Failure to Launch

It sounds cute when it's a fun filled movie complete with quirky characters and popular actors, but for cruisers the term Failure to Launch isn't fun at all.

Today was the day we were supposed to put the Knotty Cat in the water and make our great escape.

It didn't happen.

I'm probably partially to blame for this as last night I bemoaned the fact that unlimited hot baths, comfortable king size beds, and being able to jump into a car at a moments notice was soon to be history. Be careful what you wish for.

Yesterday when we initially visited the Knotty Cat I was relieved to have overcast skies and cool temperatures since we would be working outside for most of the time. I have to admit though that even with these conditions we were still sweating at the end of the day (that damn Florida humidity just never goes away) and I hoped today would be just as cool.

At 9 AM this morning, just as I was drying my hair (when will I learn that any attempt at taming my hair in Florida is a direct invitation to trouble?), the marina called to inform us that all launches for the day were being cancelled due to the weather. We looked out the window and, Holy Crap! We could barely see the whipping palm trees through the slashing rain. And just to make things more interesting there was a tornado warning until 5 PM. You can imagine what Wilbur thought when Hans took him out for his morning constitutional. So then another decision had to be made. We'd used up the last of our credit card points for this hotel room which meant we'd have to come up with cash for tonight. Or we could try for a room at a hotel where we still had some credit. The hotel with the credit had just one room remaining and would only accept pets under 25 pounds. And while Wilbur has been on an odd kind of hunger strike lately, no way could we diet him down to that weight in one day.

This doesn't even do justice. Outside our hotel window. It just dumped rain.

My jeans were soaked nearly to my knees after trekking through Walmart's parking lot. It rained so hard a frog leaped into our car when Hans opened the door. We don't pick up hitchhikers so out he went!

So we ponied up the money for one more night here and then went on a provisioning run.

Provisioning. It kills me. I don't like shopping to begin with but starting from scratch yet once again...it drives me nuts! Salt, pepper, garlic and onion powder, coffee, do I need sugar? flour? Not really so I'll skip those for now. Lunch meat, bread (Hans and I never agree about bread, but since I was the one shopping... he had to sit in the car with Wilbur), condiments? I bought mustard, laundry detergent (there went a chunk of change), back to the spice section for cumin and chili powder (no way can I make chile without those), TV dinners for tonight (yay for hotel room microwaves), and on and on. A couple of hundred dollars later I was done and I've barely scratched the surface, but it's a start.

We've been told to arrive at the boat yard as early as possible tomorrow as they will now have two days worth of boats going in the water. It's a long drive and arising before the crack of noon isn't my thing.

Why do I have a feeling there will be a long line ahead of us and it won't make a bit of difference when we get there.

Oh, one more thing. I've lost count of how many posts I've written about our (completely outdated yet thank god we have them or we'd be totally screwed) solar panels. If I've said it once, I've said it a bazillion times; we've nearly lost them too many times and we need to be more careful with them yada, yada, yada.

Did we learn any lessons? Apparently not, because after putting up all our canvas (dodger and bimini, and aren't they just wonderful 'wind catchers'? I'm glad we didn't remove our hurricane straps) before we departed the boat yard yesterday, we also decided to leave the solar panels out in order to 'juice up' the batteries. Sure!! Because one day of solar power is really gonna make a big difference after not being used for nearly seven months! Duh!

So once again I'm not looking forward to what we may find tomorrow.

 

Wilbur loves his new nest and would prefer to stay

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I'm With Stupid.

 

Poor Wilbur lies atop my foul weather gear. It was used far too often during this trip.

When we reached the end of our voyage and reversed our route to head home from the Bahamas, we suffered a disastrous re-crossing of the Exumas Banks from Nassau to Cat Cay, and 'I'm With Stupid' is what I truly feel our boat should be named. I'm not kidding when I say we experienced a text book Sail Magazine 'what we did wrong' with very little of 'what we did right' kind of experience.

We departed Palm Cay Marina (where we performed a successful surgery on Windy), anchored in West Bay for a night, and then crossed the Northwest Channel (with a touch of the Tongue of the Ocean) the next day. Along with a cruising couple who'd left us in Blackpoint in order to reach Georgetown and then actually caught back up with us, we dropped the hook together at the Northwest Shoal anchorage for the night. We were feeling pretty darn good about everything and early the next morning we both hoisted our mains at anchor and beat it for the long trek to Cat Cay just south of Bimini.

The wind was perfect, we put out the jib, shut the engines down and exalted in a beautiful day at full sail, until the wind died at noon. So we furled the jib and let the main do its thing.

At one point we noticed a line dangling in front of our dodger and were shocked to find it was the topping lift from our boom. Hans had tied it with a bowline knot and a couple of half-hitches several years ago and I guess after all the slamming and banging we endured over the last couple of months it finally gave way. The fully raised mast is what kept the boom from swinging around like a billy club (or smashing down on our on bimini). So while under sail Hans was able to tie it back to the boom.

Not long after that I remarked that I didn't like the look of the clouds way off to our port side and shouldn't we drop the main? Since we now had next to no wind and about seven hours to go (we'd already been underway for five) Hans agreed. Why I didn't say something, I don't know, but when we started furling the main into the boom I thought it sounded strange. Damn! The topping lift Hans had tied off earlier had too much slack in it and was now caught in the boom furling mechanism tight as a drum. And there was no releasing it. We had no choice but to drop the main onto the boom and try to secure it. Our main is new and crackly and stiff, so dropping it was a chore. We ended up with each of us standing on either side of the boat while we tossed a long dock line back and forth over and under the boom and cinched it tight. In that short amount of time we got pretty soaked because those pesky clouds I'd spotted earlier had moved in and it had started raining.

