We're having fun now...

Last night around 0200 we rolled out of the V berth to check likes and fenders as a storm rolled overhead. First Light bucked, pitched, and rolled enough to make walking a bit of a challenge, but nothing like the other day. As things settled down we crawled into the rack and were gently rocked back to sleep. This morning we woke to puffy white clouds wafting across a blue sky and gentle breezes. The Weather Mate forecast had yet another line blowing through later in the day, but the only evidence in the sky came from the obvious shear, with upper level clouds going one direction, the light surface winds coming from another direction, and the mid-level clouds moving in yet a third direction. It didn't look threatening but I know enough about the weather to suspect something was up. Still, a nice morning is a nice morning. Deb and I checked all the lines then went for a longish walk. By the time we got back to the boat the winds were blowing a steady 20 to 25. We checked the lines again and decided to shorten up the port side bow lines a little. Everything else looked okay.

An hour or so later the sky out to the west turned dark. Bubble clouds hung from the ragged bottoms, there was the hint of a roll cloud on the leading edge, and the winds ramped up off the starboard bow to better than 30 knots. We should have shortened up the starboard stern lines as well. As the gust front blew through I found myself pushing the boat off the port side aft piling while Deb shortened up the aft starboard lines. Lighting flashed overhead accompanied by thunder claps that shook the boat. The abandoned boat off to our starboard side was leaning hard on its pilings. A passing thought was just how ugly things might get if its windward lines failed and it its stern managed to slip between the pilings.

All of that was a while ago. Now there is a light rain falling and the boat is rocking gently in the slip. The WX maps show that the first cold front has passed with a second one inbound, looking to arrive in the next day or so. The sky is blue with white wisps of clouds and the winds have shifted out of the west and died to less than 10 knots. Dead calm compared to what it has been. It has also quit pushing the water into the bay and the water level has dropped what looks to be nearly two feet. Enough to that the big step up from the dock to the deck has become a step down. The next few days are forecasted to be breezy but sunny. 

The weather is much more a part of living on a boat than it was living on land. We keep a constant eye to the forecast and the sky. Most of our plans revolved around what Mother Earth is sending our way, what days we travel, what days we wait, and what tasks we might attempt doing on the boat on those days when we are waiting. It is always among the things we think about. And, sometimes, when the wind blows and boat starts to rock it is the only thing we think about.

Feelin' a Bit Like Home

When you're spending any extended time on a boat like ours, making it feel like home is really important. It's also one of the things on the long-term list of boat projects because you really have to live in the space for a bit before you figure out where things need to go and where changing something will make life easier. This past week we spent a lot of time working on this.

First up was getting some pictures up. I chose carefully from my collection at home, including some artwork that my grandkids have made for me as well as some from my son-in-law who is a professional artist.

Top left: "The Ocean is What I Meant By" by Tom Break
Top right: "Sailing" by Tom Break
Bottom left: "Boat Under Sail" by Catherine Rennier
Bottom right: "The Sea and Sky" by Tom Break
The top of the ukulele cabinet: "Learning From a Uke" by Mary Rennier

This is a work of pourable paint done by my eldest
granddaughter. It reminds me so much of the water
in the Bahamas.

"Birds in Flight Over the Sea" by Edie Rennier

Next was adding some tunes to work by. We have a Fusion stereo system on the boat with control heads at both the lower and upper helms and speakers all over the boat, but it's dated enough that it didn't include Bluetooth connectivity. With the addition of a small Bluetooth receiver we were able to run our Pandora through the Fusion stereo system. Score! It's amazing how much easier it is to deal with boat projects when you have some good tunes playing in the background.

Next up was to find a place to sit our mascots, Bean and Nutters. Bean went with us on Kintala where he lived on the top of the back of the settee and where he was used to judge how rough the seas were by where he ended up landing in the salon. He then voyaged back to the apartment in St. Louis where he's been living on a windowsill in the sunshine for the past 4 years. After a bit of trial and error, he has landed on the lower helm seat where he can get his daily dose of vitamin D, accompanied by his buddy, Nutters, a squirrel that my granddaughter crocheted for me a few Christmases ago. The back story to the gift is the rather large community of exasperating gray furry creatures that populate our property in St. Louis. I tried putting up Christmas lights the first year we lived there and the squirrels ate the lights. Not just the wires (which we have been told are made partially with peanut oil, so understandable) but also the actual bulbs. Evidently they think they are berries. This is why Nutters has a Christmas light bulb in his paw.

