Carol:  "I cooked!  Why am I washing the dishes?  When did I get demoted to Dishwasher?"

Monty:  "I don't know.  When did I get demoted to Garbage Man?  Can I get a promotion to Dishwasher?"

Readers of this post, and anyone who knows her, are well aware of Carol's fondness for flip flops.  She has at least fifteen pair on the boat.  They overflow the shoe locker.  She has even bought more while she has been here.  (She has worn maybe three different pair.) 

All of this is fine with me.  The inventory is mostly confined to one locker and various corners of the boat, so they don't take up a lot of room (thank goodness she isn't into knee high boots), and they seem to make her happy. 

But it's not good enough.  I'M supposed to love them, too.

They never made sense to me.  They are too hard to keep on your feet and always seem to get caught on things or come off at the worst times.

Nonetheless, I am trying. 

Parts of the flip flop experience are nice.  They are certainly easier to remove than shoes.  They allow your feet to breathe.  They are light, and once you get used to them, comfortable.  Entire cultures have adopted them in one form or another, so there must be something redeeming about them.  So I thought that, since I am changing so many other aspects of my life, now may be a good time to get into flops.

I am beginning to believe they just may be of the devil. 

They suck you in with their charming ways and lie in wait until you (for example) transition from a patch of gravel to hard asphalt.  Just as you have almost quit concentrating on keeping them on your feet, they flip up a small rock, which lands between your toes.  With the main part of your brain preoccupied with other important matters, (like trying to remember you need to go by the clubhouse to get ice after you dispose of the garbage bag in your hand) your years of shoe reflexes kick in and, on the upswing, you shake your foot to dislodge the offensive stone.  This results in the flop entirely removing itself from your foot, just before a hard heel plant on some gravel encrusted asphalt.  Your leg buckles at the knee, causing injuries to muscles (that will only be revealed after the night's sleep) along with the more immediate bloody heel.

This is not an isolated incident.  They have caught on lines, slipped on the grass, come off in the market, etc.  Since I have been wearing them, I have noticed Carol having similar troubles, which she denies.  I think the flops have her firmly under their spell.  Evidently me as well, as I just realized I am writing this with flops on.  So I guess I will try them a little longer.

I just hope they don't organize in the middle of the night and strangle us in our sleep.

We had a little rain shower last night.  Carol was up, her usual job being anchor watch (even though we are at the dock).  Still, it's good she was as I slept through it.  I also slept through hurricane Hugo.  We had a couple leaks, but the new port I replaced held just fine.  The hatch over the salon table leaked a "lot".  Carol had to scramble up a towel and move electronics so they did not get wet.  The other leak was the port in the shower.  This is a known leak that we have been pretty much ignoring (it's in the shower, right?) since I replaced the shower sump pump and we can just pump out any excess water.  Carol usually puts a bucket under it if we are expecting rain anyway.

The problem will come next week.  As per schedule, our plan is to be home for a couple of weeks.  Doctor visits, dental visits, birthdays and grandchildren.  The boat will be on it's own.  I don't want any leaks.  Remember, last time we did this, the boat sank.  I do not need a repeat of that fiasco.  Not to mention Carol will probably put an end to this project if we sink another one.  So today I replaced the shower stall port instead of going with another boat at the dock to Cape Lookout, which is what I really wanted to do. I will take a look at the salon hatch tomorrow to see what can be done. 

I also declined an invitation to go with a different boat to Oakracoke, for the second time in as many weeks.  This "responsible" gig is getting old.

I do find myself looking forward to seeing family.  We will be home for two or three weeks, and need to settle some things.  We will then come back and spend some more time possibly here in Oriental and then start the migration south near the end of hurricane season. 

I love flip flops.  I can shop and shop for the perfect pair, spend hours even, before making a purchase.  Now, what does this have to do with sunglasses, you ask?  Well, believe it or not, Monty is kind of the same way about sunglasses. 

Case in point.  We made a whirlwind tour thru Oriental, Bayboro, and New Bern taking care of errands and along the way Monty checked out the sunglass rack at each and every store we visited.  At the end of the day, still no sunglasses.  So we reversed our trek and back to Oriental (where we originally started) we went.  After a thorough search of the available merchandise ((finally)) he made his purchase.  Upon leaving the building he immediately removed the tags, placed them on his face and proceeded to stare down the sun. 

Once we arrived back at the boat Monty got sidetracked on some thing or other, taking off his brand new sunglasses in the process.  He tucked them neatly into the neck of his shirt, never to give them a second thought. 

Yep.  You know exactly where this is going, don’t you? I’m sure it wasn’t intentional.  I’m sure he didn’t mean to send them to the briny deep when he leaned over the rail to look at something interesting!

