Sailing with Senara

gunking toward home......

2011-07-13T10:20:00.000-04:00

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.
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.
The rest of the trip:

A cove in the Choptank River to Annapolis
Annapolis to Baltimore
Baltimore to a cove near Solomon’s island
Solomon’s to our newly discovered gunk hole somewhere in Dividing Creek
Dividing Creek to Sarah’s Creek
Home.

Now I need to order a new genoa sail.

northern bay wins

2011-06-27T20:17:00.001-04:00

After 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.

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.....

it's never the same

2011-06-26T21:14:00.002-04:00

The 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.

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……..

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.

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.

Notice the hanging shred and the balled up section

Shards remain hanging on the forestay

ego alley

2011-06-23T20:51:00.000-04:00

A 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.

orange gloves

2011-06-23T10:17:00.000-04:00

We 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.

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.

blow us!

2011-06-22T08:13:00.000-04:00

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!

We have been riding the breezes this week!
N 15-20 close reaching from home to Kiptopeke
N15-20 close reaching from Kiptopeke to Fishing Bay
SE 15-20 broad reaching from Fishing Bay to Urbanna
SW 5-10 broad reaching from Urbanna to Mill Creek
NNE 10-15 close reaching from Mill Creek to Tangier Island
NW 5-15 from Tangier to Crisfield
W 10-20 reaching from Crisfield to Hooper Island
S 15-20 broad reaching, and running from Hooper Island to the Choptank

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!

glorious

2011-06-18T06:41:00.000-04:00

You 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.

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.

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!

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

2010-07-30T21:51:00.000-04:00

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

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

Mount Vernon from the Potomac

Looking for the next Congressional scandal

Our view of the monument from the boat slip

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

2010-07-15T18:06:00.001-04:00

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

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

2010-07-13T13:04:00.000-04:00

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

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

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

2010-07-11T22:34:00.001-04:00

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

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

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

a stormy relationship ................ from P

2009-11-12T13:23:00.008-05:00

She 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.

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.

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.

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.

creekazoids take the Mobjack! ..... from P

2009-09-09T08:50:00.010-04:00

We 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.

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.

1) Senara and Isabel's revenge together again. I think they missed each other!

2)Kai aboard Isabel, making sure he knows where everyone is.

3)Family portrait! Neil, Carol, Bailey

4)Is your bottom clean ?!

5)Fred returns from a successful gas hunting trip.

6)K hauling in the port sheet.

Creekazoids rule! .......... from P

2009-08-30T10:20:00.013-04:00

The 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.

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.

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.
Me officiating the all-important and most sacred name changing ceremony for Seabiscuit.

Off and racing

Yeehaw!!!

HA takes a break - yes my daughter will still crew for me during a race!

Fred accepts the trophy for Seabiscuit's first place finish

I will take third out of 17 boats, thank you!

Neil takes it all in.

And, finally, the Creekazoids rule!

sail fast, swim slow......... from P

2009-07-26T17:26:00.012-04:00

What 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.

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!

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!

Charging toward the starting line.

Tony and I working a downwind run.

Fred watching out for crossing boats.

Drew taking a short break between races.

Party central!

Tony, Drew, and Fred relaxing aboard Senara after the first day.

good morning America .......... from P

2009-07-18T14:48:00.004-04:00

Do 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.

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.

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.

K "enjoying" a sunrise breakfast.

Senara in the middle of a 3-way raft up.

Fred aboard "Maxine" - named after his late mother.

oh, sailing is soooo quiet and peaceful... from P

2009-07-14T10:29:00.005-04:00

There’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!!

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.

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.

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.

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!

windward leg to the first mark

birth of a nation ............ from P

2009-07-05T17:56:00.003-04:00

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.

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.

Flag of the mighty Conch Republic

next time ................... from P

2009-07-01T17:59:00.004-04:00

Our 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.

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.

Wow -even Columbus had a dinghy davit off the stern of the Nina! who knew?

top ten, or so ................. from P

2009-06-21T20:43:00.005-04:00

Now 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:

10. Aqua colored clouds

9. Dogs on dinghies

8. Grouper sandwiches

7. Conch horns at sunset

6. Sailors always waving at each other

5. Mangroves and Gumbo Limbo trees

4. Looking over the side and seeing bottom

3. Easily making new friends at happy hour

2. Key Lime pie

And the number one thing I miss is: Scuba diving on the reefs in crystal clear water.

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.

who is this Flagler person anyway? .... from P

2009-06-14T09:16:00.005-04:00

You 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.

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.”

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!

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.

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.

Harry makes it home! .... from P

2009-06-09T15:08:00.004-04:00

I 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.

Harry rests after pulling into the slip at home. Bad weather made him lose his monogrammed shirt.

Under sail last December.

up the creek .......... from P

2009-06-03T07:06:00.005-04:00

Between 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.

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.

In the Deep Creek Canal. The sign says "Welcome to Virginia"

little town, big heart ............. from P

2009-06-01T20:52:00.004-04:00

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.

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.

to our readers ........... from P

2009-05-28T08:49:00.006-04:00

This 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.

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!

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.

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 http://jibnotes.com/. Tell them you are a friend/family of ours.

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' ?

approaching a bridge on the ICW. Will we make it under?

Barely!

Looking aft from the bow.

Racing the Rain & Calendar........from K

2009-05-27T08:42:00.003-04:00

Friends have asked us if we ever worry about Pirates out here. Maybe I'd be concerned if we were near Somalia, but in truth, I'm much more fearful of angry wind and lightening out here. Although we made it out of Florida before it got pummeled by a Nor'easter, the rain has been chasing us up the coast. We scurried 85 miles yesterday - mostly against the current - just trying to get out of this wet weather, but to no avail.
We're also spurred by another motivation. Our youngest daughter, HA, turns 21 this weekend and we're desperately wanting to celebrate with her. Even better, SHE wants to celebrate her 21st with US! (How many kids are that cool?)

the company we keep .......... from P

2009-05-24T09:46:00.005-04:00

It has been quite a menagerie. Our traveling companions have been an eclectic bunch, to say the least. They have included Loggerhead Turtles, Manatee, Pelicans, and various other birds who like to fly alongside us looking for a handout. On our sail to the Dry Tortugas, K was enjoying the perfect day lounging against the cockpit coaming, when there was a sudden explosion of black wings, feathers, and a scream. A big black Cormorant had decided to cruise in and light on her head; a great moment in Senara’s sailing lore. During our recent long offshore sail, I looked down into the water below the transom and saw something trailing the boat. At first I thought we had snagged a piece of trash bag or something - but then I saw a tail fin. A long trout-looking fish had tucked his head up under the transom next to the rudder and was swimming along (feeding?) up against our hull. He stayed with us for almost fifteen miles. Of course, we have been treated to dolphin visits almost daily. Sometimes they put on a show, and sometimes they just come check us out. Yesterday we were accompanied for several hours by a very friendly guy who swam right next to us. He had been scraped badly just behind his dorsal fin; his curly, symmetric scars looked like an expensive dolphin tattoo. I’ll be looking for him when we get home.