Our main lashed to the boom.

Whew! we said, aren't we glad that's out of the way and cranked up the engines just as the shit hit the fan. The non-existent wind kicked up and we were suddenly seeing 20 plus knots on the beam and it kept getting worse. Poseidon then pulled a filthy shower curtain around the Knotty Cat and let loose with all kinds of mayhem. The wind continued to build, and our boom, thanks to our lashed down yet billowing main sail, started swinging back and forth with a vengeance. We ended up utilizing yet one more dock line and this time we tied it around our main sheet and yanked it tight to a rail. I leaned out and ventured a peek at the main, shuddered, and staggered back to helm where I stood for the next five hours in the wind and rain. Wilbur, who normally stays with us in the cockpit, hustled his little pitty butt down below when the rain started slashing through the cockpit.

That black line tied to the main sheet kept the boom in place

We slalomed and slid up and down the waves that had built quickly and they were pretty sizable considering we were only in 12 feet of water. I'd hate to think what we would have experienced if we'd still been in the Tongue of the Ocean which is thousands of feet deep. The wind settled in at a steady 30+knots, the gray clouds continued to empty buckets of water on top of us, and while Hans sat in the captain's seat, I found I was most comfortable standing and grasping the handles of the helm and companion way with each hand (the next day I wondered why all my knuckles ached). I ventured down below in an attempt to use the head and even though I did my usual crab walk I still managed to get body slammed into a couple of walls.

Every time I slid the companion way door open to check on Wilbur, I was apprised of yet one more horror taking place down below. Stuff was falling all over the place, and when Wilbur expressed interest in coming up top, he immediately lost his footing and fell heavily on his side. He turned tail and shot back down below where he panted heavily even though he had plenty of water. At one point he stood with his front legs on the companion way steps and it wasn't until later that I figured out why. The settee where he would usually lie now contained along with various miscellany, our heavy road rocker, and our berth (I didn't get down there until we anchored) where he likes to nap, was covered with tons of books. These books reside on a shelf in the center-most part of the boat and I'm still amazed that they fell. I finally quit looking down below when I saw the garbage can had tipped over and my 'First Mate' Tervis Tumbler was in pieces on the floor.

And once again we forgot to roll up our portable solar panels but I'd tied them down pretty securely on top of our upside down dinghy stowed on the bow. Except; Dear God! I'd forgotten to secure the dinghy itself to the deck and a couple of hours into our little adventure I was horrified, when we fell hard to starboard, to see the dinghy slide in an alarming fashion across the deck and come to rest on the lifelines. Hans forbade me to go up front and try to fix the situation I'd put us into but I was afraid the dinghy would become airborne and take out our fore stay. This also put a huge strain on the solar panel connectors because they were now stretched to the limit and we'd already ripped those connections apart in Ft. Myers.

I guess there's something to be said for wishful thinking because for the next few hours (and I mean hours!) I stood there clutching the helm and willed that damn dinghy to stay in place. It did. Finally, the wind and rain started to ebb and at around 7PM we finally motored into Cat Cay and dropped the hook in surprisingly calm water. We stripped off our foul weather gear and after comparing our pruny fingers and toes we set about straightening up the boat. I was totally beat and after our friends expressed their intention to cross the Gulf Stream to the USA the next morning I told Hans no way was I up for that. We didn't have enough weather information and I also felt that after such a long strenuous day we shouldn't push ourselves.

Of course the next day turned out to be a perfect 'crossing' day and the Atlantic resembled a huge mirror; absolutely calm with zero waves. By the time we realized this, it was too late.

If this were that Sail Magazine article I'd list what we did wrong along with what we did right, but you can already see what we did wrong along with basically nothing done right.

Thank goodness for Lady Luck.

 

At the end of the day; our friends from Island Bound heeling nicely.

 

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Stuck in Warderick Wells

 

 

I mentioned in my last post that, when we were in Highbourne Cay Marina, it rained for the first time in a month. No rain during April and May is the norm here for this time of year but since we've arrived in the Bahamas that wonderful trend has gone by the wayside. The day before we finally departed Warderwick Wells, Hans had to put on his foul weather gear in order to go ashore and pay for our mooring ball.

Before all this unexpected rain we left Highbourne Cay and sailed (finally! even if we only moved at about 3 knots we were sailing) to Norman's Cay where we anchored and Hans snorkeled around a plane wreck. I gave it my best shot but there's just something totally creepy about things being under water that shouldn't be there. Once over the side of the dinghy I only had to take one peek at that wreck to know this was not happening for me. Getting back into the dinghy created a special challenge and Hans had to hoist me from behind where I ended up flopping around the floor like a landed fish. So while I sat in the dinghy and sizzled in the sun, Hans then snorkeled around and through the wreckage, and would gleefully call out, "I just went through the fuselage! You should see it!" "Wow, the wings are still attached! You should see them!" "A whole school of fish is swimming with me! You should see them!" Needless to say there was no joyous response from me and as the tide was starting to turn it was time for Hans to get back in the dinghy, and he couldn't. I ended up creating a foot hold by tying a loose line from the stern to the bow. By placing a foot on the line (which was now just under the water) Hans was able to boost himself out of the water and it was his turn to flounder around the floor. A ladder would be nice but we like to do things the hard way.

The next day we anchored at Hawksbill Cay which is rumored to be one of the prettiest islands in the Exumas and apparently rife with attractions including things like ruins, and a cave. I'd like to be able to corroborate this, but being the lazy people we are, we didn't feel like going through the whole nearly hour long 'preparing the dinghy and motor for launch' procedure and spent the day reading and drinking in the cockpit.

