It'll work out!"<br />
<br />
<a href="http://frugalcaptain.blogspot.com/2009/01/put-it-in-kitchen.html">http://frugalcaptain.blogspot.com/2009/01/put-it-in-kitchen.html</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://frugalcaptain.blogspot.com/2009/10/itll-work-out.html">http://frugalcaptain.blogspot.com/2009/10/itll-work-out.html</a>Frugal Captainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10232269205887179909noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8744919597289350134.post-17773888431682017892011-07-19T05:52:00.000-07:002011-07-19T06:06:49.332-07:00Same Old, Same OldWe have survived a horrifying, life threatening experience and I am only now able to write about it. I can<br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">certainly check “PLEASE DON’T LET GARY BE INJURED ON BOARD AND NEARLY DIE IN</div>FRONT OF ME” off of my worst- fear- ever bucket list. Been there, done that.<br />
<br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Everything had been going smoothly after being released from the clutches of the flooded New York Canal</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">System on June 5th. Less than 45 minutes after I sent the pleading email to the Director of the Canal System</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">the Friday before that, Andy the lockmaster appeared at Tessa. “This is not up on the notice to mariners</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">website, but I just got a phone call and was told to tell the boaters they would be able to leave at 7:00 a.m</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Sunday morning” he told Gary. As word quickly spread down the lock wall to the other thirteen boats, we</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">could hear cheers of joy. Gary looked at me and said “This could NOT be a coincidence. You kicked some</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">a#* babe!”</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Minutes later, my cell phone rang. The Deputy Director identified himself and began with a flowery</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">apology for our terrible inconvenience, assuring us that everything in their power was being done to get us</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">moving as soon as possible. And by the way, they were on their way to meet with us that afternoon.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Sure enough, the dignitaries arrived later that day to shake hands and apologize to all twenty six of us! Gary</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">had phoned and invited our hero Joe, the Mayor of Baldwinsville, to join in the festivities. We first met</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Mayor Joe a week earlier when we were all stranded on the lower lock wall with a lot of stinking dead fish</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">(who were apparently also stranded). He began making phone calls immediately and received permission to</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">open and fill the lock to take us all up to the beautiful upper lock wall where we had only live fish and, oh</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">glory, power and water.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Saturday night, we had a big bon voyage party to reminisce about shared experiences and celebrate our new</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">friendships. It is amazing what wonderful bonds we formed while enduring this exasperating situation. Our</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">family of stranded cruisers was about to disband in a flurry of fired up engines and tossed dock lines on</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Sunday morning. No more leisurely coffees at the picnic tables, or cocktails at sundown. It was finally time</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">to pick em up and put em down and GET HOME!</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Gary and I agreed that if we had a good weather window to cross Lake Erie, we could skip the mast</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">stepping in Buffalo and have Brands’ Marina do it back in Port Clinton. This way we could also make it to</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">work at Put-in-Bay by the June 10th weekend. The masts could remain down, secured in their wooden</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">cradle with hefty two inch ratcheting straps, as long as no big winds or waves were forecast.</div><br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ZNVCQkP1jss/TiV-hk2-ggI/AAAAAAAAAYw/strSNiWgpbU/s1600/DSCN3959.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a>On Monday June 6th, we cleared our final lock, the Federal Lock in Buffalo, and tied up on its upper lock</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">wall for the night. Gary checked the three weather sources we use, both Monday night and Tuesday morning</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">before departure. All three concurred that we could expect less than 10 knots of breeze, flat seas, and no</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">fronts or big storms for the 32 hour overnighter to Port Clinton. This horse was heading to the barn!</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">It was overcast and drizzling rain on Lake Erie as we began the trek westward. XM weather on our Garmin</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">showed a band of storms crossing from north to south far west of us on Lake Erie, of no real concern for us</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">departing Buffalo. Other than that, all was calm and peaceful. As Gary came up into the cockpit from</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">down below, I remember saying “Boy, the wind seems to be picking up all of a sudden.”</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ZNVCQkP1jss/TiV-hk2-ggI/AAAAAAAAAYw/strSNiWgpbU/s1600/DSCN3959.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" m$="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ZNVCQkP1jss/TiV-hk2-ggI/AAAAAAAAAYw/strSNiWgpbU/s320/DSCN3959.JPG" width="320" /></a>And then my worst nightmare began coming to real life. In an instant, we had six to eight foot waves</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">crashing over the dodger. The winds howled at what we later heard were reported up to sixty miles per</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">hour. The robust ratcheting straps began stretching each time Tessa’s bow was buried in a shuddering wave,</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">and I knew we were in trouble when Gary screamed “I HAVE TO GO OUT THERE AND TIGHTEN THE STRAPS!” I cried to him to please not go out there! His Captain instincts took over as he grabbed my</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">arms and demanded that I stay calm and get a hold of myself . If he didn’t tighten the straps, the masts were</div>going overboard and we could lose everything.<br />
<br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">He already had a life jacket on, and I ran down below and grabbed the huge offshore type 1 pfd. For the</div>first time in my life, I came to the shocking realization that there was a good possibility that I might actually<br />
end up in the water.<br />
<br />
Gary struggled on deck and managed to tighten the straps as best he could, then crawled back into the<br />
cockpit. Only a few more waves and a few seconds later, they had stretched again and we watched in<br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">disbelief as the structure began heaving forward and aft with each wave. He screamed that he had to go</div>back out.<br />
<br />
I unzipped the dodger front window panel so I could see him and hear him better, but the waves kept<br />
slamming me in the face. Then I watched in horror as the wooden structure supporting the mast on the<br />
forward deck collapsed and everything came crashing down upon Gary. He crumpled under the massive<br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">weight, his head slammed down, and blood spurted across he deck. I was certain he was dead, but at the</div>same time I was frantically thinking of how I could possibly save us if he wasn’t.<br />
<br />
To my amazement, he began struggling out from under the masts. I will never forget the look in his eyes as<br />
he attempted to stand and looked back at me through the blood running down the side of his face. It was a<br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">wide eyed combination of shock, but most of all determination. He was not defeated. (We will leave that to</div>the Coast Guard, but I’m jumping ahead.)<br />