Two book racks have been mounted so that the little ones have places for their books and I have a place for all my paperwork. 

All of the instruments have found their home on the boat and Tim's drum set has been set up to where all he has to do is move it over a couple feet to play it. In case you haven't figured it out yet, music is an important part of our lives on the boat or off of it. My daughter rented out our apartment while we're gone on this trip and she had to make a note in the ad that there was no TV in the apartment. Wall hooks for 11 ukuleles and a guitar? Absolutely. TV? Nope, not happening. 

So as we approach the end of the squawk list (Shhhh! don't let First Light hear that!) we're allowing some time to enjoy the surroundings, to play some music and spend some time with friends new and old, and to enjoy our new temporary home.

Planning the reschedule blues...

It almost looked like we would be making our planned northbound departure more or less on time. Now it is officially less even though our dock lease runs out the 30th, causing a bit of a problem.

For reasons not really clear, we had getting the Dink & Motor working task near the end of the list of things that had to be done before leaving the dock. Memories of dealing with the Merc on Kintala likely had something to do with our reluctance. We knew how to get the Dink up on the swim platform with the Weaver Snap Davits. All we had to do was figure out how to hoist and drop the Dink when the motor was attached to the Weaver Leaver system. The previous owner had worked hard to make a video explaining the process and put it on a flash drive for the new owner, but somewhere along the way the flash drive was lost. Once both Dink and Motor were in the water together, we had to get the motor running. Getting the motor out of its aft storage locker space, mounting it on the Dink, and figuring out how to get Dink and Motor up on the swim platform and secured took a full day. It was a bit like a Chinese puzzle. One has to tilt the motor, lean the motor on its port side, lever the leaned over motor up on its pivot, lift the Dink & Motor assembly onto to the platform, secure Dink and Motor with stabilizer bars, then drop the motor back to vertical. Several of those steps require care to insure that all fingers remain operable afterward. Also, without the motor, we could lever up the Dink onto the swim platform with a single four-to-one purchase. It wasn't easy but it was doable. But hang 80 plus pounds of 9.9 hp dink motor on the transom and there was no breaking the surface tension and getting the Dink up on its side without more oomph. Fortunately, we had a second four to one purchase left over from our years on Kintala. We also moved the anchor point for both purchases to the top of the flybridge ladder, giving us a much better angle for the pull. It is still a bit of an exercise to get the thing moving. And I'm pretty sure I wouldn't want to do it more than once a day. But it is still less hassle than lifting a motor off the dink over open water and fixing it to the stern rail, then moving the dink to the bow, hoisting it up on the fore deck with a halyard, and lashing it down. Add in a rough anchorage, and it became a major task almost sure to leave a couple of bruises. It will be interesting to learn how this new set-up works when things get bumpy. Anyway...

With loading and unloading Dink and Motor mostly figured out, it was time to try and start the thing. After checking the oil level and attaching the fuel tank, I gave it a couple of feeble tries. My lack of enthusiasm was based on the fact that that shifter lever was frozen solid. I could see that the linkage was free down to the lower drive unit, and that's where all motion stopped. A short search on the web confirmed what I already knew, the only place this motor was going was to the nearest service department. Might as well let them make it run, and change the anodes, water pump, and do a compression check while they were at it. In for a few thousand pennies, in for a pound. (My poor opinion of outboard motors remains though, it must be admitted, it has been 4 years since the last time the Yamaha moved a piston.)

Our scheduling delay is mostly due to them being a busy shop in the middle of their busiest season. They  can't get to our motor for more than a week, several days after our dock time runs out. That will leave us under paddle power to get to shore and back should we be anchored out.  And, of course, there is some nasty weather due in at about that same time. Things that make you go “mmmm...” Find an empty slip we can rent? Hope for a spot on the free dock? Anchor out and hope for the best? (Never have we anchored this boat before. Doing so in the face on oncoming winds forecasted to touch 40 knots?) Option "1" seemed like the most workable. With a bit of searching Deb discovered that the next slip over was open for a couple of weeks so a deal was made. First thing this morning we went through the engine start check list, cranked up the motors, moved out of our slip, turned 90 degrees to port, and backed into the new parking place.

