Dictionary.com defines a voyage as "a course of travel or passage, especially a long journey by water to a distant place."

A passage can also be short.  As in just a few hours.  And more important, because it gets you off the dock and swinging at anchor for the first time in too long.

But first, there was work to do.

We arrived with a worklist.  Replacing the anchor chain, sorely abused and rusted, it was at the end of its life.  The washdown pump (used to hose mud off the anchor chain as it comes aboard and before the chain goes into the anchor locker under our bed, where, if you don't get rid of the mud, it tends to smell) needed a new hose and nozzle.  The pressure water was leaking, dripping precious fresh water into the bilge.  The shower wasn't working.  The head pump, also at the end of its life, needed to be replaced.  (Gotta love working on the head.)  The refrigerator needed to be insulated and restored to service.  

Fortunately, all of the above projects went as well or better than expected (WOW!  REALLY?).

So, after a few days work, waking up systems that have lain dormant for far too long, I declared us ready to depart.  We decided to go north, into unexplored territory, up the ICW to the Bay River, where the charts showed an anchorage that looked perfect, off the beaten path and good holding. Lets go hang out for a couple of days! 

That's my concentration face.  Do I remember how to drive this thing?  (Also, remember to act confident so Carol doesn't freak out.)

The trip north was, as Savik (Star Trek, The Movie) would say "free from incident".  We anchored in a beautiful spot and watched a nice sunset for the first time in far too long.

Two nights at anchor.  Nothing to do, and VERY limited cell service.  It was bliss. 

Except for the bugs.

We have encountered them before.  Some sort of stupid, slow moving mosquito clones.  Maybe zombie apocalypse mosquitoes.  They're not fast, don't bite, but they overwhelm you with sheer numbers.  Its the reason we have screens that enclose the entire cockpit, turning it into a screened in porch.  The wind was blowing, however, and as we sat in the cockpit the first evening, we said "Never mind.  They won't be out in this wind."

They were.

The next morning, as is my wont, I was up early, brewing coffee.  While Carol slept, I started up to the cockpit, to find it black with a carpet of bugs.

When she awoke, Carol was less than pleased.

After waiting for the sun to chase most of them away, I bucket dipped water from the river to clean the cockpit of carcasses and blood, and we lowered the screens.  The next morning was much more pleasant.

Departing from anchor, with Carol at the helm and me at the windlass pulling the chain in and washing off the mud with the aforementioned washdown pump, felt like old times.  She even remembered how to follow our GPS track back out of the anchorage as I hosed the last of the mud off of the anchor.  The way back was smooth as well.

Birds love to nest on navigation aids.  Has no one told them it's illegal to interfere with navigation?

Just a reminder...we are out here with the big boys.  Pay attention.


And, just to show me I am still, after all, an amateur at this, we had probably the worst docking maneuver we have had coming back to dock.  The wind was blowing the wrong way and I got pinned against the pilings and had to drive it off for another go round, which turned out much better.  Carol was... worried.  

And I did it in front of our new dockmaster, who was throwing lines.  He's a retired Coast Guard guy, so I can only assume he has seen worse.  

After securing Sea Bird, Carol had one final project for me.  Apparently, the entire time we have owned this boat, the paper towel holder has been in the wrong place.  Having just realized this, it had to be moved immediately!

It took some doing, as access was not ideal.

But, it got done.

Afterwards, we spent some time with my dad.

He is on a different sort of voyage.  Having lost his wife of 40 years, at 87 years old, he is foundering.  As the oldest son, I am trying to navigate for him.  As someone who is used to being captain, its tough for him to relinquish control, or even ask questions.  As a current "captain" it's far too easy for me to assume command.  

We are butting heads.  But then, we always have.

His house is now sold, and gone are all the maintenance worries that were attached.  His new place comes with no maintenance that he has to do, a gym, and a pool that he no longer has to maintain.  We will see how he adjusts to his new anchorage.

​Because there will always be bugs.

 Posted by Monty

What a great week.

