Another Marina Adventure

Oh, no!!! I can't look!

I spent this morning as part of a crew attempting to move a friend's 'engineless' sail boat from our marina to a nearby boat yard where a new engine was ready and waiting for him.  And the fact that he enlisted my help tells you he was really scraping the bottom of the marina barrel. 

About twenty heart pumping minutes after we left the slip we were right back where we'd started, only now we were stern in as opposed to bow in, and what an adventure it was!

It all started last night when our friend called and since he knows Hans works during the day he wondered if perhaps I wouldn't mind helping. I'd had a couple of Wilbur Wow Wows so I said sure why not and anyway it just might give me some blog fodder. Careful what you wish for.

I was up bright and early this morning and rousted Wilbur from our berth for a quick morning walk.  I prefer an empty dog on board if I don't know how long I'll be gone. After depositing Wilbur back down below with my apologies that I wouldn't be spending our usual Coffee/Bailey's/Whip-Creme breakfast with him, I headed down the marina. 

There were a total of four of us on board (three experienced sailors plus me) and a couple of helpers on land. I actually took my life jacket (well, Hans made me take it) as I figured if I did something stupid and hit my head falling overboard, I'd at least float until someone could get to me because let's face it, we were on a boat without an engine.

It had been a clear, calm (and of course hot) morning until we got ready to cast off the lines and then the wind kicked up. And what normally feels like a nice breeze when you're standing on land turns into something else when you're on a boat. With his whaler lashed to the port side of the boat we backed out of the slip but once we were in the alley of the marina the stern kept wanting to swing back into the pilings and also into those danged anchors hanging off the front of the other docked boats. We were heading into the wind so it was difficult to build up enough speed in order to steer. When it became obvious that the whaler would now need to tow us as opposed to guide us the lines were quickly transferred to the bow. 

While the whaler zig zagged in front of us we fended off the pilings with boat hooks and since I'm not very strong I sat my butt down and fended off with my legs. At least I got a workout.

We continued to crab walk toward the mouth of the bay, and were nearly out of the marina feeling very home free when the steering cable on the whaler snapped. Crap!

So we drifted sideways and with the aid of our land helpers we ended up with the bowsprit against one piling and the stern on another effectively trapping a couple of boats in their slips. One of those boats belongs to a crew member and anyway no one goes anywhere at this time of the year. At least we were out of the channel. 

The weather forecast was calling for even more wind in the afternoon so the decision was made to 'walk' the boat back to its slip. How this was going to happen was beyond me but I should have known a bunch of sailors would come up with something.  A couple of lines were tied together for extra length and tossed to one of our land helpers who was now standing on a boat way behind us. The whaler was moved between the boat and the pilings so it now became a bumper boat. By pulling and fending off (more leg exercises for me) we backed the boat up and then pivoted it on the piling to its slip, finished backing it in and tied her back up again.

I've posted this aerial view of our marina many times but it serves so many purposes.

I call this the 'alley' 

After our big adventure I ended up with a tiny bloody scratch on my ankle but even after I pointed it out (many times) I didn't get any sympathy. As a matter of fact one of the crew commented that he was glad I was along for this trip as he's usually the one who stands around doing nothing.

???

It's a good thing I know he has a very dry sense of humor.  I think.

At Sea or in a Marina, Life is Always Interesting While Living on a Boat

Wilbur enjoys a Bloody Mary morning.

Hmmm, so what's happened here at our marina since April?

Thanks to an unusually low tide, a boat across from us would have completely sank instead of settling onto the bottom after a simple hose worked itself  free of a clamp. I did take a couple of pictures but I'm not going to post them as I wouldn't want anyone doing that to me.

 The man who fell off his boat this past March ended up spending two weeks in the hospital with three days of them in intensive care. He developed pneumonia within hours of falling in and I really didn't think he was going to survive. I told him that recently, and he laughed and said he's done dumber things in his life. He'll be 80 this month!

Our neighbor fell and broke 3 ribs. Hearing his screams of pain during the night when he coughed and his ribs didn't realign themselves properly is something I never want to experience again and I'm sure he doesn't either. Of course his cat chose to fall overboard that night too. It wasn't the first time and it won't be her last.

