tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35117180664709508492024-02-19T00:31:20.171-05:00Sailing with SenaraA continuing sea log of sailing experiences and reflectionsSenarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17459226850237438089noreply@blogger.comBlogger174125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3511718066470950849.post-12214241819211385212011-07-13T10:20:00.000-04:002011-07-13T10:20:58.009-04:00gunking toward home......Gunk hole: A small sheltered cove suitable for anchoring small watercraft. We love them. By a happy accident we found a perfect gunk hole just off Dividing Creek. We had initially planned to drop hook in a cove recommended by our trusty Chesapeake Bay cruising guide. As we approached, there were three boats already anchored there, and three more motoring into the same area. One of the skippers hollered that they were all rafting up together, and they had issued 130 feet of anchor rode. It is usually no problem to go find another spot, but a huge black summer thunderstorm was bearing down on us, complete with lightning and increasing winds. It was clear that they weren’t going to invite us to raft up (the boats were from New Jersey and Philadelphia) so we boogied out of there and motored around a little point and up into a different branch of the creek. Then it appeared. A round cove, about 9 feet deep, a house on the shoreline, an egret walking in the marsh, trees on two sides – perfect. As soon as the anchor splashed the gusts hit and the rain started. No problem, we were tucked nicely in the protected cove – all by ourselves.<br />
Since we had no genoa we took a fairly direct route home, cutting a few days off our trip. We made unplanned stops, overnighting in a couple of coves that we had never before visited. It turned out to be the most naturally scenic part of our trip. <br />
The rest of the trip:<br />
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A cove in the Choptank River to Annapolis<br />
Annapolis to Baltimore<br />
Baltimore to a cove near Solomon’s island<br />
Solomon’s to our newly discovered gunk hole somewhere in Dividing Creek<br />
Dividing Creek to Sarah’s Creek<br />
Home.<br />
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Now I need to order a new genoa sail.Senarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17459226850237438089noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3511718066470950849.post-26743707511702105672011-06-27T20:17:00.001-04:002011-06-30T08:33:59.492-04:00northern bay winsAfter a great respite in Baltimore's inner harbor, we set out southward. We quickly noted that everywhere we looked, from 10 miles north of the Bay Bridge to 10 miles south of it, all we saw were sails! Two days prior, I had counted 76 sailboats sailing in and around the mouth of the Severn River (Annapolis). Granted, today was Sunday, but I could not count the sails this time. Just too many. Because we have no working Genoa, we cannot point close to the wind, so we motored under the Bay bridge. Offshore from Annapolis we saw the passion for sailing flair up again. We saw fine Hinckly ketches with all sails up, we saw one-off custom sloops, we saw nicely outfitted production boats, we saw spinnakers flying, kids diving off sailboats, swimming and squealing amid hundreds of boats tacking and gybing back and forth across the Bay. It was too much. I had to take us off course, pull out the drifter, and sail off the wind back and forth across the bay with them. Smiles and waves all over. I have spent a lot of time on the water in the southern Bay, and except for Southern Bay Race Week, I have never seen so many boats on the water. Come to think of it, I have never seen so many families enjoying a Sunday sail. I have to hand it to them - the northern Bay wins.<br />
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A note about the 14 year old girl who died this past Thursday while sailing her 420 with the summer camp group in Annapolis: The irony is that we coach our high school sailing club on the same type of boats, and in the same conditions. We were probably strolling the streets of Annapolis when the tragedy occurred just off the seawall where we were walking. We had no idea it happened until seeing the news item two days later. It should be pointed out that no-one can ever recall another tragedy like this. It was a small group in sound boats with coaches in their "coach boats" keeping an eye on everyone - and the weather was great. It was a freak accident, but it haunts me. I can't quit thinking about it and I keep trying to put myself in their respective positions. I just cannot imagine.....Senarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17459226850237438089noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3511718066470950849.post-59038374710077646812011-06-26T21:14:00.002-04:002011-06-27T19:47:12.748-04:00it's never the sameThe last time we sailed into Baltimore, people were taking our picture. We had the perfect broad reach, we were flying our big yellow and white herring-bone pattern drifter, and we had perfect control of the boat. We eased into the inner harbor, doused the drifter, dropped the main, and neatly backed into a slip. Right in front of tourists, God and everybody else.<br />
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<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">This time was a little different. We had a perfect morning, sailing out of Annapolis in a 14 knot steady breeze, all the way under the Bay Bridge. Then it died worse than Elvis. So we motored toward Baltimore, into the Patapsco, and almost to the Key bridge where the wind piped up to about 15. I happily killed the diesel and unfurled the big Genoa as we boiled along. Then the 25 knot gusts started hitting. At each gust, I headed up and let the sails flog, jerk, and complain until the pressure eased up, then I would fall off again and start cranking along. Then the gusts built stronger. We have been in this situation a number of times, but……..</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Question: Who knows when the atoms in a dense layering of Dacron and Mylar decide to give up on their relationship and part ways? I certainly would like to know (or known). But, alas, with no warning a few of the atoms decided to quit holding hands. Then others quickly followed their lead. Before I could open my mouth, the entire Genoa let out a huge roar and ripped right down the luff, a few inches from the forestay. Now, just to add perspective, imagine a triangle. This sail is (was) a triangle with a height of 45 feet, and a base of 21 feet. It was a huge sail. The pressure it created was the pressure that moved a 17,000 pound boat quickly through the water. So after the sickening sound, approximately 400 square feet of layered Mylar with heavy stainless steel grommets was ripped, out of control, and bull-whipping in a 30 knot continuous gust. The head of the sail was badly fouled – after ripping and whipping, the pressure had pulled the bolt rope out of the roller furling groove, so everything was pinched and un-movable. I tried crawling forward and pulling down on the sail – no way. I tried grabbing the sail. The only possible outcomes of this idea was to either let go, get killed by a 1 lb. piece of stainless grommet, or to become like the tail of a kite, and fly out high above the water trying to hang on to the end of a bull whip. So I let go. Now, what do we do? K is trying to maintain control of the helm, the boat is bucking and pitching under the duress of thousands of pounds of haywire leverage on the mast, I am trying to grab pieces of sail to pull them down. My hand starts cramping as the buttresses of the bridge start edging closer. </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Most of the sail is flailing back and outward along the starboard side – it lengthens as it shreds further. The longest shred gains enough mass to fall into the water and is being dragged along, creating more pressure and the added possibility of getting wrapped around the propeller. K is thinking and coming up with various ideas. We have to shout at the top of our lungs to be heard – the noise of a whipping sail in a 30 knot wind almost impossible to surmount. Finally I realize that I have to get the sail forward of the mast in order to be able to do anything, so I again crawled up to the bow and attached a snatch block to the forestay, then ran the lazy sheet up to the bow, around the block, and back to the port side mast winch. As K eased the loaded sheet, I cranked in the port side sheet . The block pulled the whole sail forward so that it was at least near the boat and flying within reach. I was able to get a handful and lash a line around it, then secure the other end of the line to the deck. Less flogging and vibration. Now I was able to use my knife to slash hunks of sail off. I would never have dreamt that I would go all “Chucky” on my own 155 degree laminated genoa. But Chucky I was. After motoring hard to miss the bridge truss, the stress on the remainder of the sail was great enough to snap the halyard cable. Down came more remnants. This finally released the pressure and gave us control of the boat. By the end of a very long hour, the sail was in pieces and lashed to the deck. We limped into Baltimore harbor looking like we had taken direct fire from Fort McHenry. In statistics it is said that everything eventually returns to the mean. I guess it could be said that our two entrances into Baltimore have, on average, been uneventful in the same way that if your head is in the freezer and your feet are in the fire, on average you are comfortable.</div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0FgQf0VR48IHJVvEBNcDfLNsLzkE7c9pwgTSsX0GqoWoNi3RUZWByN8eJIpVKNW7FYYMy4ZC9XAveLAIVDyKU1F9gdi9CN7dRylj7Th4SAgcqyjFtzAlsJYwTBVlC-py81v5XbJs2-mk/s1600/Sail+pieces.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" i$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0FgQf0VR48IHJVvEBNcDfLNsLzkE7c9pwgTSsX0GqoWoNi3RUZWByN8eJIpVKNW7FYYMy4ZC9XAveLAIVDyKU1F9gdi9CN7dRylj7Th4SAgcqyjFtzAlsJYwTBVlC-py81v5XbJs2-mk/s320/Sail+pieces.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Notice the hanging shred and the balled up section<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW6_xcA5AI4wHwQodzm0uZC_mZjYXb_QEpJeFCGtfIZEkUNDvrqqy-ruX1fWiEp1vJPgQ7_xgf4Kk1qSX5McSQdlAjpzs3QI2pvGhGKjyUsYVKnCZI6MT2fVB5kNrlbMGxvCk3QZnIx0c/s1600/Ragged+forestay.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" i$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW6_xcA5AI4wHwQodzm0uZC_mZjYXb_QEpJeFCGtfIZEkUNDvrqqy-ruX1fWiEp1vJPgQ7_xgf4Kk1qSX5McSQdlAjpzs3QI2pvGhGKjyUsYVKnCZI6MT2fVB5kNrlbMGxvCk3QZnIx0c/s320/Ragged+forestay.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Shards remain hanging on the forestay</td></tr>
