(With apologies to Bruno Mars.)

That's what we did today.  Nothing at all.

Well, not really.  But mostly not. 

Looking forward to family visiting over labor day, and possibly different family this week, although probably not.  Waiting on parts for most of my boat projects so nothing much to do there.  Rained a little today, and the good news is that all of the leaks we recently addressed are leaks no longer. 

The weather looks to break tomorrow for a few days so maybe we can get out for a couple of nights somewhere.

It has been hot.  Carol has melted a few times.  I can't decide if she melts like the Wicked Witch of the West or arises again every morning like a Phoenix, either way, she is still with me and still a player.  She is, however, no happier with this weather than with the 14 degree winter in January when we started this project.  I guess, on average, she is fine.

Steak and veggies on the grill tonight, with a rain interruption.  A little summer squall.  "They come on ya fast, and they leave ya fast."

A good day, all in all.

We took off in the car for a whirlwind trip back to Concord for Carol's dental appointment, leaving Monday at 7:00am for a 2:00 pm visit.  Accomplished that and made the rounds of the kids and grands that are located there and then spent the night with Carol's sister.  Got up the next morning and drove back down to the boat, arriving with fresh provisions around 3:00pm.  After refreezing the holding plate (the reason we did not stay longer was because of a melting refrigerator) and doing a couple of other projects, I was going to finish up the project list for the day by adding a swivel to the hoisting tackle on the dinghy.  Accomplishing this meant I had to splash the dinghy to relieve the tension and climb into it to install the swivel.  This was accomplished with a minimum of industry (it being hot, after all). 
Then, I hit me.  The dinghy is already in the water.  Carol is tied up with a different project.  With only one person in the dinghy, it will come onto plane (this is what speedboats, not (usually) sailboats do, and refers to the action of the boat climbing over it's bow wave and outrunning it, resulting in significantly more speed).  At planing speed, I am max ten minutes from Paradise Cove, where cold beer can be found.  Did I mention it was hot?

So I climbed back into Sea Bird for the required life jacket, $20.00us, and the portable radio.  Informing Carol of my plan, I also powered up the radio on Sea Bird, telling her to monitor for any problems.  (Like she was going to single hand the boat to rescue me.)

Back on board the dinghy, which we have named "Little Putt", I checked the fuel situation.  Not much, but it should get me there and back, and I am trying to deplete the tank anyway as I am going to be changing the engine, trying out the other one we have to see which I prefer.  So off I go, at warp speed.

I had...miscalculated.

Fortunately, I had miscalculated badly, and ran out of gas fairly early into the journey.  Assembling the paddles I keep aboard for just such an emergency, I mean circumstance, I commenced to journey back to the dock under impulse power.

Did I mention it was hot?

Fortunately, a fellow boater passed and offered a tow.  Although by now I was in sight of the dock, I happily accepted his offer, and, once underway, keyed the microphone on the radio.

"Sea Bird, Sea Bird, Sea Bird, this is Little Putt.  Over"

I could picture Carol, who has never actually had the VHF microphone in her hand, staring at it, and wondered if she would respond or perhaps just switch channels.

"Little Putt, this is Sea Bird.  Over."

"I'm coming in under tow, you might want to come up on deck.  Little Putt out."

"Sea Bird out."

This is, after all, the hailing and emergency channel, and you don't tie it up.

So out she came, with the camera.  We stowed Little Putt and took the car to Paradise Cove to celebrate Carol's first radio conversation.

And my first rescue at sea.

I did manage to retain my cranial thermonuclear protection device.

It's funny how the mind works.

Now that we have taken the decision to remain here, in Oriental, through October to continue to work on the boat and to take advantage of the sailing offered by the Neuse river and the Pamlico sound (something sorely lacking on most of the ICW), I still remain stuck in my old ways.

I awoke today with the goal of accomplishing not one, but two projects.  The first was to install the new waste level gauge for the holding tank.  (For those of you who do not know, that is the tank where your previous drink and/or meal ends up on a boat, until you can get to a place to have it pumped out, or your can get past the three mile coastal limit, and offer it to the sea.  (Before you comment, remember whales do it all the time.))  The other was to finish the refrigerator project, which means replacing the insulation on the underside of the doors.

TOTALLY doable, right?  Let's get started.

Oh, wait.  I guess we had better run the engine for at least an hour to freeze the holding plate.  We are going to be keeping the refrigerator door open a lot today, right?

So while that is going on, Carol is cutting her foam for the vee berth.  (She has her own agenda on projects, of which I am, for the most part, blissfully unaware.)  That's good, because the holding tank is under our bed, all the way forward and under a screwed on panel section.  So I tear up the main cabin to get to my tools and tear up the forward cabin to get to the holding tank.  BUT FIRST, I read the installation directions on the tank monitor and went into town for three runs of 18 gauge wire.  Arriving back at the boat, I unscrewed the access panel over the tank, and realized the very expensive gauge I bought would not work at all.