Which brings us to Exuma Park in Warderick Wells. We sailed (I think we were moving at around 2 knots by then but we were sailing!) into the north field with the intention of; A) buying a days worth of internet ($15.00) in order to get weather info, and; B) there's a snorkeling area there that Hans wanted to explore. Two days max, we said, and we'll be on our way.

One week later we were still there. I kid you not. Poseidon and Mother Nature got together this spring and they've been having a blast vexing the Bahamian waters. Each and every day has brought a new forecast of 'weather' due to hit, and this particular mooring field, protected from every direction, was the place to be.

We arrived on a Saturday which happens to coincide with the once weekly held scheduled cocktail hour on the beach. But don't think that schedule kept the twenty or so of us cruising boats, stuck here for all the other days, from holding our own get together every single other night. And what a perfect place to be stuck. We were all a very short dinghy ride away from shore and everyone enjoyed snorkeling in Ranger's Garden (even me, but that's because I didn't see the reef shark darting about here and there) and leaving driftwood mementos with our boat's names at BooBoo Hill.

Our driftwood offering on BooBoo Hill

Our two day plan stretched to a week when we heard forecasts of 50-60 knot winds due to hit and since Warderwick Wells is so heavily protected we stayed. Thankfully, the winds didn't reach that level but we did get gusts of 30 knots. Finally, the day after all of us cruisers were stuck on our boats (thus cancelling our Happy Hour on the beach) due to stormy weather, we all dropped our mooring lines and headed south.

And into even more weather.

 

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A Good Weekend or a Bad One?

Normally, winter here in Florida equates to really great sailing weather. Last year we enjoyed a great week during Thanksgiving when we sailed to Tarpon Springs and then on New Year's Eve we anchored out with friends for the holiday. Needless to say, none of that happened this year as it's been one of the worst winters on record as if anyone needs me to remind them.

But, since summer will be here before we know it, we're trying to anchor out as often as we can before we become 'marina bound' yet once again. And now that I think about it I realize I've forgotten how lucky we are that the Gulf is easily accessable and that we have many anchorages nearby. We can go out sailing for the day, come in to the bay to anchor for the night, and then spend as much time on the hook as we want the next day as we can motor home within an hour.

Lately we've been anchoring out in an attempt to test our solar panels and wind generator and a couple of weeks ago we finally had success. So this past weekend we headed back out knowing we would have a totally relaxing and peachy keen time.

 

You can't go wrong with breakfast mimosas in the cockpit.

along with sausage, eggs, toast, and french press coffee.

We spent the evening in the cockpit since it was so calm and we also had a full moon. During the night the wind kicked in and by morning Windy our wind generator was hard at work keeping our batteries charged.

Here our gauge reads 15 amps. We saw it hit 18 several times. Wow! Our batteries were charging at over 14 volts, more than we get on shore power.

So, yes, it was a beautiful evening but if you know Hans and me you know something surely had to go wrong. We towed the dinghy behind us because I wanted to use it at the anchorage so I could scrub the port side of the Knotty Cat. I can't do this in the marina since there's a boat right beside us. About the only thing I managed to accomplish with this little plan was to pull more muscles in my arms than I knew I had. Even though it was a calm day the water was very choppy due to all the weekend/St. Patty's Day traffic (I love power boats that roar through anchorages zipping past boats and totally oblivious to our pesky anchor chains) and I tried very hard to balance in the dinghy in order to scrape some old tape residue left over from last year. One moment I'd be poised above the sticky mess and the next I'd find myself far below it. I slammed up and down, up and down all the while clutching the deck in order to balance myself. I actually felt myself getting sea sick and finally gave up. We then hoisted the dinghy onto our foredeck so we wouldn't have to tow it back to the marina the next day which was probably the smartest thing we did all week end.

Why do propane tanks always seem to kick when you're especially starved and in the middle of cooking dinner (of course you don't realize this until you open the oven door an hour later and dinner is still raw)? I'm happy to report we have a spare tank and I had remembered to buy potato chips. We finally sat down to dinner at our little cockpit table and I was starting to feel really good about being at anchor when WHAM! something hit me square in the face. I was soaked and when I opened my eyes I saw the cockpit covered in purplish/red splashes and my wine glass rolling all over the floor. My hair, shirt, and only pair of good shorts (cream colored and why I wore them to anchor out I have no idea) were soaked. WTF! Hans looked stunned and then said the wrong thing, "That's not a proper holder for that wine glass." because in the process of standing up he'd swept his big German arm over the helm pod which happens to have cup holders which happened to be holding my very full plastic wine glass, and while I know nothing about physics, his hand caught my glass in such a way we had ourselves a perfect storm. It looked like a massacre had taken place. Thank God for Krud Kutter and I mean really, since every time we turned around we were finding dried red wine stains, and one squirt of that stuff took care of it. Later that night I discovered even the back of my head hadn't escaped and my hair was matted with dried wine. I said the hell with it and went to bed.

When I woke up on Sunday morning I found I ached all the way to my armpits thanks to my boat cleaning efforts, but hey, that's what mimosas are for. Shortly after breakfast when it became very apparent that the 25 knot winds ripping through the anchorage had indeed arrived about 8 hours sooner than predicted and were not going to go away, we decided we may as well head back to the marina.

We probably should've gone in as soon as we woke up but I'm the one who resisted and kinda hoped the wind would die down. All I wanted to do was sit in the cockpit, listen to 'Wait Wait...Don't Tell Me' on NPR, and read my latest library book. But there's something about relentless wind (even though the wind generator was doing its thing) that gets on my nerves and I agreed we may as well head back in.