So, where are you headed?

over half way ......... from P

2009-05-23T09:57:00.002-04:00

Kids and dogs on docks, jet skis everywhere, teens running their dads' boats too fast - ah yes - it must be Memorial Day weekend. We just passed through Charleston Harbor and up through Isle of Palms on the ICW. I remember how they feel. The adults have been working too many hours, the kids have caught spring fever, and everyone is almost wild with excitement over a long weekend with great weather. My hand is tired from smiling and waving at them. Meanwhile I am thinking "..... I only get to live this lifestyle for another 10 or 12 days...." Charleston is about half way home from Miami; well over half way from Key West! So we are entering that disconcerting part of the trip where we can actually look at the calendar and plan likely dates of arrival. Oh well, I should feel fortunate that my long weekend has another 10 or 12 days left.

lessons learned........ from P

2009-05-20T10:10:00.009-04:00

There is a belief originating from old Eastern religious tradition (Buddhist I think?): We will be presented with a lesson we need to learn over and over again until the lesson is finally learned. Apparently I am still in the process of trying to learn an ancient sailing lesson: You cannot try to outrun the weather on a sailboat. We are currently comfortably nestled in Port Royal Marina near Beaufort, SC listening to the howling wind and swapping stories with new friends. It gives me a chance to reflect back to Sunday night; the danger, the darkness, the waves over the bow, and the sense of pride in using old fashioned navigation in tough conditions to bring us, finally, into safe harbor.

We departed from Fernandino Beach, FL and out the St. Mary's inlet early Sunday morning. The forecast was partly cloudy with 50% chance of Tstorms in the afternoon. The nasty Northeaster was coming in here Monday around mid-day. We saw a window of opportunity, and decided to sail 10 to 15 miles offshore all the way to Port Royal inlet in South Carolina. This would cut off over a hundred miles of motoring in the ICW, especially the dreaded Georgia stretch. It would mean a 16-18 hour sail in the ocean, arriving in Port Royal between midnight and 2:00 AM, well before the storm. It will involve a midnight entrance into an unfamiliar but well marked channel. We have a GPS showing us the way, and the channel bouys are all lit. Let's do it!

It was a perfect sail in 4 foot rollers until around 3:00 in the afternoon - a big black line of Tstorms formed in the west, a marine weather warning came over the radio, and we got beat up a little bit by gusts, rain and some lightning. But like most summer storm lines, it settled down as we enjoyed a smooth motorsail with the sun setting behind the clouds. I noticed that K was still very much on edge. Nay, scared. She didn't know why, and I wasn't going to ask anyway. Around 10:00 PM I found out why. The still air suddenly became a wall of wind from the North, blowing 20 knots, the seas leapt to life as Senara started struggling against the wind, current, and seas, all dead on her nose. No problem, we have been in this before. Roll up the Genoa, don extra rain gear, life jackets on, secure everything, and don't get impatient. No reason to overheat the motor - just keep making slow steady progress into the wind, which was now 25 knots. Waves were beginning to crash over the bow, and the glow of lights from towns on shore disappeared. The nighttime horizon was no longer visible - just black everywhere except for quick glimpses of white water just before it hit me in the face. We finally reached the first of many markers in the 12 mile long entrance channel. As the wind and seas grew more angry I noticed that it was very difficult to see the channel markers, so I relied heavily on the GPS to show me my position relative to the next mark; when we got near it, then I could finally see it. Then the unthinkable happened. The GPS flashed the words "SATELLITE RECEPTION LOST." That was the first time I felt the tingle run up my spine. I started peering into the dark, outside of the cockpit, so that I could try to see the blinking markers better - but I could not continue because of the volume of water hitting me in the face. K had gone below and spread out the paper chart to assist in figuring out our position - then she remembered that I had packed her dad's old hand-held GPS, just in case. She pressed the on button and prayed, sure enough it came up, found a satellite and showed our Lat/Lon position. She found a plastic sandwich bag to protect it from the rain and sea spray, grabbed a pad and pencil and came up to navigate us in. Now she began continously shouting our Lat/Lon while I tried to locate it on the chart as we picked our way through the channel. Now what? I noticed the bilge pump breaker switch had popped off. K wend below and re-set the switch, it started pumping water, and popped again. So K began a routine of shouting positions and making notes in the cockpit, then crawling below to continuously re-set the bilge pump breaker. After two wrong turns (one that nearly left us aground) in the pitch black howling wind we were in the harbor. We found an old abandoned wharf, and illegally lashed Senara to it for the night. OK - now we are safe - by the way, what time is it? Maybe 1:00 or 2:00 AM? I looked at my cell phone: 5:35 AM Monday morning! As the adrenaline subsided we both collapsed in a shivering heap under the blankets. When the sun came up, I saw what caused so much of our problem. The cold air and rain had created a low layer of fog on the surface of the water. The wind was whipping the fog into an eerie smoke like layer that distorted vision and covered up most of the channel markers. What a night.

I know that we should not have assumed the time frame in the forecast was correct. With a big storm, you just don't know how fast or slow it is really moving. But thinking back, mostly I am proud of us. K was an incredible thinker, problem solver, and navigator. I will not do long distance cruises without her aboard. We remained calm, and took what was being dished out until we were safely tied up. Lessons learned: 1) We have become sailors. 2) If a big storm is within 48 hours of arrival, don't go sailing!

Smoke on the water. In the calm of the harbor the next morning.

Pirates!!..................from K

2009-05-18T17:58:00.003-04:00

We were passing through St. Augustine -one of our favorite cities - when we were chased by a ship of pirates!! We quickly armed ourselves with a camera and they brandished mugs of frothy grog at us. ARGGGGGHH!! It's so easy to lose a sense of reality out here...

Eeeekch, Eeeekch, Eeekch.

2009-05-15T16:43:00.004-04:00

When you're living on a boat, you're constantly listening for noises: the bilge pump running more than it should, halyards slapping against the mast, or the squeaking of worn lines. Last night, we heard a new noise. We were anchored just north of the NASA Causeway Bridge next to Cape Canaveral. P heard the noise first. Eeeekch, Eeekch, Eeekch. He checked the topside looking for a snarled deck block. Nothing. He came back down below and again we could hear an eerie staccato woodpecker sound. We wandered through the cabin with our ear to the hull. Nothing inside, it was definitely ouside so up we went topside again. This time, in addition to the muddled eeeekch, eeeeekch, we heard dolphin breaking the surface and snorting before diving back down again. We were surrounded by a pod of playful dolphin. And sudddenly P realized what the noise was: dolphing chattering to each other. We could hear it much better below the waterline. I felt like a mermaid - thanks Senara.

