Cutting the Dock Lines...

... or the apron strings, or whatever tether may be holding you back.

For me it's not that easy. I like a predictable life, I always have. I'm not adventurous in the least and if this were the olden days and we were on a wagon train I'm pretty sure I'd've been traded off to the Indians in a heart beat (like we didn't do enough nasty things to them to begin with). And the older I get, the more settled I like things to be. And let me tell you Wilbur is the same; he likes to sleep in until noon every day and then take his time about eating breakfast (preferably topped with the Whippee Creamies as he calls it), and at our marina he knew exactly when the sun would be in his favorite spot for his early afternoon sunbath. Right around three o'clock he'd start pestering and grunting because he knew doggy park time was near, and he was seldom disappointed.

Everything is better with whipped cream

After three and a half years of marina life, those lazy days are over and we are now officially cruisers once again.

What I discovered is, if you think you should 'go', you need give yourself a goose and start talking about it to everyone willing to listen, and setting a time limit or it may never happen. Put up or shut up.

We started talking about leaving last summer. Hans quit his job and we began the task of updating some of the Knotty Cat's systems. And even though these plans were in place and we talked about it all the time, I don't think I really thought it would happen. People kept asking me if I was excited... and actually my feelings were mixed. While I certainly do remember the unbelievable crystal clear waters of the Bahamas, I also remember the gut wrenching fear of being caught in the middle of lightning storms, spying a water spout (equivalent of a tornado) and hoping to outrun it, wondering if our anchor would hold in the night with gusting winds, and most of all only having hot water thanks to shore power or running our engines (we now have a Honda 2000 which is great but not always appreciated in tight anchorages), thus not showering every day.

We said good bye to our dog park friends (very good friends!) and Hans was really touched during our last week at the marina over the outpouring of good wishes we received. But, I have to admit, the day we left, one particular lady was nothing less than rude to us. When we first met Morgan she was a bit aloof and for some reason I felt the need to ingratiate myself with her (do we ever get over high school?). Eventually, she thawed out and every now and then spent some time in our cockpit with us. She was not a huge Wilbur fan but she put up with him and that pleased me.

But all of a sudden D-Day was upon us. Our engines were fired up and we were waving our last good-byes when our starboard side neighbor called out to me and motioned toward a figure standing on the finger pier with her back to us. It was Morgan. I called out to her and she completely ignored me. I yelled louder and told her I'd miss her. She stalked away and stood in the parking lot, still with her back to me.

I looked at neighbor and he just shrugged. Morgan ventured onto the finger pier one more time and even Wilbur was wiggling with excitement. As the last line was tossed aboard and we were sliding out of the slip, Morgan without ever looking at us, leapt gracefully up onto neighbor's boat and disappeared inside.

 

Morgan, in friendlier times.

Wilbur, taking unfair advantage.

Pure (C)attitude!

Since I know she's really going to miss us , not to mention losing her own girls night out apartment (she thinks we don't know about all the times she spent the night on our boat when we were gone), I'll forgive her.

 

Posted with Blogsy

The Reality of Leaving...

 

... has all of us in an uproar.

 

Three garbage bags for Good Will

Wilbur tip-toeing around a bunch of 'yea or nae' crap in the cockpit.

We've known for far too long that we were going to try to cast off our lines in early 2015 yet we are finding ourselves horribly unprepared. Part of our dilemma has to do with Hans putting our vehicle up for sale on Craig's List a week before he should have. At least that's what I keep harping about to him since it was sold within a day, so now how the hell are we supposed to finish our provisioning, get stuff to the post office, take loads and loads of crap to the laundromat, and most of all, get Wilbur to the dog park where he's been fraternizing, sniffing, pooping, running, ramming his head into crotches, shoulder checking pooches who need to be shoulder shoulder checked, chasing down and 'rolling' pups (someone has to do it and they should be thankful Wilbur is kind about it), and most of all leaping onto picnic tables (picnic being a loose term as no one in their right mind would ever think of eating on a table at a dog park) in order to smooch (actually, I'm being polite here and it's known as getting the 'tongue") as many people possible before being thrown off, for the past three plus years.

Yes, our Wilbur has a bit of a reputation here on the gulf and he and I are finding it difficult to 'quit it'.

 

We immediately had several offers from fellow cruisers to use their vehicles for our last minute runs. However, since Monday is a holiday and we can't transfer ownership until Tuesday, we're going to try to get as much done as possible during this window of opportunity. This will involve trips to the post office (early Tuesday morning), WalMart, Home Depot, Gulf Port, West Marine, Winn-Dixie, Best Buy, JoAnne's Fabrics (a completely unexpected mess), PetCo, Wilbur's vet, U-Haul for propane tank filling, and God knows what else. Since I really hate to borrow from our neighbors, we may actually rent a vehicle for a day or two, it just depends on how much we can get done.