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</div>Senarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17459226850237438089noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3511718066470950849.post-71196667917552070712011-06-23T20:51:00.000-04:002011-06-23T20:51:26.810-04:00ego alleyA family of ducks, a Scarab muscle boat, a Catalina 47, water taxis, people standing around the tables at Pusser's, J-22s taking a victory lap after racing, Hawaiian shirts in dinghies, several Boston Whalers, a Beneteau 44, a Tartan 35. These are a few of the passers by just within the last hour. We are in a slip at the city dock in Annapolis, where the old city warf canal runs right up into downtown (semi-affectionately known as ego alley). Our stern is sticking out into the canal, so K and I are literally sitting in the middle of the boating scene in Annapolis watching and being totally entertained. Wow, a classic 1960s style runabout with a restored 30 horse Evinrude, complete with wings on the motor cover, just putted by. We love this town. Most coastal cities seem to be partial in favor of power boaters. Not Annapolis. Annapolis celebrates sailing. The restaurants have photos of regattas in the bathrooms. The shops have bags and purses made of used sail material. The hardware stores carry fiddle blocks and sta-set line. When we motored into the harbor two separate fleets of youth 420s were practicing. Last night was race night for the PRHF handicap fleet, and tonight was race night for the J boats. Today we toured the campus of the U.S. Naval Academy and once again heard the stories of some of the craziest bastards that ever sailed (Farragut and J.P. Jones to name two). Yes, big egos. Every racing sailor that competed tonight has an ego that says "I will win today." Now everyone out here is listening to a great singer on the Pusser's dock and enjoying the gorgeous moonlit night. Every town should have an ego alley like this.Senarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17459226850237438089noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3511718066470950849.post-28557773090292117572011-06-23T10:17:00.000-04:002011-06-23T10:17:52.201-04:00orange glovesWe were listening to the frogs starting to sing at dusk. Senara was content to sit still at anchor in this scenic, deep water creek. From our vantage point on the bow we could see another sailboat easing up the creek from a day of sailing in the Bay. Of course, it is always interesting to watch other sailors go through their routine of picking a spot, dropping anchor, tying off, and going through the other seeminingly hundreds of little jobs to get the boat settled for the night. That's when it happened. The first mate came forward to release the anchor; not sure if it was male or female, because all we could see were a pair of neon orange, elbow length gloves. Of course, gloves are helpful and often necessary. Usually you will see sailing gloves with fingers exposed for manipulation, or just a pair of Home Depot leather work gloves. But these gloves were in a class by themselves. I speculated that they served a dual purpose; if the sailors became lost at sea they could don the gloves and wave their arms madly, or possibly hoist the gloves up the mast. Either way, the Coast Guard or anyone else within sight of the horizon would have no problem locating them. What did they do with the gloves once the job is done? Do they have to put them in a bag and stow them under the sailbags, else the glow will prevent sleep? This interesting anchoring routine made me start considering all of our little routines aboard Senara. <br />
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Strange habits emerge from small necessities. For example, you will find a small wad of toilet paper jammed between two sliding cabinet doors in the head. This would certainly set off myriad speculations by any newcomer, some of which may be worthy of their own blog post. But, depending on the particular directional roll of the swells during the night these doors often will make a little clicking noise as they touch together when Senara is gently rolling. The quieter the night, the louder the clicks. Hence a wad of TP. Other anchoring routines include moving the anchor line off the roller (it will make a banging noise as the roller moves across its axle during boat swings), bungy cords on the halyards, releasing the roller furling line, and a few other little seemingly inexplicable dances to make the boat quiet and sound during the night. You have to spend a lot of time on your boat to learn all her idiosynchracies. Kind of like marriage, every skipper has to learn them the hard way. I just hope to one day have an opportunity to meet the skipper who can tell me the story of the orange gloves.Senarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17459226850237438089noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3511718066470950849.post-25643976012530931962011-06-22T08:13:00.000-04:002011-06-22T08:13:20.295-04:00blow us!Summer sailing often turns into summer motoring. The normal hot weather pattern in eastern Virginny teases you in the morning with a nice 5 – 10 knot breeze. So you hurry breakfast, put things away, get gooped up, pull the anchor, hoist the sails, and suddenly realize all the ripples on the water have laid down. But, you don’t give up – you float around in the sun while the mast flogs the sails back and forth each time a ground swell rocks the boat. Sweat beads on your face and flies swarm around your legs as you peer across the Bay trying to will the wind toward you. Finally, you turn the radio off, turn the motor on, take the sails down and become a hot, slow motor boater for the day. Sometime around 10:00 PM the wind picks up and blows the boat around all night. Repeat process. This is the normal scene most days during July and August. But not us – not this year! <br />
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We have been riding the breezes this week! <br />
N 15-20 close reaching from home to Kiptopeke<br />
N15-20 close reaching from Kiptopeke to Fishing Bay<br />
SE 15-20 broad reaching from Fishing Bay to Urbanna<br />
SW 5-10 broad reaching from Urbanna to Mill Creek<br />
NNE 10-15 close reaching from Mill Creek to Tangier Island<br />
NW 5-15 from Tangier to Crisfield<br />
W 10-20 reaching from Crisfield to Hooper Island<br />
S 15-20 broad reaching, and running from Hooper Island to the Choptank<br />
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We have had to reef the sails twice, and dig out our jackets! Yes in the summer! Oh great wind gods (and atmospheric thermodynamics), please keep blowing us!Senarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17459226850237438089noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3511718066470950849.post-41988867599166765882011-06-18T06:41:00.000-04:002011-06-18T06:41:12.356-04:00gloriousYou should not name your boat "Glorious." The gods don't like hubris. It would be like naming your first born son "Champ." Nothing good can come from it. But there she was, a perfectly restored and maintained Tartan 37, just slightly older than Senara as evidenced by her earlier hull number. Roughly 100 Tartan 37s were built between the time Glorious was built and when Senara first splashed over 30 years ago. I eased next to her, the owner and I talked some "Tartan," and I noticed how perfectly restored she was. She is the only other Tartan I have seen of that vintage with the teak cockpit seat racks still in place. Nice.<br />
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I just noticed my last blog entry was 11 months ago! Impossible to catch up all 11 months in this venue, but one event must be recorded: Senara and her humble crew - Neil, HA, and me - won the cruising division of the prestigious Cape Charles Cup regatta in August! The CC Cup is a two day race across the Chesapeake and back. We beat 51 boats in our fleet! I would like to brag a bit more, but I must remember the hubris thing.<br />
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We are at it again. As I write this, we are anchored in Mill Creek on the western side of the Bay. We have been sailing for four days and we may continue for another few weeks. Just can't get enough. Tuesday and Wednesday, there was a strong steady 15 to 22 knot breeze out of the North. We packed probably 15 T-shirts and shorts. We were chilly as we pounded into the 3-4 foot whitecaps, and had to dig out the only two jackets on board. It felt sooooo good. Each day has been a little different of course, but we have had a full moon, steady breezes, good food, a nice stop-over in Urbanna, and perfect summer weather. Glorious!Senarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17459226850237438089noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3511718066470950849.post-38831552804925435032010-07-30T21:51:00.000-04:002010-07-30T21:51:35.520-04:00monkey business...................... from PDoes 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.<br />
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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.<br />
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Mount Vernon from the Potomac<br />
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Looking for the next Congressional scandal<br />
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Our view of the monument from the boat slipSenarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17459226850237438089noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3511718066470950849.post-77390501559076125892010-07-15T18:06:00.001-04:002010-07-15T18:23:17.057-04:00Don't go to our private marina! ............. from PThis 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!Senarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17459226850237438089noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3511718066470950849.post-2574629946523600212010-07-13T13:04:00.000-04:002010-07-13T13:04:01.434-04:00All in a couple of days' cruising............... from PSunday, 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.<br />
