Knowing When to Stop

 

 

A very pretty view at the marina. I was there long enough to take a couple of pictures.

A few days ago, after our guests departed from Marathon Marina very early in the morning, Hans and I quickly got to work as we needed to leave by 11 AM. Staying at a marina is similar to staying at a hotel (except of course we bring our home with us) and you have a check out time.

I gathered up our laundry and since I didn't know when we might have this opportunity again, I ended up with a huge load. I think the only thing I didn't stuff into the bag was Wilbur who thankfully keeps himself pretty clean. And even though I thought I was quite the early bird (my idea of early is before noon) I was dismayed to find only one washing machine available and I had three loads. While I got the first load going I ended up talking with a lady (note: I will strike up a conversation with anybody, anytime. I think I was vaccinated with a phonograph needle) who was just as glad to talk/vent (she's new to sailing) to me. I spent more time talking than I should have but at least another two machines opened up. After cramming them full I ran back to the boat, dug the shop vac out of a lazarette and swept up the inside of the boat. I also scrubbed the filth from the bow where the anchor chain makes a mess, mopped the cockpit again (a waste of time as it gets dirty within seconds), and washed some dishes. Back to the laundromat I went where I threw most everything into driers and then went in search of ice. After filling two coolers with the ice, beer, and club soda it was back to the laundromat again. By now I was hot and sweaty but I got everything folded and when I got back to the boat it was time to shove off. Hans had topped off the water tanks, checked the engines, and took a bath house shower (I never did get one). We headed to the fuel dock and then we were on our way.

Pippa, a pit mix at the marina who let Wilbur know she didn't think he was cute. Wilbur reciprocated by telling her her mother wears army boots.

Kids!

Where to go? We had several options but it became obvious that the closest ones weren't going to work out for us. We already knew the mooring field had a waiting list and the anchorage right beside it was packed full and actually looked like a tent city where the homeless hang out together. A bit further on we thought we could anchor in Sister Creek but once there we noted that every single boat was anchored bahamian style (bow anchored out in the river with a stern line tied up in the mangroves). We've never implemented this style of anchoring and I wasn't about to start now. Of course Hans thought it might be interesting and right about then I started feeling the effects of way too many late nights and early mornings. A small 'discussion' took place (perhaps a mini-meltdown on my part) and we moved on. Out in the open water we found wind and very rolly conditions which did nothing for all the crap lying about in the cockpit: dock lines hadn't been stowed, cushions were all over the place along with a bag of my wet laundry that should have been hung to dry in the head, and a dog that feels the need to be comforted when we first get underway (every single time). There was one more place to try to drop the hook and that was in the lee of Boot Key Island. But since we were underway Hans suggested we continue to Bahia Honda Key and would I mind sailing in the rolly seas for a few miles. Another 'discussion' (and a not so 'mini' meltdown) took place and we hurriedly anchored near Boot Key. I was tired and snappy and trying to put things in order when we realized we were dragging.

Again.

Honestly, we've never dragged anchor as many times as we have during this cruise.

We were finally set when I realized we were missing a lot of laundry including Hans' Knotty Cat shirt (a present from me and not cheap), my quick-dry towel (which actually takes longer to dry than regular ones), and my favorite sweat shirt (15 years old from when my son played high school hockey). I swore I'd checked the laundry area before I left and it was obvious we'd allowed ourselves to be rushed and it was now biting us in the butt. Trying to rush on a boat is usually a recipe for disaster (big or small). Hans did agree that it made sense to anchor quickly and take a day off and we have to remember we're no longer on a strict schedule. When you're overly tired you really do make stupid mistakes.

The next morning we felt much better and after contacting the marina we motored to the fuel dock where we didn't even have to tie up. They just heaved our bag of laundry into the Knotty Cat as we slid past and we were off once again.

This time the seas were less rolly and we actually sailed to our next anchorage.

One last picture of Marathon Marina. Some day I may get to enjoy it.

 

Posted with Blogsy

More liveaboard stuff

So life continues to march on at our marina.

When we skidded to a stop here this past August there was just a handful of boats bobbing around. It's now January and we pretty much have a full house, and most of us are liveaboards.

I make the rounds almost every day which involves walking the full length of the marina in order to get rid our garbage, pick up the mail, get ice, and once a week do our laundry. During my little sojourns I have a chance to visit with whomever is out and about and Wilbur usually accompanies me, except for the days when I have a full load and little patience.

Depending upon who's awake, above board, new to the marina, all of the above and/or sober, I may be gone for a few minutes or a few hours because the one thing I've discovered; most cruisers like to talk. And talk. Even more so than me if you can believe that!

And of course I get a kick out of those with pets aboard. One newly arrived and cute young couple has a dog named Luvvy. Luvvy is an adorable Jack Russell-Chihuahua mix and even though I've been assured that she's 'trained' she spends a great deal of time jumping ship every time another dog (especially a certain hunk o' burnin' love named Wilbur) ventures past her boat. Luvvy's boat is directly across the marina from ours and while Hans has gone to great length to explain to me (with his scientific brain) about how sound travels over water louder than it travels over land, this much I know; Luvvy's full name is Luvvy BadGirlBadGirl because I hear her being called this all day long.

