Again?

According to Google Earth I am presently sitting - as the crow flies - 875 miles from where Kintala sits on stands, strapped to big concrete blocks, and stripped of pretty much everything on her decks. That’s what we do when a hurricane is inbound though, in this case, we had to pay for someone to do it for us. Eight hundred and seventy five miles is a bit far for the commute back and forth to the job. We contemplated Deb renting a car and driving to FL to get the boat ready for its latest dance with possible 100+ m/p/h winds, but I was against the idea for many reasons. The first is I just didn’t want her driving toward a storm when all the smart money was driving away. No boat is worth getting hurt over. By the time she got there, got the boat prepped, and got the hell out of dodge, Dorian would be hard on her heels; hers and about a million other people trying to get out of the way of an inbound Major Hurricane. We’ve done that already with Irma and Florence, (for Michael we stayed in a nearby hotel but still off the boat). Such trips can put a damper on one’s mood that lasts for months and bash a serious dent in one’s bank account. It was less expensive to pay someone else to do the job for us. Staying out of Florida for the next few weeks is a good idea as well.

Dorian AS OF 8-29-19

Kintala will survive or not, we have done everything that is in our hands to do. But Daughter Eldest and Family are also in the strike zone, living on a dock in Stuart FL. They don’t have the choice of pulling the boat. All they can do is prep it, tie it to within an inch of its life, and get the hell out of dodge themselves. The problem is that no one is sure yet which way is the way to run. Some of the tracks have the storm hitting mid-state and turning north. In which case running north would be silly, the storm eventually chasing them down wherever it is they end up seeking refuge. (Another reality we learned with Irma.) Other tracks have the storm hitting the south part of the state and crossing over into the Gulf. In which case running south would be even sillier. The storm would simply run over whatever hotel one had chosen in which to cower in place, and likely still strong enough to offer a good pasting to those who choose poorly. So they prep and wait for the last minute starting gun on which way to run. Them, and about a million other people who may also be trying to get out of the way.

And I thought living in MO would take the worry out of hurricanes. Tornadoes, floods, and some of the world’s craziest drivers? Those are things that can, and will, make for some tense moments. But hurricanes? I was hopping to be done worrying about hurricanes, at least for as long as we remain on shore. Instead we will wait out the week with the same uncertainty that has visited us on four different occasions; Joaquin, Irma, Michael, and Florence. We worried about Hermine for less than a day. Born out of a small batch of storms out in the Gulf, it was given ZERO chance of becoming a hurricane. It did so anyway, landed on us while we were tied to the dock in Snead Island, and dropped a small tornado which tore the mast off a boat sitting just a hundred feet or so off our bow. All that happened in about 24 hours.

When we go back on the water, being far north when the hurricanes come, and far south when the nor’easter’s blow, will be the only schedule we plan to keep. It is also a prime reason for looking at a trawler to replace Kintala. (Assuming Kintala will still be an option come next week.) Being able to move at a constant 6 or 8 knots, making 80 to 100 miles in an easy-to-live-with day (even on the ICW), dry when it rains, warm when it's cold, and maybe even cool when the temp is in triple digits? I am starting to wonder if those are not as important to keeping the suck factor down and the fun factor up as having EPRBS, life vests, and an AIS on board.

Too much TV

It was 7 nights on the run, staying in 4 different hotels, before we were back onboard Kintala. For all practical purposes Florence never made an appearance in Beaufort. A day or so of rain and wind, less than usually comes with a batch of thunderstorms, was about it. As for all of the work prepping the boats, and the expense of being on the road for a week, we have not a single complaint. The best anyone can do is make decisions based on what is known at that moment. We came through a close brush with a hurricane without a scratch…again. No matter what the storm might have done, we were never in a position where it could threaten anything but the boats. And boats can be replaced.

Even the boat mascot, Bean had his bag packed

Florence, in fact, jostled me out of a bit of a funk when it came to keeping up with Kintala’s maintenance needs. When sitting like this it takes some discipline to keep things ship shape and ready for action. Putting things back together after the storm has gotten me back in the swing of spending part of every day just keeping up. Deb did a bunch of repair work on the dodger before it went up. I cleaned places that have long been hidden, chased petty corrosion back into its corners, worked on some minor modifications, and addressed shoddy looking lines. There is always something that needs done on a boat. Setting aside a few hours every day to keep up seems reasonable.Ten to two, most days…we’ll see.