It started innocently enough.  Every year since the fifties(?) my high school has reunited in Ocean Drive Beach in South Carolina for a reunion on the first weekend in February.  We have been part of this crowd (that is only open for graduates through the seventies) for the past three years.  The same group (and growing) of friends from 45 years ago get together and party hearty.  This year was no different. We arrived for the festivities on Thursday with plans to stay through Sunday.  The stay was a great success. What a good time with great friends.  

Afterwards we were going to drop by the boat, since we were only three hours away, and check on things. We were packed for an additional day, so we left Sunday morning.  After dropping by to see my dad at Ocean Isle Beach, we arrived at the boat to pouring rain and wind.  After running down to the boat, we spent the night listening to the rain and wind in the rigging.  We checked out the boat and prepared to leave in the morning. 

And then, the morning came.

​

It was glorious.  And we thought, "What do we HAVE to go home for?  And so, we stayed.

It's a weather thing.  When on a boat, the weather is your world.  If its nice, you are outside.  If not, it's reading/study time.  No, we are not packed for this.  But, we can stay until the medicine runs out.  So we did.

We are planning (HA!!!!) to spend some time on Sea Bird in March through about June.  Many things need to be done before then.  We got a few accomplished, including (very important) putting the mainsail back up.  This was removed for the hurricane.  A sailboat is not a sailboat without sails, right?  So she has her clothes again.  We woke up systems that have lain dormant for too long.  See what works and what doesn't.  Fix what doesn't.  

We didn't get it all done, but we made a dent.  And enjoyed 80 degree weather in February.  I may have even picked up a little sunburn.  (Don't tell Billy, he would be vexed with me.  But as a fellow sailor, I'm sure he would understand.)

​All in all, what a glorious time we had.  Even though the ride home was a little...aromatic.

Posted by Monty

I say that a lot, as it reminds me that we are still alive and, in the great scope and sweep of human existence, really very blessed. Carol says she is going to engrave the above on my tombstone.  I hope she is right, as I cannot imagine life without her.

We finally made it back down to Sea Bird on Saturday.  She was just sitting there, looking at us like "what's up?".  No sign that she had been traumatized at all, while all around her there was chaos.

Others in our marina were not so lucky.  One boat lost some rub rail, leaked diesel fuel into the bilge, and probably has some underwater hull damage judging from the condition of the piling it was tied to.  Still floating, though. All of the boats were floating above said pilings at the height of the storm, with their dock lines disappearing into the water.  Some, including the boat beside us, coming back down on said pilings as the water level dropped.

We found no damage above or below decks.  A couple of broken dock lines, some freshwater leaks, and the water hose that I forgot to bring below were the only casualties.  Even Clambake was only slightly shaken. I did, however, have to retrieve my dinghy from  amongst the trees.  It was still tied to the dinghy dock.  We hung it back on the davits.  We put the canvas back up.  We slept soundly for three nights on the boat, listening to the rain showers at night and sweating through the days putting her back together.

From all accounts, the marina we are in was the only one in the area that lost no boats.  Blessed, indeed.

The town of Oriental looks like a war zone.  Personal stories range from "we are okay", to the lady at the store.  As I was checking out I asked her how her day was going.  She said "I can't find my glasses.  I've lost everything in my house, including my house, and I can't see anything.  That may be the one last thing."  Then she checked me out with a smile and said "Thank You!".  Personal friends have split their families up, mom and son living multiple states away while dad is rebuilding.  There is enough heartache in this area that it is palatable in the air. 

And yet, people survive.  And persevere.  And rebuild.

It is both humbling and inspiring.

After all, the only thing we had to lose was a boat.  Not a home.  Or a family.

So we're okay.  And very grateful.

There is a reason that boats, ships, and airplanes are named after women.  And, until recently, so were storms.  

They are unpredictable.  They change their minds, paths, and destinations.  They will turn on you in a moment.  They follow a logic that no man can fathom. And yet, somehow, they are irresistible, fascinating, mesmerizing, and all consuming.  Such has been the case with my lovely bride, Carol (whom I love dearly).  And with Florence (a hurricane that I DO NOT).