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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.Senarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17459226850237438089noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3511718066470950849.post-77898258824963977622010-07-11T22:34:00.001-04:002010-07-12T09:56:19.495-04:00Underway once again..............from P<p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">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. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes"></span>I really should use my time on the water to reflect on everything that has happened over the past year.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The problem is, I find it takes effort (and some pain) to reflect on the past year.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>It is much easier, and more fun, to again live in the raw moment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> It is why I am so drawn to this life. </span>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.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>It is good to be back!</span></p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"></span> </p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" /><o:p><span style="font-family:Calibri;"></span></o:p></p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">After our year-long sailing journey and summertime racing jaunts, Senara needed a lot of attention. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes"></span>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.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>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.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>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.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>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! <span style="mso-spacerun: yes"></span>All in all, Senara is in the best mechanical condition ever.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>But a relationship with a boat is like any other committed relationship, it requires constant attention.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The best you can hope for is that it is the kind of relationship where you enjoy giving the attention.</span></p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"></span> </p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family:Calibri;"></span></o:p></p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;">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.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Everything seems clear.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>More things make sense.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Finally, underway once again. </span></p>Senarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17459226850237438089noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3511718066470950849.post-89086704624028615452009-11-12T13:23:00.008-05:002009-11-12T14:39:46.576-05:00a stormy relationship ................ from PShe is hanging in there, but she is taking a beating! I just got back into dry clothes after spending a couple of hours out in the newly dubbed "November Nor'easter," or as another newsman called it, "Hampton Roads' Perfect Storm." HA and I slogged along the pier (it is submerged under 8 inches of water at low tide!) to check on Senara. <div><div></div><br /><div>To ensure we don't step off the dock, we have to stay visually aligned with the pilings and shuffle along so that we can continue to feel the boards under our feet. We make several stops to hang onto anything within reach, as the 45 knot gusts roll across the mouth of the James River and into our creek. Each gust causes Senara's dock lines to stretch and sing as she heaves hard against them, heeling and pitching up and down, just inches away from the lee pilings. Before we reach her I notice the sail cover, with the attractively stitched sail number on each side, has been shredded to tatters - hurricane style. I am barely able to reach the swim ladder at the stern, stretch my foot up to the low rung, and pull myself up to clamber aboard. After adding two more lines to the bow, re-securing the spring line, and lashing the sail cover, I check below to make sure the cabin sole boards aren't floating. Everything looks OK so far. </div><div></div><div></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBkGrmdYTyZWmgukkiWU-0yzE1gXR2WAAArA7Nvh1OZLuwEyJAwWXsav_ft-ssa-w7tBKkLF1sjh-oxN4Gbpky2kPXzdhTIpfFxfuMtsnbL5Oplll61H2Vi6nPdO0PfFfxIe2GPhZ3OGs/s1600-h/100_0571.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5403301292733580578" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBkGrmdYTyZWmgukkiWU-0yzE1gXR2WAAArA7Nvh1OZLuwEyJAwWXsav_ft-ssa-w7tBKkLF1sjh-oxN4Gbpky2kPXzdhTIpfFxfuMtsnbL5Oplll61H2Vi6nPdO0PfFfxIe2GPhZ3OGs/s320/100_0571.JPG" /></a></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div> </div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div>HA and I shuffle down the pier and lash a large chunk of a broken off finger-pier to a piling, secure an electrical pedestal that has somehow been sheared off at the base, and gawk at our neighbor's fishing boat that now floats upside down, completely capsized.</div><div></div><div></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5srTDDntSud7I9dHYz5hslHuvcB0bUWoGUK3LbTLZ83wNhfv4QcVF9mKYBjH6QNIyfo76Lo_ZlMVCjJonHXZQcsaGvVyjphLt_G_9ZUyeXe9cJb4Jqd3hYDgyNAoZTvjYyaelEwsm6_M/s1600-h/100_0572.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5403301552187300290" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5srTDDntSud7I9dHYz5hslHuvcB0bUWoGUK3LbTLZ83wNhfv4QcVF9mKYBjH6QNIyfo76Lo_ZlMVCjJonHXZQcsaGvVyjphLt_G_9ZUyeXe9cJb4Jqd3hYDgyNAoZTvjYyaelEwsm6_M/s320/100_0572.JPG" /></a></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div>As we make our way homeward up the pier, I feel a familiar sense of sadness and helplessness, even sympathy. It is the same feeling I had last night as I lay awake envisioning the conditions down on the water. I have to tell myself again - Senara is just a boat; just a pile of fiberglass, wire, and teak crafted together to sail on the water. So why do I feel like I just visited an ailing family member? Why does it physically hurt in my gut when she gets injured, or is in some kind of danger? Inexplicable, but there it is. She has to hang in there for 24 more hours. I just hope I did my part and set the lines well, as high tide will arrive in four more slow, painful hours.</div></div>Senarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17459226850237438089noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3511718066470950849.post-79166742235750372302009-09-09T08:50:00.010-04:002009-09-09T10:03:08.254-04:00creekazoids take the Mobjack! ..... from PWe had everything - a Friday night sail under the moon, perfectly sunny conditions in optimal wind, gusty conditions up to 25 knots, sailing in a torrential rainstorm, and rip currents caused by the full moon and northeasterly storm combined. All within a Labor Day weekend. Neil and Carol, aboard Isabel's Revenge, sailed with us up into the East River of the Mobjack Bay to join up with our real boat club (the dues billing kind), OPCYC. After a perfect sailing day, we rafted together and soon saw Fred aboard Belladonna (yet another boat he is working on), Fred's brother Russell aboard Overkill, and John aboard Seabiscuit. We rode the dinghy over to the OPCYC raft-up and did happy hour with them - wow, nice boats, but not nearly as well travelled. <div><div><div><div><div></div><div>By sunset we had five creekazoids rafted together - forming a larger group than the OPCYC had! On Sunday, K led the group in a floaty session while the guys played with our snorkel & diving toys. Turns out, Neil's mom and stepdad live two rivers over (Ware River). So we sailed over there Sunday evening and got ourselves invited into their home for an incredible meal of fresh baked redfish, aka puppy drum around here. Monday we faced a hard rain most of the day, but the sailing was good. I looked back through the rain at the boats coming out of the Mobjack and thought - just kill me now, unless I can do this again soon.</div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjdMe1SU2WXGo6QgBPV5uRH_7pjpGqdkATLnT_Xq_Vc98Wezz2I5fP96g48tZSmDmsx2xYIikP4KegjrcQxJWGFcIVHAAu1TuU6gc3XXjZIRdNFKUxeS_eN5aMumWrr5KHZZvibGiilbo/s1600-h/100_0535.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379461626631855794" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjdMe1SU2WXGo6QgBPV5uRH_7pjpGqdkATLnT_Xq_Vc98Wezz2I5fP96g48tZSmDmsx2xYIikP4KegjrcQxJWGFcIVHAAu1TuU6gc3XXjZIRdNFKUxeS_eN5aMumWrr5KHZZvibGiilbo/s320/100_0535.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><br /></div><div></div><div></div><div>1) Senara and Isabel's revenge together again. I think they missed each other!</div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjldsZ58ZBmuTLw7i-AF0qxPKThM9N0GOw_TQqxSvs4jzgDOlBa2oj6gxrkp3MDOEL5PN_GHhx9ucH6KZhrDVIsUS49118jVN0V5WkwvKD3eeKWPwaPXvmNeh5jm02mLSK_7RWnE0ae-aE/s1600-h/100_0555.JPG"></a></div><div></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkE1zbmAx2uS4nadlP8fJlVFXHZg4gttbCu3w1EnQPMuAOhVRRoCoJ4DPLQ7oN220B9XuWtEhT15RD7YUrh8dCFmrX-RL1rzhUA8ij6g6lwtVbzxb58WFAY01OZH3QuEmMhBtLhsmYCjg/s1600-h/100_0538.JPG"></a></div><div></div><div></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi81BfFp6IDcbMB_YfPIRANRhnDOWH4JpuQJ23-1eppUnhoz0w0OQ63SXfax5Kk4zqQ6rXEx9DupFZBzCPJVLBThyuDR_luOKTpm6fsDPXNEee4iDNFJ9gPeOx4kyyliutJLDCsM6t7dK4/s1600-h/100_0540.JPG"></a></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkE1zbmAx2uS4nadlP8fJlVFXHZg4gttbCu3w1EnQPMuAOhVRRoCoJ4DPLQ7oN220B9XuWtEhT15RD7YUrh8dCFmrX-RL1rzhUA8ij6g6lwtVbzxb58WFAY01OZH3QuEmMhBtLhsmYCjg/s1600-h/100_0538.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379461999141196162" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkE1zbmAx2uS4nadlP8fJlVFXHZg4gttbCu3w1EnQPMuAOhVRRoCoJ4DPLQ7oN220B9XuWtEhT15RD7YUrh8dCFmrX-RL1rzhUA8ij6g6lwtVbzxb58WFAY01OZH3QuEmMhBtLhsmYCjg/s320/100_0538.JPG" /></a></div><div></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1whzZUGrUnZhD-ztYnYUBYg-MQm3RyU3G8453UVJALk-cEIbWGBuA7IuTaXObCkaw21u43-_YElrnRiPhOBoYXjdqH4Lb_mSLLkY4WCrJfSrJenLi96cSXCBne14i6C-InBai-NldpLg/s1600-h/100_0546.JPG"></a></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div>2)Kai aboard Isabel, making sure he knows where everyone is.</div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6sT19WhrzQUvlBsCCi_JVMXDYMxVihgeK_A0XxWlU5eozIuO1K_O0x8m-7-ZtZfzZoTnJorKw3a2VTutkKe6CpinGJoUwSEDobYWqzI9t7O4SWWzOxLo8ioG3ZDh70Y9io0RvLBYyLus/s1600-h/100_0544.JPG"></a></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjldsZ58ZBmuTLw7i-AF0qxPKThM9N0GOw_TQqxSvs4jzgDOlBa2oj6gxrkp3MDOEL5PN_GHhx9ucH6KZhrDVIsUS49118jVN0V5WkwvKD3eeKWPwaPXvmNeh5jm02mLSK_7RWnE0ae-aE/s1600-h/100_0555.JPG"></a></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi81BfFp6IDcbMB_YfPIRANRhnDOWH4JpuQJ23-1eppUnhoz0w0OQ63SXfax5Kk4zqQ6rXEx9DupFZBzCPJVLBThyuDR_luOKTpm6fsDPXNEee4iDNFJ9gPeOx4kyyliutJLDCsM6t7dK4/s1600-h/100_0540.JPG"></a></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6sT19WhrzQUvlBsCCi_JVMXDYMxVihgeK_A0XxWlU5eozIuO1K_O0x8m-7-ZtZfzZoTnJorKw3a2VTutkKe6CpinGJoUwSEDobYWqzI9t7O4SWWzOxLo8ioG3ZDh70Y9io0RvLBYyLus/s1600-h/100_0544.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379462377853438386" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6sT19WhrzQUvlBsCCi_JVMXDYMxVihgeK_A0XxWlU5eozIuO1K_O0x8m-7-ZtZfzZoTnJorKw3a2VTutkKe6CpinGJoUwSEDobYWqzI9t7O4SWWzOxLo8ioG3ZDh70Y9io0RvLBYyLus/s320/100_0544.JPG" /></a></div><div></div><div></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1whzZUGrUnZhD-ztYnYUBYg-MQm3RyU3G8453UVJALk-cEIbWGBuA7IuTaXObCkaw21u43-_YElrnRiPhOBoYXjdqH4Lb_mSLLkY4WCrJfSrJenLi96cSXCBne14i6C-InBai-NldpLg/s1600-h/100_0546.JPG"></a></div><div></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi81BfFp6IDcbMB_YfPIRANRhnDOWH4JpuQJ23-1eppUnhoz0w0OQ63SXfax5Kk4zqQ6rXEx9DupFZBzCPJVLBThyuDR_luOKTpm6fsDPXNEee4iDNFJ9gPeOx4kyyliutJLDCsM6t7dK4/s1600-h/100_0540.JPG"></a></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div>3)Family portrait! Neil, Carol, Bailey</div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1whzZUGrUnZhD-ztYnYUBYg-MQm3RyU3G8453UVJALk-cEIbWGBuA7IuTaXObCkaw21u43-_YElrnRiPhOBoYXjdqH4Lb_mSLLkY4WCrJfSrJenLi96cSXCBne14i6C-InBai-NldpLg/s1600-h/100_0546.JPG"></a></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjldsZ58ZBmuTLw7i-AF0qxPKThM9N0GOw_TQqxSvs4jzgDOlBa2oj6gxrkp3MDOEL5PN_GHhx9ucH6KZhrDVIsUS49118jVN0V5WkwvKD3eeKWPwaPXvmNeh5jm02mLSK_7RWnE0ae-aE/s1600-h/100_0555.JPG"></a></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi81BfFp6IDcbMB_YfPIRANRhnDOWH4JpuQJ23-1eppUnhoz0w0OQ63SXfax5Kk4zqQ6rXEx9DupFZBzCPJVLBThyuDR_luOKTpm6fsDPXNEee4iDNFJ9gPeOx4kyyliutJLDCsM6t7dK4/s1600-h/100_0540.