And I still need to coat our canvas with 303 and get up the mast to take care of the water that's sitting in one of our spreader lights.

 

The past few days have seen us gutting the boat of stuff that we will not need to go cruising. I filled three garbage bags full of fabric scraps, patterns, and sewing notions for Good Will. We boxed up Hans' hockey gear along with our winter coats that will be sent north to family where we'll pick through that stuff next summer. Our live-a-board neighbors have been gifted items (crock pot, toaster oven) that are peachy keen to have while living in a marina.

 

I came back from vacuuming and washing our vehicle (for car candidate/buyer number 2) to Hans saying, "We have a situation." My heart just stopped and I couldn't imagine what the hell to expect short of WW III. All it turned out to be was that our cockpit cushions (due to have been replaced a couple of years ago) are literally falling apart and now sand-like crap (from the 20 year old closed cell foam) is sifting all over the place and filtering down into our lazarettes. This past summer we tried to get an estimate on replacing these cushions (somewhere in the $1,600 range) and I decided I'd rather cruise with ugly (therefore who cares what we do to them) cushions, yet now Hans thinks I should whip up some new covers, in, oh say, the next few minutes. Hence the need to visit JoAnne's Fabrics and I just can't wait to try sewing at anchor.

 

Wilbur totally senses something is up, and uncharacteristically for him, he jumped ship two times today. Wilbur is very seldom left alone and yet the last few days have upset his equalibrium. We were gone for nearly four hours the other night when we were treated to a farewell dinner with our dog park (very best) friends, and the day before that we dared to leave him while we tried to get some shopping done. Gone are Wilbur's and my lazy days while Hans was at work.

 

This morning Hans and I were scrabbling about in the gravel underneath our vehicle in search of an elusive tiny cap to the transmission fluid (I'm still questioning why Hans felt the need to mess with it to begin with...) when all of a sudden a third party offered his help. This third party was Wilbur, who just couldn't stand the fact that his peeps had abandonded him yet once again. I nearly fainted when his big fat pitty nose came sniffing around the corner and I immediately marched him back to the boat. Later on he once again stepped off the boat when he saw me talking to a fellow live-a-board. For his own safety we'll keep him tethered to the helm for the next few days.

 

"Whhhaaaaat? Is this for me?"

 

Yes, Wilbur, it is. You are, once again, officially allowed in Bahamian waters.

 

I'm not kidding when I say my head is pounding and when we went to WalMart today I just froze up so we came home with a lot less stuff than we should have. We are woefully unprepared for departure and I have to remind myself that we will be on American soil for the next few weeks. Even though stuff might be a bit more expensive the further south we move, it will still be far cheaper than what we'll pay it the Bahamas.

This is if we ever get there.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Posted with Blogsy

Another Departure

Another cruiser cast off his lines a couple of days ago.

Josh arrived at our marina awhile back and since he had to go past our boat amongst his comings and goings, we, along with a lot of other live-aboards, quickly became acquainted with him.

Monday night we had a going away party for him.

Because just like that, after putting in tons of hours of work each and every day in order to get his boat ready to go, he was... ready to go.

What boggles my mind is the fact that Josh is only 32. And while he is young in years, he has the heart and soul of someone who's been around much longer. Please don't get me wrong when I state this, it's just that he's so very self sufficient when these days it seems like a lot of young people his age still depend on Mom and Dad.

Josh opens a going away card and gift.
After Josh dropped way too much stuff overboard at the dock and then had to "go in" after it, Rich and Danee worried that this might be a sign of things to come and therefore gifted him with a Keep Away Crockigator Plan (we hope it also works with sharks). 

Wilbur took his hosting duties quite seriously and even though he's dressed in formal attire you can see he's frantically cleaning Danee's spaghetti bowl. Never mind that we used disposable dishes that got tossed in the garbage anyway, he's all about keeping our land fills clean of food debris.

Shortly after Josh arrived, some of the live-aboards here realized he had a rental car. "Get rid of it," they told him as he was welcome to use theirs. So for the next few weeks I would do a double take every time a familiar vehicle would zip into the marina and Josh was at the wheel. I can't help but feel that sailors are always eager to help their neighbors. This seems to be in direct contrast to say condo or suburban living where neighbors seem to do their utmost to cause trouble. 

John, who lives a couple of boats down from us (and whom I discovered is originally from just a few miles of my home town), went along for the first leg of Josh's journey.  He'll return in a couple of weeks or so, and here and there some of Josh's other friends will be filling in as crew. 

Josh and John casting off.

This beautiful boat has already sailed all over the world and with Josh at the helm I'm sure it won't have any trouble getting him back to Australia.