During my Mother's Day phone conversation with my 30 year old son, I told him that Hans and I are now swingers. After a long pause he told me I really need to learn how to phrase my comments to him in a way that won't give him a heart attack. I thought he knew that I meant we'd taken up swing dancing. Actually, I just like messing with his head.  About our swing dancing.  I love it. Hans, not so much.

I wonder how my son will feel when I tell him we have crabs. We've found two of these poor guys all dried up in our guest berth.

Hans and I are attempting to play tennis. We bought our rackets at WalMart and mine is designed for a 9 year old (the tag didn't state whether it meant physically or mentally).  Hans is experienced, I am not, but I'm very thankful for his patience. I do feel badly for him as he suffers from neck pain due to the car accident he had over a year ago and his mobility is not what it should be although it does level our playing field a bit. During the day I've been hitting a ball against a wall and in addition to sweating up a storm, I fear I now have tennis elbow.

The other day I watched a sailboat roar through the marina like it was in the Indy 500 so of course I ran up to our bow to watch. The renegade boat managed to turn around at the lower end (it was either that or run into a wall) while two men from the marina both armed with boat hooks, jumped aboard. Pretty impressive stuff.
The boat shot back up the marina, zipped past me and then attempted to get into its slip. It bounced off a piling and since we were at low tide all the oyster shells and barnacles that had collected at the high tide mark crashed into the water. The boat now skidded around toward the boats on the other side (our marina is U shaped with boats lining the inner long sides of the U. This creates a lane of water between that we use to get in and out). Luckily, it didn't hit anyone and revved up for a second attempt at docking. Wham! it slammed into the next piling and sent another cascade of barnacles into the water (at this point I wondered if we just might have chanced upon a rather unorthodox way to rid pilings in our marinas of those pesky and germ ridden creatures). The crew, looking and sounding like a band of pirates, shouted and brandished their boat hooks like swords as they caught the lines from the pilings and managed to screech to a stop before the cement wall stopped them.
Those poor people had just bought the boat and must not have had a survey done and this was their maiden voyage. Apparently the throttle only worked at full speed and was then only interested in going forward. It would eventually reverse but took forever getting there. Also, the rudder cable didn't care to cooperate and having its own agenda, didn't want to go where everyone else wanted to go. Considering all this, I think the man who jumped on board, took over the helm got this boat back into its slip did a pretty good job.

What I'll never forget was the look of sheer terror on the faces of the two women who were sitting in the cockpit while tightly clutching a toddler. The women's eyes were as big as saucers as they sat frozen in fear. The toddler's eyes were as big as saucers because he was being squished like a bug. But since we were at an extreme low tide and the water was about four feet deep I wasn't too worried about anyone disappearing from sight if they did sink.

This alley of water seems much more narrow when you're trying to maneuver  your boat in it.

Wilbur still loves going to the park, he likes whipped creme on his breakfast kibble, he sneaks up to the bow of the boat when he thinks I'm not looking because he's a big boy now, he peed himself when a dog from another boat knocked us over during a walk, he's still afraid of the neighbor cat and the Yorkie from a few boats away, he's very selfish and won't share toys with other dogs at the park although he feels they should all share with him, and last week during a dinghy ride he jumped out and towed us to shore.

Every thing tastes better with whipped creme.

Gee, I wonder what's going on over there?

"OMG!!" Wilbur exclaims in true teenager fashion, "When are you going to stop being a helicopter  mom and leave me alone??"
Never!

An Eventful Week.

I find it strange that shortly after posting about things one doesn't want to hear or say while on a boat, we soon thereafter experienced a middle of the night equipment failure, and a couple of days later I certainly didn't expect to hear the horrible cries for help from one of our fellow liveaboards who fell into the water while getting on his boat after a grocery run.

During the summer when someone falls into the water here at the marina it's usually a comical experience. But when it happens at night, in the winter when water temps are much colder, it's not so funny.  

And our friend, who was maybe in the water for five minutes is still in the hospital.

I remember reading somewhere that more people on boats die while at dock than they do at sea, and I don't have any doubt that that's true.  

Very peaceful and calm during a hot summer day.

I will never forget the night Hans went into the drink and it will forever haunt  me that I could have lost him in such a simple and stupid way. Don't think I've ever let him forget this.