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379462695875101938" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi81BfFp6IDcbMB_YfPIRANRhnDOWH4JpuQJ23-1eppUnhoz0w0OQ63SXfax5Kk4zqQ6rXEx9DupFZBzCPJVLBThyuDR_luOKTpm6fsDPXNEee4iDNFJ9gPeOx4kyyliutJLDCsM6t7dK4/s320/100_0540.JPG" /></a></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div>4)Is your bottom clean ?!</div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjldsZ58ZBmuTLw7i-AF0qxPKThM9N0GOw_TQqxSvs4jzgDOlBa2oj6gxrkp3MDOEL5PN_GHhx9ucH6KZhrDVIsUS49118jVN0V5WkwvKD3eeKWPwaPXvmNeh5jm02mLSK_7RWnE0ae-aE/s1600-h/100_0555.JPG"></a></div><div></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1whzZUGrUnZhD-ztYnYUBYg-MQm3RyU3G8453UVJALk-cEIbWGBuA7IuTaXObCkaw21u43-_YElrnRiPhOBoYXjdqH4Lb_mSLLkY4WCrJfSrJenLi96cSXCBne14i6C-InBai-NldpLg/s1600-h/100_0546.JPG"></a></div><div></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjldsZ58ZBmuTLw7i-AF0qxPKThM9N0GOw_TQqxSvs4jzgDOlBa2oj6gxrkp3MDOEL5PN_GHhx9ucH6KZhrDVIsUS49118jVN0V5WkwvKD3eeKWPwaPXvmNeh5jm02mLSK_7RWnE0ae-aE/s1600-h/100_0555.JPG"></a></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1whzZUGrUnZhD-ztYnYUBYg-MQm3RyU3G8453UVJALk-cEIbWGBuA7IuTaXObCkaw21u43-_YElrnRiPhOBoYXjdqH4Lb_mSLLkY4WCrJfSrJenLi96cSXCBne14i6C-InBai-NldpLg/s1600-h/100_0546.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379462973354023218" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1whzZUGrUnZhD-ztYnYUBYg-MQm3RyU3G8453UVJALk-cEIbWGBuA7IuTaXObCkaw21u43-_YElrnRiPhOBoYXjdqH4Lb_mSLLkY4WCrJfSrJenLi96cSXCBne14i6C-InBai-NldpLg/s320/100_0546.JPG" /></a></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div>5)Fred returns from a successful gas hunting trip.</div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjldsZ58ZBmuTLw7i-AF0qxPKThM9N0GOw_TQqxSvs4jzgDOlBa2oj6gxrkp3MDOEL5PN_GHhx9ucH6KZhrDVIsUS49118jVN0V5WkwvKD3eeKWPwaPXvmNeh5jm02mLSK_7RWnE0ae-aE/s1600-h/100_0555.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379464479529143842" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjldsZ58ZBmuTLw7i-AF0qxPKThM9N0GOw_TQqxSvs4jzgDOlBa2oj6gxrkp3MDOEL5PN_GHhx9ucH6KZhrDVIsUS49118jVN0V5WkwvKD3eeKWPwaPXvmNeh5jm02mLSK_7RWnE0ae-aE/s320/100_0555.JPG" /></a></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div>6)K hauling in the port sheet.</div></div></div></div></div>Senarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17459226850237438089noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3511718066470950849.post-86043297073753855842009-08-30T10:20:00.013-04:002009-09-01T19:43:13.020-04:00Creekazoids rule! .......... from PThe Cape Charles Cup; a race for cruisers, and a cruise for racers. The starting line is in Norfolk; the first day’s race finish line is at Cape Charles on the Eastern Shore, and the second day’s finish line is back across the Bay in Hampton. This was the first organized racing event in which all our sailing buddies entered their boat, or crewed for another. I entered Senara in the Cruising B fleet (17 boats), Tony entered TL Sea in the Non-Spinnaker racing fleet (6 boats), and John entered Seabiscuit in the Cruising C fleet (14 boats). Fred, because his boat is “on the hard,” was the first mate on Seabiscuit, Neil and HA were my crew, and Tony took on a new crew of mostly family members. We all maintain our boats near each other on one of the hundreds of creeks that feed into the Chesapeake Bay. For that reason (along with other reasons) we have taken up the name “Creekazoid Yacht Club.” It is a club with no club. No dues, no planned meetings. Just Creekazoids who enjoy sailing together.<br /><br />Well, let it be known that the Creekazoids kicked some transom in the Cape Charles Cup regatta this year! Senara took third place in her fleet, TL Sea took third in her fleet, and Seabiscuit won! John and Fred raced Seabiscuit (Morgan 24) in her first race ever, and won the class outright! They had no GPS, and they forgot to carry a chart with them! So all day they are “dead reckoning” their way through the tacks and currents to end up at a short finish line 20 miles across the Bay. Nice job. I think the good karma generated by our most excellent name-changing ceremony for Seabiscuit did the trick. Also, a newly adopted Creekazoid, Raleigh Martin, took second place (single handed – no crew on board) just behind Seabiscuit in the Cruising C fleet.<br /><br />What a great weekend. Two days of racing across the bay, visiting other boats at night, listening to some very talented boaters playing music in their cockpit (thank you Nancy and Nancy’s friend!), living aboard Senara again for four more days. Hanging with good friends. I know this endless summer will have to end soon for me - but not just yet.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgasvO3AwObxfiEHx0VpxaeKgTTBePF9IRZqr308r7siFPFpECOWH-2fXEzl4Ig-JqDSYg9GtyQWzXuEgUJIvUJtED2POkzhR0bQGyyexco1aetfeBmc62VAsn8GU_siDG_vmT69EtdbGY/s1600-h/DSCN1689.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5375769890191668738" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgasvO3AwObxfiEHx0VpxaeKgTTBePF9IRZqr308r7siFPFpECOWH-2fXEzl4Ig-JqDSYg9GtyQWzXuEgUJIvUJtED2POkzhR0bQGyyexco1aetfeBmc62VAsn8GU_siDG_vmT69EtdbGY/s320/DSCN1689.JPG" /></a> Me officiating the all-important and most sacred name changing ceremony for Seabiscuit.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAYZWCBu6hESkw0c386A1Rk7HQ5E3B3laW_5i2vkDjX8kT9dsmOSuv0idfStE3E_2MTrxCAYTn2V9UytNMmuP2p8mgMtaCgJY6_Ffe1Zk-x1lhWiv2rlTgy0OftpQ0lKxa3I0RAJxWBHA/s1600-h/DSCN1767.JPG"></a><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG2dfe7XXrV0XJ4txXjBoyLEcFWEBMnuEKxMGLCi0tKMpjjEkaQWnP5yTiPHLSVkA28Xndb4dI2sLC7fbDAgaH_b3wrp-ntpW22rJeLpGa5HmURol0dX7gQruzkNrkadYOcGZ9FJDT7vM/s1600-h/DSCN1768.JPG"></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj57w1RnLI_Y8Xa67fvfCHMPY9qwP-ZZfP0ILJVuNgqmBMsEf0qUCfyNgu-0WRfAkWl_-xW6w_s6BbUKuxJRFW8H0wp08gKXizqpWXVd2OPEQPdJI8dvhNssNMCA6zB7KglPSU7slC8eC4/s1600-h/DSCN1779.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5375770351101016898" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj57w1RnLI_Y8Xa67fvfCHMPY9qwP-ZZfP0ILJVuNgqmBMsEf0qUCfyNgu-0WRfAkWl_-xW6w_s6BbUKuxJRFW8H0wp08gKXizqpWXVd2OPEQPdJI8dvhNssNMCA6zB7KglPSU7slC8eC4/s320/DSCN1779.JPG" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSa-vj-Ae7S_n2r4HeZQ_53Mld4V4pyZN9CUgTdRtQ7fKR79K3L69TMaTOY_ccw636a3loeK0_aGLBVMzIKSjWBik_sopy5RDelabecKw3B6Wne-nkbFcgbBYN6k5n52AYk2vvago9Lho/s1600-h/DSCN1772.JPG"></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG2dfe7XXrV0XJ4txXjBoyLEcFWEBMnuEKxMGLCi0tKMpjjEkaQWnP5yTiPHLSVkA28Xndb4dI2sLC7fbDAgaH_b3wrp-ntpW22rJeLpGa5HmURol0dX7gQruzkNrkadYOcGZ9FJDT7vM/s1600-h/DSCN1768.JPG"></a><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ7VS-2zj-cDXcA8DbFyFy2klvuDso5yI9HBQvgqMrfhC0VsWdYWSwTZYZ4VwanW-_XOVEKmzllNwP7RkTm4A4M-HXc5mWKFrLfM8w_4r57GwFeeGiE-1vhtAVC20eu2dgQCEnmRYqOgw/s1600-h/DSCN1742.JPG"></a>Off and racing<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDfZtScA2rfL3na1vervwJTkaORwrRJR6AhWmnArdPCgHuYv6a0z77bljIfFSdPn0QzJYVwUpTw2RcVo0MxpTgVqWLaE7Tb7dhvy-9vBtgNC4WFoIvNq0ez2VFZwtKMhFUfvT2WtVrYUc/s1600-h/DSCN1719.JPG"></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDfZtScA2rfL3na1vervwJTkaORwrRJR6AhWmnArdPCgHuYv6a0z77bljIfFSdPn0QzJYVwUpTw2RcVo0MxpTgVqWLaE7Tb7dhvy-9vBtgNC4WFoIvNq0ez2VFZwtKMhFUfvT2WtVrYUc/s1600-h/DSCN1719.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5375770689263622738" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDfZtScA2rfL3na1vervwJTkaORwrRJR6AhWmnArdPCgHuYv6a0z77bljIfFSdPn0QzJYVwUpTw2RcVo0MxpTgVqWLaE7Tb7dhvy-9vBtgNC4WFoIvNq0ez2VFZwtKMhFUfvT2WtVrYUc/s320/DSCN1719.JPG" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSa-vj-Ae7S_n2r4HeZQ_53Mld4V4pyZN9CUgTdRtQ7fKR79K3L69TMaTOY_ccw636a3loeK0_aGLBVMzIKSjWBik_sopy5RDelabecKw3B6Wne-nkbFcgbBYN6k5n52AYk2vvago9Lho/s1600-h/DSCN1772.JPG"></a><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAYZWCBu6hESkw0c386A1Rk7HQ5E3B3laW_5i2vkDjX8kT9dsmOSuv0idfStE3E_2MTrxCAYTn2V9UytNMmuP2p8mgMtaCgJY6_Ffe1Zk-x1lhWiv2rlTgy0OftpQ0lKxa3I0RAJxWBHA/s1600-h/DSCN1767.JPG"></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ7VS-2zj-cDXcA8DbFyFy2klvuDso5yI9HBQvgqMrfhC0VsWdYWSwTZYZ4VwanW-_XOVEKmzllNwP7RkTm4A4M-HXc5mWKFrLfM8w_4r57GwFeeGiE-1vhtAVC20eu2dgQCEnmRYqOgw/s1600-h/DSCN1742.JPG"></a><br />Yeehaw!!!<br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG2dfe7XXrV0XJ4txXjBoyLEcFWEBMnuEKxMGLCi0tKMpjjEkaQWnP5yTiPHLSVkA28Xndb4dI2sLC7fbDAgaH_b3wrp-ntpW22rJeLpGa5HmURol0dX7gQruzkNrkadYOcGZ9FJDT7vM/s1600-h/DSCN1768.JPG"></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ7VS-2zj-cDXcA8DbFyFy2klvuDso5yI9HBQvgqMrfhC0VsWdYWSwTZYZ4VwanW-_XOVEKmzllNwP7RkTm4A4M-HXc5mWKFrLfM8w_4r57GwFeeGiE-1vhtAVC20eu2dgQCEnmRYqOgw/s1600-h/DSCN1742.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5375771024088249858" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ7VS-2zj-cDXcA8DbFyFy2klvuDso5yI9HBQvgqMrfhC0VsWdYWSwTZYZ4VwanW-_XOVEKmzllNwP7RkTm4A4M-HXc5mWKFrLfM8w_4r57GwFeeGiE-1vhtAVC20eu2dgQCEnmRYqOgw/s320/DSCN1742.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><br />HA takes a break - yes my daughter will still crew for me during a race!<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG2dfe7XXrV0XJ4txXjBoyLEcFWEBMnuEKxMGLCi0tKMpjjEkaQWnP5yTiPHLSVkA28Xndb4dI2sLC7fbDAgaH_b3wrp-ntpW22rJeLpGa5HmURol0dX7gQruzkNrkadYOcGZ9FJDT7vM/s1600-h/DSCN1768.JPG"></a><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAYZWCBu6hESkw0c386A1Rk7HQ5E3B3laW_5i2vkDjX8kT9dsmOSuv0idfStE3E_2MTrxCAYTn2V9UytNMmuP2p8mgMtaCgJY6_Ffe1Zk-x1lhWiv2rlTgy0OftpQ0lKxa3I0RAJxWBHA/s1600-h/DSCN1767.JPG"></a><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAYZWCBu6hESkw0c386A1Rk7HQ5E3B3laW_5i2vkDjX8kT9dsmOSuv0idfStE3E_2MTrxCAYTn2V9UytNMmuP2p8mgMtaCgJY6_Ffe1Zk-x1lhWiv2rlTgy0OftpQ0lKxa3I0RAJxWBHA/s1600-h/DSCN1767.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5375771372472588722" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAYZWCBu6hESkw0c386A1Rk7HQ5E3B3laW_5i2vkDjX8kT9dsmOSuv0idfStE3E_2MTrxCAYTn2V9UytNMmuP2p8mgMtaCgJY6_Ffe1Zk-x1lhWiv2rlTgy0OftpQ0lKxa3I0RAJxWBHA/s320/DSCN1767.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br />Fred accepts the trophy for Seabiscuit's first place finish<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSa-vj-Ae7S_n2r4HeZQ_53Mld4V4pyZN9CUgTdRtQ7fKR79K3L69TMaTOY_ccw636a3loeK0_aGLBVMzIKSjWBik_sopy5RDelabecKw3B6Wne-nkbFcgbBYN6k5n52AYk2vvago9Lho/s1600-h/DSCN1772.JPG"></a><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG2dfe7XXrV0XJ4txXjBoyLEcFWEBMnuEKxMGLCi0tKMpjjEkaQWnP5yTiPHLSVkA28Xndb4dI2sLC7fbDAgaH_b3wrp-ntpW22rJeLpGa5HmURol0dX7gQruzkNrkadYOcGZ9FJDT7vM/s1600-h/DSCN1768.JPG"></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG2dfe7XXrV0XJ4txXjBoyLEcFWEBMnuEKxMGLCi0tKMpjjEkaQWnP5yTiPHLSVkA28Xndb4dI2sLC7fbDAgaH_b3wrp-ntpW22rJeLpGa5HmURol0dX7gQruzkNrkadYOcGZ9FJDT7vM/s1600-h/DSCN1768.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5375771704080877810" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG2dfe7XXrV0XJ4txXjBoyLEcFWEBMnuEKxMGLCi0tKMpjjEkaQWnP5yTiPHLSVkA28Xndb4dI2sLC7fbDAgaH_b3wrp-ntpW22rJeLpGa5HmURol0dX7gQruzkNrkadYOcGZ9FJDT7vM/s320/DSCN1768.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br />I will take third out of 17 boats, thank you!<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSa-vj-Ae7S_n2r4HeZQ_53Mld4V4pyZN9CUgTdRtQ7fKR79K3L69TMaTOY_ccw636a3loeK0_aGLBVMzIKSjWBik_sopy5RDelabecKw3B6Wne-nkbFcgbBYN6k5n52AYk2vvago9Lho/s1600-h/DSCN1772.JPG"></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho9t5kfrZKGc-vdBTMTzPkSY8z0ya2FNMRKiqR9a0Ox-jMWqp_29DkoOyhKT4Y8bdIJ4CZW4NArxZQfdEfnp_Yfzl5ZtnFqFFvbjt3F2Kop6ADs2Vrb_wO9GvA6GeXdED7LhKwF99AWdE/s1600-h/100_0523.