A good day...

Washington NC.

I've been to Washington DC more times than I can count. We lived in Washington PA for the better part of 2 decades. But we've never been to Washington NC before. And how did we get here? We left the dock in Oriental and boated up here on First Light! Fifty six nautical miles, nine hours and twenty three minutes at an average of six knots. How about them apples?

The weather check this morning told of NE winds ten to fifteen knots. Right at the edge of what I wanted to experiment with, but sometimes you just have to wade out there and see what you see. Besides, it was calm, pretty, and a bit foggy at the dock, how bad could it be? I should know better when it comes to the Neuse. We have gotten our hinder parts handed to us on several occasions when out on that particular river. This morning it was filled with close-coupled 2 foot rollers that were maybe a bit taller. Hard to tell when one is standing about 15 feet above the water. Each set knocked off half of our boat speed making for a weird, uncomfortable, ride. We had a quick discussion about turning around and running down-wave back to Oriental, but decided to press on to the turn up the Bay River. The thought was that the change in heading and more sheltered water would result in a far better ride. A thought that turned out to be a good one. After escaping the Neuse, all was well with First Light and the world. She motored happily along with engines turning1600 RPMs while making a bit more than 7 knots. Nose bleed speeds for an old sailboat pilot.

I would have wanted nothing to do with the Pamlico Sound this morning. That bit of water has thrashed us with the same enthusiasm often shown by the Neuse. But the Pamlico river was in a good mood this morning and offered a very nice ride. Way up the Pamlico River was the destination for today, the delightful Washington NC. Though we haven't been here long, I would already say it is a big improvement over both Washingtons DC and PA. The Dock Master met us at the free dock, helped us tie up, and was full of information about his town. A retired Captain with a Master's rating, he knew the answers to all of our questions before I could ask them. He was even so kind as to compliment my landing in the slight cross wind pushing us off the dock. A walk through town offered up a Main Street lined with shops, including one that offered ice cream. The river walk back to the boat was as nice as any we have seen in our travels. The day ended with a red sun setting over the bridge while I mangled a few songs on one of my Ukes. 

So what did I learn on this first serious trawler trip? Well, a sustained 15 knots with miles of fetch is right at the limit of what is comfortable, at least for now and at least for us. Much to my surprise, given all that I have been told, heading straight into the waves is far more uncomfortable than having them on a port or starboard, fore or aft, corner. Most important (not really) the new microwave will go flying out of its three-sided cupboard and hang at the end of its electrical cord when the boat is bashing into the waves. Oops. The good news is it still works. It will also take a while to get used to what is the normal vibration / noises radiating off of this thing. Three hundred ponies, even if they are running at an easy trot, shake the works a whole lot more than an anemic collection of 30 or so corralled on Kintala. Also (and this is just an impression) a sailboat sort of glides through the water. First Light just bashes it out of the way. It will take a while for my old mechanic's brain to parse what is normal noise and vibration from that which might be foretelling a problem. Before we leave here the microwave and knife block will have to be secured. The upper helm charging port isn't working and, for reasons yet to be determined, we had to call the dock master on the phone as neither our ship's radio or our hand held seemed to be transmitting. Life on a boat, fixing things in pretty places. 

So here we are, back on the water and visiting places we haven't visited before. I'm sure there will be more kinks to work out as our trawler living experiment goes on. But, finally, more that four months later than we had planned, and carrying a few hard earned scars, we are heading north and traveling on a boat. It has been a good day.

Slightly before first light—the view on the way back from the head.

Farewell Oriental

Roo in his happy place at the helm

Looking for the "charm"

Another departure day has come and gone without any departure taking place. Weather was the deciding factor this time. Which is an improvement over being delayed by a cardiac arrest, broken bones, and anchor winch failure. Though it was a perfect morning for getting under way the threat of storms, some serious, developing in the afternoon right when we would be dropping a hook in an anchorage we didn't know suggested that waiting was the best option. But it wasn't the easy option, at least for me. We watched the radar all day and, sure enough, long about the time we would have been looking to drop a hook some pretty big storms rolled over the place where we would have been. Some pretty impressive storms rolled by us at the dock as well. One floated by just south of us. I was glad we weren't under that one as it looked like an ugly, ugly ride. From where I was sitting it looked like a classic downburst was giving someone a good pounding.