Once the boats are prepped and the rental car loaded, there isn’t much to do when running from a hurricane. Drive a few hours, carry some bags up to a room, and wait. Hotels with pools are good when there are little ones around. Unfortunately about half the group, including Deb, is now struggling with ear infections. Food is always an issue. The best description I can find for most restaurant food is “mundane” and “expensive.” We tend to eat sandwiches in the room for dinner, scarfing whatever is edible at the hotel breakfast in the morning. It being hard to concentrate on serious reading or writing when a hurricane lurks nearby, TV becomes a major distraction to help get through the day, particularly when one doesn’t watch TV in normal life.

The roads were pretty empty because we left early this time.

It was a weird week for watching TV. I don’t think most news is “fake,” but it is getting surreal. The hurricane hysterics of TWC were entertaining.  I was running from the storm with, for a while, everything I own at risk. I wasn’t near as cranked up about it as was Jim and crew. All they really had to say was “A big assed hurricane is coming. If you can, get the hell out of the way. If you can’t, good luck.”

That would have covered about 99% of the “reporting.” The rest was put out there just to keep people tuned in to watch the commercials. Though I did enjoy the bit of flying through the storm on a Hurricane Hunter…the first time I saw it. After a while we switched away from TWC and found the storm overage on other news channels to be just as good, and not quite as cartoonish.

Which is how we became privy to the big political news of the week. All they really had to say was, “Paul Manafort, onetime Campaign Chair for the Trump organization, pled guilty to multiple federal and state crimes. Here is the list. He has agreed to cooperate with the Justice Department in the hopes of not spending the rest of his life in jail. What happens next is anyone’s guess. When it happens, we’ll let you know.”

But, of course, they couldn't let it rest at that. Hours were filled with expert lawyers, the opinions of the various talking heads, and "panels" debating what would happen next. It was just like TWC's hurricane "news," put out there to keep me watching the commercials. Since I didn’t have much else to do, except watch the hurricane and swim with the kids, that actually worked. I hung around to see what they had to say. But watching the fill didn’t teach me anything about Mr. Trump and his administration I didn't already know.

Speaking of commercials, late one night I was watching a movie. A few scenes would be played, followed by 20 commercials (yes, I counted). A few more scenes, than 20 more commercials, mostly the same as before but in a slightly different order. The movie wasn’t that interesting, so I turned it off. Whatever the advertisers were paying to air those commercials was wasted money on me. I don’t remember a word of it or a single item being pitched. And I saw the commercials twice.

Back to the boats, both completely unharmed.

Fortunately just one week of TV was all that was needed to wait out the storm and get back to living on the mooring. I'm really not sure why people still watch TV, but it is still a free country and they can do what they like. The good news is I have a lot to do to keep me busy. The bad news is the National Hurricane Center is already watching another system, and early indications are that it could well be heading this way. I don't need to be THAT busy.

Tales from the refugee road…

Life would be a whole lot easier if hurricanes would make up their minds earlier, then let all the social media outlets know what’s going on. Our little family caravan has been in three different hotels the last three nights, scooting along hither and yon based on where the latest guess of where Florence will dump the huge load of water she has dragged across the Atlantic these last couple of weeks. We didn’t have a reservation at the first hotel we stopped at in Augusta, GA; having left a half day early to be on the leading edge of the refugee wave. We know what it's like to worry about the gas gauge nudging empty, crawling along with thousands of others on bumper to bumper four-lane highways, short tempers and crazy people in the driver’s seats. Once in a lifetime was enough.

The decision to leave early was a good call, and we landed in a nice hotel after an easy drive. But it cost well over $100 / night. The next night we moved to the hotel where we had reservations for a week, one where the cost was modest. Unfortunately, the accommodations were far more modest than the price suggested, and when the forecast put Augusta well within the flooding and tropical force winds it didn’t seem a good place to stay. There was no inside hallway so the door faced the outdoors. Even closed air, sunlight, and insects had easy access around the edges. Rain would surely just pour into the room when the weather folded, and the families would either be jammed into one small area for the duration or isolated from each other with no inside access. The windows were paper thin and not well mounted. It wasn’t hard to imagine a wind gust driving them right across the room. We decided to bail and head further inland.

The new destination was Chattanooga, about a 4 hour drive away. But the youngest member of the crew, the 8-month-old, went into full volume protest the minute we left the parking lot. She has no clue what is going on; all she knows is that her routine is upset so, so is she. She didn’t settle down even after nearly two hours on the road, Mom and baby both needed to stop. The next exit was Madison, and that’s where we landed.

This hotel has inside access, it also has a toilet that runs continuously, the phone is broken, there is no elevator to our second floor, the ice machines don’t work, there was no toilet paper on the roll or in the room, and the advertised internet connection isn’t. All ours for just shy of $100 / night after taxes and fees. Normally I would bail on such a place, but the little ones don’t really care about any of those things and they are just not up to making four moves in four days. So we will ride out the storm here.