<br />
I kept screaming over and over again “CRAWL TO ME BABY! YOU’RE OK! JUST CRAWL TO ME!”<br />
If he tried to stand in his weakened state, he would surely be knocked overboard by the next wave. I was<br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">certain I could never find him or save him in the wind and waves with the mast hanging sideways across the</div>decks.<br />
<br />
This is where his hard head came into play. Yes, it was cracked, but it was still hard. He kept attempting to<br />
stand up, repeating “I’M OK! STOP WORRYING! I JUST NEED TO GET MY STRENGTH BACK!<br />
I’M OK! CALM DOWN!”<br />
<br />
Stop worrying? Seriously, Gary? Okey dookey! Piece of cake! No problemo! I’ll just go on down below<br />
and start chugging bourbon. You just take your good old time and let me know when you are BACK IN<br />
THE COCKPIT INSTEAD OF OVERBOARD!!!!!!!!!!!!!<br />
<br />
A lifetime later, he did finally struggle into the cockpit and I determined that he was not in shock or about to<br />
go unconscious. Hopefully. My next thought was that we needed help. If the masts did go overboard, and<br />
damaged the hull, we could sink. We needed to call May Day May Day May Day. Captain Gary disagreed.<br />
“If I’m going to die today, it will not be at the hands of the Coast Guard!” I quickly convinced him that we<br />
needed help standing by if the situation worsened. We placed the call.<br />
<br />
After running through all the bureaucratic Coast Guard b.s. several times, they established an ETA of 35<br />
minutes. We were then hailed by Tow Boat U.S., who heard my transmission with the Coast Guard. He<br />
advised he would be there in 5 minutes. How could that be? I asked “Could you repeat your ETA, Tow<br />
Boat U.S.?” “FIVE MINUTES” he replied. We looked behind us, and there was our hero! It was so<br />
comforting to have help within reach!<br />
<br />
The mast continued to surge forward and aft with each wave. Luckily, it landed on the forward port lifeline<br />
and wedged itself on our swim ladder on the starboard side, which prevented it from sliding off into the<br />
water. But we had no idea how long it would remain on board.<br />
<br />
Gary and the Tow Boat Captain discussed options and decided to head several miles into shore for<br />
protection from the wind. There, Gary was able to secure masts with a line tied around the winch, hoping it<br />
was strong enough to keep them from rolling overboard.<br />
<br />
Next he decided we should head back to First Buffalo Marina, the place we were originally going to have<br />
the masts stepped. The gash next to his eye continued to bleed as a huge knot formed. We advised the<br />
marina of our distress situation, and they assured us help would be waiting at the dock.<br />
<br />
It wasn’t until after the situation was under control and we were headed to safety that the Coast Guard<br />
arrived, about an hour later than their promised ETA. They came along side and Gary advised that he was<br />
<br />
Apparently, this aroused the suspicion of the nearby Border Patrol agents. They came rushing alongside<br />
Tessa, Gary gave them a thumbs up, said he was OK, and advised where we had come from and where we<br />
were now headed. At this response, the Border Patrol agent thought it appropriate to gun it and scream<br />
away, creating a wake that could have easily sent the masts plunging overboard. We both screamed in fear<br />
and frustration.<br />
<br />
We continued our slow progress toward safety, and were shocked when the Coast Guard boat reappeared<br />
along side, this time with the Border Patrol agent standing on the bow, screaming that they were boarding<br />
our vessel.<br />
<br />
“I am the Captain of this vessel, we are in a dangerous position here, and I DO NOT WANT YOU coming<br />
alongside or boarding us at this time. Follow us to Buffalo!” Gary replied. This really got the power<br />
hungry Border Patrol’s adrenaline flowing. He screamed “YOU MUST COMPLY! WE ARE BOARDING<br />
IMMEDIATELY” as they surged alongside and began boarding.<br />
<br />
So, Gary has just narrowly escaped death, we are still in a dangerous, potentially life threatening situation,<br />
he is injured and struggling to get his vessel to safe harbor with masts precariously hanging sideways across<br />
the deck, and they decide this is a good time to conduct a ROUTINE SAFETY CHECK! Could this really<br />
be happening?<br />
<br />
Gary blotted a towel against his bleeding face while I scurried around down below complying with their<br />
demands. Once they concluded that Captain Gary had properly posted the ‘Garbage Management<br />
Procedure’ and complied with all other vital safety requirements, the Coast Guard guy thanked Gary and<br />
said to me “I hope this hasn’t soured your opinion of the Coast Guard Ma’am.” At my wits end, I replied<br />
angrily “Just get off our boat!”<br />
<br />
We made our way ever so carefully back to First Buffalo River Marina, where Kathy the office manager<br />
advised an EMT would be waiting at the dock. But Dennis Adams is not just an EMT. He was Gary’s<br />
Guardian Angel.<br />
<br />
He calmly took charge upon our arrival, which was just what I needed. He evaluated Gary’s condition and<br />
at first wasn’t sure he needed to be rushed to the hospital. Something we were trying to avoid since we have<br />
a mere $5000 deductible on our personal insurance. Ten minutes later, after helping us to secure our<br />
injured Tessa at the dock, he reevaluated and told me “Get him in the truck. We’re going to the Emergency<br />
Room.”<br />
<br />
Several hours, x-rays, and ten stitches later, Gary was patched up. Dennis, this man we had known for five<br />
minutes, waited hours for us while entertaining and cheering up other emergency room patients. His<br />
calming comfort unleashed my pent up fears, and I sobbed in the backseat as he drove us back to Tessa.<br />
<br />
Oddly, I wasn’t embarrassed. It already felt as though we were family, and it was OK to just “let it out” like<br />
he suggested. After a quick dinner at his favorite KFC, we got Gary back to Tessa and determined it was<br />
time for him to rest. My instructions were to wake him every two hours to be sure there was no concussion.<br />
<br />
This wasn’t the last we were to see Dennis. Bright and early the next morning, he was again there to take<br />
charge and supervise the removal of the masts. He doesn’t work for the marina, but considers himself more<br />
of a friendly consultant. We all inspected the masts and were relieved that there was only cosmetic damage,<br />
nothing structural seemed affected. Gary couldn’t keep himself from participating, but soon began to show<br />
signs of exhaustion. We suggested he stretch out for a little nap, which evolved into a six hour one. While<br />
he slept, Dennis took me to pick up Gary’s prescription and to do some provisioning. Then he and his wife<br />
Debbie took us out for a fun, get-your-mind-off-your troubles dinner.<br />
<br />
As we climbed into our bunk that night, Gary commented that he doubted he could sleep after sleeping all<br />
day. I suggested he just close his eyes and see what happens. He was immediately snoring, and slept all the<br />
way through the night.<br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Dennis knocked on the boat bright and early again the next morning, all smiles and jokes, ready for the next</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">big endeavor…mast stepping. I honestly don’t know how we could have pulled these arduous tasks off</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">without his help and support, both mentally and physically.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Once that mission was accomplished, Gary was again down for the count. Dennis and I ran some errands</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">around town, then later the four of us spent another fun-filled evening including a private tour of the City of</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Buffalo fireboat.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">During our stay, Kathy, the marina office manager, encouraged me to march right over to the Coast Guard</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">headquarters just a block away and file a formal complaint for their late response and blatantly</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">inappropriate actions after they did finally arrive. I did just that, to no one’s surprise they admitted to no</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">wrong. Everything they did was “standard procedure.” How wrong it is that this is now the focus and</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">misguided mission of the USCG.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">The kindness of Dennis, Debbie, Kathy, and the crew of First Buffalo River Marina were heartwarming and</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">so comforting during this frightening ordeal. If we call back to the marina looking for Dennis and they claim</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">that he doesn’t exist, it would not surprise us in the least. That’s what Guardian Angels are all about!</div><br />