Being stuck for the day gave me a chance to reseal a seam around the anchor winch and to replace the badly worn anchor roller that, for some reason, I hadn't noticed before. Alas, a visit to all three boat parts places within walking distance left us roller-less. After much searching, calling, and checking by the boat's parts master it was clear the only option was to lube up the old one and put it back on. Ugly as it is, there is no reason to think it will not serve until we get to Oak harbor. A custom built replacement will be finished by then and shipped to us. So a fix in in the works.

So tomorrow is another day. They say three times is a charm. Maybe, in our case, it will be the fourth try that sees us on our way.

Almost made it...

We were supposed to be at anchor tonight. We got up this morning and went to Deb's Doctor's appointment. There we got permission to be on our way. $500 worth of provisioning purchased at four different stores on the way back to the boat got stowed. The boat was topped with water. All ground power lines were pulled in and we left one dock to go to another dock, tied up starboard side to so the diver (and good friend) had easy access to the boat. While he was cleaning the bottom and replacing a couple of zincs Grandson Eldest and I emptied the holding tank. Then the 3 of us went over to the Bean for a final round of iced coffee. After that we climbed aboard and, with the help of some friends, I made a complete botch of getting off the dock in a slight port to starboard cross wind. Embarrassing, but nothing got damaged. During the next several minutes we changed our mind three for four times as to where we were going to anchor, with the final decision being to head out into the Neuse river where we could find a little more depth and swing room to drop the hook. Happy with a place, I called for the anchor pin to be pulled and hit the down switch. A second later the winch locked up. After a few minutes of struggling with it on the bouncing deck I made the decision to head back to the dock for troubleshooting and repair.

Once safely tied back on the dock from which we started this morning, I started working on the winch. I must be getting old because it took me about 2 hours to figure out the 5 minute repair needed to fix the thing. Yes we have the operations manual on board. Yes we got it out and read through it. And no, it didn't help at all. Nothing in the manual reflected the problem I was seeing.

Somehow the clutch locking pin got pulled instead of the anchor pin. The pin I thought was going to get pulled is about ¾ inch in diameter, about 6 inches long, and goes through the anchor and anchor roller mount bracket. The one that got pulled is about ¼ inch in diameter and sticks out of the clutch cover itself maybe half an inch. But pull on that thing when the motor is engaged and bang, a solid steel, spring loaded locking pin pops out and jams hard against a lock block. All of the actions recommended by the operations manual to move the clutch proved useless as the assembly was completely jammed. One must remove the lock block itself, located at the 6 o'clock position below the clutch and held in place with two hard to reach bolts, to release the pin. This allows one to use the motor to spin the clutch so the big locking pin is at 12 o'clock where it can be pushed back down into its hole to be held in place by the little locking pin that should never have been pulled in the first place. 

The whole debacle was entirely the captain's (that would be me) fault. I was simply not careful enough to rehearse what we would be doing to deploy the anchor. A simple process, pull the big pin and push the anchor off the deck to be lowered into the water. But all I said was “pull the pin”. The one that caught the eye of the puller was the little one. Easy mistake that could have been avoided if I had been more careful. So I learned two things. The first was actually a re-learning: there is no such thing as being redundant and annoying when it comes to explaining to someone who is new to a system what needs to be done. The second, I now know the 5 minute fix. 

In any case we are back on the dock for tonight. By the time I pulled my head out of my butt and got the thing fixed, the sun was nearly set. Call it a day. The crew is enjoying one more shore side shower. Deb in particular as she has been cleared to remove her brace as long as she is not walking or the boat is in motion. Me? I'm typing this and sipping a glass of my favorite rum while trying not to be too embarrassed by my poor showing for the day. Tomorrow we will give it another try.

Maybe?

Deb is out of the big cast and the stitches have faded away. She has a fancy new brace on the arm and a list of exercises to do to limber up the joints. Normally there is another check-up in three weeks. But when told of our need to be on our way her doctor agreed to just one more check after a week. We are making a cautious assumption that one will go okay so, tentative as they may be, we are making plans and starting preparations to—finally—drop the dock lines and head north. Chart apps have been updated, route planning has begun, final boat projects are getting finished, and each day we look for appropriate weather window.

