Long Canal Muse

The forecast winds got set back some hours. So the crew gathered together and decided to depart Styron Creek, putt down the Alligator / Pungo River canal and head for an anchorage at the southwest corner of of the Alligator River once clear of the canal. There we would settle in and see what the weather was up to. The next jump would include crossing the Albemarle Sound. We have tangled with that bit of water before and have no intention of going out when she is in a mood driven by 20 to 25 knots of wind. In a day or so the winds are forecasted for 5 to 10, to calm. A good time to cover the roughly 50 miles to Elizabeth City.

Grandson Eldest took the helm as we entered the Canal. After a few minutes I decided he didn't need me looking over his shoulder all the time and so I headed up to the foredeck to watch the world drift by. After a while I moved to the port side walk way to sit in the shade facing aft. (I don't know if anyone has noticed, but it has been brutal hot in these parts for many weeks.) There was no traffic to see, just our wake stretched out behind us all the way to the horizon. And I thought, “How cool that we get to do this?”

 

It is no secret that I think this USA of ours is in pretty sorry shape. One would think most Americans are fans of democracy, personal freedom and choices, economic security and fairness. But that does not seem to be the case. Left and Right have split the country along pretty much every line imaginable: political, religious, civil, educational, and economical. Each accuses the other of relentless propaganda, disinformation, fake news, anti-democratic policies and authoritarian aims. Each claims that they, and they only, have a plan for the future greatness of our democracy, without really defining what their idea of “greatness” (or democracy for that matter) will lead to. Each claims that they are on the side of good while the other is on the side of evil. 

One of them is telling the truth about the other.

The other is the problem. 

What happens next is anyone's guess, all of which are likely to be wrong. My guess? The future is uncertain and likely to be ugly. And I hope I am wrong.

But the canal didn't care. I'm sure it was built for economic reasons only. But any American can cruise its length without asking permission. Sure there are some “rules of the road.” For the most part they are rules that should be part of anyone's outlook on the world. Don't be stupid. Don't be rude. Think of others and treat them as you would like to be treated. And don't do anything that puts someone else in danger. If you want to do something stupid and put yourself in danger, have at it and good luck. Other than that, everyone is welcome. Skin tone, facial features, religion, ancestors, gay, straight, bi, unsure, left, right? It shouldn't matter one person to another. And out on the water none of that does matter. You are either skilled and thoughtful at handling your boat or you are a problem for the rest of us. 

As we continued down the canal, even those musings drifted away and settled into our wake. I was just an observer, part of the flow of time. Thoughts themselves became a distraction to ignore, an intrusion into the panorama of moving down the canal as a small spark of awareness in a vast, unfathomable universe. 

Near the end of the canal another boat motored by heading the opposite way, the first one we had seen since passing a tugboat on its way to work at the other end and enough to shake me out of my muse. It was at a narrow part of the channel but Grandson Eldest and the other skipper both did everything right and we passed with nary a bump. The winds were still pretty calm as we cleared the canal and turned south toward the anchorage. It was time to get up and get active again.

My young Captain maneuvered First Light between the crab pots like a pro, picked a good spot, and called for the hook. I let it splash and we started working to get it stuck. Most of the way through the process the winch problem from a few days ago popped back up. This time I knew the 5 minute fix and we were soon riding to the bridle, something I had not really looked at that close as I am usually driving the boat when the anchor is set. I did not like what I was seeing. 

The bridle that came with First Light was about 17' from hook to eye splice. With the bridle on the chain and no wind blowing, the anchor chain pulled the bridle hook all the way to the bottom, burying it into the mud. That seemed to me to be a good way for the chain to work its way out of the hook and leave the boat riding to the chain alone. When Kintala's bridle was hanging straight down the hook was about 2 feet below the water line. Yet it  still offered a lot of stretch to ease the ride. First Light's bow is higher above the water line than was Kintala's. A more appropriate length for First Light would still be longer than was Kintala's. With 20+ knots of gusting wind due to arrive at any time, I wanted a bridle I could trust a little more while still offering a good ride. 

For the next few hours Grandson Eldest and I worked on modifying the bridle by shortening up the ropes and splicing new eyes into the ends to hook onto the forward cleats. Some thought was given to just using cleat knots to secure the anchor like we did on Kintala as that rig never failed us no matter the weather we faced. But First Light is just as heavy a boat with a lot more windage than had Kintala. The additional strength of eye splices double looped over the cleat horns, with the chafe guards moved to the right place, seemed like the best way to go. It has been a long time since I did that kind of rope work. And it is something I have never done with heat indexes of 100+. While working, we also decided that they should change the name of this place to “Sweat Bee Harbor.” The little buggers were a relentless hassle. But it was a job that needed done, so we buckled down and got it done.

As we worked, a pair of F-35s (?) made repeated passes over the boat, running in trail, and looking to me like they were right at the 1500' “clear of people” and the 250 knot speed limit below 10,000'. My guess is they were using First Light for some impromptu target practice. A lone, not so big white boat sitting in a broad river with very little of civilization around? I'v known and flown with a lot of ex-fighter jocks, and I'm sure our fighter pilot friends buzzing the boat thought a few low passes for practice were in order. Once upon a time I made a living flying an acrobatic plane used in airshows back and fourth across the county. Long flights often included low passes of my own over such targets, so I understand the temptation. In any case, they were fun to watch as they ripped by.