We bounced through the bay that by now had white caps and I sincerely hoped that it wasn't blowing too badly in our marina. But it was and I was really glad the dinghy was out of the way and we wouldn't have to deal with it in the water. Normally as soon as we get to the entrance of our marina and start down the alley (as I call it) the wind seems to disappear as we're very protected here. But even though it wasn't as windy as it was out in the bay it was still blowing something like 16 knots and my heart started to race when I saw a line of boat masts tick-tocking in their slips. Hans warned me we needed to get this right the first time as once he started backing into our slip I would need to snag and hold tight to the line on our starboard side piling or we'd slam into the boat to port. I had the line in hand but I had to work my way around our dinghy's outboard which is secured at the stern of the Knotty Cat. No way could I keep enough tension with just one hand and for the moment it took me to get around the motor we were hard on the port side piling. Not such a bad thing as this kept us off the boat next to us and Hans used it to pivot on while I got both hands back on the piling line. Even with putting everything I had into it while walking the boat back into the slip, Hans had to hit our engines hard to keep her from sliding sideways in the wind. Luckily a couple from down the way showed up just then and while I was still pulling for all I was worth up front Hans was able to toss them a stern line and they helped fend us off. And just like that we were in.

And if I thought my arms hurt earlier... when we were finally all tied up I realized my fingers felt like someone had tried to pull each one out of its socket.

Wilbur loves to go sailing but it seriously wears him out. And please, no more bouncy seas!

Of course there's always the work involved getting things back in order after being out. Reconnecting to shore power, running all the hoses, cables, etc... that we use in the slip, hosing off the anchor (which had more gunk on it than I've ever seen, we were really dug in), rehanging our sun shade, and getting things back out that we store while underway. Finally, and not until all that was done, I got my shower. I walked into the salon feeling very clean and happy that my hair wasn't dyed red from the wine when I saw Wilbur crouched in that all too familiar puking pose. On our tiny piece of carpet. Of course I didn't get to him in time so instead of one huge pile of gross puke to clean up, I now had a huge pile plus the trail he left when I tried to get him off the carpet. Hans had been sitting just a foot or so away from him and never saw this coming and I was just waiting for him to say that carpet is not a proper place for a dog to puke.

But when you think about it, our solar panels soaked up the sun, our wind generator hummed in the wind, our anchor light glowed all night and didn't drain our batteries, the refrigerator never had to be turned off, we enjoyed a beautiful night complete with a full moon, we didn't drag at anchor, the cockpit didn't suffer permanent wine stains (nor my hair), we got back into the slip under pretty crappy circumstances without any damage, and Wilbur got a thorough cleansing.

At the end of the day I guess you could say we did have a peachy keen time!

 

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Who was that Tropical Storm...?

... It was Andrea, that's who.  But unlike last year's Tropical Storm Debby, who unfortunately became one of those party guests who doesn't understand that by midnight her hosts really wish she'd get lost, Andrea caught on quickly and left as soon as things started to get soggy.

When Hurricane Season began on June first, Hans had taken to calling me from work in order to warn me that 'weather' appeared to be moving our way. "A huge system is approaching," his frantic voice mail would announce (I rarely have my phone with me). This would cause me to become a bit paranoid and instead of hitting the tennis court or gym and getting some exercise I would hole up below with Wilbur (and too many Keebler Cookies) while awaiting the 'big blow'. After a couple of warnings that resulted in a bloated stomach and sunny blue skies I told him to knock it off.  He apologized. And then came Andrea.

On Wednesday night I'd read on my computer via MSN that a tropical storm was approaching, but since Chicken Little Hans didn't say anything to me, I opted to sleep in the next day. On Thursday, Hans left for work, I flipped my pillow to the cool side, shifted Wilbur's stretched out paws complete with sharp pitty nails from my midsection, and had just dozed off when all of a sudden the shit hit the fan. 

What sounded like the wailing of banshees jerked me wide awake. I well remembered that sound from the time we anchored in the Sassafras River in Maryland back when I was a complete novice to this whole sailing thing and I've never quite forgotten it.  I leaped out of bed and in the middle of trying to wash my face the power went out and I started to panic. I frantically wiped the soap out of my eyes and was very thankful that I was able to reset our inverter when the electric kicked back on. I finished washing up and finally opened the companionway door to a gray world of gusting rain and wind.

After the whole Debby experience I'd vowed that we'd be prepared for the next storm but we weren't. I put on my swimming suit bottoms, foul weather coat and nothing else (if you don't want to wash it, don't wear it is my motto) and got to work. I slogged through ankle deep water to get ice (if I don't have ice for drinks then don't mess with me), took Hans' hockey gear out of our dock box (before it could get soaked), took down anything that might blow away, retied our dock lines, and moved our dinghy.

I didn't get down below to check things for quite awhile but I wasn't too worried as our boat is pretty much water tight unless we stupidly leave a hatch open. Needless to say, I was horrified and totally pissed off to find our berth completely soaked. We recently bought two new air conditioners and while the one in the salon area appears to be on perfect behavior with full intentions of earning an Eagle Scout Award, the one in our berth is the spawn of the devil. I watched in complete horror as it spit rivulets of water from its cold air vent in rhythm with the drumming rain, all over our big fat feather pillows and Memory Foam mattress pad. 

The rest of the day revolved around my adjusting the dock lines in tune with the tide, sitting in the driving rain at the bow of our boat with our hose in order to fill the water tanks because I forgot to do that the day before, trying to tempt Wilbur into the cockpit so that he'd empty himself on his potty patch and not down in our already sodden berth (the only thing that got out the door was his nose, whereupon he fled to his favorite spot on our settee where he sulked for the rest of the day with a full bladder), listening to all the tornado warnings, and rotating our sodden pillows in front of the two fans I set up in our berth in hope that things might dry out before 2014. 