It has been several years more than we expected since the last time we were underway as long distance cruisers. We have never been underway as long distance trawler dwellers. First Light is a far more complicated machine than was Kintala. Truth to tell, and even being pretty sure I know what happened, two fires in a few weeks have not left me with warm fuzzies. We have owned this thing for a while working hard to get it into acceptable cruising shape. And it isn't like we don't have a clue as to what we are doing. We have crawled all over the engines, generator, water, waste, and electrical systems. We have poked our noses into every nook and cranny we can find, combed through the wiring, replaced a bunch of things, fixed a bunch of things, and modified a few other things. But the boat is not going to feel like “our boat” until we put some miles under the keel.  Having spent as much time as we have on the hard and then at the dock, First Light hardly feels like a boat. She is more a tiny fixer-upper house that shuffles around a little bit in the wind that offers a fantastic view out of her "living room".  It is also the house we were living in while being felled by a couple of events that have left their marks. I have a pace maker in my chest that is keeping me alive. Deb has a plate and screws in her wrist after an ugly fall that could have turned out much worse. Neither was even remotely thought a posiblility when we left St. Louis back in April. Such things tend to have one looking over one's shoulder just to see what is sneaking around waiting to pounce.

The crew of First Light is not the same crew that piloted Kintala out of Oak Harbor Marina all those years ago. We are far more at ease with our own abilities and experience, and far, far more wary of the environment we have chosen to live in and explore. I guess one way to put it is I love and enjoy the cruising life, but don't trust it at all. Expect anything, begrudge nothing, and do the best you can to make it safely to the next protected harbor. In any case ours will be a happy departure even while knowing that rouge waves lurk in an uncertain future. As the sages of any worthy ideology teach, thus it is with any journey, particularly the one we call "life".

Waiting

One of my granddaughters' favorite books to read is Dr. Seuss' Oh the Places You'll Go! One of the parts of it has been rattling around in my head these last two months that we've been stuck here, and I thought you might enjoy it:

"You can get so confused

that you"ll start in to race

down long wiggled roads at a break-necking pace

and grind on for miles across weirdish wild space,

headed, I fear, toward a most useless place.

                                            The Waiting Place

...for people just waiting.

    Waiting for a train to go

    or a bus to come or the rain to go

    or the phone to ring, or the snow to snow

    or waiting around for a Yes or No

    or waiting for their hair to grow.

    Everyone is just waiting.

            Waiting for the fish to bite

            or waiting for wind to fly a kite

            or waiting around for Friday night

            or waiting, perhaps, for their Uncle Jake

            or a pot to boil, or a Better Break

            or a string of pearls, or a pair of pants

            or a wig with curls, or Another Chance.

                                Everyone is just waiting."

I confess - the last two months have been pretty frustrating with all the waiting to get on with our travels, but when I think how close I came to losing Tim, it's made me realize all the more that I need to live each moment as if it was the last, because it may very well be. Clancy's Marina in Oriental NC will not be The Waiting Place, but the place to squeeze out every bit of life, not waiting around for the time when we can leave to head north, but instead stopping on the dock on the way back from the head to admire the utter stunning beauty of the great blue heron as it lifts off to rest on the piling, scolding me for disrupting its breakfast. The place to meet new friends, to play music with our grandson, to enjoy an iced coffee, to savor the simple joy of having Tim brush my hair because I can't do it myself.

Dr. Seuss goes on to say, "NO! That's not for you! Somehow you'll escape all that waiting and staying." But life isn't a Dr. Seuss book and none of us is promised tomorrow. So if you find yourself in a Waiting Place, it may just be that you can find a way to make it a Living Place instead, a little bit like our Oriental stay.

Boats, Water, and Curiosity

Why is the bilge pump running?