It is an aviation tradition that, when one does their first solo, one does three landings. This morning's move was the third time I have landed First Light successfully by backing her into a slip. So I finished my solo this morning and still get big grin on my face with how easy it is to put this thing exactly where I want it. Now, mind you, we chose to move first thing this morning because it was near dead calm with weather inbound over the next day or so. But three landings is three landings.

We have run the head and, much to my surprise, it operates exactly as advertised. It is a noisy thing though. I think everyone within 10 boat lengths will know someone on board has just taken a dump. Even more of a surprise the holding tank level indicator also appears to be working as advertised. All we had to do is realize that the "waste" label on the CB panel meant "head holding tank level". 

Being back living on the boat has reminded me is that it is always a good idea to have plan (and a plan B), be it projects or weather. Tools, parts, chemicals, supplies, it is best to have them all on hand and accounted for before starting the work. And weather? A forecast for ugly weather is a well educated guess best handled with as many options as possible. But a part of any plan should be the sure knowledge that something is going to go wonky and mess up the plan. And when it does, well, that was just part of the plan. 

More water works...

Yesterday was day four of the one day service and fire up the water system job, and the task is not quite done. Parts that have been replaced include the head sink and shower faucet assemblies, the water lines to the shower, and the water lines to the swim platform shower. We also installed an additional filter for a drinking water faucet in the galley.  The leaks at the faucet assemblies laughed at new seals and “O” rings, thus the shiny new replacements. 

The old faucet with the old flat shelf that collected water which leaked past the very old, dry
caulking and showing the old pipe/hose combination.

The two water lines to the shower faucet caused a bit of a chuckle. One was marked “freon” and the other “heater”. The freon line was on the cold water side, and the heater one on the hot water side, so there is that. Both were so badly degraded that it is a wonder the water waited to reach the faucets before escaping and running to the bilge and on to its ocean home. (Which, come to think of it, it might have been doing.) A good bit of rotten wood and nearly as rotten craftsmanship was discovered when we pulled the panels holding the shower faucet. Said panels are being replaced with $80 worth of custom fitted ½ inch star board. That is the part of the job not quite finished yesterday as incoming weather interrupted the work day.

What was left of the rotten flat shelf

The leaks at the swim platform shower would have been a lot easier fix if the person who had installed the cover plate had actually positioned the access cover over the fittings. But with the plate removed, all that was visible were two sorry-looking copper pipes with the fittings themselves tucked out of sight. I struggled with it for a day or so then slipped off the end of my rope. The six inch access hole with the deteriorated and ugly looking cover went away, replaced by a nine inch shiny white cover through which one can actually see and touch the fittings. The last four feet or so of the hot water line fell to the metal blade of the magic tool to be replaced (as was to cold water side) with a new piece of flexible tubing clamped onto the copper tube at an accessible location in the cockpit stowage area.

As mentioned, the last of the water work—that being the shower rebuild—got interrupted by an incoming cold front and a whole different kind of water work. The winds cranked up in excess of 25 knots, sending rolling waves into the marina that struck First Light on the port bow, causing her to pitch and twist like an angry horse trying to get free of her stall. During the worse pitch & rolls the starboard rail was just touching the forward piling, another couple of inches and the rail would have landed on top of the piling, certainly destroying it and likely damaging the deck. At the stern, the hard top over the back deck was just brushing the aft piling. With help from the Skipper on the boat next door and timing with the rolls, we shortened up the port side bow and stern lines, trying not to loose a finger or break a wrist in the process. Down below was a bit of chaos as well as unsecured items were tossed all over the living spaces, particularly in the galley. We had some wild rides in Kintala as well, but I don't recall her every trying to bash herself to death on the pilings. It was a close call.