A few days later, once I was finally able to look at my injured Captain without crying, we were relaxing in<br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">the cockpit. “You know, honey” I began “If other couples went through what we did, they would probably</div>experience some kind of life changing, renewed love and appreciation of each other. But I could not love<br />
you or appreciate you any more now than I did before. You & I, we’re just same old, same old.”<br />
He smiled at me through his swollen, stitched up eye and said “So that’s what we are , huh, just same old,<br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">same old?”</div><br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">“Yep.” I replied. “That’s what we are.”</div>Frugal Captainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10232269205887179909noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8744919597289350134.post-41000517009146030642011-06-04T06:58:00.000-07:002011-06-04T07:01:00.640-07:00The eMail that Sparked the "Great Erie Canal Summit of 2011"<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Big news from our stranded sailors aboard the s/v Tessa. While being held up in Baldwinsville, NY along with a dozen other boaters for well over a week, Lori Milson sent the following email to the head of the NY Canal System. This email made an impact that initiated a direct meeting from the BIG KAHUNA himself that will go down in the history books as the "Great Erie Canal Summit of 2011".</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">Dear Sir,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">I am one of a dozen boats stranded at Lock 24 on the Erie Canal. We all planned to enter the canal May 1st, as we do each year,heading westbound to return to our home ports for the summer. News of the delay of opening was accepted, as it was apparent Mother Nature was not cooperating! We needed to be patient.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">Several of us waited together in Castleton, then Waterford. As soon as the canal opened in Waterford, we breathed a sigh of relief began our journey. My husband and I had committed to being back to work at our summer jobs back in Port Clinton and Put-in-Bay Ohio by MAY 15. We explained the circustances to our employers, who sympathized with our plight and agreed to hold our jobs for us. Our season officially opens Memorial Day Weekend. Surely we would be back by then?????</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">We then spent 10 days at Sylvan Beach, on the lock wall with no power or water, waiting for news that Locks 24-26 were opening. We kept the canal website up on our laptop and began the ritual of checking it starting at 7:00 a.m., then a couple more times throughout the day until "business hours" closed at 5:00 p.m. Other stranded boaters called the lockmasters for updates. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">"WE HAVE AN UPDATE!" my husband announced on May 19. But excitement faded into disappointment as he read it out loud to me. The update told us nothing more than we should stay tuned for another update early the next week. We each made a call to work. We couldn't promise anything but there was still a chance we could make it home by Memorial Day. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">On May 26, the website advised that E-23 was open. We were desperate to make any level of progress, so we departed Sylvan Beach, crossed Oneida Lake, and arrived in Baldwinsville at E-24. We were all trying to stay positive and enjoy the holiday weekend. Gary and I silently worried about our positions slowly slipping away. We all sympathized with our fellow boaters who had booked and paid for a vacation beginning June 3. There was still a slim chance they could make it. We all agreed that SURELY Tuesday morning, you all would come to work, assess the situation, and off we would go.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">Tuesday our ritual changed. We now check the website every half hour or so, just in case there is an update. We take turns asking Andy, the sympathetic Lockmaster, if he has any news. I could swear he was almost near tears yesterday as he shrugged his shoulders in defeat. He wants to help but can't make promises he has no power to keep. Some boaters have started calling anyone in a position to tell us anything, throw us a bone, give us some hope. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">I am writing to you to ask for reassurance that SOMEONE is feeling the same sense of urgency that we are. It is my hope that you will log on and read the notice to mariners and put yourself in our shoes to understand our frustrations. Trust me, we all understand that you can't fight Mother Nature. We are all experienced cruisers who understand her powers all to well!! </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">Please help in any way you can. Even if it is not good news, any news is better than being in limbo like this. I can be reached at this email address or by phone at 419-341-****. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">Best Regards,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">Lori Milson </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">s/v TESSA </span>Frugal Captainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10232269205887179909noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8744919597289350134.post-50302216031245979382011-05-29T05:57:00.000-07:002011-05-29T05:57:03.387-07:00Underway......Sort of!<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bJ0VQPSR_tU/TeJB6l8PObI/AAAAAAAAAYk/glfKmV8fLR0/s1600/IMAG0074.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="119" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bJ0VQPSR_tU/TeJB6l8PObI/AAAAAAAAAYk/glfKmV8fLR0/s200/IMAG0074.jpg" t8="true" width="200" /></a>This morning at 6:00 a.m., after ten days, we finally departed Sylvan Beach. Lock 23 on the western side of Oneida Lake has opened, mariners can get as far as Baldwinsville. Locks 24-26 are still closed. Several other boats left yesterday to wait it out in Baldwinsville. We were undecided, as we suspected all the boats ahead of us in Brewerton would high-tail it to Baldwinsville and take up all available wall space. But some fellow stranded boaters, Mitch and Lesley, kindly advised that as of yesterday afternoon, there was still room for us. </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">We are taking a chance, but are desperate to MOVE! Even though each day at Sylvan Beach was a memorable one, I for one was getting really depressed. Another anxious sailor said she just wanted to click her heels like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz and chant "There's no place like home!" Exactly how we feel!</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-txT8vXH4JO4/TeJCIBPIM7I/AAAAAAAAAYo/qnU3tZkbWm8/s1600/DSCN3898.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-txT8vXH4JO4/TeJCIBPIM7I/AAAAAAAAAYo/qnU3tZkbWm8/s200/DSCN3898.JPG" t8="true" width="200" /></a>It helps to stay busy, so we have been doing numerous boat chores. But what helped the most was spending time with Chuck and Donna. We have yet to meet more welcoming, generous friends in all of our travels. Chuck works for the Village of Sylvan Beach, so he swung by Tessa several times a day on his golf cart or his riding lawnmower, just to check on us and see if we needed anything. Several evenings we spent with them, either getting our butts kicked at shuffleboard at the American Legion, or eating at their favorite hang out, Splash's. Chuck knows EVERYONE, therefore we got to know EVERYONE in town. Chuck and Donna's buddies Miles and Bandana Bob joined us for several happy hours. If we weren't so desperate to get home, I'd have to say this would have been one heck of a vacation!</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-CB4ECSeyjYI/TeJCVw4gy8I/AAAAAAAAAYs/wummKtlpR6M/s1600/DSCN3900.