Wherever You Go... There You Are.

Ok. I'm going to begin by just admitting right off the bat that the recent lag in Casual updates is not really a result of the time and internet limitations that normally delay our communication. The delay is mostly the product of my inability to wrap my mind around the events of the past ten days or so, which have covered such an outrageously broad spectrum of successes and failures that I've been rather at a loss as to how to disseminate the facts of our situation (which, as is absolutely freakin' typical of life, are nearly all vague and indescernable, or at least insufficient to really tell the whole story). But, no excuses - after all, I'm a blue water sailor now, and we blue water sailors don't mess around (or at least that's what I've been told...).

And speaking of blue water sailing, before I give the current low-down, I might as well backtrack a bit and give the highlights of last week (also known as The Week When Charlie and I Crushed All of Georgia Without Even Blinking). We left St. Augustine on the morning of April 24th feeling bold, brave, and highly motivated to get underway (I suspect the combined influence of genuine seafaring spirit, and the incredibly loud outdoor sunrise Easter service to which we awoke around 6:00 that morning). We had anchored on the northern side of the drawbridge, and had a bit of an awkward time requesting two successive openings of the bridge so that we could hit the fuel dock on the south side, and then take off heading north immediately afterward... but I've learned that you can't let cranky drawbridge operators dampen your spirits. After all, as far as I can tell all they have to do all day long is eat cheetos and watch t.v. in their towers, and open up a bridge every now and then. If they can't handle opening the bridge twice without a nice long cheetos break in between, that's on them.

We cleared the bridge and motored our way out to the St. Augustine inlet, feeling the perfect south-easterly breeze beginning to collect itself just as we hit the mouth of the ocean around 9:00 a.m., so as soon as we were clear of the shipping channel we shut down the motor (which, by way of foreshadowing, I will begin referring to as my Worst Enemy) and hauled up the sails. The sound of waves against the hull has become one of my favorite sensory enjoyments, and it is never sweeter than in the moment just after the noise of the motor fades out. That is, of course, until Charlie starts barking orders again...

Anyhow, we sailed out of St. Augustine with high hopes of putting in a (very) long day, and making it to St. Mary's inlet on the Florida/ Georgia border, which would mark our first progress beyond the seemingly perpetually receding confines of Florida. We could not have asked for better weather, so when we eventually sighted the flashing beacons of St. Mary's entrance channel that evening around 9:30 pm, I was steering a course due north and making 5 knots, and with the stars wheeling overhead and the boat hardly needing so much as an occasional sail trim, I felt like I could just sail on indefinitely. It is possible that I was just delirious from nearly 13 hours of sailing, but I like to think I was just inspired. When captain and crew conferred briefly, the spirit of audacity was found to be unanimous, so we decided to skip St. Mary's and continue sailing overnight to the next good inlet at St. Simon, GA. We entered our decision into the log at 10:00 pm, and sailed on.

The next entry to the Ubiquitous log book is from 4:05 a.m., and reads: "Wind dead. Sweet towboat action behind us in the channel at St. Simon inlet. Fingers crossed for wind returning soon!" Fortunately, we were soon rewarded for our vigilance, and 58 miles and several cups of very strong Cafe Bustelo coffee later, we were dropping afternoon anchor in the astonishingly beautiful St. Catherine's Sound inlet, having successfully completed our first two-man overnight on the ocean.

Catching up

Allright- we have a good power connection and the internet, so it's time to catch up on everything since we left Scott and Jenette's for the last time.  We had an uneventful few days motoring up the ICW to West Palm Beach.  Mostly, we cruised past a lot of mansions, and went under a lot of drawbridges.  As we pulled into our anchorage in West Palm (this would be last Thursday), the alternator fell out. Again.  This time, one of the bolts that held the shiny new mounting bracket in place had sheared inside the engine block.  I messed with it for a while, but eventually realized it needed some professional help, so on Friday morning we moved the boat into a slip at the Riviera Beach Municipal Marina.  We actually pulled off the bold move of sailing into the slip, because although I had the alternator jury-rigged, I really didn't want to start up the motor. 
At the marina, their on-site mechanic Jimmy came to take a look at the alternator: 