During a slight lull between the not-forecasted winds and the very much forecasted incoming line of thunderstorms, I hustled over to the store and bought $100 worth of new dock line. With help from the Skipper of our neighbor boat once again, Deb and I fixed the new line low on the pilling, up through the fairlead, and over to the cleat. As soon as that line was snug, First Light settled down. We still pitched and rolled but with far less enthusiasm. Once the winds had faded to a gentle breeze we reset the second port bow line down low as well. We also reset the forward spring lines to help support the bow line loads. There are now eleven lines tasked with keeping First Light in her watery corral. 

I couldn't take a video during the worst of it. This was after it had calmed.

The incoming line of storms being shoved along by the cold front looked menacing on the weather app and came with a forecast of some serious ugly. But other than a few really spectacular lighting bolts they  passed without near the drama of the afternoon's tussle. I have to admit to liking riding out such conditions being surrounded by really tall lightning rods - aka sailboat masts - rather than being one of those lightning rods.

As I finish writing this, we were able to finish up the shower rebuild today and can now move on to seeing if the head and holding tank actually work. I'm not holding my breath. (Though I very well might be, depending on what we discover.) Still, we are making progress, and are feeling pretty good about having handled the challenge of yesterday and getting off without a scratch.

Ta Da!

We needed one of the smallish grandkids to help install this filter back behind the sink

We chased down the shower sump location (in the engine room under a
hatch cover under a foam pad). and discovered it was full of moldy slimy water.

A little elbow grease and some Better Life All Purpose Cleaner (seriously if you haven't tried it,
you absolutely should stop what you're doing and order some) and it was clean and
shiny and smelled good.

It's All About the Peeps—Again

The thing I missed the most when we sold Kintala and moved back to land was the cruising community. there's just something about this life that makes it so easy to make friends—the kind of friends that will drop everything to help you out of a jam, who will bring tools and parts and rum when you need them. I've thought a lot about it and I suppose it has something to do with the fact that you're all invested in the same lifestyle choice so there's no need to rehash that getting-to-know-you part of becoming friends. I think it also has something to do with the fact that this is not an easy lifestyle, and it isn't without some inherent risk, so there's a camaraderie that exists between folks willing to accept that. The only thing that made it possible to endure the years on land after selling Kintala was the close proximity of our many grandkids who are some of the best peeps in the world.

Our previous stays in Oriental have yielded some good times with good peeps, and this one has been no exception. The Wednesday night open mic night at the Silos restaurant has been a great time with many of the marina peeps playing guitars and ukes (and no, neither Tj nor I are brave enough). This past Wednesday our Dockmaster Extraordinaire played, as well as our diver and a few dock neighbors. The owner of the restaurant has a group that is really exceptional and the pizza is probably the best I've ever had. The evening was good music and good company with the best peeps around.

Best Dockmaster on the planet - Ceri Anne @ OHVM

Some of the best friends we've ever had have been made while we were cruising full time on Kintala (There's too many to mention but you all know who you are.) I'm really looking forward to a whole new cadre of good peeps on this Great Loop adventure. Now if I can just finish the shower remodel so we can get on our way...

Our cruising friends Anya and Mike from This Rat Sailed brought us rum all the way from New Bern! 

Chris Daniels, the owner of Silos, and his band who are all amazing.

Ceri Anne and Bruce, who it seems is perpetually smiling. I think it's because he plays the Use,
and does it unbelievably well.

Dock Walk muse...

Most days, just as the sun is setting, Deb and I take a “Dock Walk”. Yesterday we extended the walk to include the waterfront bit of Oriental. There we spotted a gaggle of trawlers all sporting Looper flags. At one extreme was a smallish Ranger Tug, maybe 23' or so. The other extreme was a DeFever 49+ footer that was on the “if we win the lottery” list. In between were four or five other trawlers more like First Light. Most likely they are all on their way north, perhaps even traveling together as one of the impromptu little tribes that are so common among long distance boaters. We have seen other boats flying Looper Flags on the face dock, joined by those who are part of the normal sail & power migration north for the hurricane season. They stay a night or two, perhaps waiting out a bit of a blow, then depart with the rising sun. Some mornings before I start my tasks for the day I sit in the flybridge sipping coffee and watch them go. 

