Land side...

Daughter Eldest and family (sans Son-in-Law who could not get out of work) were in St. Louis to reunite with Grandson Eldest after the months he spent helping us move First Light. That part of the clan headed out a few days ago to return to their boat in Florida. Though the live-a-board lifestyle comes with more than its share of goodbyes, this was one of the harder parting moments we have had. There is simply no telling when we will be together again. As their van disappeared around the corner I went "for a walk". You know, it's good for my heart.

We could not have moved the boat without Grandson Eldest's help. It must be admitted that any teen-aged grand son is likely to come complete with a few (slightly) irritating habits. And I am sure the same can be said for any mid 60 year old Grampy T. We jostled and joked our way up the ICW and to near the north end of the Chesapeake Bay. We practiced music together. Along the way he discovered Deb's guitar and picked up what is likely a lifetime habit of guitar playing. He also figured out how to dock and undock a twin-engined 42' trawler, did a good deal of boat work, and played a bit of poker, (for plastic chips only). It was the kind of trip the stories of which will likely to be passed along for a generation or two. The guitar habit had him looking for an instrument of his own to purchase before heading back to FL with his family. That had him and I checking out the local music stores. He found his guitar. In spite of his urging I didn't add anything to my Uke collection...but I did add a djembe drum to the electric drum kit, table-top electric kit, and pan drum collection. The table top, pan drum, and new djembe will go with us back to the boat. The electric drum kit stays in St. Louis.

It is likely to feel like a long winter. In addition to living with grand kids again and maybe working (if the shop will have me back) having a new kind of drumming to delve into will help keep me busy. Unlike the others, the djembe is played without sticks or mallets. 

Since the family's departure, we have worked on settling into land life again. It took me a few minutes to remember what buttons needed pushed in our car to get things set up. Unlike when we first came ashore after Kintala, this stint of living on a boat has came with quite a few road miles. So it wasn't much of a shock being back out on the highway. Which is not to say that St. Louis drivers are any less crazy than they were when we left. The house is far more insulated from the weather. It is pouring rain right now, but you wouldn't know that without looking out the window. I suspect the wind is gusting as well, but you can't tell that from this chair. The ice cream in the freezer isn't soft. We don't count how many times we flush the "head" and no one worries about running the water tanks dry. But there are no dolphins or pelicans, no spectacular sunsets or quiet anchorages either. 

With First Light safely on the hard for the winter and little interest in going to work on the boat with snow in the forecast, boat related projects will be curtailed to not much more than trying to figure out how to get the boat to St. Louis next year. Given how plans for this past summer worked out? Well, we will just take each day as it comes. 

And we will just take each day as it comes...

Yeah, I said that. Well, what came was another trip to the ER.

I woke up on day two in St. Louis feeling the same feeling I had felt just before the lights went out and I landed in the New Bern ER. Not nearly as intense this time. It was spooky but faded away in about two minutes. It seemed pretty weenie to make much of an issue out of a minor cold sweat and and being a bit light headed for two minutes while getting out of bed. So I didn't say anything to anyone. But then it happened sitting in a chair reading. Then it happened standing in the shower. And it happened again while working on a small project with Deb. Clearly something was amiss. Deb and I talked it over but in the end I suggested we just go to the ER. You know I was spooked when I'm the one suggesting a ride to the hospital.

We got to the ER in the early afternoon. By then the weirdness was showing up twice an hour, which went on throughout that day, all night, and well into the next day. There was much debate over what was going on, but whatever it was, it seemed to be getting worse. The last time around this thing came within a whisker of being fatal, so there was a good bit of tension being tossed into the mix. We spent the night in an observation unit under the watchful eye of some truly wonderful nurses. This morning a Cardiac Doc showed up, sat down, and talked through the whole history of this thing from the initial event on the boat in Oriental to her sitting with Deb and I in St. Lous. After a bit she got up, walked over to the white board now a part of many hospital rooms, and wrote, “Neuro-cardiogenic-syncope / Vasovagal syndrome”. "That", she said, "is what I think is going on". That's good. What does it mean? 