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-CB4ECSeyjYI/TeJCVw4gy8I/AAAAAAAAAYs/wummKtlpR6M/s200/DSCN3900.JPG" t8="true" width="200" /></a>Today, we will miss all the friendly locals saying "You guys are STILL here?" We'll miss Patty, our favorite waitress at the Crazy Clam. We will certainly miss Chuck and Donna. But it feels good to make progress and get even one day closer to home. </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div>Frugal Captainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10232269205887179909noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8744919597289350134.post-32132696794187537252011-05-23T16:01:00.000-07:002011-05-23T19:05:21.114-07:00THE LAST STRAW!<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2Cq7SOm9OYs/TdrnDgdnoYI/AAAAAAAAAYQ/V1uxPfKXrj8/s1600/Sylvan+Beach.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="202" j8="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2Cq7SOm9OYs/TdrnDgdnoYI/AAAAAAAAAYQ/V1uxPfKXrj8/s400/Sylvan+Beach.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Xx2l5qGj9ig/Tdrn8-NFySI/AAAAAAAAAYU/jv5bSxTOhHI/s1600/DSCN3889.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" j8="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Xx2l5qGj9ig/Tdrn8-NFySI/AAAAAAAAAYU/jv5bSxTOhHI/s200/DSCN3889.JPG" width="200" /></a>It is not bad enough that we are stuck on the Erie Canal indefinitely. We check the NY Canal website every hour or so, begging for an update. We worry about our job slots back in Port Clinton and Put-in-Bay. We miss home and want so bad to get there. We couldn't be more frustrated. </div></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PDbyKY7HSIk/TdroHoBD-_I/AAAAAAAAAYY/R1HWAm4NaQ4/s1600/DSCN3890.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" j8="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PDbyKY7HSIk/TdroHoBD-_I/AAAAAAAAAYY/R1HWAm4NaQ4/s200/DSCN3890.JPG" width="200" /></a>Today was the last straw. To our dismay, we discovered that our favorite Sylvan Beach happy hour bars are CLOSED ON MONDAYS!!!!!!!!! Don't they know we are hanging by a thread here? Since last Wednesday, we have relied steadily on the comfort of warm hospitality and cheap beers to keep a positive outlook. To just pull the happy hour rug out from under us is devastating. We had to eat ice cream today instead of wings and beers. How much worse could it get?</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-a8R3MYpqR9g/TdroRrkXIpI/AAAAAAAAAYc/5gxS0vzwglY/s1600/DSCN3893.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" j8="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-a8R3MYpqR9g/TdroRrkXIpI/AAAAAAAAAYc/5gxS0vzwglY/s200/DSCN3893.JPG" width="200" /></a>We love the people of Sylvan Beach. Everyone has welcomed the stranded boaters and sympathized with us. We love Chuck and Donna, the great folks we met in 2009 on our way through. People we have met honk horns and wave as they drive past. Our fishing buddy Rodney gave us two precious fresh caught Walleye for dinner Saturday night. He even filleted them for me! If we have to be stuck anywhere, this is about as good as it gets.</div></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-psZAq37ATnY/Tdroc2LgjSI/AAAAAAAAAYg/eHkNw_MXB7k/s1600/DSCN3882.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" j8="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-psZAq37ATnY/Tdroc2LgjSI/AAAAAAAAAYg/eHkNw_MXB7k/s200/DSCN3882.JPG" width="200" /></a>But we are so very anxious to move on and complete the western half of the canal, cross Lake Erie, and grab H ball at the bay. Rain is in the forecast for the next ten day period. The water levels need to stabalize so that the locks can operate. And so we wait........</div>Frugal Captainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10232269205887179909noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8744919597289350134.post-89549682963456384812011-05-11T16:12:00.000-07:002011-05-13T13:37:23.902-07:00The best laid plans……<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2LC538UtwGY/TcsYYkrJFbI/AAAAAAAAAYM/tegmIw_nlas/s1600/IMAG0055.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" j8="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2LC538UtwGY/TcsYYkrJFbI/AAAAAAAAAYM/tegmIw_nlas/s320/IMAG0055.jpg" width="191" /></a>I love it when a plan comes together! 37 days and 1500 nautical miles after we departed Fort Myers Beach, having dodged all the weather bullets Mother Nature shot at us, we arrived at Castleton-on-the-Hudson May 4th, exactly as planned. This would give us enough time to unstep the masts and enter the Erie Canal to rendezvous with Kevin and Carol on Saturday. Eight days after that, we would conclude our journey at Put-in-Bay, in time for Captain Gary to report to West Marine for duty on May 15. <br />
Thanks to the competent help of fellow boaters, the masts came down in record time. In less than a day, everything was secured in place and we were ready to go!<br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Except Mother Nature saved her biggest insurmountable bullet for us. The Erie Canal did not open May 1st as planned due to flooding and high waters.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">OK, let’s stay positive and hope for the best. Perhaps it will only be delayed a few days and we can still continue according to plan.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">The long awaited update from the NY Canal System dashed all hopes. The earliest</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">expected opening is May 23rd. We gathered with other stranded boaters at the Castleton</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Boat Club to vent our frustration and drown our sorrows in draft beer. Two wasted</div>weeks at best!<br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">As Gary reached for his pile of crossword puzzles, I cautioned him. “Don’t get too comfortable there, Captain. I have a plan to get plenty of productive things accomplished.”</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">A few phone calls later, we were scheduled to have Tessa hauled out Monday morning at nearby Coeyman’s Marina. Here we can complete all of the regular spring maintenance that we usually do after arriving back at Brands’ Marina in Port Clinton.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dy9Xi-2g6EhpO3HfppL226e0M97bz-oDBl9-S9mc6Gzjo9gR4bHovLaSXegYsRtiRQYhjxr9zeqxlqcEXGz' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">After my boyfriend Don from Castleton Boat Club ran us all over town provisioning, we were ready to head for Coeymans Marina Sunday night. Gary promised me a Step-</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Mothers Day martini at the adjacent restaurant. While enjoying a cold crisp Bombay</div>martini with blue cheese stuffed olives, we began chatting with the other local bar<br />
patrons. One particularly friendly and charming guy named Eric entertained us while waiting for his friend from Ohio to show up. Maybe we might know him, being from Ohio ourselves, he suggested. Ohio isn’t that big of a state, right?<br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div>So here we sit, hundreds of miles away from home in Update New York, and Eric’s<br />
friend turns out to be a fellow West Carrollton High School graduate. Eric’s jaw dropped<br />
to the floor when I said “Hello Tom Barker. I know you!” We took a trip down high<br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">school memory lane until Captain and I decided it was time to get some shut eye.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">The haul out went according to plan on Monday morning, then we went to work</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">preparing the hull for bottom paint. Yesterday, Gary completed that task, and today I</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">begin cleaning the hull before we begin to wax on wax off. We hope to have everything</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">done by Saturday so that we can launch Tessa just in case the canal situation improves</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">and opens earlier than anticipated.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div>That is the plan for now!Frugal Captainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10232269205887179909noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8744919597289350134.post-69315296484594880552011-05-02T07:04:00.000-07:002011-05-02T09:41:14.928-07:00Stuck in ol’ Beach Haven AGAIN!After being weathered in for five days, for a healthy dose of optimism, mix three fingers<br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Akp8FKNjHzw/Tb64Xgd1WiI/AAAAAAAAAX4/CQWJ3ThRR4A/s1600/DSCN3833.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" j8="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Akp8FKNjHzw/Tb64Xgd1WiI/AAAAAAAAAX4/CQWJ3ThRR4A/s200/DSCN3833.JPG" width="200" /></a>of gin and a dash of olive juice. Pour over ice and shake until bruised and icy cold.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Serve up with three anchovy stuffed olives. Toast to calm seas and light breezes.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">It worked! This morning, we opened our eyes at dawn and lay in our bunk listening for</div>the howling winds that had hammered us for five straight days and nights. Other than the<br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">calls of the gulls, it was totally quiet. Hurraaaay!</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yT3wfwmsiQw/Tb64nTA-XZI/AAAAAAAAAX8/VnjHt38zyDE/s1600/DSCN3841.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" j8="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yT3wfwmsiQw/Tb64nTA-XZI/AAAAAAAAAX8/VnjHt38zyDE/s200/DSCN3841.JPG" width="200" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">We are finally on the home stretch to New York and the Statue of Liberty!</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">It seems like much longer than a week ago that we dined on Crabby Eggs Benedict for</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Easter breakfast, steamed crabs for lunch, and scallops for dinner while docked in</div>Hampton Virginia. Although the overnighter from there Monday was very bumpy, it was<br />
