Still Loving Maine

 

I've always felt like I march to a different drummer and this trip to one of the northernmost points of the lower 48 states just confirms that.

Normally during travel and upon the first day or so at our destination, I experience a small feeling of nostalgia for 'home'. When we landed here in Maine I felt no such thing. Actually I felt like I was exactly where I was supposed to be.

I'm loving it here and walking along the shore makes me feel very Ghost and Mrs. Muirish. Now, I realize there's no snow on the ground (I mean it's only the middle of May!) but I can't get enough of the tangy and clear cold air. For the last two days, I've walked around downtown Bah Hahbah (Bar Harbor for those who don't get my humor) for hours and never once broke a sweat (even though I was wearing a hoody), my hair didn't stick to my neck, and the sun wasn't boring a hole through my hide. Since moving to Florida nearly three years ago, this kind of experience has become a totally alien to me. I'm not kidding when I say that, in Florida, I go get ice, and dump our garbage based on how sweaty I do or don't want to get. And we're talking about something like a tenth of a mile walk. A trip to Home Depot or West Marine even in an air conditioned vehicle? Once again, it just depends on the heat and humidity of that day. Last week I realized that I hadn't been to the beach in months so I went. But not before I slathered on tons of sunscreen and put on a long sleeved shirt that's supposed to protect you against the sun. I arrived home a hot mess and it isn't even summer yet.

This is the sandbar to Bar Island (in the background). It's accessible during low tide only which gives you about 4 hours to explore. Otherwise you have to wait for the next low tide to get back. No one will go there to get you if you're stupid enough to get stuck.

At the entrance to the sand bar during low tide.

And now during high tide.

Why I love cemeteries, I'll never know, but I find them to be very peaceful. Poor Elmer here died at the age of 15. However, I was very surprised to discover a few plots where the decedents lived well into their 80's. And this was back in the 1800's. Incredible.

 

Captain Hans will always be a little kid at heart. I still remember the time he drove the Ducky Boat in Pittsburgh.

 

 

What a bonus! Every night I open our balcony door for the fresh air and so I can hear the 'tree peeps' . Then I turn on the fireplace. I'm really gonna miss this.

 

 

Finding this made our trip complete.

And finally; a few years ago Wilbur made an attempt to show us how smart he was by spelling DOG or maybe GOD with our Scrabble tiles. He managed to nibble the D and the G tiles before we caught him and somewhere along the way an N disappeared. Yesterday I happened upon a quilt fabric store and low and behold they happened to have a bin of letters.

So this trip was obviously a complete success and very worth the purchase of a 55 cent Scrabble tile.

 

 

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Where in the world are Hans and Laura

 

So what might that be sitting in our cockpit?

It's our holding tank. And if you eventually end up as our neighbors, I assure you it's not staying there.

We finally decided to get the Knotty Cat hauled out in order to fix the leak she developed a few months ago. We're pretty sure one of the bolts that holds the port side propellor shaft in place has come loose and in order to fix it she needs to be out of the water.

 

At least it's empty

We also knew we'd better have the starboard bolts checked and that's when I had an 'Oh, shit' moment. I reminded Hans that we'd placed our new holding tank directly over the drive shaft when we installed it behind the starboard engine. I distinctly remember saying at the time that I hoped we'd never have to move it.

Well, guess what.

After disconnecting the hoses that pump into the tank, I covered them with Duct Tape in order to keep odors inside and not out. Peeeeeewww!

This could have been a real deal breaker for me. That's the pump out fitting at the bottom of the tank. I put Duct Tape on it also and thank God it held.

When we had our final pump out before leaving for the boat yard, I asked if we could make sure the tank was totally empty as we might need to move it. Not only did they pump it out they added some fresh water for a rinse and we were goood to go.

Let me add here, also, that we've been told we have the cleanest holding tank in the marina. I was feeling pretty smug about that and stated that we are very careful about what goes into the tank. Maybe someday I'll learn to keep my big mouth shut because this is what I discovered; holding tanks stink, and I don't care if you piss crystal clear filtered water and sh*t gold bricks, holding tanks stink!

We got the boat moved and when we found out the tank would definitely need to be out of the way I got busy and disconnected all the hoses. I immediately taped the openings to the tank and I was very relieved that the hoses themselves were super clean (I've gradually replaced them in the last couple of years) and nothing ran out of them.

Getting the tank out was a lot more trouble than I thought it would be and we had to tip it on its side a couple of times (at one point my face got crushed between the boat and the corner of the tank, ouch!). We finally got it into the cockpit and I insisted on hosing it out since I could see that there was about 2 to 3 inches of liquid sloshing around the bottom. The pump out fitting does not sit flush (I'm loving these play on words that's why I'm underlining them) to the bottom so it's never really totally empty. Like I said before, it's a damn good thing that tape stayed in place.

I grabbed a hose, ran a few inches of water along with some vinegar into the tank, and then tilted the pump out fitting downward to let the water out. Oh, Dear God, the stench! And what the hell was that sludge running out of it? Aha!!! Toilet paper. Gross disgusting semi-dissolved toilet paper of about a years vintage. Well, I hosed and hosed and hosed both the tank and our cockpit, heaving and very nearly throwing up thus almost adding to the mess because like the idiot I am, I forgot to buy a mask. And then to add insult to injury, when I hefted that sucker up on edge (it's a 32 gallon tank) it slipped and smashed down on my bare foot. I think I cried but I'm not sure because I was gagging so hard. Poor Hans felt so bad but I'd told him this was my job and to stay away. He tried to get me to stop but I knew we'd have to get that stinker back in and I wanted it clean.

And clean it is! And it's going to stay that way! I've read tons of boating blogs over the years and I must say I was always a bit disturbed when they mentioned that they don't allow toilet paper to be flushed, it get's thrown away instead. So, after pouring bleach all over the cockpit and scrubbing myself raw hoping to avoid e-coli, I informed Hans that toilet paper has no place in our tank and he agreed. I can't imagine what would have eventually happened had all that crap built up over the years and eventually compromised the pump out fitting at the bottom of the tank.

Let me tell you, if they thought our tank was clean before, they are in for a real treat now!

After the haul out. This is the starboard propeller.

A close up of where we think the leak is on the port side. It's the upper bolt and nut we believe came loose. We hope that's all it is.

So where are we while all this work is being done? The picture below is what I see when I look out our window.

 

The view inside looking out.

 

It's a good thing Wilbur isn't with us, there wouldn't be enough pillows to go around.

Pure decadence.

We are in Maine.

It's cold.

I can't begin to describe the spicy, piney smell in the air, but it sure as hell beats head odor.

I love it.

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