Keeping perspective........from K

2009-05-13T20:24:00.007-04:00

While P was marveling at the power of the Gulf Stream, my thoughts were in the clouds - literally. While sailing off the coast of West Palm Beach on Monday, we looked up in the sky and there was a shooting explosion - rising higher and higher and higher into the sky. I would have been alarmed if I hadn't gotten a heads-up from Kathie (thanks, sis!). It was the shuttle launching from Cape Canaveral to go up to the Hubble telescope. For a fleeting moment, we could feel the umphhh of the liftoff and see the spark of the booster rocket. Very exciting! I marvel at the astronauts' courage and skill. In comparison, I feel very safe and secure on my little boat being propelled by wind and waves rather than at the mercy of atmospheric pressure, space debris and jet propulsion. Our 9-10 knot sail speed doesn't seem so impressive anymore.

Once again, a photograph doesn't capture the magic.

magic carpet ride ................. from P

2009-05-13T06:57:00.007-04:00

I had heard a lot about it. I have always wanted to get into it. I even remember dreaming about it. Finally, I have sailed in it. The Gulf Stream, that is. Over the past two days we have been sailing up the coast of Florida on the outside. Ft. Lauderdale to Lake Worth, then Lake Worth to Ft. Pierce. This area is where the "stream" comes closest to the coastline. So for two days we have sailed 4 to 8 miles straight out before turning north, and it was worth it. The water turns a deep, bright cobalt blue - and it is as clear as tap water. Both days I tethered myself to the boat and jumped overboard; it was nice and warm, I could see clearly underwater all the details of Senara's hull, shards of sunlight shooting through the 300 - 400 ft deep water, and my little toenail. Can't do that in the Chesapeake Bay.

As soon as we got out to the deep water, we noticed a big increase in boat speed. At one point, K said that something must be wrong with our instruments, because the boat felt like we were just luffing along at 3 or 4 knots, but the GPS said we were moving at 8.5 knots! When the wind picked up and we started sailing faster, we actually saw speeds regularly between 9 and 10 knots. It reminded me of the scene in "Finding Nemo" when the surfer-dude turtle is catching the stream and everyone is gliding along. In fact, we saw two big surfer-dude turtles out there doing just that. Unfortunately, the stream turns farther and farther out to sea from here (Vero Beach), so we will again have to deal with the normal resistant forces of hydrodynamics. But for two days it was a magic carpet ride.

this is us sailing at 9 knots! I know the telltales are not perfect, but they didn't have to be.

sore hands.................. from P

2009-05-10T21:12:00.003-04:00

Stuff breaks. Stuff on a boat breaks regularly. Stuff on an old boat breaks almost every day. Especially if the systems on the old boat are under the strain of daily living for a year. It tends to run in groups, and right now we are going through a cycle of breaking lots of stuff. The most recent list: Broken water pump impeller, blank GPS navigation system screen (no power), a burst fresh water hose (onboard plumbing system), malfunctioning depth sounder, and a leaky raw water hose (engine cooling system). On a boat, one small problem inevitably leads to a much larger problem, so each seemingly unimportant malfunction must receive immediate attention. If it doesn't get the required attention, the dominos start to fall, and soon you are reduced to wimpering on the phone to TowBoat U.S. So I have been on a mission. The engine cannot run without a working impeller, and mine is in a location that is all but impossible to reach. And you need special tools such as ratchet screwdrivers and a dentist's mirror. So I had to call for help on that one. A marine mechanic and I, working for two hours, finally got the old impeller pieces out of the motor and installed the new one. On the GPS, I tracked down a loose connection at the base of the breaker switch, among the spaghetti of wires behind the breaker panel. I could not believe my luck when the GPS powered up again. So we got back underway, then I noticed that the bilge pump was running constantly. I opened up the engine compartment to discover a gush of water - and of course my first thought is "OK we are going to sink and die." I cupped my hand in the water, did the old taste test, and thankfully it was fresh water. I have sealed off the valve and pulled out the old hose. It was a feed to the hot water heater, and currently a new hose installation is "in process." No problem, we can sail fine a few days without hot water. I have checked all the connections for the transducer on the depthsounder, and even jumped overboard while under sail to clean it. Now I have just accepted the fact that once we hit 380 feet of depth (as is common off the coast of Florida) it just decides to quit. Once we get in more shallow water, it comes alive. Fine. I can live with that. The raw water intake leak required disassembling several fittings that lead from the through-hull valve, into the strainer, and to the cooling system. Just a matter of cleaning all the threads and re-seating everything with teflon tape sealer. Seems to be fine now. I guess it is all to be expected when living on a boat. We'll see what happens tomorrow.

finding our rythm ............ from P

2009-05-08T18:04:00.005-04:00

We have had to return home twice, both times for two weeks or so. Each time is like getting transported to a different universe. Everything is familiar, but much different from the universe in which we currently live. When we return, we find that it takes a few days to get back into the rythm of living on a boat. We have been back aboard Senara for two days now, and I think we are settled in again. I can tell because we are doing all our favorite things again: Riding to Publix grocery store in our dinghy, snorkeling around in the warm, crystal water, watching the sunset, waking with the sunrise, and of course our favorite pastime for which we coined the term "floatying." Floatying involves teathering an inflatable chair, aka floaty, off the stern and enjoying a cool drink while floating with your bottom hanging in the water. It takes lots of practice, but we are committed to excellence.

We are headed north, making good time in this perfect weather, even if we have to run the motor more than I like. We found Senara to be in pretty good shape, but we did have one scare. When we first cast off from the mooring ball, Senara would barely move. I panicked with thoughts of a broken transmission, bent shaft, etc. etc. So we tied back to the mooring ball, I put 6 lbs of dive weights in my pockets, donned the dive mask and hooker hose, and jumped in. As soon as I was a few inches under the surface I could see that barnacles had bloomed, just like the azaleas in Virginia. The prop looked like a cauliflower, one big bunch of barnacles. After an hour of underwater scraping of the prop, shaft, and keel, we were back underway with no problems. Yes, part of the rythm involves a lot of physical work that I am not used to at home. Setting the anchor, weighing the anchor, setting and trimming sails, hoisting the dinghy and the motor, setting up the grill, mixing drinks, etc. Somebody has to do it. Besides, I am just finding my rythm again.

The floaty master

Last month's grocery shopping trip

Buses, Boats & Goats.......from K

2009-05-07T20:15:00.006-04:00

I do love being a traveler. On Tuesday morning, P & I jumped on a flight to Miami. On Wednesday, we boarded a city bus that runs from Florida City to Marathon Harbor ($1.85 each way) and today we spent the day motor/sailing back up the Keys to a familiar anchorage behind Lignumvitae Key. P & I have become embarrassingly good at finding the cheapest way of getting around - it always provides great entertainment.

