Almost there...

After a few enjoyable days of visiting with family we are still in Kent Island waiting out some blustery winds. They are forecast to settle down in a day or two and, when they do, we will head to Oak Harbor Marina. There we will prep First Light for a winter's hibernation, pack up a rental van, and land-motor west toward St. Louis. That trip will take about a week as family stops along the way are not to be missed. Once in St. Louis, Grandson Eldest will be reunited with his Florida-based sailing family, and we will be reunited with the St. Louis clan that have been in my thoughts every day since we first headed East in April.

Our Kent Island extended family

Some additional hardware will be going along on the trip home. A pacemaker for me. A titanium plate and screws for Deb. For all of the thoughts and planning for things that might happen while moving First Light from New Bern to St. Louis, not a single wisp of those possibilities ever came up. We did what we could to plan for catastrophic engine or generator problems, knew for sure there would be mechanical and weather related delays, renewed our towing policy and double checked that our boat insurance was valid for the trip we were planning. But planning two ambulance rides, two trips to the ER, and multiple trips to the OR?—only in the sense that Deb did a lot of work to make sure we had adequate health insurance. But there was no thought such would be the focal point of our summer activities. Life is like that.

There were many things learned on our truncated half-a-great-loop trip in a new-to-us trawler. We really like living on a trawler. We really don't like taking on much weather in a trawler. We always thought that boats with flying bridges were butt ugly. We still do. But that ugly shower cap offers a fantastic view when anchored, tied to a dock, or underway – as long as the water is pretty docile, the temps not too cold, and nothing wet is falling from the sky. Hump up the waves, drop the temp, or throw in some rain, and the lower helm station or hanging out in the salon with its 360 degree view is the place to be. Things not available on Kintala. 

Being able to steer with precision while docking takes a lot of the stress out of traveling on a boat. In fact, docking this thing is actually kind of fun. The exact opposite of trying to get Kintala into a slip. Having a honking big, yet still quiet, generator on board makes living on anchor a whole new, and much more enjoyable, adventure. Routine maintenance does include two engines, a generator, and air conditioning. It does not include running rigging, standing rigging, sails, blocks, winches, masts, and booms. So far it seems First Light is coming out a bit better in the “daily chores” department. An engine room, even a smallish one lacking standing room, is a whole lot better than the disaster that was Kintala's (and many a sailboat I worked on) limited access to the engine.

Five or six knots, mostly in the direction one actually wants to go, is plenty fast enough. Even 50 mile days go by easy. It is true that buying 100 gallons of fuel at a time is an eye watering jolt. But it only happens every couple of weeks. On land buying 20 gallons of fuel happened every couple of days. Our total fuel consumption living on water, even on a 3 m/p/g trawler, appears to be appreciably less than that of living on land. The simple fact is that we travel far fewer miles on the boat than we do in cars on land, yet see far more new and interesting places in the process. (Those living on a go-fast trawler that measures fuel use in gallons per mile might have a different experience at the fuel pump.)

As much as I enjoy living and traveling on a boat, missing family is still an unavoidable downside to the life. When we left to head East last spring there was no thought that it might be the last time I would ever see them, or them me. But that came, literally within a few heart beats, of being the case. It will be good to be home.

Come next Spring it will be good to get back to First Light to finish our half-a-great-loop. I'm sure there will be more new things to learn along the way. But for now, and for all of the challenges and obstacles we faced, it feels like it has been a good summer. We didn't get where we wanted to go. We took some pretty good beatings along the way. But we managed.

A small world gets smaller

The crew of First Light dropped the Dink in the water first thing in the morning and headed in to check out the Chesapeake Bay Maritime Museum in town. There was a nice free Dink Dock for those passing through to come visit the town. Not sure why every town along a waterway hasn't figured out that people passing through with boats will gladly stop and visit, spend a little money, and move on without making much of a demand on the town's resources if they could just have good access to shore. Win win as the bean counters would say. Anyway, the Museum was well worth the $30 or so we dropped to get little stickers to paste to our shirts, giving us free rein of the place.