As it turned out, we really lucked out by going into the marina where Jimmy works.  Because the way the alternator had been supported was too weak, he "Canadian-rigged" (his description, minus several additional epithets that have no place in a classy blog) a new mounting system, which involved drilling out the sheared bolt, welding a new bracket that supports the alternator, and installing the whole thing.  And, while he was at it, rewiring the electrical output from the alternator, and helping me fix one of the starter motor cables that had also broken.  Then he cut us a huge break on the price.  So thank you, Jimmy Goulet.
One positive consequence of getting delayed in Palm Beach was that it made the timing work out for my dad, a most experienced sailor, to fly down from Maryland for a few days.  The engine was finished on Saturday afternoon, and he flew in Sunday evening, so on Sunday morning Erica and I dinghied over to Peanut Island, which is directly across the channel from the marina.  Interesting side story- when I was in West Palm several years ago helping deliver a boat, we stayed a night at this same Riviera Beach marina.  I was helping the owner get the boat re-commisioned from winter storage, so I spent the whole weekend working my butt off and gazing enviously over at all the boats pulled up on Peanut Island and all the people swimming and fishing.  So finally, years later, I got my chance to go there.  It was pretty nice:

My dad arrived on Sunday night, we got everything ready to go, and Monday morning bright and early we sailed out of the inlet onto the wocean. 

Goodbye West Palm

Hello Wocean

 The weather was beautiful- they were calling for an East breeze at 10-15kts for the next week straight, so we were hoping to (and did) cover a lot of ground.  It was a bit much for Erica, so she had to take a nap:

But when she woke up, she steered and navigated quite well.

Note the bimini

The young navigator

 Monday night we stopped in Fort Pierce.  Reveille at the fort woke us up around 6, and we took off again.  This time we stayed out overnight, rounding Cape Canaveral, and heading up to the Ponce de Leon inlet, just south of Daytona Beach.  Sailing at night was excellent- we saw two cruise ships leaving Canaveral, and that was it for other traffic the whole night.  The enormous almost full moon came up around 10 so we had plenty of light. The wind started dying around 2, and by 6 we reluctantly started the engine, but it picked up again the next morning and we kept on our way. 

The ocean blue

 We spotted many dolphins and a gigantic sea turtle- we threw him some bread, but he wasn't really interested.  All in all, the weather cooperated perfectly, and we had a really good time. 
We anchored out on Wednesday night, and cruised into a marina on Thursday morning.  As we were coming in, we had two funny experiences.  First, we ran aground right outside their entrance channel.  Turns out, their huge sign advertising the marina completely obscured the green daymark we should have rounded.  I think Erica might be right that marinas are in cahoots with the towing companies.  We ungrounded easily and started heading into the slip they had assigned us, when we got the call on the radio:  "Sailing vessel Ambiguous, repeat Ambiguous, yeahhh, we're gonna need to re-assign your slip... it appears that a large manatee is blocking the channel to the first one we gave you."
It was tough to say goodbye to my father when he had to leave on Friday, but it was really great having him there, both for the company and his wealth of sailing experience. 

C & D

C & E

All on our lonesome, Erica and I left the marina on Friday afternoon.  We had the wind with us, so we were able to sail up the channel, much to the envy of the other boaters.

Wing and Wing!

This morning we cruised past some really nice looking empty islands and beaches on our way in to St. Augustine. 

We got a mooring ball at the municipal marina, and dinghied our way in to explore the town. 

Erica and City Hall

 

 

Ubiquitous is second from right

Charlie at the fort

One special note for Patrick and Catherine- someone has beaten us to it- St. Augustine eco-tours were all over town. 

So that's it.  We're moving on tomorrow with the tide (as a wise man once said, "smoke 'em when you got 'em).  St. Augustine is lovely- it's just like Annapolis, except bigger and with a fort. 

A short blog

We're in Daytona.  My father flew in and joined us in West Palm, so we have been flying up the coast for the past few days.  We had motored from Miami to West Palm, and after surviving some engine repairs, we went outside to Fort Pierce on Monday.  Then we did an overnight offshore from Ft. Pierce all the way around "The Cape" (Canaveral) to Daytona, where we pulled into a marina yesterday morning.  Unfortunately my dad had to get back to school, so he flew out this morning, but it was great to have the extra hands.  We covered a ton of ground and finished some much needed projects.   We have lots of photos and tales of adventure, alternators, and manatees, but they'll have to wait until we have more reliable internet- hopefully in St Augustine tomorrow night.  All's well, and now Erica is a real bluewater sailor.

