So, after Tuesday's run with the engine, where I changed transmission fluid, I awoke Wednesday morning with renewed vigor.  We discussed a couple of destinations and decided to make our way to West Bay, across the Neuse, an area we had not been before.  After an overnight there, we would probably make our way to Ocracoke Island, former hideout of Captain Teach.  Preparations were made, covers were pulled off and stored, electronic navigation aids were readied, and I went to start the engine to motor out of the slip.  I turned the key, and...nothing.

I released the key and turned it again, and the Yanmar fired right up.

This did not make me happy.

I started channeling Capt. Fatty Goodlander.  "Listen to your boat", said a voice in the back of my head.  "She is smarter than you.  She'll tell you what she needs if you will just listen."

This was not the first time this had happened.  It happened once before to me, and a couple of times to Carol. I had dismissed it as a fluke, but now my boat was getting a little more insistent.

So I listened to her.

We pulled off the starter and took it to New Bern to the shop to have it refurbished.  Since we had to pull off the alternator to get to the starter, we took it too.

It is unclear when the repairs will be done.  I'm hoping for Friday (tomorrow), but you know how it goes.  We spent the day today at the beach letting the sun bake some of the soreness out of my bones.

I'm just glad my boat told me this while we were still at the dock.

AFTER we went to bed in South River, the wind filled in as advertised. 

Sea Bird has a vee berth forward where we sleep.  There is a large opening hatch over the berth that opens forward.  This is a pain when making way, as we have to keep it shut so water doesn't wet our bed.  But at anchor, the boat naturally swings to point into the wind.  We were therefore treated with a very nice breeze down the hatch after we turned in for the night.

Then came the bump in the night.

On a boat, a bump in the night can mean many things.  It may be something as simple as something falling over.  It may be that the canvas hatch cover has been blown slightly down the lifeline by a gust of wind.  It may be that you have been grazed by an aircraft carrier.

Fortunately, our bump was because of the wind.  Nevertheless, I had to investigate.

It was 3:00 am.  The bump woke us both.  When I climbed out on deck, all was well.  At some point, I wondered where all the light on the foredeck was coming from.  I knew the anchor light was on, but this is a single white bulb at the top of the mast and should not illuminate the foredeck.  So I looked up.

And saw, for the first time since my youth, the Milky Way.

Many minutes later, I realized Carol was waiting on a report as to the cause of the bump, so I called her out on deck.  We stood, mesmerized.  I wanted to take a picture, but realized that it was useless.  Pictures never convey a sense of reality.  That is why you go see, for yourself.

The next morning I drove Carol across the river in "small craft advisory" conditions to the dock to repair the broken shower hose.  It was a bumpy ride.

Both Clambake and I were tired.

 
  ...said Captain Ron.

Posted by Monty

And so, back from a restful day at the beach, with fresh oil in the engine, full fresh water tanks, three quarters of a tank of diesel, fully stocked larder and fridge (including some fresh salmon procured the previous day from Fulcher’s in Oriental), and very high hopes, we set off for a shakedown cruise of indeterminate length and destination. 

We would be going across the Neuse River and enter the South River, a tributary where we had anchored before and where Carol saw dolphins. We would anchor there, do some exploring, and grill the salmon.  Somewhat familiar territory, although we have only been there once, but a nice trip easily doable in a few hours.  The itinerary from there would be decided on a daily basis, depending on weather, wind direction, and the disposition of the Captain and Crew.  The long term weather forecast looked good.  My thinking was we would return when the weather turned south or enough things broke that we had to make port for repairs.

While powering up the instruments, it became apparent the radar was not working.  A little fiddling with it and I determined the power connector was not making proper contact with the pins in the back where it was plugged in.  This was a known issue, discovered at survey before I bought the boat.  What fixed it the last time was bending the pins a little to let them make contact with the power cord, but no joy this time.  So I went to work on the cable end, which promptly snapped.  More fiddling got the radar to power up, and I really did not need it today anyway, but it will have to be addressed.  Hopefully I can get a new connector and not have to buy a new radar. 