We left spontaneously Monday around 3:00pm for Oriental to secure the boat, after learning of potential road closures the next day.  Arriving in New Bern about 7:30, we had a dinner in the (deserted) hotel restaurant (still managing to receive poor service.  We're the only ones here, people!) and crashed.  Leaving around 6:00am the next day, we pulled into Point Marina at 6:30 and started prepping the boat for the upcoming storm.  

The forecast was dire.  The thing I was most worried about was the storm surge, which was predicted to lift Sea Bird somewhere around 4-6 feet above the fixed dock she is tied to.  How do you rig for that?

I did my best.

Then we returned to our home in Concord, Leaving her to her fate.  It could be worse.  We heard from friends, that live near Oriental.  They have packed themselves into a car, along with children, dog, and parents, and are fleeing their home, coming to Charlotte for refuge.  That puts our life into perspective.  We have a place to escape to.  So many do not.

So, for the nonce, Clambake will have to look after Sea Bird through the storm.  We will go back down after the event and see how Sea Bird has fared.  Hopefully, she is sitting pretty in her slip.  Or someone else's slip, but still floating.  Or not.  It doesn't really matter, in the great scope and sweep of human existence.  I am still alive, and so is my lovely bride.

​And we have each other.  And that, after all, is enough.

Sea Bird, in happier times.

Posted by Monty

In celebration of me successfully riding this rock another trip around the sun, we decided to drive to Oriental to see Sea Bird. 

We have had a few challenges lately with family members. One in particular has had major health issues, forcing her to spend a pretty serious amount of time in a major teaching hospital, where she was the subject of at least two papers. While this is impressive, it's not really the kind of thing you would wish on anyone. She is nowhere near out of the woods yet, but we thought we could get away for a couple of days safely. 

Upon our arrival, we found Sea Bird in decent shape, but very dirty. As I'm not really into nasty girls, I decided to wash the decks while Carol got things  straightened out below. 

It took two hours. 

I was exhausted. (Evidently, I need to get back into the gym.)  Also, someone had stolen our spray nozzle off the end of our hose. Who does that? Once finished,  I left the still running hose on the foredeck and went below to have a drink of water and cool off. 

Carol was in the v berth, mopping up some water from the freshwater leaks that have developed from us not useing (living on) the boat. When you live on a boat, maintence is ongoing. When you don't, it just piles up into major projects. Suddenly, she started yelling. "We have a leak!"  

As someone whose boat sank, at this particular marina, those words struck a nerve. Imagine my confusion when the hole she had her finger on, stemming the influx of water, was near deck level. 

I sprang onto deck, to see nothing out of the ordinary. Except the still running hose, harmlessly washing over the fore peak, across the anchor locker, over the rail and into the ocean. 

Wait. Across the anchor locker?

Sweeping the hose away, I yanked open the locker. The drain that is supposed to empty the water that makes its way into the locker was plugged and the locker was full, draining into the hawse pipe and into the bilge instead. And also, through a superfluous hole in the bulkhead, into the storage in the v berth, then onto the sheets and mattress where my lovely bride was planning on sleeping. In a few hours. Tonight. 

Readers of of this blog can harken back to a trip where we had a little weather and buried the bow in some waves, which had the same effect on my wife. Don't mess with her bed. It will not work for everyone. 

After unplugging the drain to the anchor locker and some emergency bailing on my part, as well as a trip to the clubhouse dryer and some hauling of mattresses and pads, bringing them into the sun to dry, things returned to normal. (And I turned the hose off.). 

The rest of the time here has been lovely. I have purposely overlooked the many things we need to do. We went out to eat. We spent the day on the beach. We talked. We laughed. We reconnected. 

We decided we still like each other. Not that there was any doubt. 

Except when the bed is wet...

Posted by Monty

And what have you done?

Some things.

I am a year older.  And a new one is about to begin.  

​In my new career as an Uber driver, I picked up a guy at the Emergency Room at the local hospital.

"​Hello!  How are you?"

​"Great!  I came here in an ambulance, and I'm taking an Uber home!"

​WOW.  Great indeed. A win.

And so we talked...

