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.
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.