Having incredibly generous family members helps too! We spent a night with Karen & David again in Miami and met the newest addition to their family - an adorable Nubian goat named Chewy. He's only a few weeks old and they feed him by bottle three times a day. He's 12 pounds now but he's expected to top out at 200 pounds! Their Jack Russell terrier has decided his only role in life is to keep Chewy's ears clean. Too cute!! They are training Chewy to be a "pack goat" - to carry their camping gear when they go mountain hiking. Karen's convinced this idea will be a great success - David is a bit more dubious. While they're busy building him a pen in the back of the yard, Chewy is squirming to get in the back door of the house. The chickens are keeping their distance and I'm pretty sure I heard Ruby, the cockateil, "baahing" before we left the house. I love my family - they make me feel sane.

Now I know why he is named Chewy. I felt sorry for his mom!

Chief doesn't quite know what to make of Chewy yet.

time to move on......... from P

2009-05-04T22:20:00.002-04:00

I feel blessed - for many reasons: That I was able to be at Dad's bedside when he died. That I have a great family, and an understanding and supportive wife. That I have friends that let me jump aboard and help crew for the Friday afternoon regatta, then drink too much beer and swap racing stories. I am deeply grateful for the love and support I have felt from friends and family over the past two weeks. Now, after a week of intensive work on setting up the necessary arrangements to settle Dad's modest estate, its time for K and I to catch a plane back to the Keys. It was incredible to see the azaleas and dogwoods in full bloom here at home, but I can hardly wait to again feel the heat of the intense south Florida sun and the spray of Senara's bow wave. We will set sail Thursday from Boot Key Harbor in Marathon and head north toward home. It will take us about a month under normal circumstances (no sooner I hope). I know that when I get home, my life will have changed forever. A sailing journey up and down the coast, the prospects of a new career, and the passing of my Dad. It has been quite a year. But for now, I still have a lot of sailing to do and a bunch of ports to call on that we missed on the way down. Let's get underway.

happy anniversary to me! ............ from P

2009-04-30T22:54:00.003-04:00

I can hardly believe it has been one year. I remember having lunch with a friend and co-worker at the Mexican restaurant across the street from my office. As he walked back into the building, I hollered to him - "on the in-out board, just write 'gone sailing' next to my name!" I remember flying down the interstate with my windows rolled down, singing with the radio. It felt just like the last day of school - a year long summer break. It has been exactly one year since I left the professional working world. There are a few things that I miss: The feeling of satisfaction after solving a tense situation, hot coffee and lots of progress early in the AM, and a nice paycheck. But I must say that I really have not missed living my life focused primarily on a job. A job that felt like a job, not my life's work. Focusing on the weather, the waves, and the destinations has made a lot more sense lately.

This one year anniversary prompts me to think about the next year, or at least the next week as we will return to the Keys and get Senara back under sail. Yes!! But alas, alas, we will be sailing north toward home to re-join our regularly scheduled life. The good news is that it will take about a month for us to sail home. Maybe I can stretch it out to 5 or 6 weeks. Or maybe I can figure a way to be celebrating a second anniversary next spring.

Dad, you did good ........ from P

2009-04-27T08:25:00.002-04:00

My dad died Saturday night, April 25th, at 9:44 PM. His sister, my sister, and I were there by his side talking to him and praying as he passed on. He was very peaceful; he just stopped breathing. Then let out a deep sigh as he finally gave up the fight. As I held my cheek against his, all I could say was "dad, you did good." And did he ever. On so many levels he did good. He did good as a metal worker in the shipyard, as an executive with Sears Roebuck, and especially in his last 22 year career as a Realtor. He did good as a life long member of his local methodist church, serving on the Board for many years, teaching Sunday classes, leading the youth group, and being an important part of the church family. It was quite a family. I think I was around 10 years old or so when I figured out that we were not directly related to many of the other families in our church. They were such a part of our lives that I really thought they were kin. Mostly, he did good as a father. He and mom instilled in all three children a deep sense of self confidence, adventurousness, self discipline, and a love of nature. The three of us have just been relating stories about times when we would be making important life decisions, and dad would often end the conversation with "... you have good judgement, I trust your decision." We would often hear "I trust your decisions" even if we were getting ready to go out on a date, or drive around in a car. K and I know what a huge positive force he has been in the lives of our daughters, showing them the same kind of confidence and trust. Dad was a natural leader who knew how to build independence and character in others. He was born on March 11, 1921, and will continue living in me and my family every day. Yes, he did good.

don't tell them I said this..... from P

2009-04-22T21:21:00.002-04:00

We have good kids. E is 24, HA will be 21 in June (AKA friggin' daughter #1 and friggin' daughter #2). Since we left in July they have been charged with taking care of our house, our cars, and as it turned out - helping take care of my dad. E works full time as a counselor/therapist for autistic children. She had to pay "rent" by paying the household utility bills. HA had to work part time so she could fund her own "out of pocket" expenses while carrying a full course load in engineering at ODU. Both were responsible for care and upkeep of the lawn and house. I must admit, I was concerned about leaving everything in their hands for nearly a year. But I am pleased (and proud) to report that, except for multiple accidents by E's 70 LB "puppy" and a couple of unexplained tire ruts in the yard, they have done a great job taking care of things. The house is still standing, we have received no nasty letters from the home owners' association, the neighbors are still speaking to us, the utilities are still on, and Spooky (the cat) is still alive. Overall good results. I would like to believe that this has been a learning experience for them. It certainly has for me. This trip has taught me more about myself than anything I have ever done, and one of the things I learned is that our daughters are maturing into self reliant women who can handle adult responsibilities. They are good kids who are quickly turning into great adults. Not bad for a couple of friggin' daughters.

sunset ................. from P

2009-04-20T15:15:00.009-04:00

Sunsets have been on my mind lately, both metaphorical and experiencial. My dad's yard is an explosion of pink azalea blossoms dappled with white dogwood flowers. The angle of the afternoon sun lights it up in a way that makes me stop the car when I come around the corner toward his house. From his kitchen table the big dogwood in the side yard frames his profile as he lies in the medical bed next to the window. As the show fades in the background I can't help thinking how much he would love to sit with us aboard Senara and watch the sun set into the Gulf of Mexico.

K and I almost involuntarily developed a habit of migrating to the cockpit every day around 6:30 to watch the show, wherever we were. We found that every other sailor aboard their boat, whether on mooring balls, anchors, or tied up in their slips were likewise drawn up to their cockpits or cabin tops; everyone basking in the splendor. Of course, each sunset is a little different. More interestingly, sunset rituals are each a little different depending on where you are. The most famous sunset ritual, no doubt, is Key West's daily sunset celebration on the sea wall at Mallory Square. It is fun to go once, but it has become much to organized and commercialized to retain the cult following it once enjoyed.