And, then, as late afternoon approached, Andrea grew bored with us and headed north. I felt slightly insulted, kinda like when you've put up with a totally ignorant guest and all of a sudden they blow you off for something better. Wilbur finally came out and relieved himself, I tossed all our wet towels into the cockpit, and took a shower.

Hans arrived home to a clean wife and boat, a dry berth, homemade chili on the stove, and an empty dog.

Just before the water crested our docks. It rose about six more inches after I took this picture.

Wilbur's ears blowing in the breeze.

After Hans arrived home we decided to bail out our dinghy.  I bailed while Hans supervised!

What a difference. This is how our docks normally look.

And this is what a vicious pit bull looks like after a nerve wracking day . Scary, huh!

Late his afternoon while relaxing in our cockpit we experienced a typical Florida cloud burst and normally I enjoy this since our bimini protects us like a screened in porch. But I knew better. I went down to our berth and sure enough the air conditioner was spitting water like crazy. We turned it off and tomorrow it goes back to Walmart for an exorcism.

And to think this was just the first storm of the season. I hate to think of what's to come.

Springtime on the Gulf (the Craziness Continues).

While we enjoyed a wonderfully cool March it would appear summer is trying very hard to arrive here in the way of  sticky temperatures and a hot sun with a bit of humidity thrown in. Forget all this expensive weather radar crap, just one look at my hair will tell you what's going on.

Last weekend we sailed a good 8 miles out into the Gulf in the hopes of catching a Mahi which of course didn't happen and we then anchored for a very uneventful night in Gulfport. After we got back into the marina on Sunday we found out fellow live-aboard friends from here had been also been anchored out and were quite close by, and in addition to yelling to us, they tried hailing us on the radio. We never heard any of it and I hope they weren't close enough (I'm too afraid to ask) to observe that I spent the day enjoying the spectacular weather in our cockpit in my sleepwear and it wasn't until late afternoon that I finally put on some real clothes. If they need therapy I refuse to pay for it.

While Hans has been very busy at work, I've been creating dog and cat collars on our boat.  And without a designated sewing room, this whole sewing thing is just not that easy. A lot of hauling things out and then putting them away while sidestepping a snoozing dog and crawling over junk in the garage (guest berth); I estimate each process takes up most of an hour.

But, today, instead of sewing I finally did some cleaning which involved digging dog hair out of some tight places with wooden BBQ skewers, dusting our salon shelves with dryer sheets which made my hands horribly sticky, running boiling water and vinegar through my shower pump which has been sounding odd this past week, and sweating. 

And even though I've tried to forget it, I ran into my very first truly scary crazy person this past Sunday.

Hans rode his bike to a pool so he could swim some laps and  I was to meet him when he was done. I jumped on my bike and riding in the proper direction on the sidewalk, I found myself approaching a pedestrian. For some reason down here people don't warn pedestrians of their approach while up north we always call out, "On your left," which alerts the walker and hopefully avoids a collision.

After my "On your left," warning, the elderly man I'd been approaching turned and before he even saw me he started waving his arms like a windmill and screaming. "GET OFF THE SIDEWALK, GET OFF THE SIDEWALK!" I was shocked as riding a bike on the sidewalk down here is legal and expected. I was just abreast of him and his arms were still flailing when he screamed, "GET OFF THE SIDEWALK YOU STREET NIGG*R, YOU F*CKING STREET NIGG*R!" and I could see the spittle flying from his mouth.  I was stunned and as I slid past him for some reason I felt the need to call back, "It's legal to ride on the sidewalk." This brought forth, "NO IT'S NOT, YOU F*CKING TRAMP, YOU F*CKING STREET NIGG*R, NO IT'S NOT, GET OFF THE SIDEWALK!" The whole time this was going on he continued to swing his arms and I seriously thought he might try to knock me off my bike and I was extremely thankful that the draw bridge I was approaching didn't need to lift or I'd have been trapped. It wasn't until a minute later that I really started to shake. Hans met up with me and after I explained to him what had happened we were waiting to cross the street at a traffic light when I saw the crazy man approaching. It was just like a horror movie where the monster moves at an incredibly slow pace and the damsel in distress can't seem to get away. Well, we couldn't get away because of the stupid traffic signal but luckily at the last minute the light changed and we took off.

You can bet I'll soon be purchasing some pepper spray.

But enough of the negative stuff! On to more fun things.

Wilbur models the matching nautical collar and leash I made him before heading out for a poopy walk with Hans.

Wilbur wants to be a big boy and contribute towards his keep so I let him use my computer to find a job.

"Hey, Mom! Someone said a bunch of dogs want to hire a Chip-N-Dale Dancer. Don't wait up!

I don't think I'm ready for this..

Rainy days and Tuesdays...

                                                                   ...just can't get me down.

And shame on me for skewing the lyrics to the Carpenter's 1971 hit. What's really sad is I remember when that song came out!

I had huge plans this past Tuesday which included hanging our laundry on my 'solar dryer' (fancy phrase for red neck clothes line), scrubbing both heads from top to bottom, washing the galley floor, clearing all of our junk from our salon shelves in order to dust and rearrange said junk, and vacuum.

But I knew I was in trouble on Tuesday morning when I was awakened by raindrops hitting me in the face from our overhead hatch.  And since rain to me means closed hatches and high humidity where nothing will ever dry, I figured my day was pretty much screwed. Things got worse when I discovered we were now down to one washing machine (still waiting for that pesky repairman) which required my walking all the way around the marina (in the rain) times two and why I bother with an umbrella I'll never know.
I believe the last good hair day I had may have been back in 2011.