Wait, what?

Wait, what?

Apparently Erica is more of a color commentator, so I'll give the play by play.  After leaving Key Largo, we sailed south to Islamorada.  As we were coming in, we noticed that the water was a really unusual color- one we hadn't really seen before.  You can see it in this picture, the greyish-blue water closest to the boat:

The shallows

As you might have already figured out, the water looks like that because there is sand near the surface, which is to say that it was really shallow, and we started bumping along the bottom.  What made it especially frustrating is that we were right in the middle of the channel (where it is supposed to be at least 6 feet deep), and outside the channel you could actually see the sand above the water, so there was no dodging the shoal that way.  We just slowed down and bumped along, aimed for the slightly darker patches, and eventually made it in.

After a pleasant night and morning walking around Islamorada, we looked at the chart and realized that we are more than a thousand miles from Maryland, and we should probably start heading for home.  So we turned around and started cruising back towards Miami.  We had to stop for a while because a storm was moving through:

Storm's a'comin

And a'goin

When we arrived at our anchorage for the night in Buttonwood Sound, as I opened up the engine to shut it down for the night, the alternator fell out (no big deal).  At some point the tensioner bracket, which holds the top of the alternator in place, had sheared and left the alternator flapping in the breeze.  As far as engine problems go, this was not so bad because it was a structural part so it seemed like it would be easy to replace.  We jury-rigged it with some pieces of metal and duct tape, and managed to motor back to Key Largo, where there is easy shore access and some stores nearby.  Calling West Marine and other marine stores proved to be useless, because their only approach is to find out what kind of engine you have and order the manufacturer's part.  Problem is, our engine is a brand that is made in Denmark, and this part most likely wasn't original to begin with, so paying $80 for a part that won't arrive for a week and probably won't fit didn't seem to be worth it.  Instead, we walked a long 2 1/2 miles down to the auto parts store, where they were helpful over the phone and told us that they had a universal marine alternator bracket.  It turned out to be tantalizingly close- the right size, but a mirror image of what we needed.  That's when the helpful redneck behind the counter pulled out a car alternator bracket that looked just like what we had, except too long and chrome plated.  He told us that since his boss was gone he could use the drill press, so we could put new mounting holes in it as long as we bought a new drill bit.  We hoofed it back to the boat to measure the length exactly, then back again to the store the next morning.  We got to go in the back of the store, much to the concern of all the other employees, and we got our new bracket made up.  Back to the boat one more time, and it fit pretty well.  At some point we should replace it with a proper marine part, but this one only cost about $20, and it will certainly last for a good long while.  You can see it here; it's the one that is shiny and holding up the spinning alternator: 

That's a Vetus

Back in business, we kept pressing North.  Just before we left Key Largo, we got a visit from Don and Mango, who lived on the neighboring boat.  Don apparently has a tie-dye business (if that's a real thing?) because he gave us tie-dye t-shirts with his business card tucked inside.  Mango is a parrot, who climbed onboard our boat and started biting everything he saw.  It was a pretty weird time, but a nice gesture.  And we will definitely be wearing our sweet t-shirts, once we wash them to be sure they aren't laced with LSD.


We sailed from Key Largo back to Elliot Key, which was beautiful and slightly crowded.  We had one funny experience on the way- it was very calm in the morning, but the wind picked up in the afternoon so we put up the sails.  When we shut down the motor, it kept vibrating, as though it was still on.  I had heard of a "runaway engine", where enough oil leaks that even when you turn it off the engine keeps running on the leaked oil, so I was worried that maybe it was that.  But, it wasn't actually turning over, it was just vibrating.  Then, I realized what it was and confirmed it by looking under the cockpit.  It was the propeller spinning because we were sailing so fast (fast enough, anyway).  It turns out that you may or may not want to let the prop spin that way while sailing, but at least there isn't anything wrong with the engine.  And our boat sails pretty fast.  We were cruising at around 5 knots, and it felt smooth and easy.  Yesterday we broke out the genoa, so next time we get a good breeze we will really see how she does. 