While cleaning up after the deck work was done several pods of dolphins, including a few young ones, surrounded the boat and started splashing around. Our guess is that the little ones were getting hunting lessons. Petty much the same thing the fighter pilots were doing.

Late afternoon the winds arrived just as forecasted, eventually gusting to better than 20. As planned, we were not out on the Albemarle Sound wishing we were someplace else. The anchor rig is improved. We enjoyed a private airshow. And dolphins came by to visit. Not sure things get any better than that. Something I wish all of my fellow citizens could experience and want to share. But many Americans are currently dedicated to being wound up while looking for reasons to bang heads. A lot of those head banging reasons appear rather petty to me; but others will determine the future we hand down to kids and grandkids. But I guess that is a pretty common malady that has affected almost all of human history. Kind of a sad thought, that.

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

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

Some Days You Just Get Tired

A few days ago the 50 – 30 amp shore power cord adapter caught fire. Deb happened to be walking down the dock at that moment, saw the smoke, ran to the boat calling for a fire extinguisher. A minute later all was well with the world. Of course there was no AC after a couple of days of being spoiled and sleeping well. It was a hot and humid night's sleep. But that seemed a minor thing to chafe over.

The next morning we bought a new shore power cord, pulled the smart plug off of the old cord, made sure it wasn't damaged, and modified the new cord with the proper end to fit the boat. Our new crew member got a chance to dive into electrical repair. The next generation of mechanics getting its feet wet. 

Since the 1 to 1 adapter was burnt toast we dug up the 2 to 1 adapter that was on the boat and tried to plug it in. It would not lock into the plug at our dock. It locked into the plug at the next dock so...mystery. The marina owner was called in because there was something wonky with something, maybe on his side of the dock, maybe on our side. After a few tries he loaed us an adapter that would lock in and took ours back to his shop for a look over. But before he left we powered up the Air Con side of our AC circuit. Cool air flowed so the marina owner headed off and we closed up the boat due to the incoming rain. All was well with the world...for about 10 minutes. Then the Air Con side of the 110v panel went dead. The shore power breaker was still closed so it seemed likely that the problem lie with the old but newly installed smart plug. Easy troubleshooting was to switch the two power cables on the boat and, sure enough, the boat side of the 110v panel, now powered by the old plug, was dead. Shut off all shore power beakers, then open them up again. ??? Everything working. Power down, swap the plugs, power up. Everything working. ??? There are few things I like less or distrust more than a system that seems to fix itself. More troubleshooting ensued but nothing popped up to explain why the power went away in the first place. With no other option seemingly at hand we powered everything up and let it run. Which it did for hours without a hitch. But puzzlement and caution still ruled.

While Grandson Eldest and I worked on getting electricity to the Air Con system, Deb went to work installing a filter in the holding tank vent line. Every time the head is flushed that wonderful, boat specific odor we all know so well, wafts out of the vent and into boat through nearby ports. (The designer who located a head vent near a port must have failed vent design 101.) It should have been a simple install. But in this particular case none of the fittings that came with the filter fit the hoses that came with the boat. She spent hours searching through our stash of oddball fittings trying to find some combination that would mate everything together. But with the day running out she finally had to call it an impasse, reassemble the vent as it was, and start over with a visit to the hardware store the next morning. Two boat projects that should have been pretty straight forward turned sour. With additional effort they will become a note in the maintenance log, drift into the past, and be mostly forgotten. But, some days, one just gets tired of the relentless broken stuff on a boat.

But such are also days to practice other skills, like shrugging one's shoulders, forcing a rue smile or cracking a crude joke, and then just getting on with the program. We picked this life on the water to be a bit more independent, fend for ourselves, live light on the planet, and make our own way. When things go wrong or someone makes a mistake (like me not taping the cord adapter so it could not wiggle its way loose on the moving dock and start making sparks) just learn (or relearn) something and go on.

The Air Con worked through the night and into the day.  Parts were assembled into a new 1 to 1 50/30 amp connector for the shop power cord that replaced the loner. And, in the process, we might have found the reason for the ??? Air Con failure. The second and open connecter on the loaner 1 to 2 50/30 amp cord was really wet, even though it was wrapped and zip tied into a plastic bag. The system was up and running again and, again, after a few hours, tripped the boat side Air Con AC panel breaker. When we pulled the strainer there were parts of chewed up jellyfish stuck inside. We cobbled up the bits and tools needed to pull the water line off of the strainer, hook up an outside hose, and back flush the thru-hull. A procedure we seem to be doing at least once a day. Jellyfish can make you tired as well.

In the midst of the ongoing Air Con work, a good solution was found for the head tank vent filter. Stink interception is assured and life on board is a bit more pleasant. 

WiFi access on the boat has been another hassle. Deb ordered some kind of magic doo-dad and, after a bit of a language tussle with a company tech who could barely speak english (something that will make anyone tired of the day) internet access is much improved...and life on board is a bit more pleasant. Good outcomes at the end of days that make you tired.

There were three days of running wiring for an external plug to power up our new cooler/freezer that has taken up residence in the aft cockpit. When that job hit a delay for lack of the correct spade connections to fit in the space we had, we traded off on installing some additional bracing for the Dink storage pivots. The original install had included one such brace under where the engine hung, nothing under the other. The wood under the other has started to give way. But working over water while trying to cobble together something that will both do the job and while not looking like a total hack job? Well, that can make one a little tired as well.

All days eventually come to an end. Some make you tired while others? Not so much. All one can do is deal with the day as it is offered and enjoy a sunset at its end. Particularly with life on the water.