After some pouting, thinking, and lunch (holy cow, is it lunchtime already?), we put the forward cabin back together. I abandoned the holding tank project and started on the door insulation. That project went pretty well, as all I had to do was remove the door, scrape off the insulation that was there, cut new panels, fasten them into place, reinstall and check for fit, rework as it didn't fit, remove the door and apply metal tape, and reinstall.  Oh, and do it all twice, as there are two doors.

I finished just after 5:00.  Around here, that's quitting time.

So in the cockpit, having sundowners, I wondered, why am I in such a rush?  Is it because we are going back to Concord on Monday for Carol's (hopefully last) dentist visit?  Is it because we have guests coming in two weeks?  Is it just because I want it done?

Probably all of the above.  For in the sailing world, as in the real world, things have to happen.  And we are the only ones making them happen.  So, as it turns out, there is still a sense of urgency, even with no time clocks, bosses, children, or pets. 

Left to my own devices, I am still my most demanding master.

Its very frustrating to me that my photography skills are so inadequate.  Whenever I see a sunrise, sunset, or moon or stars over the water, I want to share.  I go and get our camera and take a picture.  It's NEVER as good as the real thing.

Then I am reminded of all of the professional photographs I have seen of places I have been.  They are never as good as the real thing, either.

That's part of why we are out here.  To experience things first hand, to see, to do, to "run and find out".

Here is the latest attempt at showing you what I see.  Totally inadequate.  But acceptable.  There really is no other way.

Carol fishes most days.  Usually she will catch something, usually too small to keep.  Yesterday, while fishing off the dock, she got something that doubled her rod over.  Almost all of her line was out before I could get to her and adjust the drag on the reel.  She fought the beast for at least five minutes.

Now, Carol is used to freshwater bream, perhaps a small bass, crappie, or, at worst, a catfish.  She now has line on her rod that is at least three times the breaking strength she is used to.  She has never fought a fish for over a minute and a half.  This, evidently, was Moby Dick.

So, after a battle of the Titans, she landed...a skate.

It's a member of the ray family and what I used to call a sting ray in my youth, complete with the barb on the tail.

Then, she landed two more.  She decided she was tired, and done fishing for skates.

Turn the page.

A few weeks ago, a couple bought one of the boats on our dock that was for sale.  Vadin and Katrina are from Russia, and here on visa to do exactly that.  As they are without a car, we have offered them rides into town to provision, run errands, etc..  Very nice couple.  She speaks English, he is more limited.  I know zero Russian.  At some point, it came up that they have caught and eaten skate.  In this part of the globe, it is pretty much a throwaway fish, but as they were fishing as well, down the dock, we decided to offer them our catch.

They not only accepted, but invited us to dinner.  As it turns out, skate is considered a delicacy and very expensive in Europe and Russia.  Vadin butchered the catch on the dock and disappeared into his boat.  "What can we bring?" we asked.  He pointed to each of us,  "Just you, and you."

We had skate soup and fried skate, and rice with some sort of something on top.  I don't know what it was, but it was very good.  It turns out that Vadin is an excellent cook, and knows a little something about presentation as well.  He and Carol discussed spices, with Kat translating.  The only thing that was unclear was Vadin's "Special Georgia Spice".  (That's not the state, but the country.)

At any rate, we had a marvelous evening and their Endeavour center cockpit is a beautiful boat.  Hopefully we can return the favor very soon.  Carol has promised to treat them to a "Southern United States" meal.

Hopefully, no international incident will result.

OK, for those of you who are following this journey, I realize the last post was a little vague.  Here, as Paul used to say, is the rest of the story.

After the thunderstorm delay in Morehead City (and coffee), we left through the inlet to the actual ocean, and turned left to the cape.  (See pictures in the previous post.)  Relatively smooth waters through the inlet (there was some tide running) and no problem at all in the big blue.  We made the bight and found a spot to anchor in the lee of Shackleford Banks where we would (I thought) have some protection from the forecasted 10-15 knot winds. 

The waters at Cape Lookout range from depths of around 20 feet to 1 foot and the gradient is steep.  When you anchor, you want to maintain a ratio of at least five to one "scope", meaning five times the water depth is the amount of anchor "rode" (rope or chain) you let out.  Sea Bird's primary rode is chain, which is heavy and has to be hauled back up (by me) so anchoring in seven feet verses twenty feet makes a big difference.  So I had Carol drive the boat (under extreme duress) into six feet of water (our draft is five feet), where I dropped the anchor and let out a conservative six to one scope, given the wind and the possibly poor holding conditions.  She then fished and I played with the dinghy.  Later on, because of increasing wind, I went ultra conservative, and let out another 20 feet of rode.  We are now at around eight to one scope.

And the wind blew.

There was no escaping it.  I checked the forecast, and it was to continue for the next five days.  AND it was going to rain.  AAAND the wind was going to get stronger.

So, I went to bed with that on my mind.

Just before bedtime, another sailboat peeled off of the far shore, heading our way, and anchored behind us.