After taking care of a few last minute chores, we got started a little late (around lunch).  We exited Broad Creek under engine, and decided to motor over as the wind was basically on the nose.  Traffic crossing the ICW was no problem, just a couple of shrimp boats and a tug pushing a barge.  Waves were a little choppy, but nothing big, although I did take a little spray into the cockpit from time to time.  We ate lunch on the way over, explored up the river a little, going further than our previous time, and anchored in what I thought was a good place, given the forecast for southeast winds clocking around to the west.  We should have been in the lee (so the land is protecting us from the wind and more importantly the waves) but the winds were coming from the wrong direction.  I listened to the forecast again, but nothing had changed.  Except the winds were not coming from the right direction.  And they were gathering strength.  And they were pushing waves right down the river, causing Sea Bird to bounce and sail around on her anchor.

Now, this was fine with Carol.

You see, it was hot today.  And Sea Bird is not air conditioned.  And there was this wonderful breeze coming down the front hatch, which we had opened as soon as we anchored and were safe from the breaking waves.

But the wind picking up contrary to the forecast unnerved me.  So we raised anchor and moved to a spot that would offer protection from the actual wind that was occurring, as well as the wind that was forecast.  And all was well.

Except the wind died.  Did I mention it was hot?

So I bribed Carol with a dinghy ride, promising her some moving air.  We explored up a creek a ways, went back to the boat, and made a probably hilarious attempt at scrubbing the waterline of the boat from the dinghy.  It didn’t work.  Then it started cooling off and we grilled the salmon (it was excellent) and had him with a salad.  Carol then went to take her much anticipated shower, to wash away the stress of the day and cool down.

“Monty, come here.  You’re not going to like this.”

She has never been wrong on that one.

The hose to the shower head had severed at the fixture.  We took showers with a bucket of water and a cup to dip it with.  It was interesting.

Tomorrow, we head back to the dock for repairs.  Broken radars are one thing, but hey, Columbus found the new world with just a compass, right?

But on Sea Bird, not being able to take a shower threatens mutiny. 

We're back at the boat, following a physically and emotionally exhausting two weeks back at the house, getting ready for tenants.

Carol and I have been married and living in this house for almost 24 years.  She was in the house around ten years before that. 

There were a few memories.

There were a few...tense...moments.

Reviewing a major segment of your life tends to make you think about where you are taking it next.  Is this the right direction?  Is this really what we want?  Are we doing the "right thing"?

 Let me state for the record that there is nothing wrong with living the good life this country has to offer.  Most people find comfort in routine.  It is certainly easier, and just as fulfilling for most people, to live and raise a family in the same area where they were born.  There is nothing wrong, and probably a whole lot right, with that philosophy.  It is the foundation on which this country was built.

Carol is the more grounded one.  She is much more about making sure everyone else is OK before she turns in for the night.  Caring about her has kept me reeled in, and probably kept me sane, certianly more than she knows.  A part of me likes being grounded, with a home base.

But I am an adventurer.  I've never had much hesitation about going past the end of the street. It gets a little hazy sometimes, and a little dark when you run out of streetlights, but there are things out there that most people, who don't put themselves out of their comfort zone, will never see.  I want to see them.  Part of the reason Carol chose me, I think, is because she knew this.  A part of her wants to go, too.

And so, for the past six months, and especially for the past two weeks, we have danced.  Carol to the beat of routine and security, and me to the sirens of the unknown.  And then, I realized we were dancing together.  Sea Bird is our home now, with all of the familiarity that that encompasses.  And at the end of our day of adventures, we can come home to her, and to each other.

And so we are here, with a one year commitment.  We left in such a rush, we did not have the opportunity for goodbyes.  So goodbye and thanks to our neighbors Jackie and Randy, and Keith and Tammy, who were so supportive of our decision to leave.  My buddy of many years Rob, who helped with the final load out, and to his wife Tammy, who loans him to me on request, with no questions asked.  And to his mother, Miss Billie, who has been questioning my sanity these many years (Rob checked me, and says, (at least to my face) I'm fine).  Alex was there in the end, too, with no expectations (other than protein)  All of the Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners have been repaid, in full.  And to all of the other friends and family who encouraged, questioned, or muttered under their breath, thank you as well. 

Come along with us as we live our adventure.  We'll keep you posted.

Carol is one happy camper!

The national celebrations are over.  The fireworks have flown, the burgers have been consumed, drinks have been quaffed, children and adults alike are tired.  Everyone is getting ready to go back to work.  So are we.

We have been back for over a week now.  Our plan was to leave the dock on July 1 and start living "on the hook", experiencing what it is like as true live aboard cruising folk, while keeping the slip for a couple more months to use as a home base if we needed.  I was also thinking this might be a good place to be in the highly unlikely event of a hurricane.  Most hurricanes hit the Caribbean and Florida, that's why a lot of cruisers have to be north of a certain point during hurricane season, or their insurance will not cover and losses.  We have a couple on our dock that left the islands for that reason, and keep a slip here for hurricane season.  We all know how that worked out. 