I, for one, would hope this is the last post I write about things I prefer not to say or hear while on a boat.

But since I live on a boat, I think I know better.

Life at our Marina with neighbors

This post addresses the age old issue of 'neighbors' and I have an odd  feeling that even if I  live long enough to find myself residing in a nursing home I will still find myself living next door to a pain in the ass.

For some reason I've had far more experience in the neighbor department than most people would ever want starting way back when I was a small child and we lived next door to a mean drunk (I still have vivid memories of the night he decided to straighten a crooked bullet with a hammer). Back then we thought that calling the police would put a stop to the harassment he heaped upon us (music blasting outside our bedroom windows at 3 AM, fish, fireworks, and bricks thrown into our pool during the night, and that time he tried to run my mother down with his truck).  But at the end of the day our calls for help just seemed to add fuel to the fire and my parents put up with and suffered through the most unbelievable abuse for over 40 years until the idiot finally died.

While my parents were putting up with this continuing nonsense I got married and found myself living next door to Gladys Kravitz (these days when I take my daily walks around the marina, I tell Hans I'm going Kravitzing). Let me just say I can't imagine approaching a neighbor to announce that I didn't recognize a car that I'd seen in their driveway a day or so earlier and expect an answer, but Gladys did (too many times). And to this day it pisses me off that I actually felt the need to answer her questions.

After my divorce I moved into a new house where my retired neighbor insisted on mowing my yard even though I was thoroughly capable of mowing it myself. He ignored my protests and deep down I knew nothing good would ever come of this situation so needless to say I wasn't too terribly surprised when Mr. Good Deed turned on a huge hate campaign ten years later when I put up a For Sale sign. In his opinion I was selling out, I was in cahoots with a couple who owned the vacant lot next to me, and  I didn't give a damn about my neighbors. Honest to God, he thought a huge corporation was going to snatch up my tiny little lot and the whole neighborhood would then go to hell in a hand basket. I know this because he showed up at my work place one day and screamed at me in front of all my co workers. He also erected a barrier of sorts along the back perimeter of our properties consisting of old tree branches woven together in a makeshift fence. The reasoning behind this still puzzles me but I'm pretty sure he was hoping I'd knock it down. Of course I didn't and I still can't believe my house finally sold. I do admit I harbored a nasty desire that the new owners would park a few rusty vehicles and perhaps an odd refrigerator or two in the front yard if it would only piss off Mr. Good Deed.

Then I moved to The Big City where Hans and I lived together for a couple of years.  We really didn't know our neighbors very well but they certainly made themselves known to us thanks to the constant police presence in our neighborhood.  Never in a million years would I have thought that I would actually find myself side-stepping gun wielding policemen (more than once) upon returning to our apartment from a store run and I felt like a relic from the old west and  prayed they wouldn't shoot my purchases out of my arms before I could flee upstairs. And right before we moved away we watched as the coroner's office hauled a body out of the back yard of a house from across the street. I was more than ready to leave.

We eventually arrived on the west coast of Florida aboard our Knotty Cat and were barely settled in when my newly carved Halloween pumpkins that I had sat on top of our dock box were tossed into the water and my recently purchased potted plants stolen.


And I met one of our new neighbors, Joe.

Initially I felt sorry for Joe. Joe was upset because his girlfriend had been forbidden to set foot back in our marina 'just because the owner found her smoking in the bath house'  and could I believe someone would throw a homeless cancer survivor out into the street? But I soon discovered that the girlfriend was a nut case (and that Joe's mother is the one who didn't want her around. By the way, Joe was well into his 50's) who though supposedly homeless was able to afford a cell phone and cigarettes and enjoyed stealing Joe's vehicle on a regular basis including Thanksgiving morning. The girlfriend continued to visit Joe and they would have hugely loud fights and would then be stunned when the police showed up. 
Every single time. 
Then there was the morning the young couple who lived next to Joe discovered him in their cockpit with his arm deep in their beer cooler. Upon being caught 'red handed' Joe played the fool. "Oh my God! This isn't my boat? How embarrassing! I can't believe I did this! But anyway, I'm out of beer so do you mind if I take one?"  It wasn't until a few months after he'd been evicted that another live aboard couple realized that Joe was most likely the culprit who'd stolen all but one bottle of beer from a case they'd left on ice in their cockpit. 