Elsewhere in the Keys, particularly Boot Key Harbor at Marathon, you will likely hear the low, mournful sound of conch shells being blown by sailors to bid the sun farewell. Up in the northeast, particularly around Newport, the sunset was always accompanied by the firing of a signal cannon - your signal to "strike your colors" for the night. And everyone ceremoneously lowers their flags in unison. For a few nights in Boot Key Harbor we were fortunate enough to be moored near a Scot who stood atop his cabin top each evening and played the bagpipes. He always ended with "Amazing Grace" as the sun disappeared - it would bring tears to your eyes.

Playing the pipes aboard "Go Lassie Go"

We have our traditions and standard rituals that bring meaning and comfort when a loved one dies. My brother, sister and I have already begun some of the too familiar first steps. I like to believe that some of the end-of-the-day rituals I've learned from sailors up and down the coast are connected to our end-of-life rituals. The feelings and reflections come from the same place. If the day has been well lived, or as in dad's case a life has been well lived - I feel the loss, then I am still, reflective, thankful, and renewed.

pavement sailing .......... from P

2009-04-18T14:05:00.002-04:00

After a great week of sailing north from KW, and idyllic scuba dives on Sombrero reef, we got the dreaded phone call - my dad's health has taken a serious turn for the worse and we had better come home again. He has rallied from the depths of nearly fatal setbacks numerous times, but after hearing some details we decided we'd better get home as quickly as possible. After checking airline schedules and prices we decided to rent a mooring for Senara, rent a car for us, and drive the "blue hair highway" all the way from Miami to southern Virginia. In one day. It is incredible that Alamo will rent a 2009 mid sized car for $35 including unlimited mileage. And indeed, it seemed unlimited: we drove 1,040 miles in one day.

Dad has been moved home, into a medical bed, in the same room and same spot in front of his family-room window where mom died. So here we are at home, preparing to spend tonight (and as many night as needed) attending to dad, with the help of with the hospice nurses. It will be a heartbreaking final chapter in the life of a great man. I am so glad we got on the road. This is where we are supposed to be right now.

Senara's latest christening.........from K

2009-04-12T17:49:00.003-04:00

Despite everything we have done on, in, to and under Senara, there has been one christening we had not been able to perform, until now. We have finally scuba dived off of her. Up til now, we used my nephew's boat or a dive boat to dive, but now we feel we've done it all, and as always, Senara proved her versatility.

Scuba diving off of a sailboat is not easy. The gunwhales are too high off the water to flip back into the water, and there is no clear platform from which to step off from. So, as everything else while living on a boat, we improvised. We situated the dinghy next to the cockpit and Pat carefully placed (dropped?) our weighted gear into the dinghy. Then we put on our wetsuits and climbed into the dinghy and pulled on our heavy BC's and air tanks. I felt more than awkward perched on the side of our inflatable as P tightened my vest. In fact, I panicked and announced, "I can't do it." P never missed a beat - he said, "catch your breath and take your time." And I did. Then we plunged off the dinghy into the gorgeous underwater scenery of Looe's Key. We swam with a barracuda, some parrotfish, a school of yellow chubs, and marvelled at the colorful coral. We never get tired diving down deep. And this time, we had a friend follow us back up. As we were hauling our gear back onto Senara, a 6-foot barracuda circled our boat. We choose to believe he was giving us a polite farewell, but we didn't shake fins to find out...

sail fish, April 1 & 4 ........ from P

2009-04-09T20:59:00.005-04:00

My brother, C, said “We probably won’t catch anything, but let’s troll this lure behind the boat while we are sailing.” He had paid attention when Tom the fishing guide had rigged our lines on the charter boat several days before. C used his new found knowledge to rig the little rubber skirted lure with an optimistically large hook and topped it off with a squid cocktail. He dropped it over the stern and let it skip along in the wake of our 7 knot sailing speed. Less than a minute. No kidding. Boom! Pandemonium. The reel was screaming as line was being ripped from it. I pointed Senara into the wind, K and I scrambled to furl the genoa in an attempt to stop the boat as C was getting a grip on the pole to join the fight. Some ten minutes later, C landed a 10 to 12 pound Barracuda. Huge fish. After releasing him, and re-setting the sails we were back on our course toward Boca Grande. C again trailed the little lure in our wake, and everyone relaxed again. For two minutes. Then, fish on!! Again, we pointed up Senara, furled the gennie, C fought the fish, and fought the fish, and fought it some more. Then I fought it for a while. Finally, up comes another big fish – this time it was a Bonita. Man he can fight! C caught a second Bonita and a King Mackerel within the next hour. K got a lot of practice doing quick-stops while under sail. We were finally exhausted from catching fish, and decided to just sail the boat for a while. Several days later C walked over to the charter docks and talked with our old fishing guide, Tom, who said he was not surprised by our fishing success on Senara. He said that trolling from a sailboat is the best possible fishing; no engine noise, no churning propeller to scare the fish, perfect trolling speed. I am now a believer. It also helps to be in one of the most fertile fishing grounds in the world. Now I know why they call them sail-fish! Or maybe not.

Hoisting a Bonita over the transom. It's even harder than it looks.

Just a couple of pictures, then you can go swimming again.

His Name was Mudd: April 3......... from K & P

2009-04-08T20:17:00.008-04:00

Although I wasn't reaching freedom like the Cubans, I was very excited the reach Fort Jefferson. The towering fort seems to rise out of the water like a mythical castle and encompasses the entire island. It was ten times bigger than I expected and so much more interesting to explore than even the old ruins of castles in Europe. It is actually the second largest masonry structure on earth, after the Great Wall of China. Sixteen million bricks were shipped to this place beginning in 1846.

We spent two days exploring the bastions and listening to stories of how Civil War prisoners, soldiers, doctors and nurses lived on this isolated, water-starved island. The moat was used for sewage and the temperature and humidity stayed at 100. It was substantially completed just in time for the War Between the States, but was never actually finished, nor fully armed. It is unbelievably huge, with casemates to house 420 heavy cannon, 37 powder magazines, and barracks for 1,000 soldiers. The design and firepower of the fort is why it is called “the stealth bomber of its day.” The Union held the fort throughout the unpleasantness, but the south had its chance. A confederate ship was poised to invade, but the Union commander sent message that if the ship was not gone by dawn, all 420 heavy cannon would blow him out of the water, so the captain figured it best to leave. The Southern captain would have had no way of knowing that only one cannon had yet been delivered to the new fort.

The most famous prisoner here was Dr. Mudd, the physician who set the broken leg of John Wilkes Booth. For doing that, he was convicted of treason and sent to the fort to serve a life sentence. Legend has it that Booth had disguised himself when he sought Mudd’s medical assistance for the infamous broken leg, so Mudd acted out of innocence only to be caught up in history. More factual accounts say Mudd was part of Booth’s group of southern sympathizers. In any event, after yellow fever killed the other doctors and nurses in the fort, Dr. Mudd cared for the troops and eventually earned himself a pardon. Despite that, he became the inspiration behind the saying “if I mess this up, my name will be Mudd!”

The enemy's view.

A view down one of the corridors. Each alcove is a cannon casemate.