The sunset in Elliot Key looked like this:

Oh yeah

Then on Sunday, we sailed into Hell.  We were coming up to Key Biscayne, just south of Miami, and we had not properly considered that it was the weekend.  There were so many boats and giant wakes that eventually we just had to stop and anchor, because even motoring through the traffic was unbearable.  We were just north of the gigantic floating boat party, which kept going until about 9:55 at night, when the police boat showed up and made the last few stragglers leave.  After that, things were peaceful and nice.  And despite the party, the sunset looked like this:

Not the same night

Today we motored (mostly) up through Miami.  Here's a drawbridge:

Going up

There is a lot of this between Fort Lauderdale and Miami, and apparently even more as you keep going north in Florida.  The trick is that all the bridges have restricted opening schedules, so they only open on the hour and half hour, or on the quarter hours.  Somehow we are always out of phase with the bridges (specifically, because we don't go very fast), so we have to wait.  On the plus side, as Erica already noted, the drawbridge tenders call you "Captain" on the radio, which is pretty sweet. 

Yo no soy marinero

We made it today to an anchorage by Florida International University, where we had to do a complicated routine to get ashore.  There are restrictions on where you can land the dinghy, so I dinghied Erica in, went back to the boat, and swam in.  The people sitting on the beach looked pretty suspicious when I came lurching out of the water, so we hightailed it away as fast as possible.  Now we are back at Scott and Jenette's for one last night of feasting and showers before we start in earnest on the long trek north. 

Wait, what?

Fresh Ballyhoo

Apparently I am not the first person to have observed this, but originality be damned, I'm going to say it anyway - the Florida Keys are WEIRD. Like, seriously weird.

To start with, everything around here is way too effortfully "kooky" and "zany." And although I can't prove it, I would be willing to bet that people here actually like using words like "kooky" and zany". After all, nothing here just has a normal name. The local bakery is Bob's Bunz (complete with extra jokes about "grabbing some bunz on your way out"), the bait is called "fresh ballyhoo," (yeah, I know that technically that's a real thing... but it shouldn't be), and the people refer to themselves as "conchs" (pronounced "konk," as in, "I trail off at the end of my sentences because I've been 'konked' on the head one too many times by the boom on my sailboat.") Apparently you're never fully dressed down here unless you've got your parrot tattoo, your excessive tan, your vacant stare, and your hot pink flip-flops on.

And, what's with all of the overweight, frequently shirtless 50-year-old men cruising around town with portable radios??!?!

Exhibit A, taken at John Pennekamp State Park in Key Largo. What the picture can't show you is the Mariachi music blasting from his portable tape deck

One particular repeat offender is the gentleman of leisure who cruises over to the public docks on his bicycle in the middle of the day, sets up his portable tape player at a picnic table, and spends about 15 minutes jamming to Pat Benetar before packing up and riding off to who-knows-where. My suspicion is that he probably rides over to the next public park down the street, where he switches over to listening to Sade, and just spends every day riding his circuit of 80s music glory until the sun goes down.

And, speaking of the goings-on at the local public dinghy dock, I have been menaced repeatedly at that very dock by a sinister flock of flamingo-looking birds that duck around the lawn at the dock-side park looking all furtive and creepy, like they're probably muttering voodoo curses under their breath. They really are shaped like mini-flamingos, standing about a foot high, and they creep up on you with weird giant steps that make them look like they move in slow-motion, and stare at you sideways while they scoot around jabbing ominously at things in the grass with their terrifying 6 inch beaks.













As a wise man once said, "I hate all birds."

Perpetrators of both varieties. As you can see,
enemies are all around. Constant vigilance is required.
(What this picture can't show you is the 80s slow jams
blasting from the portly gentleman's portable radio.)

And that's only the half of it. There's also the people who appear to be talking to the water in really jolly voices while they're fishing, and the gnarly looking old man with his bicycle basket full of plastic sacks of ice, trying to sell ice to random people while it melts out of his bike-basket, leaving a trail of potential earnings behind him as he rides along. It's like everyone here is just a few limes short of a whole pie (the actual pies around here, though, are delicious. Definitely a highlight!).