Nonetheless, it happened, and now they are resting comfortably on the murky bottom keeping my pilfered spatula company.

Most of the active boats on the dock went to Oakracoke this weekend.  We stayed here and played host to my friend Rob.  He arrived Saturday and left today.  We had no wind to speak of Sunday, so we motored across the Neuse to Turnagain Bay where we were promptly chased away by flies.  Yellow, biting kind.  Two fly swatters in the cockpit could not keep up.  After Rob left today, I tackled the port replacement in the saloon that Carol broke.  Carol fished, and broke two reels but caught three fish and had one HUGE one "on the line."  Apparently fish around here have teeth.

On the way to Turnagain Bay.

Rob, valiantly defending us from boarders.

Back at the dock, we departed in the dinghy for parts unknown.  (Actually we were going to Paradise Cove for a beer.  Battling flies is thirsty work.)

The dinghy will plane with one person.  Will it plane with two?  If we put some special 1960's era Sea Doo moves on it?  Heck no.

Mission accomplished!  (What happened to the hat?)

And so, this morning, after a breakfast that would doom an ordinary man, JT Lancer jumps into his car...

...and returns to his domain, there to do many good deeds.

Leaving me to embark on the port replacement project.

Out with the old and in with the new.  We'll see if it leaks.  I'll let you know.

It has occurred to me this weekend (as it frequently does) how fortunate I am to be living this lifestyle.  Many things have aligned to make it happen, not the least of which is living in these United States.  Thank you to all of the active duty, former, and most especially the ones who gave all they had to defend this country and keep it free. 

Today I am a bit sore.  Yesterday was The Project.

I speak, of course, of all things regarding the head.  On a sailboat, this is where you dispose of your previous drink or meal.  On land, this is a pretty straightforward chore.  Just operate a lever and let a couple of gallons of water and gravity do the rest, taking the problem sometimes miles away to your local water treatment station where it is purified and released into the environment.  On a boat, the process is a little more complicated.  First of all, on Sea Bird, the process begins below sea level.  The waste products have to be pumped through a series of hoses and anti siphon valves to a holding tank.  At your house, the water to flush comes from the same source your drinking water does.  On Sea Bird, fresh water is much too precious to be used for such a chore, so sea water is pumped from the ocean to accomplish the task.  The whole process is a manual one and actually requires (a little) training to perfect, as the end of the road is not a water treatment plant, but a holding tank.  Eighteen gallons is not very much room.  Think of just over three five gallon buckets, and you can begin to see the importance of minimizing unnecessary additional seawater in the mix.

A side effect of this is that the mixture becomes... concentrated.  This causes several problems, one being the hoses used to transport the mixture from one place to another.  While modern hose and materials are much improved over years past, eventually, odors will permeate the walls of the hose.  On Sea Bird, there is a lot of hose to permeate (over 30 feet!) and it is almost all under the forward v-berth.  Because the boat was sitting unused for a period of time before we bought it, there was no odor at first. The more we lived on the boat, however, the more... noticeable... the problem got.  So yesterday, we changed the hoses.

The first step was to get as much of the nasty stuff out of the boat as possible.  This is the portable pump out station at the dock.

It's manually operated, and holds about 40 gallons.  Pump out, fill the toilet with fresh water and Clorox, pump that into the holding tank, pump that into the pump out tank, and repeat until full.  Then wheel the tank down the dock and pump it into the local sewer system.  Then repeat.  And again.  And again.  Remember, we are going to be disconnecting hoses.  You want whatever is left in the hoses to be as clean as possible, as it will probably be spilled into the bottom of the boat.

Then take everything and move it somewhere else.  Clambake was not impressed.

Then just remove and replace. 

Not really easy working on your knees on top of a stainless steel freshwater tank.

But eventually, progress was made.  This is about the halfway point.

We got the system buttoned up and Carol went to work with spray bottle and Clorox.  After a good rinse we went down to Paradise Cove for some libations while the chlorine cloud dissipated.  After dinner in Oriental, we returned and put the boat back together, finishing up at about 10:00 last night.

And this morning...no smell!

We are still waiting for the shoe to drop, but after a complete day it has been concluded that the smell is either gone or has been greatly reduced, and Carol has declared this to be good.  So thanks, Wanda.  Without you we would never have met Spence.  And without Spence's friend, Matt, who made the suggestion, we would have had to do a lot more research before we came to the conclusion we did.  So good job there.

We have been off the grid for a few days.  Even though we returned to the dock on Tuesday, the router at the dock has been down and, as loyal followers will know, we have no cell service at the dock.  I have been faithfully jotting a few notes daily, they appear below and chronicle our short hop to South River.