Wikipedia image of the Hooper Srait Lighthouse at the Chesapeake Bay Maritime Museum

Back at the boat, I was sitting in the aft cockpit attempting to coax something like music out of my low “G” tenor UKE. (one of six currently on board) when the sound of an approaching outboard caught my attention. In it were four folks who had left the very nice looking American Tug 49 that had anchored not far away and were clearly headed for First Light. I had to wonder if it was someone we knew from before, though expensive trawler owners had not really been that common in our circle of cruisers. It turned out that they didn't know us, but they did know our boat. They had done part of the loop with the owner before the owner we had bought the boat from. They had called the owner that they knew upon seeing the boat, had been told by him that he had talked with us several times and they should drop by and say “Hi”. So they did.

It was a short visit as they were on their way into town to spend some money as well. But it was interesting that we had crossed paths. My guess is when they got back to their boat they were a bit surprised to find that First Light had pulled anchor and skedaddled. That had not been mentioned when we chatted because, at that moment, we had no thought of skedaddling. But we had done everything we had intended to do at St. Michaels. The weather was a lot better than the forecast had suggested it would be. We have family we haven't seen in several years waiting at Kent Island. And Kent Island was only a two hour motor away. So after a bit of discussion up came the anchor and off we went.

The winds were actually a bit more than we expected, but they were at our stern. The waves they stirred up were moving in the same direction as we were, making for an OK ride, though they did push us around enough to confuse the autopilot. They also made it look like we were going far slower than the 6 knots we were coaxing out of our bent prop in order to make the bridge opening on time. After a bit we gave the autopilot a break as it was working pretty hard and still not managing to hold a heading very well. Grandson Eldest, who had driven us off of the anchor, worked the wheel for the first half of the trip. I took over for the second half. My half included a rather narrow and twisty route out of Prospect Bay and through the Route 50-301 opening bridge, which we reached exactly on time. On the last part of the route I actually had to pass on the wrong side of Green Markers 3 and 5 to stay out of the shallows. On the chart both are depicted as sitting in the shallows. Not sure what the chart makers were thinking. And passing between Green 3 and Red 4 would put the boat in a shallowest part of the channel. Really not sure what the chart makers were thinking. Deciding to follow the depth gauge rather than the charted markers was weird and a bit taxing. But it all worked out and we made the dock in the Piney Narrows Yacht Haven. Though we try to avoid taking a dock as much as possible, this is a family visit. Hauling non-boating types back and forth to the boat in a Dink isn't my favorite thing. Hell, riding in the Dink myself isn't my favorite thing. So we have showers and shore power for a couple of days. And a  busy bridge. (Why is it that marinas and noisy bridges are so often located right next to each other?) Anyway, it should be a really good couple of days, even with a noisy bridge nearby.

The boat building facility where they are building a replica Buy Boat from scratch

The lighthouse keeper's residence was not nearly as posh as the one at the Calvert Museum in Solomons

This is the bell ringing apparatus

The boat building yard

A steam engine. It was two stories high

The model building workshop

A long day and a quiet night...

Various weather sources suggested that yesterday would be a really good day to make the 47 mile, 8.5 hour trip from the Solomons to St. Michaels. With Grandson Eldest at the helm, we pulled the anchor out of the mud and putted down to Solomons Yachting Center where he did a picture perfect job of getting us on the fuel dock, his first docking of this boat. When they showed up for work, we were already tied up starboard side to looking for the full monty: fuel + water + pump out + trash + ice. Filled up or emptied out as appropriate, our young Captain drove us off the dock and out into the bay. There we found that the various weather sources were on it today. Only the occasional and somewhat feeble whitecap thumped against the bow and by early afternoon even those had faded completely away. It was, as they say, “Smooth Sailing” only without the sails.

We had planned to anchor in a cozy little spot just a short dink ride from the town and well protected from all quadrents. But there was already a boat in there and one is all that will fit. After a bit of motoring around we ended up with a few other boats out in the broad Chester River. The anchor bit hard but where we sit has some pretty long fetch from NNW to ESE. So we are hoping that the weather sources are correct again with their forecasts of storms coming from the WSW. We also hope to be at Kent Island for the weekend, which we might make Friday afternoon depending on those very same storms.