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5376647893075355714" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho9t5kfrZKGc-vdBTMTzPkSY8z0ya2FNMRKiqR9a0Ox-jMWqp_29DkoOyhKT4Y8bdIJ4CZW4NArxZQfdEfnp_Yfzl5ZtnFqFFvbjt3F2Kop6ADs2Vrb_wO9GvA6GeXdED7LhKwF99AWdE/s320/100_0523.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Neil takes it all in.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />And, finally, the Creekazoids rule!Senarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17459226850237438089noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3511718066470950849.post-16176914458495448112009-07-26T17:26:00.012-04:002009-07-26T22:01:41.389-04:00sail fast, swim slow......... from PWhat a week! We knew we were in trouble when we saw the list of entries in our class. Almost every boat in the class had been a regular winner in their respective locales. We have won a number of regattas - but mostly the Friday night "barnacle races" sponsored by our local boat club. It is unusual to race in a fleet of boats wherein every crew expects to win, and any one of them are capable. Usually there are two or three premier boats in a class, but this regatta series is packed full of them. It was quickly clear that the other nine boats in our class had spent more money on sails than the entire cost of Tony's boat, TL Sea. But here we were, on the racecourse early every morning, going hard every race. Three races on Sunday, two on Monday, three more on Tuesday. It was a blast.<br /><br /><div><div><div><div><div><div><div>The wind was up Sunday, and we finished fourth, just ten seconds behind the boat that eventually won the class "overall" for the week, Black Widow. It was fun at the party that night to hear Black Widow's crew tell us they were getting worried about us, and how well we sailed that old Cal 31, etc. etc. It was downhill from there. On the second race of the third day, we were on our game and the breeze was just right for TL Sea. Lo and behold, as we were nearing the windward mark preparing for the rounding and final downwind leg to the finish, we found ourselves in second place! Just about the time the adrenaline of a second place finish started to kick in - disaster struck. Somehow our portside gennie sheet got caught on the whisker pole (laying unclipped on the gunwale), and as the sheet came taught, it flung the whisker pole overboard. Much yelling. Tony (our skipper) is frozen for a few seconds, then he lets go of the helm, turns around, and dives into the water!! I scramble behind the wheel to regain control of the boat. Tony swims over to the floating whisker pole. I'm gybing the boat around to pick up Tony as a cacophony of indiscernible yelling and flailing of sails confuses the scene. Approaching Tony's shaved head bobbing up and down in the Chesapeake Bay, I reach back to push the swim ladder down over the transom so that he can climb up. Oh no. Someone has taped the ladder in the "up" position - around and around - with thick vinyl tape. I cannot force it down. Someone find a knife - quick!! By the time we get the ladder cut loose, I have missed Tony. He is still bobbing, quickly getting tired. We tack around. We see a man in a motorized inflatable dinghy zipping across the water toward Tony. It's the race photographer! Tony grabs a line on the side of the dinghy, and the photographer tows him over to our stern. The first thing I yell to Tony is ".... you know what this means... you have to buy a photo from him tonight!" Once aboard, a dripping, caughing, cussing Tony takes the helm, and we all look around to see that the fleet has passed us by. I asked Tony what he wanted to do. He said "you didn't start the motor, right?" Right. "So let's finish the race!" We gathered ourselves, re-hoisted both headsails, and headed for the finish line. As it turned out, with time corrections, we still finished eighth out of the ten-boat fleet!<br /></div><br /><div>We ended up eighth overall in our class, but first in line for beer, and first in the hearts of our compatriots. A great week; three days of sailing Senara up the bay to Solomons, three days of racing and partying, and two more days sailing home. I already cannot wait for next year!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIN7r3thI7zoVNfay1jXc-7xYJDRMI9PqkYsPA47NXJx93xryufvJ1APhAQfgI3Z5m44J_EyB92xS1Vw7vlKgHPmQeXCJXclAZ-JvS9OKTx7kziomTz-lkCT-1SBZvz1hmO5XnyrpSnWI/s1600-h/solomons+screwpile+09+014.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5362947471781483506" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIN7r3thI7zoVNfay1jXc-7xYJDRMI9PqkYsPA47NXJx93xryufvJ1APhAQfgI3Z5m44J_EyB92xS1Vw7vlKgHPmQeXCJXclAZ-JvS9OKTx7kziomTz-lkCT-1SBZvz1hmO5XnyrpSnWI/s320/solomons+screwpile+09+014.JPG" border="0" /></a></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvvIg8o4-znNGhgyV_iLwIyEIYFxsV0yM9JAgTux5p-HJJvcVLdTKVad9qbAfPg3F1S5VrhH-NnQY-N1-8DJ3GJxqbxy7zmTUy4s_z-gYx4TKlS1OkOT1V1WCtie8gmmnLKAX3DBbkUzo/s1600-h/solomons+screwpile+09+009.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5362945900820919250" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvvIg8o4-znNGhgyV_iLwIyEIYFxsV0yM9JAgTux5p-HJJvcVLdTKVad9qbAfPg3F1S5VrhH-NnQY-N1-8DJ3GJxqbxy7zmTUy4s_z-gYx4TKlS1OkOT1V1WCtie8gmmnLKAX3DBbkUzo/s320/solomons+screwpile+09+009.JPG" border="0" /></a></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div>Charging toward the starting line.</div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEeBGOSwWUrWDpPPKU53Pip00laPcafPw617VSsam0JDiT39ikp2nZeKtZzRpiobVK96VUQO_RUG9k99fv0vXXCkwI_6Vv8dKSpfBZ01hv3s8dpRW8grN8Ly-Ml0VXQmLhGtIzWHymZPo/s1600-h/solomons+screwpile+09+010.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5362946443831626050" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEeBGOSwWUrWDpPPKU53Pip00laPcafPw617VSsam0JDiT39ikp2nZeKtZzRpiobVK96VUQO_RUG9k99fv0vXXCkwI_6Vv8dKSpfBZ01hv3s8dpRW8grN8Ly-Ml0VXQmLhGtIzWHymZPo/s320/solomons+screwpile+09+010.JPG" border="0" /></a></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div>Tony and I working a downwind run.</div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJIzB80yJ2cRyAWuQVMSpRwI-8KTVgKUcNkfgjj_HmZSn6mMHIc3QShckc0E8c-67dxfIx4cHux4rYObELoUJJ8z9nKn7-pVN-jMf8opA82zcJX8k7MKZutvfwazD5wqcaOgzhTk4yLCI/s1600-h/solomons+screwpile+09+006.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5362946954117091378" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJIzB80yJ2cRyAWuQVMSpRwI-8KTVgKUcNkfgjj_HmZSn6mMHIc3QShckc0E8c-67dxfIx4cHux4rYObELoUJJ8z9nKn7-pVN-jMf8opA82zcJX8k7MKZutvfwazD5wqcaOgzhTk4yLCI/s320/solomons+screwpile+09+006.JPG" border="0" /></a></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div>Fred watching out for crossing boats.</div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE1AK_8ZA0dvegxCYZ6_WpSwtQlQ7AioG-u4ppGgI-0RzatKTPMZToGVC-aHegi3YV_boMGBXb8ItYcj1zKPyXnNiOYnNvifsbGtn2NxzLJTeLWZsozRSqL_EKW8KkcL4-cu_y6oq-gCg/s1600-h/solomons+screwpile+09+003.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5362946159326482434" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE1AK_8ZA0dvegxCYZ6_WpSwtQlQ7AioG-u4ppGgI-0RzatKTPMZToGVC-aHegi3YV_boMGBXb8ItYcj1zKPyXnNiOYnNvifsbGtn2NxzLJTeLWZsozRSqL_EKW8KkcL4-cu_y6oq-gCg/s320/solomons+screwpile+09+003.JPG" border="0" /></a></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div>Drew taking a short break between races.</div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsN7XI4-xaaqtZ2RQrH7fT4pDhUHzl6WbolVRJOzBd6-3tydwJbvU5Z2kUK55MFbaPyUOneLOfxlBAQJeLc4YLD4AUD3e_O5kaxlJRpGsu4Wn3eeLFl1Uq3hM0IQ_5QsbHLgWirQu9v3M/s1600-h/solomons+screwpile+09+015.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5362947845683855442" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsN7XI4-xaaqtZ2RQrH7fT4pDhUHzl6WbolVRJOzBd6-3tydwJbvU5Z2kUK55MFbaPyUOneLOfxlBAQJeLc4YLD4AUD3e_O5kaxlJRpGsu4Wn3eeLFl1Uq3hM0IQ_5QsbHLgWirQu9v3M/s320/solomons+screwpile+09+015.JPG" border="0" /></a></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div>Party central!</div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7MXYTuLALPOnEAv-xr6XGCyutqsG9AKpM2xWJvOQl_yzf95P0-DAa4fsGECTi1imymkTBv7jKEzSxRydpj9RQwNwqG9vZRsvturVEZokx3VHw_cZp5xXtivMnfljaDvTnyDoGJyT2JV0/s1600-h/solomons+screwpile+09+001.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5362947257627394786" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7MXYTuLALPOnEAv-xr6XGCyutqsG9AKpM2xWJvOQl_yzf95P0-DAa4fsGECTi1imymkTBv7jKEzSxRydpj9RQwNwqG9vZRsvturVEZokx3VHw_cZp5xXtivMnfljaDvTnyDoGJyT2JV0/s320/solomons+screwpile+09+001.JPG" border="0" /></a></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div>Tony, Drew, and Fred relaxing aboard Senara after the first day.</div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Senarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17459226850237438089noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3511718066470950849.post-83090681367386731462009-07-18T14:48:00.004-04:002009-07-18T14:56:50.651-04:00good morning America .......... from PDo I hear someone walking on my deck? What time is it? Just barely some light; must be around 5:30 AM. I must still be dreaming, so I roll over and close my eyes. But now I smell bacon frying. Footsteps across my deck again.<br /><div><div><div><br />We three boats are rafted together in a gorgeous little cove inside the Coan River, which is six or seven miles up the Potomac River. We are on the way up to Solomon’s MD for the Screwpile Light Challenge race series. We have sailed for two days, made approximately 100 nautical miles with 30 or so to go. K and I are aboard Senara, Tony is sailing TLSea (the boat we are racing). Fred is aboard his old boat, which he recently sold to his brother, then immediately refurbished and refitted from stem to stern. She is a great looking, rock solid Columbia 26, originally built at the old Columbia yacht factory in Portsmouth, VA. If you see an old Columbia 26 that looks like a bumble bee (a bright yellow hull with black trim) it will probably be him. I doubt if there is another one.</div><br /><div><br />I hear the squeaking of fenders rubbing up and down between our boats. Maybe I’m not dreaming. Definitely smelling bacon. Hungry. Suddenly I hear Willy Nelson singing at what must be the maximum volume on the CD player. “Good morning America how are ya! Don’tcha know me I’m your native son….I’m the train they call the city of New Orleans……….. Yes, I am awake. It is Fred’s unique way of rousting everyone out of their berth to enjoy one of his big breakfasts cooked on a small gas burner in the 26 footer. Bacon, poached eggs, toast, strong coffee. I wouldn’t want to miss it. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw6QWwiSeSVjNJQfJkn0SgtzzADqO3yB-yQwuor_K1Ai11H5ovCXiHWb6Nciv4GTwoJrSVjZ3IP3lE4aOGj-2EauIfXeEdO50v5miw3pu1CkvAMBU6WyyzuGSbgGhVMINXkryUTQ2sXE8/s1600-h/piankatnk+005.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359874789325077314" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw6QWwiSeSVjNJQfJkn0SgtzzADqO3yB-yQwuor_K1Ai11H5ovCXiHWb6Nciv4GTwoJrSVjZ3IP3lE4aOGj-2EauIfXeEdO50v5miw3pu1CkvAMBU6WyyzuGSbgGhVMINXkryUTQ2sXE8/s320/piankatnk+005.JPG" border="0" /></a></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div>K "enjoying" a sunrise breakfast.