It means that my brain, for reasons unknown, is commanding a dramatic drop in blood pressure. The long version of the fix?  My pacemaker needed to have a trigger point added. The one I already had fired the thing up when my heart rate dropped below 60 BPM bringing it back to a 60 BPM minimum. The one I didn't have, but needed, would fire the thing up when my heart rate was dropping rapidly. It needed a trigger at 70 BPM during a rapid fall that would bring the rate up to 85 BPM for two minutes, thus offsetting the falling BP. The short version?

My cyborg implant needed an upgrade.

A “wand” to talk to the thing in my chest and a fancy looking iPad were produced. The good Doctor and the Head of her department worked out settings they thought best, waved the magic wand, and that was that. As fate would have it, it was about time for my next event. (You know things are not going well when you can look at a clock and predict a potential fatal heart problem.) They walked out to the nurse's station to watch the monitors. A few minutes later they walked back in and asked if I had felt anything. I had not. They smiled. The monitors had clearly shown a plummeting heart rate followed by the pace maker taking over to catch the falling B/P with additional beats. Several hours have passed and there has been no repeat of the weirdness. Later my nurse came in and started an IV of fluids. A tune up and an oil change. Problem solved.

The Doctors suggested I stay the night to be sure, something to which both Deb and I were more than glad to agree. I'm not sure how many close calls one gets in a single season, but I think I may have reached my limit.

Deb did some reading and found that “Neuro-cardiogenic-syncope / Vasovagal syndrome” can be triggered by exposure to excessive heat and dehydration. Looking back on the summer's activities? Yep, guilty. Having a pacemaker installed and then “recovering” by living and working on a boat with heat indexes of 110+ might not have been the best plan. Who would have thought? Deb also thinks that I had a sub-conscious hint of what was going on—the reason for my eagerness to get the boat parked and get back home to St. Louis ASAP. Maybe. After all, we landed in St. Louis and barely two days later I landed in the ER...again. Which would seem a pretty good chunk of luck if that is what it was. As difficult has this summer has been, there is no question we have escaped some ugly possibilities by some very thin margins. Sitting in this hospital bed, feeling pretty good after a very uncomfortable day, and heading back to a house full of grandkids soon? 

I don't mind sitting in this bed. Take each day as it comes.

Gone west...

At my urging, Deb arranged to pick up the rental car a day early. I wanted to head west as quickly as possible. While she went to get the car, Grandson Eldest and I took to getting on our way in earnest. Even though we had been doing prep work since the boat went on the hard, the “last minute” stuff would take hours to accomplish. It was hot and I'm sure my eagerness to get on the road was a bit of an irritation to my crew mates. But by early afternoon we were on our way. The first family stop was just a four hour drive. There we settled in for a couple of days of pure joy. After spending time in the company of PA based family we headed west once again.

The Zen House so named because we always come amid chaos and leave with total Zen

Along the way we stopped in the town of Washington, PA, swinging by one of the many houses we have lived in to show Grandson Eldest where his Mom had grown up.

The house the kids grew up in. We planted that maple tree in 1987.

Then, on a complete lark, we stopped by the airport were Deb and I had worked for nearly two decades. It turns out one of my friends from those days long past had become a major player on the airport. He was sitting in his office when Deb and I popped up at his door, a blast from the distant past.  After heartfelt greetings we jumped in a golf cart and got a tour of all that he had built or bought over the years. That included most of the hangars on the airport, along with the one Deb and I had worked in. He had completely rebuilt it, and I have to say it was perfect. His interests also included the Fixed Base Operation (FBO) that provides fuel and services to transient aircraft and a fleet of aircraft used for charter work, with medical trips being a good part of that operation. The medical angle had led him to start a foundation that raised money for kids who couldn't afford the care they needed. He was too modest to give me a $$ number, but a description of the kids helped and the procedures they needed suggested it was substantial.

The old hangar we used to work in all completely rebuilt now.

Along the way he caught us up on many of the people we had known back then. Since we were pretty young in those days, it wasn't much of a surprise to learn that many of the actors have shuffled off this mortal stage. The ones still around all seem to have done really well for themselves. It was a unique visit, totally unscripted, and one that will never be forgotten. I intend to stay in touch; the visit was just shy of being magical. 