Cannoneer's view.

Looking from the top of the fort wall, over the old coal dock and the Gulf of Mexico. We snorkeled around this structure - lots of fish!

Wet Foot, Dry Foot: April 2............. from K

2009-04-06T18:08:00.011-04:00

Sailing to Fort Jefferson has been a personal quest for me ever since my father urged me to go from his hospital bed last winter. However, as eager as I was to reach the Dry Tortugas, we encountered a few others who were a bit more excited to see the islands in the middle of no where:

During our first night anchored in the Garden Key basin, three Cuban refugees landed on the island in their homemade "chug" with a Yamaha 40-hp engine. Imagine - 90 miles in plastic covered foam tube with an empty deoderant canister fitted through the transom as a drain!!! As we dinghied onto Fort Jefferson, we could see three young men standing on the beach in white, cotton scrub suits. Obviously being escorted by the Park Service Rangers, the men smiled and waved at the visitors on the beach. A small Coast Guard Cutter had just arrived and the Coasties were giving each young man an orange life vest (kind of ironic considering that the Cubans were certainly more safe with the CG than they had been in their chug). We were told that since the men had put a "dry foot" on American land, they can request asylum and be processed in as aliens. However, if the Coast Guard had found them while still in their boat in the water, they would have been sent back to Cuba - probably prison. Hence, their jubilant smiles - I only wish I had been quick enough to snap their pictures.

These chugs might hold 8 to 10 people for the big trip.

a sail to remember, April 1 ........ from P

2009-04-06T16:32:00.005-04:00

The gods were smiling on us. After an uncommonly turbulent weather pattern, the wind shifted to the South and settled in at a steady 13 to 16 knots - perfect for a 70 mile sail due west to the Dry Tortuga Islands. After shaking out the reef in our main, we clipped along at 6.5 to 7.5 knots on a beam reach, covering the entire 65 mile leg in 9.5 hours! It was one of the best sailing days I have ever experienced. The sun was bright, the water was an irridescent sapphire, big fish were eager to grab our lure (see next blog post), the seas were only about two feet, and we sailed fast. Unreal.

It is called "blue water sailing" because you cannot see land in any direction - just water - all the way to the horizon any which way you look. We had not done any blue water sailing since Nantucket. But today we stretched Senara's legs from Boca Grande all the way to Garden Key (within the Dry Tortugas) in the Gulf of Mexico. We were blue-water until around 5:30 PM when the "land ho!" cry came from K up on the bow, and the imposing, picturesque walls of Fort Jefferson on Garden Key began to appear like an apparition. Our original plan had been to sail to the Bahamas. After nixing that plan, the Tortugas became our "exotic destination" goal. Today, as we picked our way through the channel around the fort to the anchorage area, a line from the Crosby Stills & Nash song "Southern Cross" kept playing in my head ........ "you understand now why you came this way....... " Indeed.

Approaching the walls of Fort Jefferson

Side trip out to Loggerhead Key.

C on the helm, on the first leg home.

our beach, March 31, ......... from P

2009-04-06T16:15:00.003-04:00

My apologies to the lady on the boat near the beach at the western end of Boca Grande Key near the Marquesas island. I didn’t mean to make you put your bikini top back on. Yes, we were easing into the same gorgeous, wind protected beach lagoon to drop our anchor but we were not so close to you that we could “see anything.” So you really did not need to get dressed just for us. But it was really nice for you and a few other boater-visitors to leave so we could have the entire Boca Grande island to ourselves. C, K, and I very much enjoyed walking the beach among the wildlife protection areas. A pair of Bald Eagles were the only residents that took any interest in our wanderings. The big Loggerhead Turtle had already met us just outside the entrance channel and checked us over, seemingly announcing that we were about 20 miles west of Key West and on the way to his Tortuga islands. After exploring the island we moved Senara to a more protected anchor area, grilled a few of our fresh Wahoo steaks for dinner, watched the big orange ball show on the western horizon. I hope we didn’t chase you away, but I do thank you for letting us have our own exotic island for the afternoon.

K, and my brother C, at Boca Grande. Senara is waiting in the background.

fish on!! ........... from P

2009-03-31T08:26:00.010-04:00

It was one of those days I will never forget. I had planned on C and I going out on the local "head boat" here in KW to bottom fish on the reef for a half day. Well..... as always, C had bigger ideas. I found myself on a big off-shore fishing charter boat, trolling with five lines strung on outriggers in the Gulf Stream! Incredible. It was a perfect day. Tom the bait man (1989 graduate of Cox High in Va. Beach) was more like an offshore fishing guide, coaching us on how to land the big ones. I got lucky and landed a 32.5 lb Wahoo - Tom said it was the biggest Wahoo they have caught this year. Our little boat freezer is now packed full of Wahoo steaks - yesss! C caught a nice King Mackeral, Bonita and a Barracuda. We snapped a few pics below to tell the story. Right now we are prepping the boat for a sail to the Marquesas Islands, then out to the Dry Tortugas tomorrow.

C engaged in the fight!

C's Bonita. A very pretty fish that you cannot eat. So he got to go swimming again.

It's a big one - what do I do Tom ?!!! What do I do ???

A little too eager to taste my 32 pound Wahoo.

C is in the air! .............. from P

2009-03-28T16:56:00.002-04:00

I really didn't think he would do it. But he cannot turn back now. My older brother, C, is on the plane right now, on the way to Key West. Our job was to just get to the marina - not as easy as it sounds. Today was the twelfth straight day of high winds and high seas, but we crashed and rolled through the 35 mile sail today in record time. Once again, we only flew a reefed jib sail, but my GPS showed groundspeeds between 6.7 and 8.1 knots. It was great! So we are now tied up in Conch Harbor Marina, back in good ol' KW.

I am really looking forward to spending time with C. We have not spent a long stretch of time together since the early 1980s when I lived with him and his family for six months or so in Maryland. Now he is going to be stuck on the boat with us for 10 days! We are planning a long sail out to the Dry Tortugas, approximately 70 miles out from Key West. Primitive islands. Sandy beach. Crystal clear water. Good fishing. The forecast calls for tamer winds, calmer seas. If that holds true, we are going. If not, we will sail around in the Keys. K says she can't wait to relinquish her first mate duties to C. Hmmmm, I am not so sure. She is getting to be a pretty good first mate. Plus, she lets me be the captain.

blow update......... from P

2009-03-27T11:06:00.002-04:00

It's a new record for us! The 20 knot winds kicked up on Tuesday, the 17th. Today is Friday, the 27th and it is currently blowing a steady 23 to 25 with gusts to 30 knots. No storms anywhere, plenty of sunshine. Just a constant 24 hour-a-day hard, whistling wind. Yesterday we were able to make it about 10 miles further toward Key West, then we turned in to Newfound Harbor and anchored near Little Torch Key. We cannot go anywhere today. After 10 straight days of this wind, the seas are whipped up into a veritable frenzy. Big rollers with breaking tops - no fun at all. So we will hang in here today, take care of some paperwork, read books, play a game, watch a DVD, and eat all our food.