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQMNDKV0WhPoten0E53ktfiLUNwjlCItNuzXMDO_-MeqZW96znVxTLlYOw6cbBUDYt8Hx-hZt2rqDEbs1Fy8vJtZM2fHkbPpVntQX3L5JIwsHjTQER6unpFRbj8ZF3gXMmBhawOFmFlHw/s1600-h/piankatnk+002.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359874959359487554" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQMNDKV0WhPoten0E53ktfiLUNwjlCItNuzXMDO_-MeqZW96znVxTLlYOw6cbBUDYt8Hx-hZt2rqDEbs1Fy8vJtZM2fHkbPpVntQX3L5JIwsHjTQER6unpFRbj8ZF3gXMmBhawOFmFlHw/s320/piankatnk+002.JPG" border="0" /></a></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div>Senara in the middle of a 3-way raft up.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIBAC9KjjIjsfay6NQBACPkaT-hZqEhpuHthC0Zzx5B44NIpBzb6WyW5GetGDjLUGwFUBpWgFWemg25lhCk3b-pChpdckvcAHwYgFNITqDz2SBu1WZVIC9RmBAYf4WLj9beB3NavJs3WE/s1600-h/piankatnk+009.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359874447140885074" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIBAC9KjjIjsfay6NQBACPkaT-hZqEhpuHthC0Zzx5B44NIpBzb6WyW5GetGDjLUGwFUBpWgFWemg25lhCk3b-pChpdckvcAHwYgFNITqDz2SBu1WZVIC9RmBAYf4WLj9beB3NavJs3WE/s320/piankatnk+009.JPG" border="0" /></a></div><div> </div><div> </div><div>Fred aboard "Maxine" - named after his late mother.</div></div></div>Senarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17459226850237438089noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3511718066470950849.post-74749343702793084362009-07-14T10:29:00.005-04:002009-07-14T10:38:21.154-04:00oh, sailing is soooo quiet and peaceful... from PThere’s the horn, one minute!! Boat at two o'clock on your starboard bow! Come up, come up! We’re too early, prepare to gybe! Gybe ho! We gotta get better on the gybes – too slow on the trim. We’re gonna tack back toward the committee boat and luff up on the line – prepare to tack! Helm’s alee! Get that #&*# sheet in! Watch out for Black Widow, she always barges the line. Twenty seconds! Watch the flag! Watch the flag! Luff up! Luff up! Ten seconds! Excelsior is coming down hard on us – don’t let him push us down! Give me some power! Power now!! Harden up! Class flag is down! We’re racing!!<br /><div><br />And that’s just the start. As Tony picks his way through the traffic trying to find “clean air,” I am trimming the gennie, trying to read the telltales, and always wishing the fairlead car was either one hole further forward or astern. It rarely seems to be set perfectly. Fred is on the high side near the mast, trimming the cunningham and halyard, watching out for traffic behind the 155% genoa. Kent is thinking ahead, calling tactics. Drew is helping out anywhere he is needed; he and I tag-team trimming the main. If John is aboard, he trims the main. Fred, Kent and Tony are intently gazing forward looking for the first mark. “Halaha is tacking! Halaha is tacking!” – then Kent and I usually in unison: “Don’t go with him yet! Put some in the bank!” Soon we make the decision to tack, and all hell breaks loose. As the bow comes around through the wind, the big genoa backwinds just for a moment, then “break!”, I let loose the windward sheet and start cranking the leeward sheet as hard and fast as I can. The wind whips the big mylar sail and it sounds like someone beating on the side of a metal barn with a hammer until I can trim it tight. It seems like it took me forever to trim that sail. But actually it was a good tack and we are moving well.</div><div><br />We near the first mark and there is traffic. “The current is against us, put plenty in the bank before making the gybe! For God’s sake don’t miss that mark!!” Then to the boat leeward of us, “Overlap! Room at the mark!” Him to us, “Plenty of room!” Sometimes there are three or four boats stacked up trying to get around the first mark. Everyone yelling for room. Everyone dependent upon the leeward boat to fall off a little. Voices charged with tension. Someone cracks a joke about the other’s liability insurance and everyone finally laughs.</div><div><br />As we round the mark we are all scrambling to hoist the second headsail, gybe the mainsail, and hoist the whisker pole - all simultaneously - for the downwind run. Inevitably there is a snag, or the clip on the whisker pole gets jammed, or something. Initially everyone is shouting, then a tense quiet as Fred and Drew work to solve the problem. Then both headsails pop like big kites and we start gaining on the fleet. I love it.</div><div><br />Yes, race week is here again. K and I are sailing Senara up to Solomons, MD where we will live aboard her for a week while “the boys” will indeed act like boys and race Tony’s boat (TLSea) again this year in the Screwpile Challenge Regatta. It is hard to believe it’s been a year since I blogged from Solomons, as we stopped there to race while on the first leg of our trip last July. Three days of racing, two or three races each day. Parties every night, and lots bragging, bonding, and B.S. I can hardly wait!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhofKQ_HAcaPV1__97KYkayC0iItsZv7eUkO8dike4biPz17ZCHxaVGugLXBIe0XhLeODJWEfuOVzYOnaTVBLfFxm8xc9hTPOqh8ybPFvI1KklcDPaDRSlgRAZJpiJaBnVts4YOWls2JXY/s1600-h/Senara+by+Vicky+021.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5358323837545088722" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhofKQ_HAcaPV1__97KYkayC0iItsZv7eUkO8dike4biPz17ZCHxaVGugLXBIe0XhLeODJWEfuOVzYOnaTVBLfFxm8xc9hTPOqh8ybPFvI1KklcDPaDRSlgRAZJpiJaBnVts4YOWls2JXY/s320/Senara+by+Vicky+021.jpg" border="0" /></a></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div>windward leg to the first mark</div>Senarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17459226850237438089noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3511718066470950849.post-12810044019907725122009-07-05T17:56:00.003-04:002009-07-05T18:07:17.764-04:00birth of a nation ............ from P<div align="left">This independence day weekend I tip my sailing hat to the brave revolutionaries of Key West. The courageous, and possibly inebriated, Mayor Dennis Wardlow along his brave band of city councilmen made their stand and declared independence from the mighty U.S. of A. Yes, the fledgling new republic of hardy souls would struggle against all odds to form a more perfect republic by raising their glasses and pointing out to the rest of the world the absurdity of the treatment they had been subject to by the mother country. </div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left">It was April of 1982. The U.S. government’s previous loose immigration policies, capped by the Mariel Boat Lift, resulted in a backlash of tight immigration and drug enforcement crackdowns. U.S. customs had set up a checkpoint on A1A at Florida City – just before the bridge crossing to the northern keys. That was the last straw. According to first-hand accounts from those who survived these trying times, the checkpoint looked and felt just like a border station. So the intrepid city council did what any good sunburned, T-shirt wearing American city council would do. They declared independence, thereby forming a new country and a more perfect union of native islanders, a.k.a. “Conchs.” For good measure they declared war on the U.S. by breaking a loaf of stale Cuban bread over the head of a U.S. soldier in full uniform. Oh say can you see! The bravery and vision! After finishing their beers, these leaders wisely decided to surrender their new country rather than risk the wrath of having to do all the paperwork required to sustain a new republic. So the history of the Conch Republic spans a total of approximately one minute. But since that fateful day in 1982 the rich history and lore of the Conch Republic has been passed down from biker bar to biker bar throughout the ages. One of the lasting vestiges of this revolt is the flag of the Conch Republic. Senara now proudly flies the Conch Republic flag on her mast. Yes, on this independence day we should remember those who seceded when others failed. </div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center"></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355100402890331778" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 250px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnbjLU8cbbRJjxp7ZH3rQiuIE8ElkawLndPSFZ9LVNF_8L7NjQI06ITA-_79oRpBJD1xoeAioMeVkm7MWPusYIIq2nRbU7RBfE8lUMLAuqodvURhJqvvSCg5DqpxlA_DnUuWbnIr9x3dU/s320/250px-Conchrepublic_svg.png" border="0" /> <p align="left">Flag of the mighty Conch Republic<br /></p>Senarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17459226850237438089noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3511718066470950849.post-13291536935719975312009-07-01T17:59:00.004-04:002009-07-06T07:49:45.662-04:00next time ................... from POur relationship with Senara feels like that of so many family members. Familiar and perfect in many ways, yet so flawed in other ways. She has taken on her own personality traits - spritely and eager, but quite demanding. We have been through a lot together, and I feel like a cheating husband whenever my eye wanders toward another, newer boat. But it seems impossible to not dream about some of the nicer cruising features of the boats we have been aboard, or just seen in marinas up and down the coast. K has already said that we should consider a roomier, newer boat if we take another year long sail trip. Maybe. If I had several hundred thousand to spend on a new boat, I would have to consider a Caliber, or an Island Packet - less than ten years old, somewhere in the 36 to 42 foot range. Those girls are super roomy, rock solid, and chock full of live-aboard luxuries. Or, I could definitely be tempted into an old Morgan Out Island 41. That has to be one of the best cruisers ever built - but then I would have to do a full upgrade to all the electrical and mechanical systems. Hmmm.... could be fun again.<br /><div></div><br /><div>Actually, I think I would rather remain loyal to Senara, but upgrade here a bit to be more suited for long term cruising. My list of upgrades would include: Full zip-up cockpit enclosure with optional bug screens, solar panels mounted above the bimini for constant battery charging, wind generator for same, wind-vane rudder system for use as a backup auto pilot and a backup rudder, water maker for constant fresh water supply, radar with AIS system, single side band (SSB) radio for offshore radio communication, dinghy davit for easy dinghy deployment, generator to run the air conditioner while anchored out, diesel fired heater, built-in seats on the stern railing, and a few other little things that just make life a little more comfortable out there. Well, after reading that list, maybe I will keep my eye open for that next boat. You never know.</div><br /><div></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRk3n4-XK5zBOgQJp0US15JQTEk_oycGT2MH1HKMLwe2x9wE2IJLqmCmFjNb4nCQnkI0siOxOXeftorENt8OekEmhGK6tNHni-XQeLeBjf11SlGY2qcQ4XezkoQrjyKhLt78enmc7bIo4/s1600-h/waccamaw+002.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5353626748541742322" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRk3n4-XK5zBOgQJp0US15JQTEk_oycGT2MH1HKMLwe2x9wE2IJLqmCmFjNb4nCQnkI0siOxOXeftorENt8OekEmhGK6tNHni-XQeLeBjf11SlGY2qcQ4XezkoQrjyKhLt78enmc7bIo4/s320/waccamaw+002.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div></div><div></div><div>Wow -even Columbus had a dinghy davit off the stern of the Nina! who knew?