Today we were consumed by the "Head Project".  Suffice it to say it went better that I expected. As soon as I say that, I'm sure my boat will retaliate, but at this juncture, all seems well.  Pictures and story to follow.  Here's what I have today:




5/18/14

Posted by Monty

Got up this morning, went to the store to provision and took off to spend a couple of days “out”.  For this first day we cut across the Neuse and explored the South River on the other side.  Anchored in a cove where we sat out a small rain shower.  We are having a cold snap here so we didn’t really spend a lot of time in the cockpit.  Watched Star Trek.  They made it home again.  I was worried this time.  We finished the evening with brats on the grill topped with sauerkraut, served with Doritos and brownies for dessert. Depending on the weather tomorrow (forecast calls for partly sunny) we may stay here another night or we may go towards Oriental.  We’ll see.

A fellow traveler coming in when we departed Broad Creek.  When we came alongside he held up his fly swatter.  The bugs are starting to get a little out of hand.

5/19/14

Posted by Monty

A somewhat windy night.  As we were coming in, I spied a great anchorage on the southwest side of the river.  We pulled in and anchored in a cove in about 8 feet of water.  Perfect, except that I did not heed the weather forecast for 10-15 mph winds from the northeast.  It made for a rather choppy night as there was enough fetch for the waves to build to just under whitecap size.  In addition, we are just beginning to believe in our anchoring abilities in this soft mud, so it was a rather uneasy night (more so for Carol than for me).  The gusts were forecast to increase during the day and we had decided to stay in the area, so we raised anchor and motored to a new location on the northwest shore.  Carol saw a pod of dolphin on the way as I was trying to clean some of the mud off the anchor and chain, so that alone made the trip worth it. 

We had a much better day in the lee of the shore, even though it was too cool and windy for a lot of outdoor activity.  We lounged in the cockpit in the sun and napped.  Carol continued in her still unfulfilled quest to catch (even one!) fish and I got a couple of boat projects done.  Hamburger steak, salad and sweet potato for dinner and then I reset the anchor for the anticipated wind shift to the south.  Killer sunset that pictures do not do justice to.  Audrey, maybe I need a lesson,

5/20/13

We had a very quiet night last night.  Good sleeping weather.  When I got up this morning, while making coffee, I took a look out the ports.  The bugs were everywhere.  So I took a peek into the cockpit.  No longer white, but black with bugs.

In their defense, these particular bugs, while they look like mosquitoes, do not bite.  They are also not very fast.  They are also not very smart, and will sit happily while you get out your swatter, cloth, or paper towel and kill them.  They don’t have to be fast or smart.  They will overwhelm you with sheer numbers.  So (after coffee and breakfast) I climbed into the cockpit armed with a rag about the size of a hand towel and commenced with the carnage.  After slaying a couple of million (as witnessed by the bloody gore on the fiberglass) I declared myself defeated until we got moving and I could call upon the wind gods for assistance.  Then Carol decided that I had not used sufficient caliber, so she took a bath towel to the fray.  After about 10 minutes she returned, also defeated. So we shipped anchor.  (Ask me sometime about the primordial ooze they have around here on the bottom of the river.  Around here they call it “mud”.  Sort of like calling the total destruction of Los Angeles a “seismic disturbance”.  Some new life form is going to climb off of my anchor chain one day and ask for citizenship.)  Fifteen minutes or so of motoring into the wind and the air began to clear.  When Carol saw a pod of dolphin I knew that we had won the war.

We motored back to the dock through some traffic on the ICW and one guy under sail in the creek that we yielded to as we were under power.  A thorough deck scrubbing by Carol while I attended to a couple of other projects and all is right with the world.

So what did we accomplish with this trip? 

Nothing broke.  (Well, Carol broke a port dog, the part that holds the port shut.) 

We are learning to trust the ground tackle. 

We are beginning to communicate better on boat handling skills.

We are gaining confidence in piloting the boat.

We crunched the grill coming into the dock.

OK, that last may seem like a bit of a downer.  I took the grill off the rail still ensconced in it’s protective cover (body bag).  A quick assessment, however, revealed that it was not dead, just in a coma.  A little work with a hammer and a new bolt and nut (or two) and we had chops on the grill tonight.

Now that’s a good day.



5/21/14

First of two project days.  Today it was deck fills.  The original deck fills were chrome plated zinc.  Any engineer will tell you this is a bad idea around salt water.  As soon as the chrome is compromised, the zinc starts to degrade as it is one of the least noble metals.  As a matter of fact, I have a zinc ball on my prop shaft as a sacrificial metal so that stray currents will eat the zinc instead of my prop.  I don’t know what the engineers in the eighties were thinking about.  Well, it was the eighties.