blown away.................. from P

2009-03-25T11:04:00.003-04:00

We had a quick, exciting sail yesterday - only about 15 miles - from Marathon harbor to Bahia Honda. We averaged 6.5 knots with only a reefed jib sail, bouncing and rolling on the 4 foot seas. It is blowing like the proverbial hounds of hell down here. We have anchored off the Bahia Honda beach once before and loved it, but conditions were different then. We set two anchors yesterday afternoon, then at sunset we realized we were dragging, so we had to pull them both up and reset. We are holding well right now. Today is the ninth straight day of winds from the east averaging 20 knots windspeed. My anemometer is currently showing 19 knots, then it goes up to 25 with the gusts. The NOAA promises two more days of this. This will definitely break our old record of continuous high winds. We had hunkered down on a mooring ball in Marathon harbor but our week was up, and it was time to head toward Key West. This is a stop along the way. We have to be in KW by Friday afternoon, as my brother is flying in to sail with us for a while. We are anchored 300 feet from the beach (in the lee) in about 9 feet of water, and we are bouncing and pitching so hard that we had to hold with one hand so that we could pour our cereal with the other. So much for getting in a snorkel trip this week. Right now we are just hanging on, and planning for another wild sail tomorrow.

rate-a-bar ................. from P

2009-03-23T20:42:00.007-04:00

In the northeast they were Pubs. Down here, they are "places" or Saloons, or just bars. No pubs. That moniker would ascribe a much too traditional predisposition to your experience. Almost all the "places" down here are locally owned and run by the same nice, rebellious souls who call the Keys home. Their establishments are imbued with their own distinct personalities - that is, if it's a good place. There are a lot of bad places down here too, the ones with contrived atmospheres. The good places tend to be gathering spots for locals, and are often as unkempt as their patrons. But you cannot generalize. We have been in a few nice, bright, well run places where conversation is lively and the fish is right-off-the-boat fresh. We have also been in the well worn, plank floored, dark bar with outstanding food and friendly atmosphere. You just never know. So, in case you are planning a trip down the Keys, particularly Key West, I am here to lend a hand. Here is a short list of places to be, and places to flee:

Don't go there:

Hard Rock Cafe, KW. Don't worry, I didn't actually go there myself. I just thought I would start with an easy one.

Hog's Breath Saloon, KW. Big disapointment. Full of cruise ship milktoast carrying their new $25 Hog's Breath T-shirts in their Hog's Breath shopping bags. Subtract big points for having an entire Hog's Breath gift shop attached. $3.50 for a Miller Lite? Still in the can? Puleeze.

Jack Flats. Started out promising, but the Grouper was old and fried hard. Cool photos on the wall, but nothing tastes good.

Sloppy Joe's Saloon. Great history, but now it's all about selling nachos and T-shirts to tourists. You do have to go there once just because it's Sloppy Joe's.

Don't miss:

The Fish Market restaurant, Key Largo. Fresh Dolphin or Yellowtail Snapper sandwich. Go ahead and get a cup of the conch chowder too. The water tastes funny so drink beer.

Burdine's Chicitiki Bar, Marathon. Tie up to the dock, or dinghy in. You may even be able to get there by car. Not sure. Word is that Jimmy B still drops in every now and then. Great little resaurant on the second floor above the marina. The sign on the railing says "no smoking, fuel dock below." Incredible view of Marathon harbor and the mangroves. Get the fresh fish reuben with the home made fries. Wow!

Dockside at Sombrero Marina, Marathon. Happy hour daily from noon 'til six, therefore constantly full of sailboaters. The dock is crammed with dinghies from the harbor. What's not to like?

Lorelei, Islamorada. Fresh blackened fish sandwiches, live island music, and one of the few nice sandy beaches in the Keys.

No Name Pub, Big Pine Key. OK, this one is a pub. Get the smoked fish dip. And a pizza. Seriously. Then staple your dollar to the ceiling and stop trying to guess how much money is stapled to everything, everywhere.

Paradise Cafe, Key West. Other than the one I had at Little Palm Island Resort, this place has the best Cuban sandwich around. Charming. We had breakfast there while watching Obama's inauguration on the wall TV. Meet a local.

Pepe's, KW. Everything tastes good, it's not on Duval Street, and the history is rich. Say hi to the ghost of Hemingway. It takes a while to find the restroom so plan ahead!

Captain Tony's. If you read about old KW, this is the closest you will come to feeling part of it. This place has a soul. And a huge tree growing through the ceiling.

Green Parrot, KW. Rockin' blues bar with a sticky floor. Always full of sunwrinkled, bearded, smiling locals. The popcorn machine looks so oddly out of place it's cool. This is the place to dance in your flipflops.

Kelly's, KW. Be there at 4:00 sharp or you may not get a seat. The best margarita happy hour in the Keys. Gotta get the sweet chili flavored wings. Originally the first headquarters for PanAm air.

Half Shell, KW. On the water near the charter fleet. Super fresh fish sandwiches. Get the Grouper, or the Yellowtail. Or the oyster sandwich. Or....

OK you don't always have to get a fish sandwich everywhere. But I will. Grilled or lightly blackened. If you have to pay more than $2.00 for a beer, keep walking. So when are you comin' down?

William....................from K

2009-03-23T09:24:00.006-04:00

I met William on the city bus coming back from Key West. He boarded the bus carrying an old-fashioned round cooler and lurched to the back of the bus. Tall and skinny, he seemed only focused on sitting down before he fell down. I assumed he was drunk or deranged. He stared ahead with vacant eyes. I hoped he wasn't going to ask us for money.
P & I were giggling about a wedding we had just vicariously attended from Kelly's balcony - our favorite KW happy hour of margaritas and chicken wings. The wedding was our afternoon entertainment and now we were trying to figure out the bus schedule back to Marathon. William came to our rescue. Slurring his words, he told us where and when to meet the next bus, then he exited our bus before our stop. We dubiously followed his instructions, and he was right on the money.
To our surprise, when we boarded our next bus, there was William waving at us from the back. He had stopped to have a quick visit with his daughter who worked at the KW Sears store. When P & I got settled in our seats, William and his cooler stumbled to a seat next to us, like we were old friends. His friendliness surprised me, but didn't scare me. I was used to inebriated banter in the public place of the Keys. I began to ask questions and he told me his story. Yes, he had always lived in the Keys. Yes, the hurricanes frightened him, but he had learned to prepare for them. He told me about the storm of '62 when his parents sent him to stay with relatives (perhaps he's not as old as I had guessed!). His dad, a shrimpboat captain died during that storm - his boat and body were never found. William had been a fisherman too, until a grappling hook flew across the deck and embedded itself into his jaw, setting off years of infections and illnesses. He took my hand and let me feel the hollow in his jaw left by the hook.