</div>Senarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17459226850237438089noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3511718066470950849.post-14261844553755165152009-06-21T20:43:00.005-04:002009-06-21T21:40:52.408-04:00top ten, or so ................. from PNow that we are back home "for good," our priorities have switched from navigation to yard maintenance. Actually, I am very much enjoying being home. And I will never again take for granted the wonders of modern conveniences. I can make coffee while at the same time remaining cool in the air conditioning. I have popsicles in the freezer. I don't have to pump a handle to flush the toilet. I no longer walk five miles carrying ten or twelve grocery bags. I can take a continuously flowing shower. Amazing. But as I was riding the lawnmower yesterday my mind drifted (again) back to living aboard Senara in the keys, and I mentally reviewed the top ten things I really, really miss. As a nod of support toward Dave Letterman, they are in reverse order:<br /><div>10. Aqua colored clouds</div><div>9. Dogs on dinghies</div><div>8. Grouper sandwiches</div><div>7. Conch horns at sunset</div><div>6. Sailors always waving at each other</div><div>5. Mangroves and Gumbo Limbo trees</div><div>4. Looking over the side and seeing bottom</div><div>3. Easily making new friends at happy hour</div><div>2. Key Lime pie</div><div>And the number one thing I miss is: Scuba diving on the reefs in crystal clear water.</div><br /><div>And the other major number one thing I miss is: Getting up every morning knowing that today I will sail the boat, encounter something new, and drop anchor somewhere else tonight. Two number one things. Sorry Letterman.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtZRUm8uYOUcqhwTF0L6L2HoaS2lE12n_6l9lXukWYYb8oDoKKGJYjU1-8SY3-gS8KrKy9thtq_qA1d33j7ao0RBOGSzc3J-U6RS4EidrtXjWSh6KWEmR7gAii87V5NLvUtGNjDESoEN4/s1600-h/KWest+014.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5349960018458908034" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtZRUm8uYOUcqhwTF0L6L2HoaS2lE12n_6l9lXukWYYb8oDoKKGJYjU1-8SY3-gS8KrKy9thtq_qA1d33j7ao0RBOGSzc3J-U6RS4EidrtXjWSh6KWEmR7gAii87V5NLvUtGNjDESoEN4/s320/KWest+014.JPG" border="0" /></a></div>Senarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17459226850237438089noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3511718066470950849.post-15288888906645796392009-06-14T09:16:00.005-04:002009-06-14T09:30:06.989-04:00who is this Flagler person anyway? .... from PYou cannot go anywhere in coastal Florida without bumping into the ghost of Henry Flagler. Flagler County, Flagler College, numerous Flagler Boulevards, Flagler Hospital, Flagler High School, Flagler Beach, etc. etc. We are again in Florida (Daytona Beach) for K’s annual week-long AP English essay scoring job. As we made our way here, by car this time, I started seeing Flagler’s name again. Thinking back to our sail through the Keys I remembered marveling over the old railroad structure which stretches all the way from the mainland to Key West. In Key West I visited the little museum dedicated to Flagler and his Florida East Coast Railway and realized that the old bones of this railroad tell an incredible story of American ingenuity and determination in the industrial age.<br /><div><div><br />Flagler was a wildly successful oil “robber baron” in the classic mold whose wealth at the turn of the century rivaled, and some say surpassed, that of the Rockefellers. In 1889 he took an interest in the new southern frontier of Florida and purchased several independent railroads from Jacksonville to Daytona. In 1894 his company constructed a new rail service to West Palm Beach, opening it up to the new “gilded age” vacationers. By 1895 his rail reached the wild shores of Biscayne Bay where he dredged a channel and paved streets in town. The local citizens wanted to change the name of the town to “Flagler” but he declined the honor and encouraged them to stick with the ancient Indian name – “Miami.”</div><div><br />When Panama Canal construction began in 1905 he decided Key West was going to be the new terminal point of his railroad, and he began an incredible construction project to put a steam locomotive over 153 miles of open ocean – stringing it along from key to key. Historians now describe it as an “engineering challenge beyond that of the Panama Canal itself.” You can still see most of the structure of the forty-some rail bridges spanning the keys. In the late 1940s the U.S. government just paved over the rail bridges to create the first highway A1A through the keys, and it was heavily travelled by traffic right up until the new, wider highway bridges were built in the late 60s. One of the locals told me the bridge inspectors in the Keys regularly say that the old concrete piers (Flagler used imported German concrete mixed with fresh water) are now more structurally sound than the “new” bridge pilings. Apparently Flagler’s old concrete recipe holds up better against the effects of salt water than the modern stuff!<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiDFyOsjy-Hzkl6BwS8r5nGmBLCVeMwrhqT4amZ-rfiI55sd4Fh9o4V7UGDFP6nr472LofpkiYv9XqwLyiKM5-nKIyQ-Iz5Q8INjIl6HK9PFVKJpt8cVg_nqg5-KgwcmrdqZkNAA-0p5Y/s1600-h/Bahia+%26+KW+2+002.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347173688335774546" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiDFyOsjy-Hzkl6BwS8r5nGmBLCVeMwrhqT4amZ-rfiI55sd4Fh9o4V7UGDFP6nr472LofpkiYv9XqwLyiKM5-nKIyQ-Iz5Q8INjIl6HK9PFVKJpt8cVg_nqg5-KgwcmrdqZkNAA-0p5Y/s320/Bahia+%26+KW+2+002.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /></div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div><br />Flagler’s East Coast Railway project was fraught with disasters, and it became a true money pit. It employed 4,000 men for 15 years, endured 5 major hurricanes during construction, and was so expensive that one of the richest men in the world died in debt. Even after completion, the Great Hurricane of 1935 (also described as the storm of the century) destroyed all but 60 feet of the entire rail system. It also killed 700 people and pretty much wiped the Keys clean. Records indicate sustained wind speeds of 200 MPH, well above Hurricane Andrew. K and I visited a small but well done memorial to those killed in the Great Hurricane at Islamorada. Some people labeled the railroad “Flagler’s Folly” and indeed the railroad never recovered from the combination of severe hurricanes and the great depression. But the fact is, Flagler’s railroad opened up the swamps of southeastern Florida allowing the isolated locals access to civilization while literally paving the way toward progress in a wild territory that wasn’t yet a state. And Henry himself got to ride the first train into Key West when the last rail was laid in 1912. Of course that was the same spring when the Titanic sank. Progress always has its setbacks.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiklvMZ8c5Fs_veG_JF-hzjJWFsB61rgd_QlqEpaa2F6dcZYlNdY0jQzXBNzLn3dmscZ5CrlEdn40NdZU-snfWEmheEGg_o1w1UePZUuuIRhmMTp__Cz10jKHk_nfzbC5rWomaNJJ2O-hU/s1600-h/Bahia+%26+KW+2+008.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347173866063007490" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiklvMZ8c5Fs_veG_JF-hzjJWFsB61rgd_QlqEpaa2F6dcZYlNdY0jQzXBNzLn3dmscZ5CrlEdn40NdZU-snfWEmheEGg_o1w1UePZUuuIRhmMTp__Cz10jKHk_nfzbC5rWomaNJJ2O-hU/s320/Bahia+%26+KW+2+008.JPG" border="0" /></a></div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7CfUJ7-8P0ZfJ8ObSLTy5cHMyTFA0CqgjRzyXYRfiN_r2cX_r2HIBSR5BRKjFFNSAgnG49SDJFa1ne8hATsd6_ebtzOpQFtt5ZYNH8hlivD676pTdNoPB3MlaKIuE4X56qriN9_4HwQE/s1600-h/Bahia+%26+KW+2+011.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347173366481720274" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7CfUJ7-8P0ZfJ8ObSLTy5cHMyTFA0CqgjRzyXYRfiN_r2cX_r2HIBSR5BRKjFFNSAgnG49SDJFa1ne8hATsd6_ebtzOpQFtt5ZYNH8hlivD676pTdNoPB3MlaKIuE4X56qriN9_4HwQE/s320/Bahia+%26+KW+2+011.JPG" border="0" /></a></div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div>Looking at the end of a section of old rail bridge that was later paved over for the first highway A1A. The current bridge can be seen at the right.</div></div>Senarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17459226850237438089noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3511718066470950849.post-81859154285882820352009-06-09T15:08:00.004-04:002009-06-09T15:33:45.634-04:00Harry makes it home! .... from PI am tired of waiting for K to post a blog entry, and there has been a loud hue and cry from our readers demanding to know what ever became of Harry. I am very happy to report that Harry made it all the way home. As you may remember, in December I sailed southbound alone for two weeks - from Cocoa Beach, FL to Homestead, FL. Well, not quite alone. K had escaped my constant yapping to go home and assist her mom in attending to her unwell father. But after about a week, I picked up a passenger to talk to named Harry. Harry is the cousin of a famous movie star volleyball named Wilson. Even so, there he was, abandoned and floating around in the Intracoastal Waterway near Palm Beach. So I rescued Harry from the big, scary powerboats that were blustering around and we became inseparable friends. I have often consulted Harry regarding navigation decisions. After some conversation regarding the pros and cons, we come to a decision; if it was a bad decision, he never complained. One of Harry's biggest jobs was to alert me whenever the seas grew too angry and large to be safe. When that happened, Harry would jump out of the cup holder (his favorite spot) and bang around on the cockpit floor. That's when I knew to seek safe harbor. So, thanks Harry for all the weather warnings, and I am glad you rode along for the 2,000 miles or so all the way home. We will take a ride around the Chesapeake Bay this summer - maybe you can help keep me off the mud. <div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvfb5ORwJOuVAwaJmyrTAYQ8Ho0LkW8-SI_u4hcU7EBGVY8ZnFvQ9HkeRJjIZZZdPUSgvEQSUhYxM57nh7NMQyBZt5xPo86NzIOn3OwUe8hAyeYvZ4415JwuOUmrHPWV2dLf1eFojm_p8/s1600-h/liz+city+019.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5345412425471575202" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvfb5ORwJOuVAwaJmyrTAYQ8Ho0LkW8-SI_u4hcU7EBGVY8ZnFvQ9HkeRJjIZZZdPUSgvEQSUhYxM57nh7NMQyBZt5xPo86NzIOn3OwUe8hAyeYvZ4415JwuOUmrHPWV2dLf1eFojm_p8/s320/liz+city+019.JPG" border="0" /></a></div><div> </div><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><div>Harry rests after pulling into the slip at home. Bad weather made him lose his monogrammed shirt.</div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCi8B6LQwU_fYtnwIPjtBbdbss5S4K0uSh2D-UGQCJojcWQFMHh2ehUNBIWXtPnmVxpqf4k89wfTYMCLEC0c9kdHBdTF0qWwdNJHMUQNB_OzTYuytSy_rcMElBKlUatBcEMb9PMacKu_I/s1600-h/Ft+Lauderdale+005.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5345412031879084946" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCi8B6LQwU_fYtnwIPjtBbdbss5S4K0uSh2D-UGQCJojcWQFMHh2ehUNBIWXtPnmVxpqf4k89wfTYMCLEC0c9kdHBdTF0qWwdNJHMUQNB_OzTYuytSy_rcMElBKlUatBcEMb9PMacKu_I/s320/Ft+Lauderdale+005.JPG" border="0" /></a></div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div>Under sail last December.