​Waking up and having a blood pressure above 220/150 will definitely get your attention.  Its a real and present danger.  After a (short) conversation with his doctor, the former EMT was taking an ambulance ride to the emergency room (while taking pictures of himself on the gurney and texting them to his former co-worker).
 
Fortunately, everything worked out.

​It served as a reminder to me as to how fragile and temporary all of this is.  We spend so much time trying to change another's  course in life that it changes ours.  Time spent that can never be recovered.  Things that you have spent your whole life wanting to do....that you give up for someone else.  

​And yet, in the end, it may be worth it.

​"Our fathers fought the second World War. 
And spent their weekends on the Jersey Shore"
(Bruce Springsteen)

My generation has not been tasked to that extent. 

But we have our own challenges, nonetheless.  Balancing the precious time we have left between ourselves, children, and grandchildren.  And it seems, from my perspective, we are wasting our precious time. 

​Are we?  Is it worth it?  Will they appreciate it?  I don't know. 

But hasn't it always been so?

​Go ask Bruce...

Posted by Monty

We left for Deaton's yard on Friday.  Regular emails with the excellent folks at the yard (thanks Eric!) led us to believe Sea Bird would be finished and ready for us to rescue her from her month long incarceration on land.  After the five hour drive, we found her peacefully testing her lines at one of the service slips.  She looked great with her new compound and wax, as well as a new name on her stern. (The same name.  And port of call.  I will not tempt Poseidon again.)  More importantly, all of the systems we had repaired looked great.  A quick inspection, some paperwork, payment (choke) and we left the office with the assurance that they were in no hurry to see us leave, graciously offering us the opportunity to use their docks as we wished.  

​The latter was important, as the weather was less than ideal.  Oriental had been locked into a weather pattern that included almost constant thunderstorms and rain.  These would pop up at any time, and could be severe.  Our plans were to take Sea Bird to Point Marina, a couple of hours motor down the Neuse River and up Broad Creek.  It was too late to start that project.

We spent Friday night at the dock at Deaton's Yacht Service.  

​We spent Saturday morning chasing Wi-Fi, trying to get a weather picture.  AT&T has very spotty service in this part of the world.  After several radar snapshots, we decided that the weather was so unstable that:
  *There really is no pattern to this system
  *We are either going to get rained on or not
  *We really don't like living in a boatyard
  *We are going to make a run for it

Taking advantage of the loaner car, we drove our car out to Point Marina and returned to Sea Bird.  She seemed impatient to be underway.  Collecting our lines, we backed her out of the slip and negotiated the shoaling channel out to the Neuse.  Managing not to run aground and mark up my new bottom paint, we cleared the final channel mark and turned towards the Pamlico Sound and the entrance to Broad Creek.

​Making way at around 6 knots, the Yanmar chugging happily along under grey skies, all seemed well.  I turned the radar on just to practice.  The boat behind us showed up, as well as a ketch ahead.  The land was right where it was supposed to be, except for that piece behind us.  It didn't quite make sense.  A quick look over the stern, and I realized we were being chased by a squall.

No need to mention this to Carol.  Maybe we will outrun it.  (Right.  We are in a sailboat.)

​Soon enough it became apparent to both of us that was not going to happen.  We had caught up with the ketch by that time, and realized it was anchored.  Does he know more than we know about this storm?  Maybe he has Verizon, and therefore more information than we do?  

​We saw the squall line approaching.  A white line of wind and spray.  I spun the boat into the squall and throttled down so I still had steerage, but we were basically not making way, around one knot.  Holding us there, we rode out the relatively short period of wind, rain, and lightning that is typical with these storms.  As a side note, I need to waterproof my canvas.  It dripped.  On me.  And, more importantly, on Carol.

​After the worst had passed, we resumed course and had an uneventful, if familiar, run up Broad Creek and in to Point Marina.  We were going into a slip on the other side of the marina than we were used to, but the wind had subsided, the rain had stopped, and we had good conditions for docking Sea Bird into her new home.

Approaching the slip, I promptly ran aground.  With my brand new bottom paint.

​Thankfully, we were able to back off without calling TowBoatUS.  Especially since Deaton's Yacht Service has the franchise in the area.  I'm sure I would have taken some ribbing for that.