It was a valid question. Over the months that First Light has been in the water I'm not sure we had ever heard the bilge pump run. But there was the water pouring out of the side of the boat. The pump running nagged at Deb for most of the day, prompting her to open the bilge cover and, sure enough, there was still some water in the forward part of the bilge where the pump is located. (The cover is an easy lift with one hand.) We talked about it for a bit and my thought was that the Air Con units make water that has to go somewhere. Into the bilge was the obvious choice. But the Air has been running for weeks now. Would it take that long to make enough water to trigger the pump? I really had no idea. Then Deb reminded me that she had spilled a bunch of water in the galley the day before, water that had to go somewhere and would be added to that coming from the Air Con. So there was the answer, Air Con water plus spill equals bilge pump running. Except that Deb wasn't completely satisfied that was the complete answer. Me? It works. Don't fix it. There are lots of other things to fix. Water collected in the boat. Water got pumped out of the boat. It's all good. 

But she wanted to look further into the system. Even though I was pretty sure all was well, looking into it further was also okay with me because; a) over the years I have learned that when Deb wants to look into something it is probably something that needs looking into and, b) it would be a “looking into” performed inside the air conditioned boat. I'm all for working inside the boat, especially when both the temperature and dew points outside the boat are hovering around triple digits. 

Since we were cleaning out the bilge anyway, cleaning out the shower sump  (located in the forward part of the engine room aft of the main bilge section) seemed like a good idea. We haven't been using the boat shower much since we have access to unlimited hot water showers just steps away. So finding a bunch of slimy water splashing around in that box was a bit of a surprise at first. But then I noticed that the Air Con drain tubes actually run into that same box. So...where did the water come from that set off the bilge pump? It could not have been just the spill, that happened the day before the pump came on. Also, it seemed like there was a lot of water sloshing around in the shower sump. In fact the water level was over the top of the float switch. Mmm... I pushed the little test lever on the side of the switch and nothing happened. Closing the “Manual Sump” circuit breaker in the main DC panel had the pump clearing the water in just a few seconds. So, good pump, bad switch.

I have no idea how many float switches I have replaced over the years, but add another to the tally. The Inland Waterway Provision Co. located just a quick trot away had one in stock. (I loves me some Inland Waterway Provision Co. Good folks and lots of stuff in stock that boats seem to chew through.) Wiring in the new one was a pretty easy task, and although the air in the engine room is not nearly as conditioned as in that in the rest of the boat, a fan was brought down to facilitate a cooling breeze. Still, insofar as boat projects go, this one was pretty straightforward. But poking around in that system also answered the water in the bilge question.

In First Light, the bilge area and the sump area are separated by a wall about six inches high.. If one of the pumps should fail, or the water coming in be more than one of the pumps can handle, the overflow will have both of the pumps doing their best to keep the boat from flooding. But that takes a good bit of water. With the shower float switch not working, the Air Con water filled that space and, eventually, overflowed into the bilge area enough to trigger that pump. But it took a couple of weeks of constant use to do so. Without Deb's curiosity being aroused who knows how long we would have been putt-putting up the ICW with only a single pump armed to move water off the boat?

It is said that curiosity is fatal for cats. But it is a good thing to have around on a boat.

I loves me some dry bilge :)

Tissue Paper Plans

Ed note: We have been criticized in the past for philosophical and political musings on what was supposed  to be a voyaging blog, but true voyaging is not just about the boat, the travels, the weather, or the practical methodology of cruising. True voyaging is about the human spirit and its desire to explore and to gain knowledge and wisdom through new experiences, the rest of it just accoutrements picked up along the way. As a result, you will often find philosophical musings here on The Retirement Project. if it's not your cup of tea, then scroll on by. The next practical post should follow shortly.

Things are a bit slow on First Light. It has been a few days since our latest visit to the OR and everything is going well. A few weeks from now is the post-op doctor's visit where the cast and stitches will be removed and an assessment made as to how things are going. The plate and screws are far stronger than the bone they are supporting, making the condition of that bone and how it reacts to the the surgery the deciding factor in recovery.

With the history of this trip in mind, any plans we make for departing are written on tissue paper that is then left out in the rain. Even each day's plan is more of the make-it-up-as-you-go variety. There is a vague idea that we might be leaving Oriental around the end of July or early in August. That will leave roughly eight weeks to make it to our scheduled haul out north of Annapolis. We will have spent more time in Oriental than traveling this trip. Not exactly what we had in mind when we pulled out of St. Louis back in April.

