monkey business...................... from P

Does anyone remember Gary Hart?   We ended up in the same marina (and reportedly in the same boat slip) that did him in.  Well, it probably had more to do with what's-her-name sitting in his lap in the photo.  Funny, I have never seen another boat bearing that particular moniker after that infamous shot.  We arrived in DC after three days of sailing the Potomac.  Yes it took three days, but a great visit to Occoquan encouraged us to take our time.  Eventually we found ourselves staring at the 14th street bridge with a clear view of the Washington Monument to port, and the Capitol Building to starboard.  I thought maybe we had sailed into the reflecting pond.  A word of thanks to the engineers who built the new Woodrow Wilson Bridge with a 75 foot clearance for marine traffic.  I cannot imagine calling the Wilson Bridge tender on the VHF radio and asking for a bridge opening at 4:00, probably tying up traffic from DC to Fredericksburg.   Oh I used to cast spells of hatred on boats as I idled in my car for hours at the old Wilson Bridge when I lived (survived) in northern VA.  Things look a lot better from the water.

Appropriately, the most interesting place we visited in DC was the Newseum - a six story building full of exhibits that made news.  We spent three hours on the first floor, but made a full day of it and got to all six.  A section of the Berlin Wall and one of the guard towers, the shack that the unabomber lived in, the door that the Watergate burglars taped open, John Dillinger's machine gun, and newspaper pages dating back to the invention of the printing press -  I had a hard time not reading every word of every exhibit.  After spending the next full day at the Library of Congress (another wow), we moved Senara to a marina in Alexandria and walked the old town.  Thankfully we caught a fair current in the morning, set sail back down the big river, spent a couple of really hot nights on the hook, plugged in for some A/C in Yorktown and pulled into our home slip on my 50th birthday.  Monkey business indeed.

  

Mount Vernon from the Potomac













Looking for the next Congressional scandal

Our view of the monument from the boat slip

Don't go to our private marina! ............. from P

This post is not in correct chronological order - but my brain doesn't work in chronological order - and based on recent witnessed sailor behavior, I think a few instructions on sailing etiquette are needed.  Specifically, when you find an idyllic spot to anchor, the best things to do are:  1. Continue going there whenever you can, 2. Don't tell too many other boaters about it, and 3. Do not foist yourself upon the nice people who live along the creek.  Well, in the spirit of sailor helping sailor, and in violation of #2, if you find yourself sailing up the Chesapeake Bay do yourself a favor and anchor in Indian Creek.  But please do not be rude and push your way into Chris and Rhonda's luxiuriously comfortable vacation home, which sits right on the best anchorage spot in the creek.  A few other things you definitely should not do:  You should not stand on the bow of your anchored vessel and scan Chris' back-yard pool with your binoculars to find out if anyone is home.  Then, if you see people, you would be very rude to cup your hands to your mouth, and yell "CHRIS!!" a few times.  Not cool.  If you fail to get a response, it is not fitting to then go online and look him up in whitepages and start calling his house.  Last but not least, don't resort to tandem yelling with your spouse.  But if you did do all those rude things, he will likely eventually hear you, zip out on his jet ski (appropriately the same color as a taxi), take you back to the house for a swim in the pool, a few (?) cold beers, dinner, fun conversation, and a sunset ride back to your boat.  So....... whatever you do, don't go there, and please don't tell anyone else about this anchorage.  By the way - thank you Chris and Rhonda!