</div><div> </div></div>Senarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17459226850237438089noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3511718066470950849.post-91334758474048367772009-06-03T07:06:00.005-04:002009-06-03T19:20:24.010-04:00up the creek .......... from PBetween northern NC and southern VA, intracoastal waterway travelers have a choice of two routes: the Virginia Cut route, which takes you through the Great Bridge area of Chesapeake, and the Dismal Swamp route which takes you through, well, the Dismal Swamp. Coming home Sunday, we chose the swamp route. I am glad we did because it was yet another unique experience. George Washington himself surveyed parts of the Great Dismal Swamp, laying the basis for the digging of the Deep Creek canal which runs through the GDS from a point just north of Elizabeth City, NC all the way to the Elizabeth River in Chesapeake, VA (queen Elizabeth was big around here). Of course, the Great Dismal Swamp has a long and storied history including providing a hiding place for Edward Teach a.k.a Blackbeard and his gang of pirates. It has a more immediate meaning to me, as my late dad spent his childhood hunting and playing in the swamp. I was thinking about all of this, and trying to imagine growing up playing along the canal bank among all the turtles, birds, and bears when I was jerked back into reality by a loud bump that sent a vibration through Senara's hull. My eye immediately went to the depth sounder - plenty of water - what did we hit? I killed the engine and ran around the gunwales trying to peer into the black coffee swamp water. A few seconds later a log bobbed up and down behind the boat. No damage to us that I can tell. We hit subsurface logs (known in the sailing community as "deadheads" - with apologies to Jerry Garcia fans) twice more before getting through. One of the deadheads sported a big fresh gash, obviously the result of a nasty encounter with a boat's prop. The natural beauty of the Dismal Swamp makes it a "must see" if you traverse the ICW, but watch out for those deadheads. Good advice most anytime. <div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihyYKk7Hr8lAVFtAU7EoXK4iUQNS65rvBpCJzD503lP5pX0gCttZLbzsVOcM6JHu-GrBn5CgHCIF1dkamlJU2-3hUQorG8p-PU6PHPKiP24c0huyynbrYnFeBtSazOug27uTX0m6MRJRU/s1600-h/liz+city+005.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343063304759793890" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihyYKk7Hr8lAVFtAU7EoXK4iUQNS65rvBpCJzD503lP5pX0gCttZLbzsVOcM6JHu-GrBn5CgHCIF1dkamlJU2-3hUQorG8p-PU6PHPKiP24c0huyynbrYnFeBtSazOug27uTX0m6MRJRU/s320/liz+city+005.JPG" border="0" /></a></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div>HA handles a bow line as the water level within the lock drops 8 feet. These locks raise and lower boats to the higher water level of the canal, or the lower water level of the river behind.</div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPMiR4cfvmzSeDTYoxdHR81oPq8Z_YmPNg8M4psXQFZVg3YZUtKHUtrwJlnfgpCHDyPu-MwwpAhOk5DX11CZP_O7Jz1qxbLp5OGgaNUbVrU7VYGaht2Grsvxc8MzNH5TCTrqxIqCor_tw/s1600-h/liz+city+012.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343063752883342242" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPMiR4cfvmzSeDTYoxdHR81oPq8Z_YmPNg8M4psXQFZVg3YZUtKHUtrwJlnfgpCHDyPu-MwwpAhOk5DX11CZP_O7Jz1qxbLp5OGgaNUbVrU7VYGaht2Grsvxc8MzNH5TCTrqxIqCor_tw/s320/liz+city+012.JPG" border="0" /></a></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div>In the Deep Creek Canal. The sign says "Welcome to Virginia"</div>Senarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17459226850237438089noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3511718066470950849.post-67237927196203361022009-06-01T20:52:00.004-04:002009-06-01T22:08:33.054-04:00little town, big heart ............. from P<div>Elizabeth City was a nice surprise. The breeze was up from the southwest, allowing a great sail across the Albemarle Sound - straight up the river into one of the free downtown boat slips. Every small waterfront town should take a lesson from Elizabeth City: A neat line of boats all full of hungry travelers had wedged into every available free slip along the waterfront. Part of the popularity was because of a regatta being held there next day, but mostly it was because sailors love nothing more than a free dock near restaurants. To top it off, there is an old tradition on the waterfront known as the "Rose Buddies." This is a small organized group of retired folks who host a 4:30 wine and cheese reception under a tent adjacent to the boat slips. They do it for the boaters, and they do it whenever there are more than five boats visiting. The ladies are each presented with a rose cut from the garden belonging to the original founder of the Rose Buddies tradition, hence the name. One of the local elders delivers a ten minute overview of the history of the EC waterfront, and some useful information regarding the waters that lie ahead. Very charming. Both of our daughters, E (along with Nick) and HA drove down to meet us for dinner, and HA stayed aboard to make the last two-day leg of the trip with us. It was great to be greeted home by our girls.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>Last September, on a perfect day nearer the beginning of this adventure, we were screaming down the coast of New Jersey under full sail when we caught up with, and passed, another sailboat headed in the same direction. We anchored near each other in a cove in Atlantic City, and of course struck up a conversation, if shouts across the water can be considered a conversation. A couple of days later, there they were again, anchored in Cape May and we shouted our mutual hellos. Months later, we are motoring into Boot Key Harbor and there again is KISMET, a gorgeous Island Packet 35 that was obviously well equipped for living aboard. I kept telling K that I wanted to dinghy over and introduce myself, but there was never a good opportunity. Well, here I am standing on the wharf at Elizabeth City as the Rose Buddies reception is breaking up, and I see a great looking boat coming in, cutting a wake and glinting in the sun. Right away I knew it was either an Island Packet or a fairly new Caliber. As it drew closer I soon recognized the familiar blonde head of the captain and the fold-up dinghy being towed along. After finally meeting Jim and Laurie aboard KISMET, the four of us had dinner together the following night after motoring together up the Dismal Swamp canal. As we said our goodbyes on the VHF radio while parting ways in Hampton Roads harbor I thought to myself - another great couple out on their adventure; after a while, these people all start to feel like extended family. And every now and then you run across a little place like Elizabeth City where everything seems to come together.</div>Senarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17459226850237438089noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3511718066470950849.post-4269981140213790762009-05-28T08:49:00.006-04:002009-05-29T10:43:41.703-04:00to our readers ........... from PThis is a little different from our normal blogging style, but I want to give you a status update and a few statistics about you - our readers.<br /><br /><div><div>We are quickly motoring up the final leg of the ICW toward home. Unless something very unexpected happens (and by now you know there is always a good chance of that) we will pick up our daughter, HA, in Elizabeth City NC, and the three of us will traverse the final stretch together. This will put us home on Sunday afternoon, May 31. Although this will be the end of our live-aboard adventure, we will continue our unemployed sailing lifestyle at least through the end of the summer. Our calendar is already filling with sail trips, including another trip around the Chesapeake Bay, extended weekend excursions, and of course the Screwpile Challenge Race Week event. That is the week long regatta series that we included within the beginning of our adventures last July. Can it be a year ago? Unreal. But the adventures continue, so please check in with us regularly – a lot of stuff is yet to happen!</div><div><br />On another subject - after long stretches of time with no comments from our readers, I began to wonder if anyone was still out there. So a few months ago I added a feature which simply counts how many “hits” are made on our blog each day. I have been pleasantly surprised to learn that we have an average of 28 visitors per day. Some are daily, others are every 3 to 7 days. This means we probably have somewhere between 70 and 100 people who are interested enough to click in and see what’s going on with us. To you, I say THANK YOU! Even if you are a shy bunch. Thanks for coming along with us on our big adventure. Stick around because it is certainly not over; mother nature has a wicked sense of humor.</div><div><br />Yet another subject – we recently met a great young couple (really young) who bought a solid old boat just a few months ago. They are living aboard, and have begun their journey of adventures. Jamie and Jeremy have big plans to sail New England, the east coast, through the Panama Canal, and all the way around to Hawaii. Like us, they are learning as they go. I invite and encourage you to check out their story also. They are good bloggers – visit Jamie and Jeremy at <a href="http://jibnotes.com/">http://jibnotes.com/</a>. Tell them you are a friend/family of ours.<br /></div><div>Thank you for the great e-mails and thoughts of support. We will persist in our quest to answer our lingering question: What are we doin' ?<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEY0MiebMHPjfhhc__Zbrd3iT2HSSkJEERmcrrmIZJz_dAjoUqhv60B75K-xQvAbFS_wCeYmn5pNb7Hyx4-yvYyPgAyTIpQYOiu2IkbK4PYSAC1fQBl5qsnEKiuR3QvtVGsmqg9hCGDjM/s1600-h/near+alligator+002.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5341254867837147106" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEY0MiebMHPjfhhc__Zbrd3iT2HSSkJEERmcrrmIZJz_dAjoUqhv60B75K-xQvAbFS_wCeYmn5pNb7Hyx4-yvYyPgAyTIpQYOiu2IkbK4PYSAC1fQBl5qsnEKiuR3QvtVGsmqg9hCGDjM/s320/near+alligator+002.JPG" border="0" /></a></div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div>approaching a bridge on the ICW. Will we make it under?</div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6YKdtiJ9mi-mbTbPQ5JJUv-7xoGPcZwilzVtdxlcgIklufDGsDhz-FdwLCECuTkouzLF-NOZrR1P_iw1U4PWm6vbtUz1r1TZNFD8F7qqc8AXEtOMOzzPYBHQEiUYPhOMerZ_k7QgKjeM/s1600-h/near+alligator+003.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5341255074344422562" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6YKdtiJ9mi-mbTbPQ5JJUv-7xoGPcZwilzVtdxlcgIklufDGsDhz-FdwLCECuTkouzLF-NOZrR1P_iw1U4PWm6vbtUz1r1TZNFD8F7qqc8AXEtOMOzzPYBHQEiUYPhOMerZ_k7QgKjeM/s320/near+alligator+003.JPG" border="0" /></a></div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div>Barely! </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUmydkkT-55B7-jWbF9UBDjHknDfl5tGRITTZuMJWzqSzKQ3jyhNp-XBOFZXGQDZqGrgSquaV2hGLt2NoH9VBHIhmU0z89jQEarWz3aTjz5cei4aAmofYTO8GFc8pS_pl3UgV1kQSiZKw/s1600-h/near+alligator+004.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5341255230887948082" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUmydkkT-55B7-jWbF9UBDjHknDfl5tGRITTZuMJWzqSzKQ3jyhNp-XBOFZXGQDZqGrgSquaV2hGLt2NoH9VBHIhmU0z89jQEarWz3aTjz5cei4aAmofYTO8GFc8pS_pl3UgV1kQSiZKw/s320/near+alligator+004.JPG" border="0" /></a></div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div>Looking aft from the bow.</div></div>Senarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17459226850237438089noreply@blogger.com7