Regardless, it feels pretty good to have this last long leg behind us. Two more short hops should see First Light in Oak Harbor waiting to be pulled for the winter. That is far from the original plan of having the boat in a slip near St. Louis for the winter. But (as the Taoist sages teach) life unfolds as it will. Accept what happens with a bit of humility and do one's best to stay on the path. It may take a while to come to terms with all that has happened this summer. Brushes with dying and shattered bones? On the one hand neither are new or unique experiences for Deb and I, though this is the first time that she has gone under the knife for broken bones. (Me? Lost count a long time ago.) Word has it the Doctor told her that the fatality rate for my kind of heart problem is somewhere around 97%. Slightly higher than the 95% number that was bandied around after a particularly nasty car wreck many a moon ago, but perhaps a bit lower than the near miss with a bout of meningitis also many a moon ago. That time I was saved by a 100 to 1 chance of an intern questioning a test an ER doctor had scheduled. A specialist was consulted instead, one who immediately had me tossed into and ambulance and hauled over to his facility. There we were informed that the test would have certainly proven fatal. Yikes. 

Throw in a motorcycle crash or two plus more close calls in airplanes than I can likely remember, and one might think shrugging this one off would come as second nature. It is a practice the Stoics refer to as “Memento moi”. But I'm not there yet. At some point, of course—tonight, tomorrow, or years from now—that number will be 100% and this particular sojourn will end. But sitting here in this quiet anchorage, having managed to get this far in spite of it all, it is hard not to marvel at just how lucky we have been. Still, I haven't quite shaken the need to take metaphorical looks over my shoulder.

A small world is very strange

We are waiting out 20 knot winds currently stirring up the waters that lay between First Light and St. Michaels, which worked out really well as it gave us a chance to take the Dink down the river a bit to visit the Calvert's Maritime Museum. That they have a free Dink Dock nestled in among the historical boats tied up in their little bay suggested it would be an interesting place actually full of “maritime” stuff. 

Within steps of getting out of the Dink one of the employee / volunteers stopped to give us directions. He asked where we were from, so we explained how we are working on getting First Light to St. Louis. He smiled and asked where we lived in the city as he went to school at a college called Parks across the river in Cahokia. I was a bit taken aback and asked him to repeat that several times, Parks college in Cahokia IL? He gave me a puzzled look while assuring me that he had gotten both his A&P license as well as a degree in Engineering at that school. The puzzled look turned into a big smile when I explained that I had spent 8 years flying out of Parks while employed as the Director of Operations for St. Louis University's (of which Park's college is a part) corporate flight department. Deb and Grandson Eldest walked away to buy our passes while John and I exchanged stories. He had been at the school years before I had worked there, but the coincidence was still kind of remarkable. He has been a long time resident of this area and, though officially retired, still works in a simulator at Pax River on something that has to do with F-16s. Part of his job at the museum is keeping a traditional oyster boat floating, of which he gave us a tour. Before we wandered off John volunteered that, should we need anyone to look at First Light while she is up on the hard, he would be happy to check in on her. Sometimes things unfold in remarkable ways.

After a final handshake with a new friend, we climbed up into a lighthouse that was once out in the Bay and had been relocated to the museum. This one was round like a cake with two layers of living space topped by a single, massive lens for a candle. After climbing back down the narrow, twisting staircases, we started to explore the rest of the facility. Around their little bay are several buildings full of maritime information and displays. In one of the buildings volunteers build and assemble boats using traditional assembly methods, though they do use modern tools. As luck would have it, they work on Tuesdays and Thursdays. The shop was a busy place when we visited and the shop foreman gave us a tour. After that, we wandered through the rest of the displays spending several hours. It was certainly a place worth the visit.

With the next weather break we will be heading across the Bay, one more step toward getting First Light settled in for the winter. It feels like we are doing okay...but don't tell anyone I said that. After this summer I still have a habit of looking over my shoulder to see what might be sneaking up on us now.

The Drum Point Lighthouse

The lantern in the lighthouse. It has a couple red glass panels in the windows
to make the light appear to flash red as it turns

The red reflections on the floor from the red window panels

Part of the living quarters in the lighthouse

The Patient Small Craft Guild is building this replica tender for the lighthouse

These patterns are laid on the floor to shape the ribs and spars

Some the forms used to curve the wood

The plans used to build the tender

One of the tools used to design the curves in the wood

The anchorage in the Solomons. One of the prettiest and secure places we've ever anchored.