As I do I can't help but feel a bit of travel envy. We are, at best, a couple of weeks away from joining in. Pretty involved systems repairs are underway.We have a diver scheduled for zinc replacement and bottom cleaning. There are glitches with the electrical system not yet understood that will likely require some kind of repair. And though this will not delay us much, the boat is its normal work area disaster. Chemicals and tools, odd-ball bits and parts, are scattered throughout the living space. The aft deck is a work shop...as usual. One usually has to clear the ladder of tools and parts before climbing up to the fly bridge. It is all very boat-yard-ish, just in the water instead of on the hard. Being in the water makes it feel like success is in the wind. But being securely fastened to the dock is like being in the doldrums, waiting for the wind to blow. The last time we came this way I spent more time as a boat mechanic than I did a sailor. That is not a path I want to tread again. But we are committed so accepting whatever happens and doing our best is the only option. And it is always good to remember this: about 8.5 billion people share this planet with me. It is a fair bet that billions of them would change places in a heartbeat. If, in fact, they could even imagine a life as good as mine being a possibility.

The sun is near setting. Time to wander the docks once again and be thankful for another day on the water.

Water Works...

Actually, it doesn't. Best guess is that it has been better than four years since the last time First Light had any water in her tanks. The system, so we had been told, had been completely drained when the boat went up on the hard. Ergo nothing much could be wrong and there was no danger of freeze damage. During the survey all of the various handles got worked and the pump was momentarily run. And, according to the survey, all of the lines were inspected and found properly secured. Someone who has little experience with boats could have been forgiven for thinking that all they had to do was fill the tanks with H2O, flip the switch, and open the spigots. 

I had no such illusions and figured at least one full day would be spent getting the system operating properly. Today was that day. To my disappointment (but not surprise) one day was not enough. To start the day, I sat down in the aft deck storage / equipment space while water flowed into the tanks. Much to my relief there was no sign of leaks in the tanks themselves. So I crawled out of the aft equipment hole and into the engine / equipment space to where the pump, accumulator, and water heater are mounted. Deb opened up the spigots and flipped the pump breaker to “ON”. Water, water, everywhere... 

Note to self: do not believe a survey. Had I inspected the system and crawled behind the water heater, it is likely I would have noticed that the lines to and from the water heater had been completely disconnected and just left laying on the floor behind the tank. But at least we knew the pump was working.

Okay, messy but no much of a disaster. Blush a little at being so trusting, apply wrench to line fittings, and that should do it. Right? (I can hear some of you laughing already.) Still in the forward equipment bay, Deb flipped the pump switch once again. I could hear water flowing through the heater and the pump running, which was a good sign. With the air bled out of the system, she closed the spigots. I could still hear water flowing and the pump running, which was not a good sign. I went searching, hoping the leak was somewhere that was accessible for repair, and discovered water spraying all over the place in the aft deck equipment / water tank bay. 

Notice the large bandaid on the arm? A project isn't finished until some blood has been shed...

There are two copper water lines in the aft tank area that run to the swim platform shower. Apparently the cold water side had not drained with with rest of the system. Thus it had frozen, and during one of the cold spells the boat had endured while up on the hard, it had split. A repair to the line held after two tries, but water then started leaking out of the fitting at the shower head. I pulled it off to see what was happening and discovered that it had, at some point in the past, been improperly installed. It must have been leaking at least a little bit before the boat went on the hard though no one (apparently) had noticed. Now, after years of sitting, it was leaking more than a little bit. The improper assembly had damaged a couple of the interior parts to the point where there was no stopping the water flow, even with the parts slipped onto the line in the proper order and wrenched to within an inch of its little plastic life.

I keep reminding myself that we dreamed of this kind of access when
we were working on Kintala

At this point, I was a bit disgusted with the entire circus and not completely pleased with the split repair. We decided to just yank the copper line out as one end was accessible at the shower head and the other at a “t” fitting about 3 feet away. It was replaced with flexible tubing. Not as easy as it sounds as it took 3 different adapters daisy chained together to mate the modern tubing to the “T” fitting on the copper line still in the boat. (Replacing all of the copper line in the boat would take a month and cost a fortune. I have neither the time nor the fortune.) Only a single adapter was needed at the shower end, which was fortunate. There isn't a lot of room back in that hole.