Driving off, I couldn't help but wonder how our lives would have been different had we stayed rather than heading off when that job went away. My friend dug in and built something special. There is a good chance Deb and I would have gone along for the ride. But we headed west instead, me taking a job flying air ambulance King Airs in the AZ desert. After that were jobs with an airshow team, various charter and corporate flight departments, and with a stint at an airline stuck in there somewhere. I did air photo work, taught acrobatics and tail wheel flying, and ended up flying more than 200 different types of airplanes. The best I can come up with to balance the two possibilities is that the gypsy in me would not have been as content had we stayed in Washington for the ensuing decades. But the paths not taken will always be a mystery.   

After an additional 8 hours or so on the go we pulled up to an enthusiastic and joyous greeting from the crew of our St. Louis Home. It was a good sized crowd as most of our FL based family is here as well. Two grandparents, three parents, and ten grandkids all in the same place at the same time. Delightful chaos now reigns. Walks in the park to check up on my favorite trees look like a parade. There are always games and music being played. Multiple ukuleles, a piano, a couple of guitars, drums...all are available and most get used on a daily basis, though with me being the only active drummer in the group the drums are actually the quietest of the collection. Games are played, stories exchanged...it is hard to imagine that anyone is as pleased with their world as I am at the moment. 

This summer didn't go anywhere near like we thought (hoped) it would. Nor did we get the boat to its semi-permanent Alton, IL home port. We did what we could with what was handed to us, survived, and are moving along. That is about all anyone can ask of themselves. For the next many months we will regroup, catch up, and be a bit overwhelmed with being back living with family on a day to day basis while adjusting to city life once again. Any long term plans are as vague as they can possibly be. We will just take each day as it comes.

Grampy and eldest grandson enjoying some dirt bike and quad time.

I will be very sad when this tree at Oak Harbor Marina finally succumbs to some hurricane

Grandson eldest filming the rapids at Ohiopyle

The rapids at Ohiopyle in PA

Sunset at Oak Harbor Marina

Last Night on First Light

This is this year's last night at anchor on First Light. In celebration of getting this far, (and regardless of it being some 85 nm as the goose flies to big water) we broke out our conch horn to herald the setting sun. Though a bit warm (actually over 90 degrees according to the thermometer) the water is still, the boat unmoving, and the surroundings are filled with boats and trees...exactly what a sailor looks for when the journey is over. Few people in the world have had the opportunity to find such a place and sit contentedly, regardless of the chaos, regardless of the unrest, and unconcerned over what the future might hold because it is outside any individual's control anyway. The horn echoed over the water, wound its way around the boats and the trees, one simple note sent off and held as long as breath allowed in the hopes the universe would understand that we understand, and are thankful. 

We are still miles from St. Louis. Many months by boat, a couple of days by rental van. The van trip will start as soon as the boat is blocked secure on land and prepped for the winter. That effort will start in the morning with a short motor to the pump out and then to the lift pit. After that will come months on land. But they will be good months filled with some of the people we love most in the world and have missed every day of our journey. Word has it there is a job waiting for me that will help fill the coffers that took a bit of a beating this summer. There might even be enough left over to add a Uke or two to the collection.

Odd how that works, being just as happy to be in either of two places and just as sad at being away from the other, all at the same time. Then again there are a lot of people who, due to no fault of their own, never find even a single place in which to be happy. If I believed in a life after this one I would consider it an honor to contribute in any way to the balancing of the scales...wash their dishes, fix their boats, or fly them off to wherever they might want to go. But that too is outside of my control. So with the sun gone for the night and the stars just starting to shine, I will let this last day go with a smile. Tomorrow will bring what it will.

The view from my chair in the cockpit.

Yes, It's Still the Peeps

Back in 2015 we put Kintala on the hard at Oak Harbor Marina so we could go back to St. Louis and get our condo ready to sell. The renter had moved out and we were ready to be done with the trouble. When we came back to launch the boat, we were fortunate enough to have a group of friends close by to spend some time with. It's the one thing cruisers say over and over again, the fact that you can meet someone cruising then not see them for months or even years, then pick up just like you never left off.