At this point, the big question for me is, if everyone else here appears to be a total fringe-dwelling lunatic, and I'm here with them, is it possible that I'm actually ONE OF THEM??!?!? I mean, I am looking pretty tan these days, and I do have several articles of clothing that could be classified as "beachwear"...Does this look like a person who belongs in Florida? You be the judge.

I'm going to go practice doing Normal Stuff for a while.

The Last Week in Pictures (a photoessay by Echo Bravo)

Here's an attempt to address the Keeping It Casual photographic lacuna with a series of images that I think captures the gist of the last ten days or so:

First, Mr. Hurst and I attempted to address the issue by means of books and a balance.

That didn't work, so we asked triple A to kindly address the problem by means of a hydraulic lift. (*To P+C: Notice the forlorn roofrack, still gleaming in all its varnished glory...)

Several days later, we were back in action again on the waters of Ft. Lauderdale!

Where our neighbors on Lake Sylvia...

Were not as psyched about my floating touchdown dance as we were.
(*To M+D: Thanks for the sweet dinghy/dancefloor!!!)

We still had some final projects to finish up on the boat, so I spliced some coax. cables for our new radio antenna,

and we hoisted Charlie up the mast in the bosun's chair to reattach one of our lazy jacks that got away that time we ran aground.... anyhow, no harm, no foul.

While we were anchored in Marine Stadium in Virginia Key, we had a glorious view of the Miami skyline as our first storm gathered overhead.

But we cruised out of there (mostly) unscathed and headed south, under sail as often as possible

And we've been Keeping it Casual in Key Largo ever since!

Here are some other casual inhabitants of the local waters, hanging out in the awesome mangroves that line the creeks between the sounds.

And here are some of the obligatory "Sunset in the Keys" pictures that every self-respecting blog should have.

Step into my office!

Over and out!

Key Largo

Key Largo!  We have had a beautiful couple of days since we left Black Point.  On Friday, we sailed basically due east to Elliott Key, where we got our first taste of the unbelievably clear water- we could see the anchor sitting in the sand.  We spent a while scraping barnacles off the rudder, which attracted a million small fish to come and swim under the boat with us and snack on the stuff we had scraped off - apparently hull growth is some sort of delicacy for fish.  Then yesterday we had a relaxing sail and motor to the southern end of Barnes' Sound just above Jewfish Creek, which is where "the Keys really begin," according to our snooty guidebook.  As the sun set we were the only boat on the whole sound. 

Today we mostly motored because we were cruising through little creeks.  The banks were all mangroves, and we saw a ton of gigantic birds, all sorts.  We anchored in Tarpon Basin and dinghyed ashore- there's some sort of community building that has a public dinghy dock.  Unfortunately, because I was in mortal fear of both running aground I opted to anchor as soon as we found a likely spot, which left us with a fairly long row into the dock.  But at least we're a solid half-mile from any other boats, who all anchored more reasonably close in.  It was a bit gnarly walking down the side of Route 1, but we made it to a tiny shopping center where we are enjoying a key lime milkshake and the internet.  We're headed back now to check on the boat, and then see what's going on at John Pennekamp Park. 