Unfortunately, we have placed ourselves at the mercy of the guy who is replacing our dodger and bimini (these are the cover for the hatch, which has a "windshield" in it, and the cover over the helm station).  He is also replacing the cushions inside as well as the berth.  He started this project before we left to do the Doctor(s) Thing, and I had high hopes  that he would be basically finished when we returned.  Alas, it was not to be.  To be fair, it rained for something like ten days straight while we were gone, and he, as well as the rest of the country, took some time off for Independence Day.

So did we.  I brought down enough ports to finish replacing them all.  I have engine maintenance to do.  We need to rebed deck hardware.  (The recent storm put an exclamation point on the freshwater leaks.)  We need to scrape varnish off of teak.  I need to work on my spare outboard and dinghy to get them in shape to sell.  I have done a few small things, (see the post on the TV) but none of the major projects have been started.  We are just taking time off. 

That ends tomorrow.  The canvas guy is scheduled to show in the morning.  Hopefully I can get the maintenance and the things that really need to be done at the dock accomplished.  Most of what is left can actually be done on the hook, so we will try to leave for one or two night overnighters this week.  I'm sure we will need to meet up with the canvas guy again, but if I can get a dodger and bimini, we can get moving exploring local waters. 

I think we are ready.

The view from my front porch this evening.  Calm.  Peaceful.  Serene.

Right?

You should have been here last night.

Hurricane Arthur paid us a visit bringing his Category II eye wall winds to within a few miles of where Sea Bird is docked.  It was a... different vibe.

Yesterday was a flurry of activity.  The forecast was for a close call with not much more wind than your typical afternoon thunderstorm.  People we have not seen yet at the dock were here working on their boats.  Stripping off sails, dodgers, biminis, etc.  I vacillated on removing the dinghy from it's davits until Carol reminded me that if you are wondering if it is time to reef, you are already too late.  Down the dinghy came, to ride out the storm safely on the dinghy rack.  I left the sails up and storm tied them with lines, doubling down on the dock lines and rigging them so they could be adjusted from the boat.  Charged flashlights and emergency radios, etc.

Then, we waited.  The forecast was wrong.

The storm built in from our starboard side, clocking around counterclockwise and finishing on our stern.  Lots of noise, rain, wind, motion, and going up on deck to adjust lines.  About 3:30am things started to abate and I was able to get a little sleep (one eye open). 

We spent the day putting things back together.  All in all, not a horrible day, but, if it's all the same to you, I think this will be my last hurricane.

Carol agrees.

*Note: I originally named the storm Andrew, incorrectly, and have corrected my mistake.  Thanks, Vicki, for the heads up.  Monty

When I talked about the idea of living on a boat on the coast, it was one of the first things everyone asked.  "Aren't you afraid of hurricanes?"

In Concord, NC, we have our share of tornadoes.  These are much more unpredictable, violent, and deadlier than hurricanes.  People who live in California and suffer through earthquakes think North Carolinians  are crazy to put up with tornadoes.  And I even remember a hurricane in Concord, not so long ago.

So, yes, I have a healthy respect for hurricanes.  I even had a plan to avoid them.  Staying well north in hurricane season usually means they will steer clear of you.  (Our original plan put us in or around New Jersey at this time.)  Even in NC, they are usually not a problem, at least compared to Florida.  So while I knew that I would have to eventually put up with at least one, I felt relatively confident that I would have some miles under the keel before I had to encounter it.

But my first hurricane season?

And the first tropical depression of the first season?  And it turns into the first named storm of the season?  And that storm turns into the first hurricane of the season?

And it has it's sights set on the NC Outer Banks?  And I'm on the NC Inner Banks?

Really?

Oh well.  Storm prep began today and will be wrapped up tomorrow morning.  Author should begin moving through here Thursday afternoon into Friday.  Predictions as I write this are for worst of the storm to be 50-60 knots from the northwest.  Should not be too bad as we have some protection from that direction.  Storm surge will potentially be the bigger problem, and I have doubled the dock lines and will adjust as necessary during the event.  At least it is predicted to be a fast moving storm, but it might be a long night.  We'll see.

We have Clambake to keep us company.  I doubt he'll get any sleep either.