Just Pics

Our friends on Goldie

The Haulover Canal. Incredibly narrow and usually completely choked with fishing boats. Wednesday afternoon seems
to be a good time to go through.

The bridge tenders

These are truly the most graceful birds we see.

This is the way it is with dolphins - blink and you miss them.

Kintala's Migration

Today was cold. I feel bad even saying that since my kids are suffering single digit wind chills and snow, but when you live on a boat and you can't get away from the cold (we don't have a heater on board), and you start the day out seeing your breath in the head and trying not to go to the bathroom because you don't want to sit on the freezing toilet seat, it's cold.

We motored 5.3 hours today with a 20 knot wind off our port stern, making pretty good speed with the current and wind combined. It was a harrowing trip through shallow water, twice just brushing the ground with zero on our depth meter, and rarely more than 50 feet of usable channel width. Along with the wind and the cold, it was hard to relax enough to enjoy the scenery, which actually happens to be beautiful along this piece of the ICW.

Along about half way, we were approaching one of the very few settlements we happened by today and just off our starboard side appeared a flock of King Pelicans. These are the majestic white and black pelicans that migrated through our lake back in Carlyle, IL twice a year, stopping to visit for 2 weeks in March and again 2 weeks in late September. Every year we eagerly waited for their arrival, enjoying every minute of their brief stay. It was always our favorite times of year and to catch up with them in their migration seemed somehow fitting for Kintala. We are making steady progress South, although the pelicans will probably outpace us soon.

The mud you see along the bank was about 50 feet from the side of our boat.

Oh Man...

it is good to be home! Little Nomad was waiting patiently for our return. Clomping aboard Friday was a bit awkward, but she didn't seem to mind. Still being a bit sluggish from my debate with the Mercedes, Deb insisted that my deck monkey duties be restricted to when we were tied to the pier or hanging on the hook. Even then I don't think she was completely happy knowing I would get to the lake first and try to do the things I normally do to get the boat ready. I tried to pretend that I'm not still hurt but it was about all I could do just getting the boat opened up and the covers off; climbing up out of the starboard lazaret after attending to the thru-hull took a couple of tries. It was just shy of a bridge too far.

With the low for Saturday morning being forecast in the high 30s we decided to stay at the pier. At least that was my excuse for not leaving the marina. By the time dinner was over even my fork was feeling heavy. We sat by the fire for a while with the assembled, listened to some funny, (though "R" rated, at least) stories, and just enjoyed the moment. The walk out the dock (my fourth of day) was about all the mileage left in my battered left leg. We fired up our little heater and I crawled into the V berth happy that the week was over and that I had made it back to the boat.

It was a slow start for me Saturday morning but we eventually made our way out to the lake for a nice sail down to Coles Creek. And yes, I was on the helm the whole time, never left the cockpit once, and even managed to back out of the slip like I knew what I was doing. It did feel like I was going the wrong way though, I think I've only driven the boat OUT of the marina 3 times, including yesterday! And I was still at the helm when Nomad mushed to a stop just as we entered the cove. Yep, near the end of our third season and we have finally run aground. At least I was the second skipper of the day to bump into the same spot, something shared with us when we powered our way back to deeper water and joined the raft up. Even better, it was the owner of our marina who bumped bottom there before we did, so I wasn't too embarrassed. (Since we "powered" off using our anemic team of horsepower, its pretty clear we weren't stuck that hard.) I may not be a sailor yet, but I AM a Carlyle Lake sailor now.

This morning dawned clear and chilly, a perfect morning to sit in a cockpit, sip hot coffee, and marvel once again at being the luckiest person on the planet. The sail home was slow in very light winds, with Deb pretty much handling everything. We ghosted past hundreds of great white pelicans, enjoyed the near silence that comes with no powerboats, and wished the weekend (and the season) would last just a little longer.

Weekend Pictures

I spent most of the weekend sleeping, trying to knock this cold out of my system. As a result, Tim spent most of the weekend single-handing, depending on me only for the occasional manning the helm while he tacked. This was a gracious nod on his part, as he was clearly able to handle it on his own but just wanted to make me feel a little better.

I did manage to squeeze a few pictures in during those rare "bursts" of energy I had (meaning I was actually able to stand up for 2 minutes at one time). Since I was basically in a fog the rest of the weekend, the pictures will have to do for now.

Our visiting Pelican friends

 

 

One of the most amazing things I've ever seen. The pelicans lined up in this perfectly spaced line and flew within feet of the water surface. Absolutely stunning.

 

One loner left behind while he was stuffing his jowels with fish. If you're ever bored and want a laugh, read the children's book Round Robin

 

 

It was a little nippy - Tim in his new foulies

 

We were doing 5.5 knots downwind at one point wing-on-wing

 

I can't help but laugh when I look at this picture. It reminds me of Tim's folks' chairs side-by-side in their living room.

 

A little different view out our front door though...

 

And our picture window isn't quite as large

 

Almost perfect

This was a pretty good weekend. The only real disappointment was the lack of wind Saturday when Steve and his friends Vince and Karen came out for a sail. With the drifter up little Nomad did her best but putting a few bubbles in an easy wake was all she could make of the wind. We enjoyed the visit anyway and they have an open invitation to try again whenever they like.

Once back in the slip I took to testing the tension of the fore stay by stringing up the hammock and filling it with approximately 175 pounds of dead weight. A little Rum-N-Coke helped keep the test going well into the afternoon. While I was involved with this complex series of equipment assessments Deb was just puttering around by wiring up and assembling the GPS system.

After surviving yet another party at the yacht club with the normal late night stay around a blazing bonfire, we woke up this morning to steady winds in the 9 to 14 knot range. Headed out in the wake of another "early bird" we watched as the newly installed GPS system gave us a continuous readout of our exact speed. This was the first time we had anything but a guess when it came to estimating how fast we have been going across the water and, as it turns out, we have been dissing little Nomad a bit. For all of our talk of our slow cruiser boat we found ourselves making a solid 4+ knots when we might have estimated we were doing about 2. The wind was steady all day and at one point, on a broad reach with a following sea, the GPS clicked up to 6.3 knots. That's just shy of our estimated max hull speed of about 6.7 knots while flying our pretty small jib in winds of 15 knots. Pretty cool stuff! A bit later I was at the helm and got to playing wind gusts against sail to try and bury the gunwales in the water. Nomad never got leaned over quite far enough but we got pretty close.

   

 As an added bonus flocks of giant white pelicans are using the lake as a stop over on their yearly migration. These are just amazingly beautiful birds with white bodies, black tipped wings and bright yellow, almost golden, bills. They are also fantastic fliers. And they are big, six feet and more from wingtip to wingtip. I have to say that they classed up the joint by dropping by. Even the seagulls seemed on their best behavior in light of the visiting dignitaries.

Sadly enough the coming winter and this weekend's time change make for an early setting sun. We were on the bikes this weekend and really wanted to be off the back roads before dark. To do so we had to make the slip by 2 pm. Heading back in I learned we should drop the head sail first, not the main. With the main down and the wind still blowing I simply could not control the bow, making Deb's job out on the deck a little harder than it needed to be. There is some beginner in me yet. While putting Nomad to bed I found some more anti-freeze in the bilge water instead of the engine where it belongs. So next week's first task is yet another search for a coolant leak. Tell me again why we put motors on boats? This little diesel is getting to be a major pain in the butt. But all things considered it was still pretty close to a perfect weekend with friends on board, a fun time Saturday night, and near postcard winds and weather today.