How long that will be is still an open question. It looks like the brunt of the impact will be north and west of Beaufort, SC. There seems a pretty good chance that the boats will come through, so we will have homes when we return. Power, flooding, and road access will determine when we head back. Until then we will settle in here and make the best of it.

I was an airplane driver for decades, and put about a quarter of a million miles on motorcycles while wondering around the country. I have spent more than my share of time in hotels. There have been good ones, bad ones, and average ones uncounted. But it seems to me that, on the whole, “average” has dropped several notches in the hotel industry, while the price of “average” has gone way, way up. I would love to list names and addresses' of the hotels in question with the idea that if no one complains nothing gets fixed. But I don't have that much faith in the "customer service" side of America's economic system any more. I would love to believe that companies have some commitment to providing the best service they can at a fair price. But what I know is that their main, perhaps only, concern is how much profit they can make. I fear the cost of fixing things, if they were fixed at all, would fall on the people who work here instead. Costs to fix the facility would be found by reducing the workforce, cutting pay, cutting benefits (assuming there are any), while increasing the work load. That was my experience even in the high end world of aviation operations. I can't imagine hotel workers are fairing any better.

All and all I would much rather be on the boat. I just wish the hurricanes would cooperate a little more.

C Sharp, not B Flat

Almost all of the forecasts suggest that the Beaufort Area is going to be in the preferred southeast quadrant of Florence, with the eye of the hurricane far enough north that tropical storm force winds will be about the worst we can expect. We were about all set to go, with the plan to pick up the cars Monday and get them mostly packed, finish up the prep work Tuesday morning, and head off. We picked up the cars and were gliding along getting things done, me in the cockpit thinking about just when I should start pulling the solar panels. It was around 3 PM, with good amps still flowing into the batteries. I wanted them stuffed full before we closed up Kintala and left her to her own devices. Deb came up from below,

“The Governor of SC just issued a mandatory evacuation order, and we are in it.”

We looked at each other for about 10 seconds, thoughts dancing back and forth between us as often happens with people who have been together for a long time. Then we shifted into full tilt boogie mode. Having shuffled out of FL a year ago, one among millions with a killer storm closing in on our heels, getting out of dodge ASAP was the new plan.

It took about 7 hours of relentless effort. At 10:30 PM the kids were buckled in and we pulled out of the parking lot, the rest of the crew of Blowin' In The Wind following in their own car.  Getting away from Beaufort by auto is mostly done on 2 lane roads, roads that were still mostly empty. It isn’t hard to imagine what they will look like over then next 48 hours, but it will be two cars less thanks to the Governor's declaration.

Hotel mirrors are infinitely fascinating.

So we sit this morning in a hotel room, watching Mother Nature do her thing out in the Atlantic, and wondering what it will mean to us. We know a lot of people are going to get hurt, a lot of others will mark Florence as a, perhaps the, major event of their lives. And the amount of physical damage is almost sure to be astonishing. When we sat through this with Irma, just a year ago, the thought was we were likely to lose everything. At the last moment the storm turned away. This time around it appears Florence will land just far enough to the north that Beaufort will seen nothing but a small storm surge and 30 knot winds.

On the one hand, I have little confidence that it will work out that way. This is a big storm and (in my humble opinion) there is way too much confidence being put into one set of models, with only passing mention being made of those models that show the eye of Florence landing further to the South. On the other hand, we had the resources necessary to move out of harm’s way, and now sit in an air conditioned hotel room, dry, comfortable, food and shelter assured for some of those we love most in the world.

There is a homeless man who lives in the waterfront park in Beaufort. We often see his bed made up on one of the swings when taking an evening stroll before heading back to Kintala for the night. I’ve talked with him a few times. His name, he told me, is “C Sharp” not “B Flat.” I didn’t get the story behind the name but, having recently taken up learning music, I had to smile. (I suspect "C-sharp not D-flat was what he meant but, he made up the name, not me.) Like most of the homeless people I have met, he clings to a fierce independence as one of the tools he needs to survive.

We didn’t see him during our hurried prep to get going. I have no idea how he will fare if Florence moves his way, but I know there are thousands of people who can’t make the choice that we did. That is enough to know that we can count ourselves as among some of the most fortunate people the world has ever known. Sure, we have made some good choices. But they were also choices that were within our reach, but were not within the reach of others.  Something Florence, and Irma before her, has taught me to never, ever, forget.