I guess this means that everyone in the marina knows that Wilbur's full name is 'Wilbur GetOutOfTheGarbage'.

And thanks to Hans' scientific explanation about sound waves I'm pretty sure everyone here knows that poor Luvvy BadGirlBadGirl fell overboard yesterday and had to be fished out of the yucky marina water.

I also know that Luvvy BadGirlBadGirl gets her ass smacked on a daily basis.

I no longer try to do our laundry on the weekend and let those who don't have time during the week to do theirs. And that brings me to the 'what do I do with someone else's clothes that have been sitting in the washing machine all day long' dilemma. Normal laundry rules state that if you find wet clothing in the washing machine you have the right to remove them and place them on a table. I knew this rule yet was hesitant to take action one day upon finding both washers full of wet clothes, and then another live aboard couple took care of that situation for me and the guilty party got all pissed off at them instead of me. When all was said and done, Guilty Party (whom we discovered had gone out to breakfast after starting her laundry) accused the other live aboard couple of stealing the quarters she'd supposedly inserted into the dryer (I mean c'mon! who puts money into the dryer ahead of time?!). The live aboard couple was furious at this accusation and in a very dramatic fashion threw Guilty Party's wet clothing into a dryer and slammed a bunch of their own quarters into the slots.

So laundry room drama aside, what I'd really like to know is why Guilty Party (a live aboard here for over 6 years) has air conditioning units running 24/7 all year round on her boat, even in January, when the rest of us are huddled around our space heaters.

Hmmm, when was the last time anyone saw Mr. Guilty Party?

I'm just asking.

One of our neighbors is a disabled vet and he bought a refurbished sewing machine a few years ago with the hopes of replacing some of his interior furnishings. As of tonight, his machine is now in my possession and tomorrow I'm going to try to figure out why 'the sonofabitch keeps jamming'. But only after I dump the garbage, get mail and ice, hit Beall's outlet store to return a couple of shirts (Monday is Senior Citizen Day and I insist on getting my 15% discount), take Wilbur to the dog park, and hopefully get about four loads of laundry done.

Just in case anyone feels like giving me a hard time at the laundry room, I'm taking Wilbur GetOutOfTheGarbage with me. Who's gonna argue with a crazy lady and her pit bull!





You can see for yourself why he's to be feared.

Last weekend we finally used our boat in the way it was intended to be used.
We went sailing.
The weather was perfect with a bit of wind and we managed to spend a few pleasant hours putting around in the bay. I'm also thrilled that we exited and entered our slip without any problems.


Along for the ride was Annie.
Is she sweet or what?!
A very dear friend of Hans' from his 'paying his way through college book selling days' passed away last summer and his friend's wife (who also sold books door to door) lives down here and was able to go out with us. Yvonne brought their daughter Tessa and the lovely Annie with her. Wilbur was fascinated with Annie and was actually on his best behavior. One time Wilbur approached Annie while she was taking a sun bath and all she did was lift a warning lip (with nary a sound) and Wilbur immediately scooted over to the other side of the cockpit and left her alone.
We all had to laugh at the end of the evening though when Annie fled the parking lot in a very dramatic manner and ran back to the boat where her long lost love Wilbur was anxiously awaiting her return.


Check out my solar powered clothes dryer. I guess I shouldn't have been too surprised that after hanging our laundry out like we live in a tenement, we'd receive a visit from the police that very night.
We were fast asleep and still can't quite remember what woke us up but we immediately knew it was the police. I pushed and shoved my way past Hans (not an easy task in a very narrow area let me tell you!), who was struggling to make himself decent, and advised our visitors that I was letting our dog into the cockpit first. They stayed on the dock and shortly thereafter Wilbur (who'd gone from barking like a madman to wiggling with glee like a madman) and I (in my blue flannel nighty sporting cute little penguins) were ensconced in the cockpit while Hans (who never did get decent) stayed inside and talked to all of us via the cockpit door.
It would appear that a 911 call was placed from our slip and we swore it hadn't come from us.
No, we didn't roll over on our phone while we were sleeping.
No, Wilbur doesn't have opposable thumbs.
No, we were absolutely certain we did not call 911 and I invited them two times to come aboard and check things out, and both times they refused.
After asking for our phone numbers (which they immediately dismissed with a waving of hands) they said the only thing that came over the line had been static.
After they left (and I have a feeling they didn't believe us) Hans asked me what time it was assuming it was something like 3 AM. It was 11:20 PM. Talk about feeling like a couple of old farts.
The next morning I felt obliged to tell the owner of the marina what had gone on and instead of feeling like we might get kicked out I was very happy to find out that this was nothing new. It would appear that one of the boats in the marina used to have a land line on his boat (how bizarre is that?) and it just happened to be in our slip. Somehow or other the line used to short out and send emergency calls to 911. That particular boat is now several slips down and uninhabited but it's obvious that the problem has yet to be solved.
The phone company and the police were notified.
Yesterday, Wilbur was the only disappointed body when I happily hung out our wash and didn't receive a visit from our boys in blue.


Life with Wilbur on the Knotty Cat. He's a cuddle-butt!

Who needs the stinkin' police when you have pit bull to guard the beer cooler?