Taking our Talents Back to South Beach

We're in Miami, again!  We sailed down from Fort Lauderdale to Black Point Marina, which is right near Scott and Jenette's house, and they kindly picked us up so we could take a night off, so to speak.  We showered, and went to dinner, and even got to sleep in a real bed! 
Unfortunately, we didn't bring the proper cord for the camera, so we can't put up pictures right now.  But, a quick summary of what happened:  We spent two days motoring down the ICW, mostly going under drawbridges (one of the bridgetenders called Erica "captain" on the radio, and she still hasn't gotten over it).  We anchored on Sunday in Virginia Key, which is directly across from downtown Miami- the skyline at night was incredible, even more so than usual since the sky was a crazy purple color, indicating that it was about to storm all night - which it did.  It was a rather damp and sleepless night of frequent anchor checks and waking up to loud bursts of rain, but all in all we weathered it just fine and were able to set off again Monday morning.  We actually got both sails up, and managed to do a little bit of sailing before the wind totally died on us, and we motored in to an anchorage in Key Biscayne.  It was a bit disconcerting when our cruising guide told us that the entrance to "Hurricane Harbor" was extremely shoaly, but we picked our way in slowly, encouraged by the large sailboats we could see inside.  The next day as we were leaving, we found out from some locals that after the cruising guide was published, the entrance had been dredged to12 feet deep the whole way across. 
Tuesday was extremely windy, blowing out of the south, which unfortunately is right where we were trying to go.  We beat into it for a while before getting tired and frustrated, so we headed in to No Name Harbor, which is a part of Bill Bagg State Park at the very tip of Key Biscayne.  The day rate for tying up there is only $2, so we tied up to the seawall, walked around the beach, showered, and then sailed downwind to spend the night back in Hurricane Harbor, where the anchoring is free (hooray for sailing on a budget! - Treasurer Erica). My favorite part of this second night was hearing the music coming from one of the megayachts docked on shore.  First of all, this guy was hanging out on his yacht, instead of in his giant mansion, and second, he listened to all of the Saturday Night Fever soundtrack before moving on to Frankie Valli's greatest hits.  Must be nice- I like to think that if I had a mansion and an 80 foot long motorboat, I would keep the boat on the dock and listen to Frankie Valli all night long. 
Wednesday, the wind was again out of the south, but we were determined to get to Black Point.  It was a long day of tacking and motoring, but we finally got to where we could see the markers for their entrance channel, so we called the marina and they told us that they did indeed have room for us.  Much relieved by the knowledge that we were in fact going to make it somewhere that night, as we got closer to the channel I started making jokes about how well we had navigated the shallow water.  Famous last words. As you can imagine, we immediately ran aground - agonizingly close, maybe 30 feet from the channel.  Luckily, it was a pretty soft grounding- we could still turn the boat, we just couldn't go forward or back.  Erica and I fought against the wind to pull the mainsail up about halfway, and with the sail full of wind the boat tilted over enough to lift the bottom out of the mud, and we cruised on in to the marina (much chastened). 
After we tied up, Erica's wonderful aunt Jenette picked us up, took us to West Marine and the grocery store, and fed us a delicious dinner.  Erica was asleep by 8:30, and I followed not long after.  We finally have winds from a direction other than the south, so I think we're headed out to Elliot Key tonight, which is directly across the Bay from where the boat is, and Key Largo after that.  I would say that our shakedown cruise was a great success.  We got to do some sailing- Erica is picking it up remarkably quickly; we broke a few things; we saw some beautiful anchorages, some dolphins, a turtle, and what I could only describe as a giant sea serpent. Things are looking pretty good.

Blasting off

We are finally ready to leave Fort Lauderdale!  Maybe!

   Yesterday, we took a serious walking tour of Fort Lauderdale in search of the two parts that would finally fix our toilet.  We started at Sailorman, which is a gigantic used marine stuff store, where "every day is a flea market."  It was awesome.  It was like the part of the quest where we met The Sage- a gigantic room full of mysterious treasures and wizened, gnomelike old men who know everything.  We found a new deck fitting for our water fill, a twisted shackle for the traveler, 15 feet of 3/16th line (much to the chagrin of the salesman, who really thought I needed 18, or even 20 feet.  Shows how much he knows) and best of all, a new clevis pin to replace the one I dropped in the water.  That last one was most satisfying- the clevis pin is what connects the open end of a shackle.  It is tiny and looks like this:

What up, clevis?

   We were looking through card catalogs full of these things, trying to match the length, diameter and head size exactly.   It was like looking for a needle in a haystack made out of other needles.  Also like looking for shark's teeth at Calvert Cliffs.  When we finally found one, they let us take it for free, impressed by our persistence. 
   We also found out a lot about our toilet.  Erica came up huge by remembering what brand it is, and by flipping through the catalog we found the toilet that is the modern equivalent of the one that we have.  That let us find the number of the replacement parts for the ones that I broke.  The gnomes at Sailorman told us to go to the marine wholesaler down the street, who unfortunately did not have the part on hand.  They in turn sent us to the Raritan store, where they had no idea what we were talking about.  In the end, we didn't get the part we needed...but, we at least found out that it exists, and have come up with a scheme for a temporary fix until we can track down the real part.  It was more walking than we had planned on, but it was fun to enter the world of people who actually know about boats, where you can actually get parts to fix things instead of replacing them entirely.   Then we went to West Marine and didn't buy anything- another major triumph.
   This afternoon, we overhauled the rigging.  All the halyards were run so that they needlessly crossed over one another at the top of the mast, so we untwisted all of them.  We put a reef in the mainsail, because unreefed it is too big for the boat. We rerigged the boom lift, and took two mysterious bolts out of the mast that were supporting the bottom of the boom for no particular reason.  Actually, I have a hypothesis, which is that if the boom lift doesn't work because you tied it in stupid knots, and you wanted to lift the boom so it wouldn't swing at head level, you might think that it would be a good idea to shove two bolts into the mast underneath the boom to hold it up, instead of just fixing the boom lift.  It's just a theory, but I defy anyone to come up with a better explanation. 