With the day nearly shot, we tried bringing the system online once more. Success insofar as the repair went, but at least two of the faucets are leaking at their base. It is a good bet that the those seals are died up and hard as bits of rock by this point. And we still have to fit a drinking water filter somewhere. Still, the day has to be considered a partial success. We learned a bunch about how the water system works, and fixed a serious leak. It will be at least one more day, and probably more if parts need to be shipped in, before the water system is operable. But, whatever it takes, the water will, eventually, work. 

Getting Started to Get Started

After an easy two-day trip followed by a couple of nights on the boat, Daughter Middle and Granddaughter Youngest headed home. Those were some really good days, the kind that linger in the memory for a long time and always spark a smile. We all sat in the fly bridge before they headed off, watching the gulls play while a big sailboat motored out of the channel and turned north. If there is a better way to start a day I don't know what it might be. We also talked about plans to have the rest of the grandkids meet up with us along the way as temporary crew, though not all of them at once. First Light is a lot bigger inside than was Kintala, but not near big enough to have 11 grandkids aboard at the same time.

Taking a break from unloading the trailer with my daughter who deserved the break. She worked hard!!

A couple of small projects and one major change to the inside of the boat were finished after the unloading. There is a motion-detecting, solar powered light that shines on the ladder to the fly bridge. A minor bit of tech that just makes one smile when it lights up all by itself when a body approaches the bottom step in the dark. New and improved cup holders adorn the flybridge. Not too important one might think, right up until that first night passage when nearby hot coffee is a safety issue. In the main salon the two chairs we bought to replace the hideous chairs that came with the boat turned out to be not much of an improvement. With a car available to haul replacements Deb went hunting. She found a storage bench that fits the space much better and, as the name implies, has storage. An important feature since I exceeded my Ukulele limit, brought my pan drum (to go along with my electronic desk top set), and we never really had a place for Deb's guitar even though it was always going to make the trip. Now they all have a safe and protected place to rest when not in use. Just as good, the bench takes up much less room than did the chairs, making access to engine space far easier. Two home runs with one swing of the bat. The rest of the day was spent bringing some kind of order to the pile of stuff in the salon. By work day's end the interior of First Light was looking like a pretty nice living space, the sun screen was up around the back deck, and the disaster tool storage area under the port side couch was much improved. I can now open it and go looking for a tool without a sense of impending doom. Other projects are also under way or have already been crossed off the list. There are cameras mounted to monitor the engine room and some minor canvas repairs are complete.

It will still be a couple of weeks, at least, before we drop the dock lines and head North. There are several modifications still to be made. After those are finished, all of the boat's systems and the dink need to be subjected to their normal duty loads and any discrepancies (of which there are sure to be several) will need addressed. The first test run will be just a few hundred feet out into the anchorage where we will sit for a few days and make everything work. Moreover (and truth to tell) we need to recalibrate bodies, heads, and hearts for living on the water once again. Time is different here, nature is closer, both beauty and hazards lie nearby. A careless step is far more likely on a moving platform; a thoughtless move or forgotten chore can easily lead to a big headache. Wind and waves move our world and ignoring the weather is sure to cause grief. All lessons once learned that need to be polished up.

Until now, First Light has been a project boat. Yesterday I went looking for an item in the “bathroom bag” and couldn't find the bag. I asked Deb where she had stashed it and was told, “I put all that stuff in the head medicine cabinet. We live here now.” Oh yeah, we live here now...how about them apples?

The forward engine camera view with the lights on...

And in total darkness. The infrared feature works really well. I also scared Tj half to death
by testing the two-way talk feature without warning him :)

We did a short stop at Pilot Mountain again on our way down here. it's a great mile long hike
around the bottom of the peak.

My daughter is an accomplished photographer and is seldom without
her camera.

We determined that Pint Size has the wing span of a Red Tailed Hawk

Every visit to Oriental, NC must include a visit to The Bean for ice cream!

Traveling in style

After returning the trailer to U Haul in New Bern, NC we visited Glenburnie Park while waiting
to meet some friends for dinner. It has a very interesting history.

Glenburnie Park in New Bern, NC

She spent over an hour playing in the sand