All in a couple of days' cruising............... from P

Sunday, July 11: Wow – what a perfectly gorgeous morning. We had a full day of perfect sailing in a 12 knot steady breeze up the Potomac to Cobb Island. We pulled up alongside a fuel dock at a ragged looking gang of docks and boats now known as Pirate’s Den marina. A round-face under a pith helmet came up the pier to greet us, sporting an odd accent – our guess was some sort of European thing with a mix of Scottish brogue. We asked for a pump-out (no problem) and some info on getting to the restaurant. He helped us get the pump out done – after a few failed attempts and a 10 minute sit down break to smoke his pipe (you aren’t in too muuuuch of a hooorry arrrre you?). So we took him up on his offer and stayed tied to the pier, indulging ourselves in a night of clandestine electric hook up, in anticipation of some A/C sleeping. I uncapped our big spare water container to drain it into our fresh water deck fitting and promptly dropped the cap into the Wicomoco River – nooooo! After scrambling to pull my net from the lazerette (the handle was too short to reach the cap) I hollered for K to lower Senaras stern swim ladder and I just jumped into the pea soup of a river. Once the cap was retrieved, the round faced man showed me his very unusual 54 foot Hunter ocean racer (1982) the likes of which I have never seen. After a quick exterior tour and description of sailing properties, he just disappeared. I am thinking "this guy doesn't even work here."  So we walked up to the little bar & grill and enjoyed an excellent bowl of crab soup while watching a few local teenage boys jumping off the bridge into the river over and over again. It made me feel better about spending a few minutes in the same water retrieving my water jug cap. I wished I had asked the round faced man his name. But it really did not matter, he offered me a beer while doing the pump-out another while looking at his boat, and so we were nameless sailing friends. I also wished I had thought to take his picture.

Monday, July 12: Every day is full of little surprises. Ours started wh a hail over the VHF radio from the Coast Guard. It seems that we sailed into a live-fire practice range on a day when they were, indeed, exercising their long range gunning skills all around us! Nothing to wake you up quite like a cup of coffee and a few rounds of live mortar fire. The young voice on the VHF provided specific instructions and required course settings so we fired up the motor and off we went, relieved when we reached channel marker 30, apparently the end of the practice area. After a half day of motor-sailing we scouted our destination: Gilligans Pier. We were having a tough time dodging the oddly placed pilings while negotiating the fierce current and gusty wind as we tried to pull Senara alongside the end of the pier, when a man came hustling down the pier, clearly intending to lend a hand. He looks familiar. Oh…. My….gosh…..is it? Then a strange accent hollered Helloooooo again!  Sure enough - it was round faced man!!  He is everywhere!  Turns out his name is Pierre, and he does various odd jobs for the owners of several marinas around here.  Just goes to show; be nice to everybody, they might be catching your bow line at the next stopover!  I have gotta find that camera.

Underway once again..............from P

It has been such a long long time……. But here we are again, finally aboard Senara for two and a half weeks - and here I am again, finally able to reconnect with myself. I really should use my time on the water to reflect on everything that has happened over the past year. The problem is, I find it takes effort (and some pain) to reflect on the past year. It is much easier, and more fun, to again live in the raw moment. It is why I am so drawn to this life. I simultaneously fear and love the things that demand immediate attention when living on a sailboat – shoal waters, thunderstorms, a free flying lazy-jack line, biting flies, getting lost, and why a very specific looking machine screw is rolling around on the deck. It is good to be back!

After our year-long sailing journey and summertime racing jaunts, Senara needed a lot of attention. Beginning in February I consistently worked on a two-page list categorized into things that had to be done, and things I wanted to do. The new lifelines did not happen, but the new three-bladed folding prop did. The automatic stove lighter still doesn’t correctly click on, but the new packing around the rudder stock has stopped the little irritating trickle leak coming from the stern. All of the interior lights have not yet been converted to L.E.D., but the anchor light has been, and it is now the brightest anchor light in the anchorage. The newly machined prop shaft and coupling has eliminated the engine vibration, removal and re-seating of the traveler track has eliminated a cabin-top leak, and my refinished teak trim looks like new! All in all, Senara is in the best mechanical condition ever. But a relationship with a boat is like any other committed relationship, it requires constant attention. The best you can hope for is that it is the kind of relationship where you enjoy giving the attention.

So here we are again, all fixed up, out here where visits from pelicans and dolphins make us smile, the appearance of deteriorating industrial buildings along the shoreline feels like an insult, and the sight of those huge fishing trawlers with outriggers and bottom-dragging nets leave us with the same feeling as though an identified rapist just walked by. Everything seems clear. More things make sense. Finally, underway once again.