uneventful. With the dawn Tuesday morning came a blanket of thick fog. The sun and<br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">stiff winds were not even successful in burning it off, so by late afternoon we were</div>contemplating where to duck into for a well deserved break. Captain Gary determined<br />
that we were within striking distance of Beach Haven New Jersey, one of our favorite<br />
places along the east coast.<br />
<br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Nwhxie7FDJg/Tb647NrsHiI/AAAAAAAAAYA/Gnb3_K3SDg4/s1600/DSCN3843.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" j8="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Nwhxie7FDJg/Tb647NrsHiI/AAAAAAAAAYA/Gnb3_K3SDg4/s200/DSCN3843.JPG" width="200" /></a>Gary hailed TowBoat U.S. for some moral support, and within seconds our buddy Captain Rick responded. Rick earned hero status in 2008 when he guided our battered and weary crew in off the Atlantic after a fourteen hour storm, and he came through for us once again. As tsunami looking waves roared over the shoal to port and starboard, Rick</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">talked us through the Little Egg Inlet. The fog decided to envelope us completely as we made the turn toward the skinny channel leading to Beach Haven Yacht Club, and the reds and greens disappeared from sight. Gary pointed Tessa ever so slowly in each direction while I desperately searched for the markers through the thick milky fog. We</div>bumped across the bottom every way we turned. Where did the channel go? We could<br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">almost hear Rick muttering under his breath “Damn Sailors!” as he announced over the</div>VHF that he was coming to get us. We tucked our tail between our legs and timidly<br />
followed TowBoat U.S. into the dock, fully expecting to be harassed relentlessly by<br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Captain Rick. He actually went pretty easy on us, although he would have preferred</div>Tessa had gone hard aground out there since he makes more money on the “grounders.”<br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0lm3LyfpUo0/Tb65FCkaGFI/AAAAAAAAAYE/vWA1rKatpbY/s1600/DSCN3847.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" j8="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0lm3LyfpUo0/Tb65FCkaGFI/AAAAAAAAAYE/vWA1rKatpbY/s200/DSCN3847.JPG" width="200" /></a>Beach Haven is the perfect place to be weathered in. We had warm reunions with dock master Ernie and my girlfriend Sailboat Linda. We drank happy hour beers with our friends at Tuckers, and enjoyed the famous $2.22 breakfast at Uncle Wills. We walked the beach and ate clam chowder. We listened to NOAA predict 5 to 10s, then sat in the</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">cockpit and watched the anemometer register 25 knots, 28 knots, 30 knots, while Rick giggled merrily in anticipation of grounders and stranded vessels.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Tonight’s destination is an anchorage at Sandy Hook. Tomorrow, hopefully we will be</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">waving to Lady Liberty for the fourth time. Then we’re off to the Hudson River for a two</div>day trip toward Castleton, where we will unstep the masts in preparation for the Erie<br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ZuyIJkXhCHs/Tb65VOYyfII/AAAAAAAAAYI/1QLXsBBm5CE/s1600/DSCN3849.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" j8="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ZuyIJkXhCHs/Tb65VOYyfII/AAAAAAAAAYI/1QLXsBBm5CE/s200/DSCN3849.JPG" width="200" /></a>Canal trip.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">It seems like much more than thirty days ago that we left Fort Myers, and it seems like FOREVER since I saw my last palm tree. But we have much to look forward to in the days ahead on the Erie Canal. And then that most welcome sight of Perry’s Monument coming into view across Lake Erie. Home sweet home!</div></div>Frugal Captainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10232269205887179909noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8744919597289350134.post-55038517085701039762011-04-25T07:28:00.000-07:002011-04-25T07:44:46.131-07:00"We're having fish tonight!"<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-FQuZcXEGJFo/TbWAyWzoXKI/AAAAAAAAAXY/-wEfXpqHTqc/s1600/DSCN3777.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" i8="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-FQuZcXEGJFo/TbWAyWzoXKI/AAAAAAAAAXY/-wEfXpqHTqc/s200/DSCN3777.JPG" width="150" /></a>Revisiting the Intracoastal is just one big trip down memory lane.</div><br />
The bridges in Florida. (We go through 32 bridges today? Seriously?) The shallow<br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">water. (It’s not a question as to whether we are aground. Are we aground at high tide or</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">low tide?) The fishermen in the Carolinas. ( Could you possibly block the center of the</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">channel any more, guys?) The rusty “mustache” on our bow. (Will I ever get that off?)</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-O0SJ8ztln8A/TbWBELSCM1I/AAAAAAAAAXc/7Cq3bJ3DH3g/s1600/DSCN3779.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" i8="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-O0SJ8ztln8A/TbWBELSCM1I/AAAAAAAAAXc/7Cq3bJ3DH3g/s200/DSCN3779.JPG" width="200" /></a>The Albemarle Sound. ( Do we REALLY have to do that again?)</div>The memories that really count are of the unforgettable people that you meet along the<br />
way.<br />
<br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Tessa and crew have been stuck in the Intracoastal since Beaufort North Carolina, as the</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-pmbT7zP3mIA/TbWBVNe7QpI/AAAAAAAAAXg/7VXKLCnzidY/s1600/DSCN3782.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" i8="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-pmbT7zP3mIA/TbWBVNe7QpI/AAAAAAAAAXg/7VXKLCnzidY/s200/DSCN3782.JPG" width="200" /></a>winds and waves around Cape Hatteras are strong and dangerous. So we began looking</div>forward to docking at R.E. Mayo’s commercial fishing dock on Goose Creek once again.<br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">In 2008, we had the pleasure of meeting the honorable Mr. Roy Watson, who was 93 at</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">the time. He held court around their wood burning stove, telling stories while we warmed</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">up. We were captivated by his personality, charm, and kindness and hoped to enjoy his</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">company again this trip.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Thursday evening we docked just before sundown and enjoyed chicken tacos aboard and</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-jhduJgOBhGc/TbWBoA7lvfI/AAAAAAAAAXk/ZPii8xsN0CA/s1600/DSCN3786.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" i8="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-jhduJgOBhGc/TbWBoA7lvfI/AAAAAAAAAXk/ZPii8xsN0CA/s200/DSCN3786.JPG" width="200" /></a>a movie. Yesterday morning we hurried into the store office to check in and see Mr. Roy</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">again. His rocking chair was occupied by a younger man, who said that Roy had sold out.