​After a couple of days of cleaning and various other chores, we got tired of the constantly drippy weather and returned to Concord (in the rain).  After all, the pressure is off.  We will revisit when the "coast is clear".

​While the wanderlust is still strong in her (and in me), Sea Bird is, after all, back at home.

It has begun.

Sea Bird was hauled by the good folks at Deaton Yacht Service in Oriental, NC.  She was washed and blocked and awaits her repairs.  Eagerly.

Thanks to my buddy Rob for the help moving her. I was worried that I had forgotten everything about driving a boat, but we had an uneventful, if short, passage.  Even if we had to wait for a trawler who had run aground in the channel, as well as another sailboat who was coming in with a red engine light.  

This is what it looks like from the cockpit if you have REALLY screwed up when navigating.

Let the mayhem begin...

Carol and I went to the boat this weekend.  To work, relax, see some friends, and plan our next steps.  Memorial Day weekend is a pretty big deal in the little town of Oriental, and we were looking forward to it. 

I got sick.

​Not the kind of overwhelming, debilitating sick that makes you wish for a new body, but the low grade, annoying sick where you are trying to convince your wife that you are "fine.  Why?"

​We got there on Saturday afternoon.  There is a restaurant in Oriental called The Silos.  It is built inside a couple of farm silos.  They host a musical event they call "Silospalooza".  Basically a bunch of local bands playing a variety of music over Saturday and part of Sunday.  I was looking forward to kicking back a few and enjoying a bit of music.  Alas, it was not to be.

​We did see a few people we knew.  Kyle and Sandra from Point Marina were at the free docks, and we had a drink with them at the Tiki Hut.  We ran into Buddy (of teaching Carol how to sail Sea Bird fame) and caught up with him in the parking lot.  We took a visit to Point Marina and saw David and Bobbie, who we haven't seen since we were docked there, planning our departure.  We managed to schedule some time on Sunday with Scott and Deb of Paradise Cove.  I'm real sorry we missed them, but by Saturday night, even I was beginning to doubt the "fine" mantra.  We had supper at M&M's, (of which I ate about half) and retired early.  I had a restless night with lots of dreams that all ended badly.

​The next morning (Sunday), I was up before Carol, but later than usual for me.  Determined to keep our schedule, I brought coffee and breakfast back to the boat.  I then proceeded to aggressively lie around doing nothing while Carol made plans for us to meet up with Deb (and their son, Cooper) for the afternoon (Scott was tied up) and then the both of them for the evening.  I got to thinking.  Around 11:00 I asked Carol if I had a fever.  She felt my head and picked up her phone and started texting.  "Does that mean yes?"

She rolled her eyes.

I took a nap.  I NEVER take naps.

​I woke  couple of hours later feeling much better.  After lounging around for a bit, I decided to take a shower.  After the visit to the bath house and a fresh change of clothes, I almost felt human again.  A device charging issue presented itself on board Sea Bird, necessitating a trip to the car to retrieve a charging cord. 

That is when fate called on me.

​As I was turning the corner from my finger pier, I heard a splash.  Now this is the Pamlico Sound, and there are fish jumping (up to and including dolphins) so this did not really register.  I was simply thinking "wow, that was a big one".  Then I heard someone say "Where is the nearest ladder?"  That got my attention.  Someone is in the water.  My mind went into overdrive.  Then he said "My dog fell in the water."  Oh.  OK.  But still, very important.

​So I located the nearest ladder, he directed his dog, Titan,  (a beautiful probably 90 pound white Labrador-looking) to swim to it, and got into the water and put the dog's life jacket on.  Another dock neighbor presented us with a rope and I lowered it down to him to tie around the lifting handles on the doggie designed life preserver.  "You gonna tie a bolan?" asked my fellow rescuer.