It is tempting to be discouraged. Life-threatening cardiac arrests, a pace maker install, multiple broken bones, surgery for plates and screws? Not exactly a cruising dream. Between challenging boat projects and  completely unexpected medical issues, this is a trip that will be long remembered as one to forget.

Our life is full of good people who have stepped up to help out any way they can, and we are grateful for every supportive offer and thought. Many have allowed that “everything happens for a reason”. It is a common meme spoken with the very best of intentions, usually after the original misadventure has passed and the aftermath is being brought under control. But it is a meme I don't happen to share. 

I think things just happen. “Reason” is something we read into an event after it happens to try and make sense of it all and to take comfort in the idea that someone (or something) far more capable and knowledgable than us, is in control. But when I look around I see little reason to think that is the case. What happens, happens, often without warning or obvious reason and usually outside of our control. (Not always, but usually.) All we do control is how we choose to react to what has and is happening.

The decisions we make in the present moment will help form the moment that is about to pass. We play a role (small as it might be) in the continuous flow of things happening that stretches back to the beginning of time. A flow that (in my humble opinion) has no ultimate goal or predetermined path. Rather It is a continuously unfolding experiment which just happens to include our human experience of being self aware and making decisions. Beyond that, pretty much everything is a mystery.

Every decision we make is done so with a scant amount of current information, usually near zero understanding of history, with no idea (or often thought) of unintended consequences, and with little clue as to what will happen next in the physical world and cosmos. The dinosaurs went about their business for 250,000,000 years then were destroyed by a big rock that fell from the sky. Tornados, lighting strikes, floods, hurricanes, wild fires, wars, the rise and fall of empires—we have about the same control over such events as did the dinosaurs over a wayward asteroid.  

This river-like flow of events (to use a common metaphor) is very “messy” in human terms. It is full of cross currents, back flows, eddies, rapids, rouge waves, and storms. The best we can do is simply accept what happens in this moment while making our tiny bit of the cosmic experience as positive as we can for ourselves and those we care about. It is also helpful to keep the upcoming moment in mind so as not to make it worse than need be. When we are making those choices, if possible, it might be helpful if we include the rest of the human family as “those we care about”. We might even throw in the rest of the biosphere that is this little island in the dark, the one that we all ride through the cosmos, as something to care about as well. If everything does “happen for a reason” that reason can only be to give each of us, in this present moment, a chance to live up to, and strive to be, the best excuse for a human being as we can manage.  On First Light, and at this moment, that means being patient, being grateful for the support and aid that has flowed into our lives from all directions, and making plans written on tissue paper that has been left out in the rain.

Keep on keeping on...

Long long ago in a galaxy far far away a saying was popular among the unwashed masses, “Just keep on keeping on.” It was an off handed way of shrugging off the lunacy that surrounded a time of protests, civil actions, and the violent reactions such sentiments often provoked on the part of those in power. But I'm going to pull it out of the mythology of the galaxy and hang it (figuratively speaking) on First Light's transom.

Next week Deb will be going under the knife to have a plate and screw repair performed on her broken wrist. We have come so far since my days of routinely breaking bones that such an operation is considered a pretty routine out-patient procedure. After that comes three weeks of recovery ending with a wrist that will be nearly 100%. The other option was six weeks in a cast to end up with a wrist that would never work right again. It would seem like a pretty easy decision but the plate and screw option includes a few additional risks that come with any cutting—specifically post operative infections and the complications inherent with any general anesthetic. It was still a pretty easy decision, but not a lightly made one. We have lost several family members to infections post trips to the operating room. Monday will be a tense day. Still...Keep on keeping on.

We will be another month delayed trying to head north. So be it. The dock owners here at Clancy's Marina have room and are happy to have us. Friends we have made here in Oriental have offered transportation and help over and over again. We get invited to various places for various reasons that are fun, give us a chance to be with new friends, and remind us there are far worse places to be than here. We keep on keeping on with help from some truly extraordinary people.