Sometime in the night, I was awakened by Coast Guard traffic on the radio.  Apparently they were engaged in a rescue operation somewhere offshore.  As I was up, I went up on deck to check our position. The tidal current was running with the wind at around one and a half knots.  And I became convinced we were dragging anchor.

Things look different at night.  I was sure the anchor light of the other boat was closer.  So I took a range off the beacon and the lighthouse. and both told me we were maintaining our position.

Still, that boat kept getting closer.  Then the sun came up, and I realized it was in the exact same place it had been at sundown.

I checked the weather forecast again.  No real change, except now the wind was going to be even stronger.  And rain for the next five days.

So, over morning coffee, we decided to bail out.  We pulled anchor and had a pleasant trip back into the inlet and up through Adams Creek Canal into the Neuse River.  Then we turned right into the wind.

The rest of the trip was a little bumpy.  We were taking green water over the bow with a few waves washing over the deck and onto my new dodger.  That's why they call it that, it keeps the waves off of you.  It did it's job.

I was worried, not about Sea Bird, but about Carol.  Her worst fear is getting seasick.  She missed a good opportunity here.  All was well until we made the final turn into Broad Creek, the sea state decreased, and she went below to check for damage.

The forward port had leaked. 

Seawater. 

Onto our bed.

We spent the evening washing and drying bedding.  I went and got takeout pizza from The Silos which was excellent.

And we both got a good night's sleep.

Rebedding hatches has been moved to the top of the list.

We are back at the dock after our jaunt to Cape Lookout.  I'm really too tired to go into it right now, but everything is fine and we are well.  We had a blast at the Cape and Carol caught fish!

More to follow later, but here are some pictures for now.

OK, I know, we were supposed to leave yesterday.  I just had a couple of things to do first.  And so did Carol. And so, we found ourselves at 2:00 in the afternoon, pulling up to the fuel dock for fuel.

Way too late to get started.

So, this morning, we finally slipped the dock lines just before 9:00.  We motored into familiar territory, then unfamiliar territory, then totally foreign waters, complete with confusing markers, strange routes and boats.

Lots of boats. 

Then, just before we were making the final push into the channel that leads to the ocean, the thunderstorm hit.  We turned tail, and ran to a side of the channel where we dropped anchor and waited it out.  After it left us, it was too late to make the passage to Cape Lookout, so we found a little nook to anchor in off of the ICW at a place called Sugarloaf.  Hopefully a good choice, as we are across a waterway from the terminal.  I would hate to get blown into a container ship in the middle of the night.

On the other hand, I have enough of a signal to make a hotspot, so I get to update everyone.  I don't expect the same in Cape Lookout, and we might stay as long as a week, so this may be all you get for a while.  I'll continue to post offline and upload when circumstances permit.

It's finally quit raining.

Today, we worked on the fridge project.  Last time we were home, I made up some panels consisting of a sandwich of foam and fiberglass, with the idea of building a freezer compartment inside the refrigerator space around the holding plate.  When we got here, after some experimenting, I realized it would not work.  So I decided to fabricate something that would do away with the vinyl blanket we had been using for additional insulation on the top of the fridge, which doubles as counter space.  I screwed up the first attempt, but we are using it as a mockup for the final piece.  Fortunately, I brought two.

We also provisioned.

We have decided to leave tomorrow and work our way south down the ICW to Cape Lookout, where we intend to spend around a week at anchor, seeing the sights and (hopefully) the "supermoon" next weekend with a little less light pollution.  This entails a few "firsts" for us.  First time on the ICW with the likelihood of dealing with traffic, including commercial shipping.  First time on the actual Atlantic Ocean (England is thattaway, with nothing in between!).  First time with more than two nights at anchor.

We'll see.  Sea Bird is ready, I just hope we are.

Maybe it hasn't quit raining, after all.

But I still managed to get in a little grill time.  Grilled pork chops on salad was great!

Posts may be a little infrequent over the next week or so, as I have no idea about internet service in the National Parks.  I will be posting if we can get service, otherwise, I'll save them until we can get in range somewhere.

So, after a few days of forced rain induced isolation, we finally were able to leave the boat today for a while.  The first thing we did was check to see if there were any fish in the ocean.  After a few minutes of dragging lures through the water, we decided all of the fish had left.  So we stowed the rods and went into Oriental where M&M's was having sushi night.  Evidently they had caught all the fish.  While not on par with, for example, The Cowfish, for this town of less than 1000 population, it was outstanding.

And now we are back at the boat.  Carol is laughing at the book she is reading and I am typing this update. 

The Plan (written, as always, in the sand at low tide) is to do a couple of boat projects tomorrow and then leave Wednesday for Cape Lookout.  There is supposed to be a "supermoon" next weekend and we want to see it with as little light pollution as possible.  (I thought it was "Superman", so I was really excited.  But no.)

While we are there, we will probably have limited internet access.  Stop worrying, already.  We're fine.