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">“Passed on” is what immediately crose our minds. It was a relief to learn that the current</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">occupant of the chair, Mike Potter, was the new owner’s son. Roy was alive and well,</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">and had recently sold the business to Carol and Birdie Potter.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-CWC6c9r_Q1Q/TbWB8TGENKI/AAAAAAAAAXo/nzx-P-E-bPA/s1600/DSCN3787.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" i8="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-CWC6c9r_Q1Q/TbWB8TGENKI/AAAAAAAAAXo/nzx-P-E-bPA/s200/DSCN3787.JPG" width="200" /></a>We each grabbed a rocking chair to enjoy their Southern hospitality and get acquainted</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">with Captain Mike. This day was no run of the mill Friday. He had just docked an hour</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">before from a 17 day scallop fishing expedition out on the Atlantic. He, his crew, and the</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Potter family were in a celebratory mood, as the Jane Carolyn was loaded with her limit</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">of scallops. 18,000 pounds! They also brought in lots of flounder, including a big</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">whopping 15 pounder.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">“Can we buy some?” I pleaded, salivating. “Not to be greedy, but would you happen to</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">have some fresh crabs so I can whip up some crabmeat stuffing for the flounder?”</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-URrzKk8FF0M/TbWDKVhzqmI/AAAAAAAAAXw/SGFhZUCanvE/s1600/DSCN3793.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" i8="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-URrzKk8FF0M/TbWDKVhzqmI/AAAAAAAAAXw/SGFhZUCanvE/s200/DSCN3793.JPG" width="200" /></a>He disappeared for a few minutes and returned with a zip lock bag of last night’s leftover</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">fried scallops and flounder. I am sure he expected us to heat them up for lunch or dinner,</div>but we devoured the entire bag right then and there, at 8:30 a.m., while we continued to<br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">chat.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div>We overheard Mike call one of the guys over and ask about crabs, but I was surprised<br />
when he whispered a little later that “your crabs are on your boat.” Sure enough, crabs<br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">were on our boat. Not just a couple of crabs. A full LAUNDRY BASKET of them!</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-l1ggNFYaULU/TbWDXer4jKI/AAAAAAAAAX0/vuZefN2V-cg/s1600/DSCN3804.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" i8="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-l1ggNFYaULU/TbWDXer4jKI/AAAAAAAAAX0/vuZefN2V-cg/s200/DSCN3804.JPG" width="200" /></a>Could any one be more hospitable and generous? Well, Mike was only getting warmed</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">up! After he came on board to tour Tessa, we swapped some more stories and relaxed for</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">a few minutes until it was time to unload the bootie, which Mike invited us to watch. It is</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">a fascinating, fast, and furious process, which takes an astonishing two hours to</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">accomplish. After the scallops are shucked in the “house of pain” where carpal tunnel syndrome flourishes, they go into 50 pound bags which are tossed down a ramp, then</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">loaded into a big cardboard tower. All the while, workers are fork lifting ice into large</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">containers to be shoveled on top of the scallops before sealing each tower up. From there</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">they go to seafood distributors in New Bedford, then to retail stores, then to customers,</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">then to the frying pan.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Mike gave us a tour of the Jane Carolyn, then took us on a land tour of the local area, all</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">the while sharing interesting local lore. We were having a fantastic time, and wished we</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">could spend the entire day. Due to a tight schedule to get to New York we really could</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">not afford to delay departure. But not before Mike did one final favor! He demonstrated</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">how to properly fillet and scale a flounder.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">All the way to the anchorage last night, and then while we savored fresh crab stuffed</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">flounder, we marveled at our good fortune. We could have been grieving over spending a</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">thousand dollars in Beaufort on a fuel injection pump, but already that pain has begun to</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">subside. We could be frustrated about being forced to do the Intracoastal with all of it’s</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">challenges, delays, and financial strains. We could be obsessing over going outside in the</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">North Atlantic overnight to New York. (OK, one of us is, but that’s beside the point.)</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">The point is, we are living a life that most only dream about, and we have the opportunity</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">to get to know some absolutely wonderful, unforgettable people. People who, after only</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">spending days….or even hours with, we are honored to call our friends.</div>Frugal Captainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10232269205887179909noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8744919597289350134.post-86505040375000059392011-04-18T08:28:00.000-07:002011-04-18T08:28:33.713-07:00Monday April 18We are outside (on the Atlantic vs the Intracoastal) en route to Beaufort North Carolina. The seas are calm with no wind to sail at this point. It is predicted to pick up to 15 knots this afternoon from the south, which will be a welcome change from what we experienced after St. Augustine. <br />
Chas arrived safely last Wednesday, and we had another unexpected guest for dinner that night. Jim Jordan (Myassis Dragon) was in Jacksonville on business and took the time to drive to St. Augustine to party with us for a few hours. We had a great time catching up.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-L9WmhJv5_Lw/TaxXJoNolWI/AAAAAAAAAXQ/rI4l7adD2Gg/s1600/DSCN3762.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" r6="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-L9WmhJv5_Lw/TaxXJoNolWI/AAAAAAAAAXQ/rI4l7adD2Gg/s200/DSCN3762.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chas enjoying my now famous lettuce wedge</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Thursday morning we departed St. Augustine and enjoyed a full day of calm seas and light winds. We alternated sailing and motor sailing, but at least the sails were up! Chas started his watch at 2:00 a.m. Friday morning with comfortable conditions, but around 5:00 a.m., the wind began blowing directly on our nose, from the north, at a steady 15-20 knots. And it continued to blow all day long, burying Tessa's bow and throwing walls of saltwater against our "picture window" and clear down the decks. The strength of the water forced it's way into any crack, crevise, or weak point and leaks sprung up everywhere down below. The crew decided to duck in at Charleston instead of our original destination of Southport, which would have entailed a second overnighter. We had had enough abuse!</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">OMG, did we make a good call! Saturday, violent storms and winds buffetted Charleston, as well as much of the Midsouth and Mideast. 25-30 knot winds sent waves surging across the bay, crashing broadside to all the boats tied up along the MegaDock at Charleston City Marina. We put out extra bumpers and then ran down the dock assisting others and loaning out spare bumpers. Once it appeared as though Tessa was protected, we left the marina to meet up with Chas' girlfriend Kerry and friend Wac to visit West Marine (of course) and downtown Charleston. </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Our party was interrupted by a call from the marina, saying that several boats were sustaining damage and that we should return as soon as possible. </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div>The first thing I saw as I scurried down the dock was splinters of dock wood. Our mega-fender had split right down the middle, and another bumper line had worn through so that the bumper was uselessly floating under the dock. Tessa's rub rail had ground against the dock until dock neighbors and marina dockhands managed to replace the bumpers. She will need some repairs, but she'll be fine!<br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div>As quickly and fiercly the storm came upon us, it left us with totally calm conditions for a Sunday morning departure. Calm, but unfortunately no wind for sailing. So we have been running the faithful Perkins for over 24 hours. We are hoping for the wind to pick up and maybe just maybe come from a favorable direction for a change. Looking forward to a stop in Beaufort before sunset tonight if all goes as planned. <br />