   Tomorrow, we're going to get up early and start heading south.  The plan is to go to an anchorage about 13 miles south of our slip, so when things get complicated and we don't actually leave early it will be okay.  It looks like we'll have about two days of motoring until things open up enough for us to start sailing for real. We also got the camera back today, so we will get back to putting up our own pictures.

Hit it with a hammer

Thank you, Alik.
   I can tell you that that was not what we were saying yesterday when we tried to go sailing for the first time.  The weather was beautiful, the jib went up fine, we turned off the engine, and things were looking pretty good.  When I went to untie the mess of knots underneath the boom, in preparation for putting up the mainsail, I realized that instead of being a half-assed measure to stop the boom from swinging around, these knots were actually a half-assed attempt to rig the mainsheet to the boat (Erica's "sailing for dummies" note: the mainsheet is the rope that's used to control the mainsail).  This mess was apparently meant to stand in for a traveler, which is a complicated little metal piece that slides back and forth on a track, and is the point on the boat where the mainsheet attaches. So in essence the traveler was nonexistent, replaced by a terrible, terrible tangle of lines, knots, and random blocks, which held everything in place, but was not at all conducive to actual sailing. 
   Undaunted but mildly distressed, we sailed back in and then motored up to Lake Sylvia, which is about two miles north of our slip, where we gently ran aground.  We got floating again pretty quickly, though, and were more mindful the second time of the cruising guide's advice to "hug the eastern wall".  We hugged it so close, in fact, that we got to talk to a nice man lounging on shore, who complimented my orange hat, and helped guide us in by waving his arms to direct us where to turn to avoid the shallows (I guess he didn't help the next boat to come in, because they ran hard aground and had to wait for the tide to come up).  Anchoring in the lake was a bit of an adventure, too, because we had never done it before as a team. It took five tries- the first time we got the anchor set, but were only about 8 feet away from an extremely skeptical looking gentleman in a very fancy boat, so we kept trying...under his watchful eye.  Finally, though, we got the anchor properly set at an appropriate distance from all the other boats, and settled in for some well deserved wine and party mix.  It was really nice getting to hang out on the boat and not work on it for a while... hopefully a hint of things to come. 
   This morning we motored back to our slip, and I started trying to address the rigging while Erica took a stab at fixing some lingering issues with the toilet.  After a fruitless trip to West Marine and the hardware store, spirits were running a bit low.  And then, a miracle!  I was looking in one of the random stuff drawers, thinking that I had seen a traveler in there somewhere, and indeed, there it was.  It didn't fit the first time I tried it in the track, but after I wailed on it with a hammer for a while, it slid right on.  This is a part that starts at a minimum of $100 dollars, and would probably have required a special order to get one that fit properly.  Instead, I gave it a special order with my hammer and now it works beautifully.  So thank you, Alik, for having the proper hardware somewhere onboard, even if it wasn't in exactly the right place.
   After that, everything started coming together.  Working together, we made major progress on the toilet, rewired the boom lift, took out the frozen deck fitting for the water tank, and made a solid start at attaching the mainsheet to the traveler.  Tomorrow, we're hitting the used-marine store that we finally located, and also the tent sale at West Marine, where Erica claims there will be free hot dogs. 

Planes, Trains, and Automobiles (literally)

I am sorry to report that tragedy has finally cast its pall over our grand adventure.

Now, some would say that racking up a 15-year-old honda civic's 195,000th mile is not something to be attempted on a 1000 mile road trip with the car packed completely full of stuff, and toting a homemade wooden roof-rack to boot. Some would see that little car, in all its duffle-bag-filled glory, and say "what is this, a joke?"



But we really believed that Little Blue had it in him, so we went for it.