Eventually we will keep on keeping on while heading north. But for today we managed to get to the boat into the town for fuel and and pump out, then back to our pier. Some small improvements are evident in my boat handling skills though the touchdown on the pump-out dock was not impressive. There was no shouting or wringing of hands, so it wasn't that bad. But I still don't have an intuitive feel for how the boat will respond to engine and rudder inputs. The lack of feedback in the hydraulic steering leaves me a little behind the heading changes. I have yet to figure out exactly where the pivot point is on the hull with the shift levers split. And the view from the fly bridge, though one of my favorite things that come with being on a trawler, still has me guessing just exactly where I am in relation to any nearby dock. From the upper helm it looks like the hull is about to bump while people below tell me it is at least six feet away. But, as there was no shouting or wringing of hands at any point during our 0.6 km journey of two touch downs and a bunch of little boat traffic, I am going to claim making some progress toward being a competent trawler driver. Keep on keeping on.

We never lack for gorgeous sunsets

The grand finale of the fireworks show in Oriental NC 2023

All is well in my world

It was a good day of enjoying the Croakers Festival here in Oriental. I'm not sure what a “Croaker” is, but there was free music from a small local orchestra and choir in the afternoon. The concert featured much Fourth of July type music in a performance far exceeding what might be expected from an amateur group assembled from the residents of a small town. It was nothing short of a delightful surprise. Later that evening a more traditional band called the Southern Hellcats (Who hailed from Canada?) took the stage. They played old style rock n' roll, blues, and some original tunes with practiced professionalism and skill. I do loves me some live music. 

With the sun long set and a near full moon reflecting off the Neuse Deb, Grandson Eldest, and I headed back to the boat reviewing plans for heading north in the next few days. The last of the major projects, wiring in a charging port for our new cooler located on the aft deck, had been finished before heading off to the Festival. My six week sabbatical resulting from flirting with the grim reaper was about up. As much as we love Oriental it is time to get a move on. Pump out, fuel, water, and a night or two spent anchored nearby to run a complete systems check before abandoning the support of the dock and marine oriented Oriental were being discussed as we walked the familiar path along the boardwalk and back to First Light.

Unknown to us and invisible in the dim light, one of those boards had broken free at one end and was warped up several inches above the deck. It caught Deb in mid stride and mid sentence, sending her into a twisting fall where she stumbled off the nearby curb and ended with a heavy, face down, impact on the concrete parking lot. I knew she was hurt even as she went down. She was silent at first, not moving much, but breathing and with no readily apparent injury. But I had heard something snap as she landed, which turned out to be a bone in her right wrist. Very slowly we got her up sitting on the side of the curb, me holding the obviously broken wrist to keep it immobile. I have a lot of experience with broken bones, mostly my own, and know the drill. Blood at the sight convinced me it was a compound fracture, something not to be mishandled by an amateur. Friends, also out on their evening strolls, started to gather. Deb was dazed and in a lot of pain. A second call to 911 in the last five weeks was made. The ambulance seemed to take forever to arrive which was, of course, not true. A splint and some bandages later she was loaded into the back and they departed. Our good friend and Dock Master tossed me the fob to her car with barely a word. Grandson Eldest and I got going, following the ambulance to the same ER that had, so recently, saved my life.

Within minutes of arriving, Deb was settled into a room with an x-ray machine being rolled to her bedside. The images showed that the blood at the break sight was from abrasions, not protruding bones as I had feared. By 0300 in the morning (in my experience blazingly fast by hospital standards) she had been sedated, a closed reduction procedure had been performed on the broken bones, more x-rays were taken, her wrist had been secured in a more elaborate splint, we had reviewed the Follow-Up instructions with the medical staff, and were sent on our way back to the boat. By 0400 she was settled in the V-berth and, with the help of some pain meds, sleeping.

My experience with broken bones had me wondering why not a cast. But nowadays they use a splint first in order to give the swelling a chance to fade. An appointment with an Orthopedic Surgeon will be made as soon as the holiday weekend will allow. At that point we should learn what comes next. Plates and screws? Maybe a pin? Perhaps a simple cast will do after all. But until we know all other plans have been laid aside without bothering with disappointment or other “what-ifs”. Life unfolds as it will. The people here in Oriental have, once again, stepped up and put a dent in my generally  pessimistic view of our human family. This is still a beautiful place in which to recover. After a few hours of sleep Deb got up, settled into her chair on the back deck,  talked to family, reached out to friends, and rested looking out across the placid waters. A couple of hours later the night caught up with her and she went back to the berth. I am sitting in the salon, reviewing the night and coming to terms with another close call. She is not as injured as I had first feared as she fell, and that is the only thing that matters. All is well in my world. 