<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-tdbwwb8RwMY/TaxXXBq_jXI/AAAAAAAAAXU/Uf-4MNtIZf4/s1600/DSCN3763.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" r6="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-tdbwwb8RwMY/TaxXXBq_jXI/AAAAAAAAAXU/Uf-4MNtIZf4/s200/DSCN3763.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">sleeping after a long hard shift<br />
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Tomorrow we will lose our crew/entertainment, Chas, as his leave is up. I hope the positives of this journey outweigh the negatives so that he will join us again. Even though we discovered his entire bunk and duffel bag (and all his clothes) filled with saltwater Friday night, his phone and wallet did dry out, so maybe he won't hold that against Mother Ocean for too long!Frugal Captainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10232269205887179909noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8744919597289350134.post-76325411144269412372011-04-14T08:56:00.000-07:002011-04-14T08:56:36.374-07:00WE’RE ON VACATION!<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><br />
<br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vDPMUU6pjUY/TacW2TY3IdI/AAAAAAAAAW4/Uwz6B9ckCrw/s1600/DSCN3749.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" r6="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vDPMUU6pjUY/TacW2TY3IdI/AAAAAAAAAW4/Uwz6B9ckCrw/s200/DSCN3749.JPG" width="200" /></a>Since our arrival in St. Augustine last Saturday afternoon, it has felt like we are on</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">vacation. After the hectic winter living and working in Fort Myers, it is really fun to be a</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">tourist for a change.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">We have been sleeping in. We’ve been exploring historic St. Augustine. Instead of hot</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">dogs, we drank Sangria for lunch yesterday. We have met many interesting people at the</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">local happy hours and sampled the regional cuisine (including our first deep fried</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">cheeseburger) instead of cooking on board. We have actually sat in the cockpit and done</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">absolutely nothing but enjoy the surroundings. We are soaking up all the relaxation we</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">can, knowing that once Chas arrives tomorrow, it is full speed ahead north on the</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Atlantic. During that leg of the trip it is all work and no play.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">The trip from Miami to St. Augustine was the usual combination of good and bad</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vscSmVDc0eE/TacXEuJslOI/AAAAAAAAAW8/zepvKpn6Ztc/s1600/DSCN3754.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" r6="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vscSmVDc0eE/TacXEuJslOI/AAAAAAAAAW8/zepvKpn6Ztc/s200/DSCN3754.JPG" width="200" /></a>conditions. The bright Miami skies and comfortable waves turned into overcast skies and</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">bumpy waves, so Captain Gary decided to enter the Intracoastal at Port Everglades.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">I loved this part of the trip, marveling at the mega yachts and mega mansions. Gary, not</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">so much. He got to watch the depths go from almost-deep-enough to not-quite-deepenough</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">for our six foot draft, while dodging boat traffic and anticipating bridge openings.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">All 33 of them from Ft. Lauderdale to Fort Pierce!!! Some of the bridge operators are</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">friendly and competent. Some seem to enjoy the power and control they have over</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">boaters and exercise it to the limit.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-kbUA1EMO4kA/TacXQayKM3I/AAAAAAAAAXA/N6y2PvoKlWc/s1600/DSCN3756.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" r6="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-kbUA1EMO4kA/TacXQayKM3I/AAAAAAAAAXA/N6y2PvoKlWc/s200/DSCN3756.JPG" width="200" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">We spent the first Intracoastal evening anchored in Boca Raton Lake, which is really</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">nothing more than a shallow (yes, we went aground) wide area beside the channel with</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">room for a few boats.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Next morning, we were up at dawn heading toward Stuart to anchor near our friend</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Jage’s marina. She warned that the St. Lucie Inlet and River were shallow, but friends</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">just did it with only a few bumps on the bottom. Gary slowly made the turn off the</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">intracoastal toward the river and BUMP BUMP BUMP, aground again. He worked us</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">off the bottom and headed back up the Intracoastal toward another anchorage option</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">where the chart showed 8 feet. And right at that spot, we went aground yet again.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">“I LOVE THE INTRACOASTAL” he growled over and over again.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Eventually, we dropped the anchor just off the channel, far enough to be out of</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">everyone’s way, but certainly not in an anchorage where the other shallower draft boats</div>were congregated. Good enough!<br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">The next morning we hightailed it to the Fort Pierce Inlet and waved bye-bye to the</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Intracoastal and hello to the Atlantic, where Captain sighed with happiness as the depth</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">sounder read over 100 feet.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">I, too, appreciate the depth but it usually comes with a price. Like big winds and waves.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">This overnight voyage to St. Augustine was a pleasant surprise. We got the best of both</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">worlds. Deep water and calm, calm, calm.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">It was so calm I could move around down below without holding on to anything.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">It was so calm that boiling water was not life threatening.</div>It was so calm, a glass of chocolate milk waited patiently on the counter instead of<br />
toppling over the moment I removed my grip to close the fridge.<br />
It was so calm, I was comfortable enough on deck to bring out the fishing poles.<br />
It was so calm, I allowed Gary to wander around on deck checking rigging and cleaning<br />
stainless.<br />
<br />
It was so calm that we could rest comfortably in the cockpit all through the night enjoying<br />
the ocean instead of tolerating it.<br />
It was so calm that…OK! OK! we had to run the Perkins the entire way instead of sailing.<br />
I may lose every sailor’s respect by saying this but I LOVED IT!!!!!!!!!<br />