The idea was to deliver the Little Blue Car (full of all of our non-boat stuff) back to Maryland so that we could formally take our leave of Fort Lauderdale, footloose and automobile free, and head for the keys. Everything was business as usual for the first two legs of the journey (apx. 300 miles to Gainesville, and a subsequent 250 to Hilton Head). After a delightful evening in South Carolina in the company of our dear friends the Hursts, we woke up the next morning refreshed, and ready to put the ole' pedal back to the metal. Which we did.... for about 6 miles.


It was in the midst of a left hand turn in a crowded intersection that Little Blue conveniently began its death throes, locking into fifth gear and coming to a complete stop. With the flashers on, I managed to gun it hard enough in fifth gear to get it through the intersection, and turned immediately onto the nearest residential street, where we had a jolly time waiting for triple A to arrive and haul us to the mechanic, where the verdict was that for $900 worth of what basically amounts to vehicular life-support, we could cruise out of there some time in the next week and probably get the car back to Maryland. So I said "what is that, a joke?" and promptly divested Little Blue of all of our worldly treasures and donated it to Habitat for Humanity.

Good thing for us, Rob has been secretly converting the Hurst Mansion to a storage facility (shhhh - don't tell Sarah!!!), so we were able to store some things with them, and the rest of our belongings accompanied us on the 11 hour journey on the Palmetto Express Amtrak from Savannah, GA to Union Station. The journey was relatively uneventful, with the exception of a rather large man two rows behind us who snored loudly for about 9.5 out of the 11 hours of the ride, and at one point snored so loudly and with such gusto that the everyone in the train car busted out laughing.

We rolled into Union Station around 8:00 on Saturday night, and dragged all of our belongings down to the metro station, where I proceeded to get stuck in the turnstile because of all of the stuff I was trying to carry before finally boarding the train, where we unapologetically offended the citizens of D.C. with our mountain of duffel bags and boxes. By the time we arrived in Shady Grove around 9:30, I was basically delirious but they (Charlie) tell me I ate an entire bag of jelly beans before passing out in Charlie's parents' basement.

But all's well that ends well, and after a really lovely, albeit brief, visit with parents and Gran, we flew back to Ft. Lauderdale today to find the boat still afloat (ohhhh yeahhhhh!!!!!), and with all of our stuff still in it (double ohhhh yeahhh!!!!). Tomorrow, we sail!!

We're getting there

Oh yeah

Gotcha!  Hopefully this is the last treasure we find on the boat, because if we find anymore they will be coming out of compartments that I don't know about.  I found this waterproof jumpsuit a few days ago, and finally got around to cleaning it today.  It's still pretty dirty, but I put it on anyway.  Sometimes you gotta do something, even if it's wrong.
For fairness' sake, here's a picture of Erica wearing a special suit, of sorts.

Gotcha

Today Erica went shopping at the bulk food store while I worked at the boat.  She got the biggest jug of Party Mix that I've ever seen, so if nothing else we can live off of that for several weeks.  She keeps talking about nutritional density, I'm not really sure why...it certainly can't be relevant to Party Mix.
I think that I finished fixing the head, but some of the hoses needed to be caulked together so we have to make sure that they sealed properly before it's totally done.  Just in case anyone wants to see what I've been doing for the last three days, here she is:

Notice the one shiny new hose

We got the boat mostly put back together today, so here are a couple of pictures of the inside. 

V-berth

That piece of plywood is bootleg- it doesn't actually fit that space yet, and it isn't fastened to anything.  But it does cover up an ugly empty space above the freshwater tank.  Here's what it looked like last week: 

That's our spare mainsail on the left

Here's the main cabin:

We're getting there

And before: 

Find 6 differences

It's funny, because I thought the pictures I took today would show how tidy the boat was.  When I look at them now, though, I notice the upside down table, the jug of stove alcohol, and the open knife blade.  Still, it is better than it once was.  Very few fishing rods.  Although I did find the giant owl again- either Erica hid it as a joke, or she thinks we really need it.  Either way, we need to talk. 

Tomorrow we're going to move our clothes and books onto the boat, then take off for Gainesville.  Hilton Head on Thursday, Richmond on Friday, then Maryland until we fly back Monday morning.  Then...off to Key West!