​Now for those of you who do not know (or for some reason have not guessed because I am one of them) sailors are a strange bunch.  We will welcome anyone into our world regardless of race, creed, rum consumption or temperament.  But you have to know certain things.  One of them is knots.  Sailors love knots.  And the most basic of all knots is a bowline.  It is a beautiful knot, designed to put a loop in the end of a line that will not slip or collapse, and is easy to untie even after weeks under strain.  So he started tying a bowline.  A couple of times.  Then my compatriot started the scene from Jaws where the boat skipper is trying to teach the landlubber how to tie a bowline.  "The rabbit comes out of the hole, goes around the tree, and goes back down the hole."  The guy in the water just looks up and says "I'm under a little pressure."  "Good point", I thought.  How many of my landlocked friends could easily tie even a bow while treading water and calming a dog that weighs almost half what they do?  I said "It's OK.  Good practice for when you are on a pitching deck at sea in the dark  Take your time."

​After a couple of deep breaths he presented us with an expertly tied bowline, and we hoisted Titan back to the dock, where he promptly treated us to an impromptu shower as a reward for fishing him out of the drink.  I returned to my task of retrieving the charging cord for Carol's IPad. 

​Today I am fully recovered and ready to make serious progress on the boat.  But of course, all I did was drive home.

​With the knowledge that I have done my ancestors proud.  I have rescued a Titan.

It's May already.  Carol has her garden in.  We have been eating some amazing salads, with a few different kinds of lettuce (ask Carol) and kale.  We eat it while it is still, basically, alive.  (For my vegetarian friends, I often wonder how this is better than eating something that is dead.  Both are, to me, delicious.) 

A lot has (and has not) happened since we were last together in December.  How have you guys been?  Time to catch up.

What has happened?
​Carol and I are, once again, alone in our home.  The project to help and heal the family that has been living with us is, for the most part, over.  While they are not to the point where we would like them to be (who ever is?), they are for the most part making progress.  Time for them to fledge and make their own way in the world, once again.  We have high hopes.

What has not happened?
​EVERYTHING on Sea Bird.  The plan (I know, Steve, God is laughing) is to take her south this winter, somewhere warm.  Florida, Boot Key Harbor, Dry Tortugas, and Bahamas have all been discussed.  The Minor Problem is that nothing has been done in the way of repairs and upgrades in the two years (two years???) since we have been back.  She needs some attention.

​The Major Problem is what to do long term.  It has become apparent that we are not going to cruise year round.  Because I'm a Pirate married to a Farmer, we are going to have to split the year up.  Growing season in NC.  Cold season in...Someplace Warm.  Thanksgiving and Christmas in NC with family.  Some time each year in New Jersey with the Jersey Girl. 

So what happens in between?  Do we leave her in Oriental (a place we love)?  Do we move her to a place that is less than a FIVE HOUR drive from our house?  Little River, SC, is near where my Dad lives and can keep an eye on her (FOUR HOUR drive).  Do we move her to someplace like Titusville, FL, where the weather is almost always better in the winter than NC but the drive is brutal (although there is a cheap flight from an airport near our house that puts us there in under three hours)? 

​The Major Problem is left for another day.  Time to work on the Minor Problem.  It's not so minor.

​You will remember that Carol has taken a contract job.  It is technically scheduled to end in September, but looks like it will actually end in July.  Our lease at the marina ends in June.  As we are probably going to move the boat (somewhere) south, we don't really want to sign another yearly lease.  So it looks like I will move aboard the boat in July, living in the boatyard on the hard, while my bride is back home.  This is not my ideal living arrangement.  It is certainly not her ideal situation. She is...whining.  A little bit.  Approaching a full pout.

​I don't really see any way around it.  Things have to be done.  Some by the boatyard, some by me, but done they will have to be if we are going to be traveling south and back in NC for Thanksgiving.  And as we all know, things on a boat never go according to the plan.  At least not my plan (Thanks again, Steve.)

​So a few days ago, I went to see her to say hello.  I gave her decks a thorough scrubbing.  I got the dinghy up and running and once again hanging off the stern on the davits. I stuffed the sails into the back of the Jeep and brought them home for inspection.  Couldn't see out the rearview mirror for the trip home.  (FIVE HOURS) 

​I had two very restful nights of sleep on the water.  With a touch of salt.

​So now the sails are in the empty bedroom that once housed grandchildren.  One project over, another begun. 

​We are looking forward to it.