But, my relief of finally having gotten rid of Joe didn't last long when he was replaced by a whole new neighbor.

A neighbor who felt the need to hail us at 11 PM, far too often, in order to impart some valuable piece of information upon us such as how many knots the wind was going to blow during the night. I finally learned to quickly close our cock pit door as soon as I smelled the cigarette smoke that always preceded another unwanted visit from Neighbor.

Neighbor thought he knew much more about 'boat stuff' than we did and succeeded in completely screwing everything up the second time Hans sent me up the mast. It was a Saturday morning and we finally had the proper bulb and o-ring for our steaming light (or so we thought), and a new bolt for our radar. 


Up the mast I went and out came Neighbor full to the brim with commentary. 


Now, I'm terrified of heights and Hans being aware of this was very carefully hoisting me up the mast  manually as opposed to using our electric halyard since he knows this gives me an odd sense of control. This was more than Neighbor could handle and he fairly danced about his boat with impatience and shouted instructions to both of us. Hans assured him that this was a simple routine for us and that we were just tying up some loose ends and then did his best to ignore Neighbor.
Then I discovered the replacement bulb for the steamer light was too small and the o-ring too big. And the bolt we'd bought to replace the missing one on our radar was the wrong size too. I shouted this information down to Hans and we decided we may as well give a bigger bulb we'd found on board a try. But since I was already up the mast and didn't feel like coming back down only to go up once again we were debating on how to get that particular bulb up to me.

Poor Neighbor went nuts.

"Oooh! oooh! I know! I know!" And then he was on our boat. While Hans tried to calmly explain what we were going to do, Neighbor kept shouting, "No, No! Listen to me! Listen to me! Shut up! You're not listening to me!" Hans had found the spare bulb and taped it to our boom so it would be within easy reach for him, and he'd tied off the halyard that was holding me in place. While Neighbor leaped and jumped about and continued to shout, the wind started puffing a bit. From my perch up above these conditions combined to cause the mast to start swinging to and fro and my heart to pound.

Me:  Would you guys hurry up and do something, I'm moving around too much and anyway I'm getting sunburned.

By now Neighbor is swinging a huge thick line like a lasso and thinks he's going to loop it over one of the spreaders.

Me: It's getting windy up here, would you guys hurry up?

Neighbor is in a frenzy of throwing and wants me to shut up.

Me (noting with great alarm): Hey, I'm sliding down the mast!

Neighbor: No you're not.

Me (still sliding): YES I AM! What the hell are you doing!

Neighbor: You're not moving.

Me: I'M SLIDING!!

Neighbor: Oops, I stepped on the winch handle.

And in order to step on the winch handle this meant he'd jumped up on our boom during one of his tossing efforts. This also meant that he'd somehow dislodged the bulb Hans had taped to the boom and it was now gone.
Hans cranked me back in place and told me to try the original bulb one more time.
We discovered that a tiny little bulb when dropped from a great height will shatter into more pieces than you can imagine.
I didn't bother to go back up the mast until after Neighbor was finally evicted and in only a few minutes I calmly and successfully replaced the light, the o-ring, and the bolt.


Someone recently asked me if we're enjoying the quiet these days now that Neighbor is gone and I had to admit that while I like not having to peek outside before leaving the boat anymore, it's almost boring.

But I've no doubt new neighbors will arrive as they always do and I can get back to some serious Kravitzing. 

More liveaboard stuff

It's kind of funny how when people find out we live on a boat in a marina, you just know they get the impression that we're living a glamorous kind of life style, when in reality, we basically live in a trailer park.

For the most part almost everyone in our marina is middle aged or older and God only knows how truly seaworthy a lot of these vessels are, but for now they are home. A lot of the men have jobs and head off to work everyday and those who don't have jobs, tinker. There's an outside workshop area and I have no idea what they're doing but I've never seen or heard so much sawing and sanding and hammering in my life. Some men work on their cars for hours at a time, and some seem obsessed with keeping their boats clean.

I appear to be a bit of an oddity as I'm one of the only people here who actually walks all the way from our boat to the main office for our mail, ice, and to do laundry.
Everyone else drives.