But remember, this is Florida, and by noon the rain had stopped which put a damper on my backup plan of eating Bon-Bons and drinking a pitcher of Wilbur Wow Wows while watching old movies on TCM.

In between laundry runs I lathered our heads in Dawn detergent and then blasted them with the garden hose that I dragged down through the cockpit door.
I love hearing the bilge pumps do their thing.
I only wish I could hear them after cleaning the galley floor, but unfortunately there is no drain there.  Instead, I have to push tons of soapy water into a shallow reservoir (known as the dust pan) in the center of the floor and then sponge and sponge and sponge soapy water into a bucket. I wish there was a better way but I've yet to discover one.

So anyway, even though I got a late start to my day and didn't have time to attack the salon shelves I'll tackle those another time.

We're also in the middle of repairing some damage to the Knotty Cat's gel-coat.

Taped off area to be repaired.

Not sure where all these 'dings' came from.

These are just a few, there are a lot more.

I was looking forward to cleaning those salon shelves tomorrow, however, our friend who's repairing the gel-coat has informed me instead that we need to go to Island Packet in Largo once again for more supplies. 

So that's about as bad as it gets here;  we're talking rainy days not rainy months, and a day of cleaning ruined by a trip that just may involve a detour through a Duncan Donuts drive-thru isn't such a bad thing.

And that's why rainy days here just can't get me down.

Perhaps we deserve this.

Now that's some cold beer!

I'm talking about the current weather situation here in good ol' sunny Florida.

You see, when we first announced to family and friends that we were moving to Florida, we received a lot of not so encouraging remarks about what we might expect to find here. And once we did arrive I did nothing but bitch about the insufferable heat. Fall finally showed up along with cooler weather and we became a bit smug. Every night after work, Hans would get online and announce the temperatures from back home and we'd laugh and laugh. "Oh boy," we'd say, "Twenty degrees and snow!" "You know it's gotta be gray there all day long!" "By the way, did I tell you I rode my bike to the library today?" "Are we heading out into the bay this weekend because I'm not sure if we have enough sunscreen?"
Shame on me. I should have known better.

It's like when I warned Wilbur that he should remain humble and not brag to his friends at the doggy park about his recent a mani-pedi (that's how he refers to his nail clipping trips to Petco), and he ended up getting his butt kicked by a poodle.

Don't lord what you have over others because in the end it will come back to bite you in the butt big time!

We woke up a couple of nights ago to a howling wind, loose halyards (not ours!) slapping at their masts with a nerve wracking rhythm , and feeling ourselves being jerked from side to side in our slip. We arose the next morning to cold air and no hot water. Normally we only need to turn on our hot water tank once a day and our water will actually stay hot all night long. But when the weather gets cold so does the water in the tank. Sadly, we can't use our space heater and hot water tank at the same time as they draw too many amps.

This has made my lazy life a tiny bit complicated and I threw in the towel today and took my shower in the bath house since it was too cold to even think of taking one on the boat. I couldn't decide on whether I wanted warm air and cold water... or warm water and cold air.

Far too confusing for me.

Poor Wilbur has truly become a hot house flower and this morning after Hans left for work, instead of lying down on his Steeler's pillow, Wilbur raked one of his big pitty paws down my side as I sat next to him on the settee. What the...? He did it again. I felt like Lassie was pawing at me in order to let me know that poor dumb Timmy had fallen down a well yet once again. Then I realized the big stinker wanted under my blanket. But I have to tell you I'd already draped a fleece blanket over him but was this enough for our Little Man? No! He crawled onto my lap and nudged his head under my blanket, heaved a deep pitty sigh, and went back to sleep.

Where's Wilbur?

I can't imagine what he'd do if he had to go out in the snow to do his business, as it is he doesn't even like to leave our warm cabin and take a few steps to his very convenient potty patch located on our stern!




"You want me to go out there? No thanks, I can hold it!"

By the way, if you like getting attention everywhere you go, from the dog park to the grocery store, wear your Penn State sweatshirt. Yes folks, when I purged my wardrobe for our trip south I donated every stinking sweatshirt minus one!

I may not leave the boat until spring.

Good Intentions

After being dockbound for the past two months, Hans and I decided it was time to do a bit of sailing (and now we don't need to drive 5 hours to get to our boat because sonofagun! we live on it!). So, Saturday morning, even after hearing a pretty questionable weather report and sleeping in way too long we took down the air conditioner, disconnected our power cords and water hose, rearranged the interior of the boat so things wouldn't go flying about and either break or hit Wilbur on his poor pitty head (I'm talking about the objects breaking, not Wilbur's head which is apparently unbreakable and you'd believe me if you ever saw him in action at the dog park. His head is just fine but I'm not sure I can say the same thing for the picnic tables or other pooches he's collided with). And even though we performed this very same song and dance every single day during our nearly two week trip from the east to the west coast of Florida through Lake Okeechobee, it suddenly seemed like a whole lot of work.

We were finally ship shape and then Hans tried to fire up our engines. Only they didn't fire up. They didn't even sputter. Our starting battery, battery number one, was dead. In the end this wasn't such a bad thing because the wind had really picked up and was easily blowing 20-25 within our very protected marina and the current forecast was saying something about eight foot waves and since I don't do much over three foot waves without either puking or complaining, I knew we weren't going anywhere. So, off Hans went to the local hardware store and we now own a new and hopefully strong battery.

Maybe this coming weekend will be better.


Remember my Halloween display? I found out that pumpkins don't last nearly as long here in Florida as they do in Pennsylvania and after two weeks mine were very definitely starting to rot. But before I could get rid of them someone took matters into their own hands.