This past week we had an opportunity to see some friends we haven't seen in eight years. They live close to where we were docked at Kent Island and they braved the traffic to come see us on the boat. It was like we saw them yesterday. Stories were exchanged, food was shared, and laughter abounded. It's still the one thing that has been the most important to me about this lifestyle—the peeps we've met along the way. I'm looking forward to having the boat in St. Louis near home, but I admit to realizing that I'll miss this part of the lifestyle.

Me, Tj, Wayne and Sue circa 8 years past

Wayne, Tj, Sue, Me and Roo circa 2023

October 19th, 2013

Three thousand six hundred and seven days ago we pulled the dock lines onto Kintala's deck, motored away from Oak Creek Marina, and headed out on our cruising adventure. Now, all those days later, First Light is anchored just a couple of hundred feet from those docks. And I swear that the trawler tied to the end pier is the exact same boat, sitting in the exact same place, as the day we first headed out.

It seems surreal to be here again.

The last leg of this part of this particular journey was near perfect. It was a bit after 0700 when we pulled out of Kent Island to take advantage of a day with wind forecasts of light and variable. Grandson Eldest had the helm, backing us out of the slip and out into the river like he had done it 100 times. Just before 1100 the anchor splashed into Rock Creek and settled into the bottom. It will be a quiet couple of days of sitting in a picture perfect and well protected little anchorage while waiting out the holiday weekend. After that, things will get pretty busy with the normal prep work needed to safely leave a boat on the hard for a winter.

I was hoping to never have to do that again. All the work that went into having a boat included getting it near enough to St. Louis to be a regular part of our lives. Pulling the boat when needed for bottom paint, and then only for a few days, was the plan. For the most part it would be just a short drive away, available for weekends, vacation days, and just plain hanging out for fun or when the need to be back on the water grew overwhelming. It will be close to another year before that is the case. Still, we make plans but the universe has veto power. So I will accept this last bit of sitting as a really pleasant way to end what has been a less than stellar summer. Living on a boat at a nice anchorage is, to me anyway, about the perfect vacation spot. So this is a mini vacation before having to get back to work. I intend to enjoy every moment of it. I intend to enjoy every minute of being back in St. Louis with most of the people I love most in the world. And I intend to enjoy being back here next year to splash First Light yet again, and get her “home”.

Dinner Sunset at The Jetty in Kent Island

The anchorage at Oak Harbor Marina

The view from my chair in the cockpit. I need to frame it and
sit it by the couch in the apartment.

Picture Post - Annapolis Naval Academy Museum

Back in 2015 we had the opportunity to tour the Naval Academy grounds, including the chapel and the museum. The part that impressed us the most was the collection of model ships on the second floor of the museum. I took a ton of photos during that trip that you can see at the original post.

This time, since we had already been through the display in 2015, I was fascinated mostly with all of the small details of the models—the figureheads, the lifeboats, all of the filigree details. Ships were the pride and joy of their respective countries and were decorated as such. At some point, though, the bean counters discovered that a whole lot of money was being spent on artistic flair and put a Kabash on the whole thing. Here's the description of the order.

It's unfortunate, because we've lost something in the removal of this art. With the decoration of features from their homeland, there was some sense of the culture they were fighting to preserve. While we have evolved from some of the more socially unacceptable portions of those cultures, the art is still an important look into that portion of history, something I fear we are losing with our dismissal of art in our current culture.

If you ever find yourself in Annapolis, please take an afternoon and visit the Naval Academy. It's free and open to the public and is one of the best kept secrets out there.

Naval Academy Chapel

The famous pipe organ on the balcony

The crypt of John Paul Jones in the basement of the chapel

One of the ships carved out of bone by the French prisoners of war. They carved them from 
bones left from their dinners.

Bone carved ship

Bone carved ship

Bone carving

Bone carved ship

An Ironclad ship

An early submarine

A replica of the famous Iwo Jima statue