<br />
Once the sun came up Saturday morning, we saw all kinds of activity. Dolphins, Manta<br />
Rays, Turtles, Manatees, everyone was feeding and frolicking in the tranquil turquoise<br />
sea. It was a fantastic ending to a lovely trip.<br />
<br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qM_Z9wKsWi4/TacYJCQvtqI/AAAAAAAAAXI/4ZWVUe5GdLM/s1600/DSCN3759.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" r6="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qM_Z9wKsWi4/TacYJCQvtqI/AAAAAAAAAXI/4ZWVUe5GdLM/s200/DSCN3759.JPG" width="200" /></a>Now, we prepare for the next leg of our journey toward Southport or Beaufort North</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Carolina, depending on weather conditions. My part of the preparation is to provision, as</div>we have depleted our supply of food. We blew through the fresh fruits and produce, the<br />
Caesar salads and lettuce wedges with blue cheese and bacon bits. The lamb chops, roast<br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">duckling, grilled pork tenderloin, mahi mahi, alligator tail, rib eye steaks, and angel hair</div>with clam sauce were all superb.<br />
<br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Since we have no transportation, I plan to walk over to 7-Eleven and stock up on hot</div>dogs, pork rinds, a few cans of SpaghettiOs, and beef jerky for Chas’ leg of the trip. I am<br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">sure he’ll understand.</div>Frugal Captainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10232269205887179909noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8744919597289350134.post-14704642255318210762011-04-08T08:33:00.000-07:002011-04-08T08:47:39.785-07:00Heading Home!<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-d7HmYxS-aQI/TZ8r4DraJ1I/AAAAAAAAAWY/gXhkMuhiJZ4/s1600/DSCN3700.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" r6="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-d7HmYxS-aQI/TZ8r4DraJ1I/AAAAAAAAAWY/gXhkMuhiJZ4/s200/DSCN3700.JPG" width="150" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PFw0jGGgnh4/TZ8rzcPwd1I/AAAAAAAAAWU/aBrKGkidcBU/s1600/DSCN3692.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" r6="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PFw0jGGgnh4/TZ8rzcPwd1I/AAAAAAAAAWU/aBrKGkidcBU/s200/DSCN3692.JPG" width="200" /></a> <br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">As we were sailing from Rodrigez Key toward Key Biscayne yesterday, the lyrics from Jimmy Buffet's song kept running through our minds. "It was a beautiful day, the kind you want to toast!" Yesterday was, in fact, one of our best sailing days ever, a cruiser's idea of perfection. </div></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Bright blue sunny skies. CHECK!</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-d2AFeTjBUyM/TZ8r-g6qMyI/AAAAAAAAAWc/XYKg2i5c7J0/s1600/DSCN3701.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" r6="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-d2AFeTjBUyM/TZ8r-g6qMyI/AAAAAAAAAWc/XYKg2i5c7J0/s200/DSCN3701.JPG" width="200" /></a>Favorable warm winds coming from the right direction. CHECK!</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Breathtaking turquoise water. CHECK!</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Tessa charging along at six and seven knots. CHECK!</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Back on ball 12 looking at the stunning Miami skyline last night. CHECK!</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">We had large doses of all that we love about the keys and Miami, and a small dose of what we remembered we did not love so much. It felt as though we had earned this beautiful day after the rough start of our journey home!</div></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-C6GcAOgcfEM/TZ8sLFRNN-I/AAAAAAAAAWk/SkbNIVH0dKM/s1600/DSCN3682.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" r6="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-C6GcAOgcfEM/TZ8sLFRNN-I/AAAAAAAAAWk/SkbNIVH0dKM/s200/DSCN3682.JPG" width="200" /></a>We debated about departing Fort Myers last Tuesday, as the winds were predicted to be on our nose and building late the following day. If we waited for a better weather window, it wouldn't open for four more days. Tuesday was picture perfect calm, we had already said our goodbyes, so Tessa and her crew agreed that it was time to go, even though we would need to travel overnight to complete the18 hour trip to Marathon and Bahia Honda. </div></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-0w0Yo62wTA0/TZ8sFwxIQiI/AAAAAAAAAWg/YKgvGmHcKzk/s1600/DSCN3672.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" r6="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-0w0Yo62wTA0/TZ8sFwxIQiI/AAAAAAAAAWg/YKgvGmHcKzk/s200/DSCN3672.JPG" width="200" /></a> <br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Tessa slid past Marco Island's beautiful lights shortly after sunset, and we enjoyed a nice comfortable ride until midnight, when the winds picked up...NOT PREDICTED...and beat the crap out of us for the next sixteen hours. Nothing scary but just pain-in-the-butt uncomfortable. I slept a bit off and on, Gary napped for 1/2 hour during the twenty seven hour cruise. He claimed that Tessa wouldn't let him sleep, as he was jarred awake with each pounding wave. </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-fAZ5n9aYmCA/TZ8sXQGG0QI/AAAAAAAAAWs/5UyfROB7vkU/s1600/DSCN3726.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" r6="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-fAZ5n9aYmCA/TZ8sXQGG0QI/AAAAAAAAAWs/5UyfROB7vkU/s200/DSCN3726.JPG" width="200" /></a>It felt great to drop anchor Wednesday evening in one of our favorite spots, Bahia Honda. As luck would have it, Cuzzin Debbie and Mike were vacationing just south of us, and Cuzzin Pammy and family were vacationing just north of us at Duck Key. We certainly couldn't have planned this reunion, but happily it worked out just perfect! Thursday we celebrated a wonderful day on Tessa, kids swimming, adults imbibing, everyone laughing and relishing this unexpected time together. We truly missed Mike, who was with his ailing father, but his buddy Bobby Sutter filled in with some comic relief. </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-V_x83J8fMgA/TZ8sc6FqI8I/AAAAAAAAAWw/YF_iwKH8s3U/s1600/DSCN3727.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" r6="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-V_x83J8fMgA/TZ8sc6FqI8I/AAAAAAAAAWw/YF_iwKH8s3U/s200/DSCN3727.JPG" width="200" /></a>Friday morning we weighed anchor and headed to Rodrigez Key, where we planned to spend the night. Once again, the winds and waves were about opposite of what was predicted, and we bounced our way north east with head sail snapping and rigging clanging, as Tessa tried to deal with shifting winds from every direction except the one we wanted. Thankfully, Friday evening was calm and peaceful and we got a good nights rest.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zjICT6WpbZw/TZ8sR2RJLWI/AAAAAAAAAWo/h0Wan5JjDh0/s1600/DSCN3717.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" r6="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zjICT6WpbZw/TZ8sR2RJLWI/AAAAAAAAAWo/h0Wan5JjDh0/s200/DSCN3717.JPG" width="200" /></a>Saturday dawned sunny and beautiful, with the perfect wind direction. The day could not have been more perfect. We were so excited to get back to Key Biscayne, even more so when Rickenbacker Marina invited us back to ball 12, where we spent the winter of 2009. </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">And then we entered Government Cut, and remembered what we DID NOT like about Miami. Every go-fast boat sped by at full throttle, throwing a wake that no one would consider doing in normal boating communities. They came at us from all directions, passing, crossing, full speed ahead, Latino music blaring, bikinis dancing, and Captain Gary cursed all the way to ball 12. After the peacful tranquility of the keys, this was GO-FAST overload. </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hPcx_6u1Bu0/TZ8siKdI4DI/AAAAAAAAAW0/w3OZtzrS9zM/s1600/DSCN3729.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" r6="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hPcx_6u1Bu0/TZ8siKdI4DI/AAAAAAAAAW0/w3OZtzrS9zM/s200/DSCN3729.JPG" width="200" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">But he navigated us safely and happily to ball 12 and here we will stay until the weather window opens for another Atlantic journey. It is a wonderful place with wonderful friends and I wouldn't mind if we were weathered in for weeks....but home calls and soon we will head north.</div>Frugal Captainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10232269205887179909noreply@blogger.com3