Hans and I awoke one night when we both heard a lot of splashing around our boat. We agreed it must be the very same fish that have hysterics now and then around the marina and fling themselves about with wild abandon, and we went back to sleep. The next day we woke up to no more pumpkins and both of the beautiful potted plants that I just bought and never had a chance to take a picture of, gone.

I was still puzzling over who the hell would want to steal rotting pumpkins when the mystery was solved. My plants may have been taken but my poor pumpkins had been tossed into the drink and now appeared to be trick or treating as they bobbed their way from boat to boat. They were later fished out and disposed of by a marina employee. Not embarrassing at all!

I'm so loving the cooler temperatures!!! Hans took this picture of me last evening while I was sitting in the cockpit reading.

Yes, I'm wrapped up in a blanket!

I'm still trying to get used to the local creatures. Normally I'm pretty squeamish but I love the lizards that scurry about ever so busily, and I didn't even mind sharing my chaise lounge with one the other day. I wasn't so thrilled though when I spotted a snake sticking its nasty little face out of a hedge (way up at the top no less!) just inches away from where Wilbur was doing his business. And I was horrified the day Wilbur found this crab hiding under our beer cooler. I nearly had a heart attack because I thought it was a spider (and a huge one at that!).

I finally broke down and bought Wilbur a new 'hedgehog'. He'd already performed squeakerectomies on his first two and we actually sailed for months with just the husk of his second one. But I couldn't stand having its slimy little body around any longer and finally disposed of it.

So far Hedgy number 3 has lasted nearly a week and is still fully intact. I'm pretty sure this is a temporary situation.

The weather here has been extremely pleasant and I no longer feel like I'm going to melt every time I leave the boat. As a matter of fact I've actually ridden my bike to the beach the last two days.

And after talking with friends and family back home in Pennsylvania where it's been spitting snow, I asked Hans why the hell he took so long in moving us to Florida!

I love it here!

It ain't a crossing without a puking!

And I surely hope this doesn't become a tradition!

Back in March when we crossed over to the Bahamas in choppy seas, we were about seven miles from Bimini's shore when I finally gave in to the nausea I'd been fighting for a couple of hours and puked. I'm just thankful I got that little issue out of the way before very scary 52 knot winds hit us and I had to concentrate on other minor things like surviving.

So on our way back from West End, Bahamas to Florida I wasn't too terribly surprised when after rolling along for hours in three to five foot seas (at least they were following seas and we weren't pounding into them), I lost my lunch. Hans hadn't realized that I wasn't feeling well (I thought if I didn't say anything it would go away) and was more than a bit startled when he came up into the cockpit after a visit to the head, to find me manning the helm with my head thrust into my puke bucket, which was firmly wedged between me and the wheel. I'm just glad that this whole puking thing wasn't a portent for 52 knot winds which I'm glad to say did not happen during this crossing.

Why were we crossing in 'seas' and not waiting for a more reasonable weather window?

Because we were once again on a dreaded schedule (youngest daughter's college graduation) and Mother Nature loves to play games, that's why.

Hans shows Wilbur his 'crossing' plan.

Wilbur begs to disagree and shows Hans his 'crossing' plan.

I think Hans should listen to Wilbur more often.

We arrived at West End (our starting point for the trip home) in the Bahamas but with heavy east winds we couldn't anchor and were at the mercy of the only and very expensive marina there, so needless to say we really needed some good weather news.

What we were getting were forecasts of continuing and unrelenting East winds at 20+ knots which were resulting in 6 foot seas, and I don't do 6 foot seas! But after two days of expensive dockage we finally decided to head on back to the states with a forecast of East winds of 15 to 20 knots and three to five foot seas.

So the next morning we were up bright and early and along with a couple of other cruisers we headed back to the states. We had really hoped to sail most of the way and with the wind firmly on our stern we attempted to sail wing and wing (jib all the way out on one side, and the main all the way out on the other), but the winds actually started dying down and the damned seas kept knocking the wind out of our sails and we had to constantly regroup. Finally a little over half way across we gave up on the whole sail idea and started motoring.

And motoring.

We'd hoped to make the trip to Lake Worth, FL in eight hours, ten max, but the strong Gulf Stream Current, which according to NOAA (aka: Never On At All in my book) was supposed to cease and desist four miles off the U.S. coast (which would then allow us to actually move along at faster than two and a half knots), stubbornly clung to within one mile of the shore line like a cheap date.

It was at the ten hour mark that I puked and started wondering if we were caught in our own Twilight Zone because the cute little red boat icon on my computer was not moving at all, and then Hans informed me that perhaps we wouldn't be arriving during day light hours after all.

Just go ahead and tell me there isn't a Santa Claus why don't you!






The sun went down, our running lights went on, and Wilbur (the smart one) said, "The hell with you two, I'm going down below." And there he stayed for the duration of the trip, resting his tender pitty body on his comfy Steeler pillow.





For the next three hours the seas picked up even more, the skies grew dark, and I didn't care one bit that I'd wiped my pukey mouth all over a shirt of Hans' that I was wearing. Moving about the cockpit was very difficult and couldn't be accomplished in a normal manner and involved scuttling sideways on bended knees.

I felt just like a crab.

Since Hans is not the most graceful person in the world; when he expressed a desire to visit the head I wouldn't let him go (if you think Mother Nature is scary, you don't want to mess with me in rolling seas!) as I was not about to have him take a tumble on his way down below.

It was close to 9 PM (note: 14 hours at sea and not the 8 to 10 I'd been promised) when we finally entered the Lake Worth channel and made our way into calmer waters where we found our way to the closest anchorage. We proceeded to weave our way around the many anchored boats while I tried to find a vacant spot. And for some strange reason while I can hear Hans perfectly while I'm at the bow, he can't hear me at all.