Needless to say Wilbur always accompanies me on these jaunts and even though he's a pistol in that he needs to sniff every blade of grass and prove to all that he's a big boy now by marking everything in his way, he stoically ignores all the yappers that live on the other boats.
Wilbur is the only pit bull in the marina. And also the quietest dog.

On one side of us is a disabled veteran who adores his cats and parrots (who sleep in the same big cage by the way!). When he cleans his birds' cages they sit in the cockpit and cheerfully call out hello when they aren't wolf whistling at everyone who walks by.
On our other side is a charter fishing boat and I met the original owner shortly after we arrived here. Bob (also a veteran) was dying of cancer and knew he only had a couple of months to live. I was struck by how pleasant and cheerful Bob was despite his prognosis and his brother would bring him to his boat daily so he could sit in the cockpit and enjoy the day. When he found out I liked to read he gave me an old paperback book (actually a Pulitzer Prize winner) from his home and I was moved that he would even think to do this.
Bob died a couple of weeks ago but his boat is still in operation. He gave it to a friend and it's now back in business.
A couple of days ago I awoke to a loud engine, diesel smoke, and shouts of laughter right outside my berth hatch. Did the fact that it was 7AM bother me?
Not at all. Hearing people having a good time just can't upset me.
Before they set out, I managed to get a look at the charter group which consisted of four well over 7o something men. They had to be friends of long standing because they were so easy with each other, talking, laughing, interrupting, and even though they were in no way spring chickens I felt like I was watching a bunch of little boys lined up on a bench and getting ready for a big day at sea.
I have a feeling that if they hadn't been able to go out, they still would have had a blast just sitting in the slip all day.
In the end they came back with some good sized fish and over 60 snapper.



I told Hans I was having a hard time finding a retractable clothes line and he told me to just use Wilbur's retractable leash.

What a smart guy.

I was a bit concerned that I might get in trouble for airing our laundry in public and looking like we live in a tenement (some snobby subdivisions forbid clothes lines you know) but I soon realized we were probably safe when I noticed that a newly arrived live aboard couple were airing out their port a potty on their foredeck (I would have taken a picture, but remember? we live here!).

I made a huge mistake today when I left the boat to go shopping and forgot to remove our garbage.
I arrived home to find chewed up foil, coffee grounds, filthy paper towels, and a very guilty pitty. What bothered me the most is that I've been doing a tremendous amount of sewing these days and in that very same garbage was discarded needles and a rotary cutting blade.


Bad Dog!! I told Wilbur it's time he started pulling his own weight on this boat and he can just start planning some menus.

"Awe!! C'mon Mom! Do I have to?"














"Wow! I had no idea there were so many tasty recipes out there!"











"Mmmmm, bird poop, smelly clam shell, and rotten conch broth!! I love it! May I please have the keys to the car? I need to go shopping at the beach."











I think I need to come up with a better form of punishment.

Sailing along.

The people at Stepps Harbor View Marina said it was fine for Wilbur to swim in their pool.

This was a first for us.

Anyway this dog can swim like the dickens. He's like a mini locamotive and after one swim it was difficult to keep him out.

Here is Wilbur and I at Belmont Bay Harbor. We ended up having to tie up as there was no place to anchor. Super nice people and very pet friendly.

Gentlemen, take note that the dock girls all wear bikinis and look as cute as can be! I have a feeling we'll be back.

Here's Hans at the Jefferson memorial. He thought he should pay his respect to the founder of his alma mater, University of Virginia.

This is a house boat at the Capital Yacht Club in DC. There are a few of them around and while they're cute they tend to be a problem so they've grandfathered the ones that are there. and no more are allowed to dock here.

This was right after we sailed under the Woodrow Wilson Bridge.

The Capital Yacht Club. We anchored in the Washington Channel and for $15.00 per day we had full use of their fabulous facilities. Last night we attended a spaghetti dinner and met some of the members. I used the laundry room and Hans sat in the air conditioned dining room where he worked on his computer.

I'm amazed at how friendly everyone is at the marinas we've visited (and we've been to a lot!).

Boating people really are the best!

Wilbur is ready to pull the winch handle out at a moments notice.

He's quite the salty dog.