So we replaced two of the deck fills the other day.  The other two today went pretty well.  I did break a vent fitting (also chrome plated zinc) and had to replace it.  I could not find the correct one (surprise) so I had to adapt the “in stock” fitting until I can get the correct one.  I am beginning to understand how boats (or anything else) gets “jury rigged”.  (This is a nautical term for a knot, by the way.  Look it up.)  Once the temporary repair gets installed, it sort of moves down the priority list until it one day fails (usually catastrophically and at sea).  This is something I will have to guard against.  I don’t really think the vent to my fresh water tank falls into the “might sink the boat” category, but still.

Tomorrow is the “Big Day”.  We are replacing sanitation hoses, trying to get rid of “The Smell”.  Most other boats are leaving tomorrow or the next day for a few days on Oakracoke Island for Memorial Day.  We will be dealing with all things smelly.  I am considering facing tomorrow with a slight hangover, as it will be a shi…ummm… bad day anyway.  Replacing lines, valves, and rebuilding pumps.  Looking forward to the sweet smell of success.

The finished product, installed.

All plans these days are written in the sand at low tide.  However, we have a tentative plan to consider a few days out on the hook (anchor) as sort of a shakedown cruise and trial run to see how we cope.  To that end, we are making progress and I am tying up a lot of loose ends.  Just a couple more things to do and we may be able to leave on Sunday.

The sump pump in the shower has not worked from day one.  Part of the reason was a totally trashed pump that I replaced when we were living at the boatyard having the roller furling replaced.  The other half of the project was completed today when the circuit breaker (that had been removed) arrived from an Ebay seller (it is no longer being manufactured, sort of like my boat.  And me.) and was installed in the control panel.

This is a mixed panel containing both live AC and DC circuits.  The DC is not a danger if I screw up except possibly a fire.  The AC is 110 volts so probably not lethal.  I did tell Carol to quit talking to me.

That project completed, we went into town to get supplies and went to see the local fish guy.  He has a shack downtown and sells fresh fish out of coolers.  Bought some salmon for the grill. 

See previous post.  I am still becoming one with the grill.

After a dinner that couldn't be beat, Carol decided to crank the oven up for the first time and make some brownies.

We lit the pilot and set the temperature on the dial.  Carol mixed and baked according to label directions.  But when it came out, it was not done.  Not even close.

Clambake was skeptical.

But another five minutes on the timer...

And success!  I even ate TWO!

Tomorrow will be a day for last minute projects, one slightly major, most minor, and provisioning for the few days we will be out.  Not sure where we are going, just wherever a beam reach takes us.  Posts may become spotty as we are in and out of coverage. 

Posted by Monty

You might think that would be big enough, but I'm used to a lot more.  In addition, it hangs off the stern of the boat, literally over the water.  Swinging in the wind.

It's my grill.

I have written about this before, but it needs some elaboration.  A little, round, LPG powered device with a cooking surface smaller than a large pizza.  In (today) 15 mph winds with gusts to 36.  It has a wind shield (the cover can be rotated and propped so that it sits vertically, shielding it so that approximately half of the cooking area is actually available).  The wind shield has to be set up in the direction the wind is blowing from.  I have to stand on a cockpit seat to get to the grill, and the wind is at my back.  This means I have to reach around the cover/heat shield and through the rail to place the food on the grill, as well as any turning/manipulation of the food that may be involved.  Over the water, and between the grill and the dinghy on one side and the man overboard life buoy on the other. 

And tonight, my bride requested barbeque sauce.

It's only a matter of time.  Something is going in the water.  I just hope I can grab the life buoy on the way down.

Said the infamous Captain Kirk.  My particular space fortunately has nothing to do with strange new worlds or new civilizations.  It’s of a more personal nature.  As most of my family will attest to, I am a very organized person.  I like having things in their place.  If you take something out, just put it back where it came from.  It’s very simple, people.  It’s not rocket science.

Or so I thought!

Living on a boat brings on a whole new set of challenges for those of us who are slightly OCD.  My symptoms aren’t problematic in the true sense of the word.  I’ve never had any of these storage issues at home.  Most spaces are square or rectangular right?  Well, space on a boat is anything but.  My goodness, I have every configuration known to man (other than square) in which to store things.  Hence I have become space challenged.  As proof, the aft cabin is still filled with round items I can’t fit into square pegs. 

It’s been a long and frustrating day in the organization world and as I sit and ponder my dilemma maybe some research is required.  Maybe more space bags will be the answer.  Whatever it is, I must push on and find a solution quickly, cause living in chaos does not a happy boater make.