Me (up at the bow with the search light): OVER THERE!

Hans (not going over there): I think I'll go over here.

Me (gesturing wildly): THAT'S TOO CLOSE TO A DOCK!! OVER THERE!!

Hans (still not going over there): I can't hear you, can you read what's on that white marker? How about back there?

Me (waving like an hysterical cockroach): I SAID OVER THERE!!! OVER THERE!!

Hans finally motored OVER THERE and we blessedly dropped anchor.

Due to the heavy seas we weren't able to do any fishing at all on the way back but I have to tell you I don't think fresh Mahi could have tasted any better than the wonderfully hot Tuna Helper I dished up an hour later.

I kid you not.

It's a small world after all.

I'm so glad we decided to stay in Green Turtle Cay for another day or we wouldn't have met Ray and Sandy, who arrived Monday afternoon aboard their boat, Megerin (a combination of their daughter's names; Meg and Erin) because they are from (believe it or not) Pittsburgh!! I kid you not! And I knew in an instant that I'd like Sandy, who while maneuvering into their slip, managed to convey to us that she was nervous about this particular landing, that she had insisted on washing her hair that morning and was worried that it looked like crap (it didn't!), and also shouted out a hello to Wilbur. I'm not kidding when I say this woman can multi task with the best of them. They then made me feel even better when we learned that they are pretty seasoned cruisers having spent at least four years in the Virgin Islands, but are a bit apprehensive about these Bahamian waters as they are a little unpredictable with their shoals and depths etc.. and we ended up enjoying a very entertaining couple of hours with them. They only arrived in the Bahamas yesterday and appear to be heading in the same direction as us so I sincerely hope we run into them again. This is an absolute first! Hans with a frou frou drink and not a beer. We both decided to 'go island' and order a Bahama Mama. I had two. And here's Winnie again. She's so incredibly sure footed and gracefull as she walks about her boat. Unfortunately we can never let our wild man off his lead or he'd end up in the drink for sure. We went over to the beach to watch the sunset on Monday night but this is what we saw instead. A storm had been brewing all day and we didn't hang around for very long. It's always beautiful from land. I'm just glad we weren't at anchor. This time.

Oh, how the mighty have fallen!

And I say that because after catching a fish so very easily the first day we threw out a trolling line, we haven't had a nibble since!

This is most likely because we've been on the 'banks' which is basically the same thing as trying to fish on flooded land.

We finally left Bimini and headed for West End on Wednesday. The winds were not what we'd been hoping for and this meant we had to motor nearly the whole way through the Northwest Providence Channel for about nine hours and even in these deepest of waters our lures held no interest for the Bahamian fishies.

West End was an interesting anchorage but we held tight and actually ended up dinhying ashore the next day. Of course this meant Master Wilbur had to go with us and as soon as we were in shallow waters he was the first one out of the dinghy and he had himself a wonderful zoomie time. Poor Wilbur (whom I swear would make an excellent Blood Hound) couldn't suck up all the new smellies at the beach fast enough and was completely enamoured of every abandoned Conch shell we passed. He would brace his body and dig each and every toenail into the sand, thus bringing me to a complete halt, and would then, with eyes closed in complete rhapsody, lovingly run his tongue over every inch of shell that he could. I would eventually end his love making by yanking him to his feet and unfortunately onto the next abandoned Conch shell.

When he was finally worn out we stopped at a beach side restaurant for a couple of beers (5 bucks apiece! Ouch!) and an appetizer, and were very thankfull that no one cared that we had a dog with us. Actually just as we were leaving a woman who was sitting nearby made some doggy loving noises and we just had to stop. It turns out she and her husband have an 85 pound pitty and like all pitty owners she wanted to gush over Wilbur. During the gushing session Wilbur found yet one more empty Conch shell and at one point I feared he'd dig a hole to China he went so nuts!

We finally moved on the next day and anchored in Mangrove Cay with a few other boats and enjoyed a quiet night. The next day we set out again and this time anchored in Great Sale Cay. We dropped our dinghy in the water and rowed over to another boat we'd been in contact with throughout the day. Jackie and Seldon have an Island Packet (we have and Island Packet Cat) and it is a beautiful boat indeed! That night at anchor was possibly one of the quietest I've ever experienced and looking out over the water was like looking at a smooth pane of glass. Never once during the night did we hear a thing!

But after two days of no internet coverage we decided our next stop would be Grand Cay. Our last weather info had told us that a storm with 25-30 knots of wind was due to move through at around midnight on Sunday and at least Grand Cay had a marina with internet access.

We sailed on into Grand Cay (Rosie's Marina) at a little after noon, and after jumping on to Passage Weather dot com we found the storm had been moved up to 6 PM. (BTW, don't go into the harbour at Rosie's during low tide if you draw more than 3 feet).

The storm hit at 6:30 PM (as the updated forecast told us it would) and as of 10:30 PM it's still blowing stink out there. But we honestly feel that if we were at Great Sale Cay we'd be okay. The bottom there is a really great kind of sandy clay with great holding power and is protected from everything except a South wind.

We do not have SSB and have to rely totally on the internet. And since I have absolutely no trust in NOAA, I will continue to honor Passage Weather until it's out of our range.



We saw this water spout just as we were getting close to Grand Cay. Hans pointed it out to me and my heart just jumped as all I could think was 'TORNADO'!!!!!! Luckily after a spell it just disipated but the other boaters here in the marina saw it.


















Low lying clouds here in the marina. Once the wind and rain started, it never let up and even though I'm pretty sure we'd be okay at an anchorage, I'm glad we're thoroughly tied up at a dock!

As I've mentioned before, Internet coverage is iffy but I'll post whenever I can.