Herrington Harbor South...

... better known as: Hans and Laura's Bermuda Triangle.

Okay, a slight exaggeration I admit, but you tell me.

One evening at the beginning of our journey we knew a storm was brewing and possible anchorages were going to be few and far between.

Enter Herrington Harbor South.

The only space they had was at the fuel dock at $2.oo per foot plus $5.oo for electric, and even though we had to pony up $80.00, we were expected to vacate the premises by 8 AM the next morning.

Not 3 PM.

Not even noon.

8 AM!!!

Even though it was now evening and the pool was closed and we would miss out on all the amenities that $80.00 is supposed to buy, we jumped on it.

I did enjoy their air conditioned bath house and took full advantage of the laundry, but when the predicted storm blew through just as Hans and I were trying to enjoy a beer at the outside bar, everything headed south.

Lightning flashed, thunder boomed, and winds ripped through the outdoor bar area toppling tables, and smashing dishes and glasses willy nilly!!

I (with newly washed and dried hair!) ran like an idiot to our boat as all the hatches were wide open and Wilbur was unfairly crated just below one of them.

After closing the hatches (in driving rain and jagged flashes of lightning) I rejoined a very dry Hans in the enclosed bar.

I tried to keep the water that was dripping off my hair and clothes away from my food, and stewed about the whole sailing experience.

Fast forward to the last leg of our journey.

We're on our way home and hey!!! wouldn't it be nice to visit Harrington Harbor South on a better note.

You bet!

Let's get there before noon!

Let's use the pool!

Let's make sure we're not at the fuel dock!

We arrive at 6:05 PM, it's 5 minutes past closing time, and the slip we were told to take is for a boat with 50 amps and we draw 30.

The poor guy that finally shows up to help us is completely illiterate about all things electric and uses thirty words when one word would do!

He and Hans then spend way too much time talking over each other while I fume down below knowing full well I'll never get to use that damn swimming pool.

The first splitter (that supposedly filters 50 amps down to 30) doesn't work.

Hans heads to the pool and on my way to the laundry room (my job) I'm unfortunate enough to meet the 'talker' as he heads to our boat with yet one more splitter and he needs my ear and my assistance.

The second splitter also doesn't work, and Wilbur, who hears familiar voices, joins in our disappointment by screaming hysterically from where he's crated in his berth.

Upon returning from the pool where he had a refreshing swim, Hans consults with the inexperienced talker and it's determined that we need to move to another slip.

Considering how difficult it was to get into the one we're in, I'm not overly happy and Hans has the nerve to ask if I had a nice shower.

"What shower?" I scream. "I haven't even started our effing (only I used the real word) laundry for Christ's sake!

Hans is puzzled and gives me a hurt look.

Needless to say the laundry and my shower wait until a new place for us can be found, it's now well past eight o'clock at night, and the pool is closed.

The new slip is iffy (but way better than the fuel dock where much to my fury Mr. Manywords offered to put us!) but we manage to get in and then the electric still doesn't work. The talker brilliantly asks, "Should I try the other 30 amp outlet?" and I want to ask him if he has a death wish!

The other 30 amp outlet works and I'm thankful that I don't have to murder anyone.

Wilbur continues to scream, Hans heads to the bar where I've told him I'm in no mood for an appetizer and am in need of a full meal, and I veer off towards the laundry and shower room. At this point I don't bother washing my hair as it will take too long but at least I shower off some sweat and get two loads of laundry started. I pop the laundry into the dryer and hope my food isn't getting cold when I finally arrive at the bar.

Hans hasn't even ordered yet (he got hung up on business calls) and I wonder how someone with low blood pressure (me) could possibly have a stroke.

By the time I suck down a beer our food arrives and I finally begin to feel slightly human.

I manage to snag a few minutes at the pool the next morning (after getting some supplies at the market) and I even wash my hair.

We're then off and running (sailing) to our next destination, just in time to run into a horrendous storm.

With that in mind I think you'll understand why I don't really feel a need to visit Herrington Harbor South again.

Even Wilbur is exasperated!