Three for Three

Today we cleared three items from "The List". Item one? Replace the not working cigarette style power plug at the upper helm. It is used to to power up the iPad that is our back-up chart plotter. The old one came out. The new USB power outlet fit in the same hole and used the same wiring. Three minutes. Done.

Item two? Secure the top door rack in the fridge so that it would stop falling out, spilling food items all around the galley, and eliciting harsh words from the Admiral every time it happened. Drill 4 holes, seal and install four screws. About seven minutes. Done.

Item three? Replace the broken snap fastener on the screen for the helm door. Oops, not broken. Someone just left the old broken piece in place while putting a new snap in the screen. Pry the broken bit off off, snap the screen in place. Done. About 30 seconds.

Total work day? Less than 10 minutes.

Cool beans.

Midnight Maintenance Madness

High ambient temperatures, high humidity, and heavy rains were in the forecast for the coming night and following days. An ops check of the air conditioning system seemed like a good idea. There isn't much to it. Throw the breakers, pick the fore or aft system, select “START” for a few seconds, select “RUN”, check for water squirting out of the boat and for cold air coming out of the vents.

No water. No Cold air. Mmm...

Given that the system hasn't been run in a while a water pump airlock was the obvious culprit. First Light's system has a minor install fault in that the water pump is mounted above the water line. Opening the thru-hull doesn't guarantee water at the pump inlet. It is a simple fix. Fill the strainer and, just to be sure, pull the outlet hose and fill the pump. Deb, ensuring I don't do anything dumb that would provoke another trip to the ER, climbed into the engine room to do the deed. My job was to throw the breakers and, well, you know the rest.

Success! Water squirting out of the boat and cold air coming out of the vents. We let the system run for a minute or so. Since there was a nice cool breeze wafting fresh air through the boat it never occurred to any of us that we should leave the AC running for a good while. What did occur, but didn't really register in my rusty mechanic's mind (until later) was that the water coming out of the side of the boat wasn't really squirting, it was more flowing as it does out of the sink drain. But there was water and cold air. On with the day which involved a small improvement on the Dink Lift system, a couple of long walks, and a lot of fun music time with Grand Son Eldest and I playing uses together. 

Later, an impromptu movie night (Avatar 2; The Way of the Water) had the crew heading for the berths later than normal. With storms still in the forecast, the forward AC was brought on line to keep the berths cool with the boat buttoned up. Just as I settled in to bask in the glory of an air conditioned boat the breaker popped and, just like that, Midnight Maintenance Madness. Deb, still making sure I don't do anything dumb, climbed into the engine compartment and did the airlock routine again. But this time all we got for the effort was a feeble squirt, and few dribbles, then nada. Mmm...

If the pump is running, not loading up because it can't push the water through, but not actually pushing any water? Only one thing remains; it isn't getting any water to push. A check of the strainer, after shutting the thru-hull, didn't show any blockage. Mmm...

Crack the thru-hull just a little, just a little bit of water flowed into the strainer. Okay. Open the thru-hull more. Still just a little bit of water. Open the thru-hull all the way. Still just little bit of water. Certainly not enough to quench the thirst of a running AC pump. Bummer. So, no AC until a diver can be brought in, not likely to happen on the far side of mid-night. Lucky for us the rain never showed during the night. A few open ports and a couple of fans kept things comfortable for a tired crew to collect some well deserved ZZZZZs.

We will get a diver in as soon as we can. If the rains get here before the diver can find time for us we will enjoy some hot and muggy hours and drink a lot of cold water. (I may flavor mine with a bit of rum.) Each day we seem to learn a little bit more about the systems on First Light and clear a few more cobwebs out of my lethargic mechanic's brain. Both good things, even if they occasionally lead to an episode of Midnight Maintenance Madness.

After the storm...

Deb cranked up First Light yesterday morning and with the help of good friends we have made here in  Oriental, moved the boat about a half mile under the bridge and to a new marina. This one has floating docks so, once First Light was securely tied starboard side-to, I could get onboard using just one arm. Though less than a half mile away from the old slip, at the new one the boat rests an entirely different environment. Further from the bridge and around a bit of a corner into a small feeder creek, it is much quieter with very little fetch. The boat barely moves. All in all it is about as perfect a place to recover from the events of the last couple of days that one can imagine.

I was standing on the new dock as Deb pulled the boat in. There was no hint that this was her first time at the helm of a twin-engined trawler. Friends handled lines and helped her set fenders while I, under strict orders not to do anything dumb that would compromise my new accessory's install, didn't touch a thing. Though the boat is available, we will spend a couple of days in a hotel close to the hospital, just in case. After that, we will move back onto the boat, enjoy Oriental, and head off when this beat up old bod of mine is up to the task.

Our plans to do the Northern half of the Great Loop to St. Louis this year have, obviously, been derailed. It will be a couple of months before I can safely travel by boat as my left arm is, for all practical purposes, inoperable. The pacemaker is lodged between the muscle and skin that makes that arm go. It is vital that scar tissue forms around it and the electrical leads now imbedded in the heart muscles before I start using it for much more than scratching my nose. So I am recuperating in one of the prettiest places I have ever found in US waters. In a couple of months we will head off with the intent of taking one of the slowest passages up the ICW ever, landing in the north end of the Chesapeake Bay in the fall and putting First Light on the hard for the winter. Come spring we will pick up our journey, ending up in St. Louis sometime next year.

Messages, texts, emails, and phone calls have flooded in as news of the little episode spread, and I am deeply touched by all of the good thoughts and expressions of support. A life filled with good people is a good life. Mine is a really, really good life.

At least I can still play ukulele with the left hand!

Sunrise from the hotel this morning

"Would you like to see some turtles?"

Deb and I were minding our own business, just walking along to see some old friends from St. Louis whose boat is up on the hard in a nearby marina. It was a perfect afternoon for a walk through the quiet streets of Oriental and it is fair to say that a question about seeing turtles was far beyond the last thing I was expecting. Yet that is exactly the question the elderly lady stepping down from her golf cart offered up for our consideration. Generally speaking I am not much for chatting with strangers. And a question about turtles? Some kind of trick question that will land me on a YouTube channel or something? On the other hand it was such an odd question that saying “no thank you” wasn't really an option either. One of the reasons for living on a boat is to see different things in different places. So we followed her between a couple of houses and out to the small canal that runs through parts of Oriental. 

There we found three additional women tossing food scraps into the muddy water. We didn't see “some” turtles. There were dozens and dozens of turtles gathered around to get their share of the bounty. Some were honking big snapping turtles, the kind that can cleanly remove a finger or two with a single bite. It looked like there were some other kinds of turtles in there as well, though herpetology isn't my thing. 

As far as one could see up and down the channel from where we stood, turtle heads popped up, looked for a path through the melee, then disappeared in a little ring of wavelets. This was, after all, a turtle feeding frenzy and not some shark or orca attack. It was all happening in a clumsy kind of slow motion. Turtles can't leap out of the water to snatch their meal out of the air. But they can find a conveniently sized companion and crawl aboard. Not only does this get them closer to the food, it shoves a competitor down into the mirk. Of course, being turtles, they might not be quick enough to avoid being the stepping stone for the next turtle in line. Ancients who believed that the earth was flat claimed that a giant turtle carried it through the cosmos on its shell. When asked what the turtle was standing on the answer was “It's turtles all the way down”. Turtles all the way down though, in this case, the bottom of the stack was likely just a foot or two into the mud. Still, it was more turtles than either Deb or I have ever seen all in one place.

As it turned out, the ladies providing the food do this every evening right around 5:00. It seems that turtles have some sense of time because they gather around every evening to get their share. The whole thing was delightfully bizarre. Eventually we had to say our thank-you's and goodbyes and be on our way. But is was one of those stories that will be bringing up a smile every time it is told.

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.

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.