Suddenly, he paused and apologized. He said, "I had lunch with my son down in Key West and I had two cocktails. I'm not a drinker, you see. My diabetes won't let me." And he stared at the water cooler wedged between his feet. I felt bad that I had judged him so quickly. And who was I to judge? Eager to continue our conversation, I asked him about snorkling spots and his eyes came alive. "I volunteer at Adventure Camp in Newfound Harbor, you know. We teach kids from all over the world about the ocean and the reefs and the wildlife. We teach them to snorkle and and to care for the coral and....there's a picture of me at the camp kissing a Hammerhead shark...I tell the kids, 'don't do that!'" I laughed and much too soon, he was balancing himself to his feet to get off the bus for his home on Big Pine Island. I shook his hand and thanked him for the history and geography lessons. I should have thanked him for much more.

Our view of the wedding reception from the happy hour balcony at Kelly's.

it blows .................. from P

2009-03-20T10:35:00.005-04:00

When it comes to weather, you can't have it all. We are loving this constant daily temp of 75 to 80 with plenty of sunshine. And when we are sailing, the constant wind almost always scoots us along. But there are some negatives to go along with the positives. I just looked at the forecast, trying to pick out a day to take Senara out to the reef to go fishing. No way. The next five days show 15 to 20 knot winds (again) out of the East and NorthEast. That's great for exciting sailing, but lousy for dropping an anchor near the reef and trying to fish, or dive, or swim. I have learned (the hard way) that constant strong easterly winds kick up a huge chop on the reef, as the swells from the 300 foot deep Florida Straights collide against the 20 foot deep reef area. Not the place to be this week. K and I tried to dive on the reef a week ago. As we neared the reef the wave action got progressively steeper; Senara's bow and stern began to take turns pointing skyward, up and down like a hobby horse being ridden hard. Even though it was one of the best diving locations in the world, we decided to turn around and sail away. No way to safely get on and off the boat with diving equipment strapped on. During one stretch of time in February, I counted nine days in a row where the windspeed never dipped below 15 knots. No problem, I'll take the tropical temperatures and sail fast in the tradewinds - no complaints there. But I would like to go fishing one day without having to hang on to the lifelines.

A pretty bank of puffy clouds blowing up around 2:00.

This is what those puffy clouds turned into this afternoon around 6:00. The good news is that I am only one of many lightning rods in the harbor!

Driving Mr. P........... from K

2009-03-17T18:06:00.007-04:00

We're back in Marathon - home to our near-sinking disaster, but this time we're on a mooring ball and the weather is fabulous! Marathon has a terrific boating community. Each morning at 9 a.m., Cruiser's Net comes on channel 68 VHF and everyone has an opportunity to announce themselves if they are new to the harbor. Then they have announcements of meet-and-greets, DVD swaps, items for sale, hailings for help and a sailor's weather report. Our first night here, we got a dinner invitation from our friends we met at Pennekamp last month. They have a roomy catamaran and lots of activity with 2 children, a laid-back dog and a verrrrry curious cat: during our dinner of pasta and shrimp, we spied Shiraz several yards down the dock investigating the police dinghy. Apparently Shiraz has taken several swims as he explores his environs. Nothing a good shake-off won't cure!

My goal at this stop is to learn to start the dinghy engine and maneuver it competently. My first attempt at starting the Suzuki 4-stroke took several tries. One of our boat neighbors finally came out and invited us aboard since we didn't seem to be going anywhere - sheeesh!!! Once engaged, I was pretty good at directing it to the dock. Coming back was another story...lots of good-natured ribbing about Va. drivers and suggestions that maybe I needed a few more drinks. A drink certainly wouldn't have hurt my technique. But I'm not giving up - I'm determined to lick this dinghy motor. I'm tired of playing Miss Daisy - I'm ready to be Earhart of the dinghy dock.

Gotta go - we're going to find out how sailors celebrate St. Pat's Day... who by the way, was WELSH, not Irish. I learned that on the Cruiser's Net this morning.

remains of the day......... from P

2009-03-15T09:50:00.006-04:00

I thought it was Oscar Wilde who said "Three O'clock is always too late or too early for anything you want to do." But I looked it up, and it was Jean-Paul Sartre. Whoever. It still holds true when you are living on a boat, sailing from spot to spot, while factoring in the weather and daylight. But - the late afternoon, beginning around 3:00 or 4:00, has become my favorite part of the day. That is usually when we have arrived somewhere, the anchor or mooring lines are set, and we can relax to enjoy our new spot for a while. It's a welcome change when the only things that require thought and planning are dinner, the dinghy, and whether or not we want to hoist the digital TV antennae up the mast to try to pick up a signal to view on our laptop. It's nice and warm now (80 degrees most days) so we have the option of cooling off by throwing a "floatie" over the stern and jumping in. The water is a nice 72-74. I am so glad the time changed, giving us another hour of daylight in the afternoon. Yes, I am usually up "early" and ready to go sailing, but I do love the afternoon down time.

K doing her floatie thing.

Afternoon anchor neighbors, behind Rodriguez Key, all of us trying to get protection from the constant 15 kt easterly wind. The island key is out of the frame to the right, and does a nice job knocking down the chop.

Time to put away the unused toys. Because of the wind and 4-5 foot seas out on the reef, the air tanks are still full, and the fish bucket is empty. Yes, I'll blame the fishing on the winds too.

New fears.........................from K

2009-03-13T17:29:00.013-04:00

I used to tell P that my only fear was boredom. Okay, I don't like heights either, but boredom scares me more. And being married to P keeps my biggest fear at bay. P is always good for an unexpected idea (let's quit our jobs and go sailing!) or just jazzing up a dull evening by cooking artichokes and watching a bizarro video. But this sailing adventure has taken me far beyond the fear of boredom into developing fears that I didn't know existed. Last July, I set out so full of enthusiasm that I'd at least learn from our inevitable mistakes. I thought the struggles we'd meet would make me feel stronger, more confident. But instead, now I worry and fear things that haven't even happened yet - just because I know they CAN happen. Ignorance was bliss. But alas, I'm no longer ignorant of hellacious winds or vicious currents or my own nervous clumsiness.

I fear 25+ knot winds now. I fear hitting a shallow reef and ripping off our rudder. I fear docking our boat when the winds are blowing in the opposite direction of the current. I fear smashing my hand between the boat and a piling. I fear inhaling a mouthful of saltwater and drowning when we're diving. Mostly I fear that a bad experience will frighten me away from this adventure.

So, is fear all bad? I don't know. It makes me more cautious. Fear makes me better prepared and it makes me communicate my intentions more clearly. I wish I could say that facing - and surviving - frightening situations makes me feel more confident, but it doesn't - not yet. I still feel like a failure when I miss picking up the mooring ball on the first try. And I forget to congratulate myself when I leap off the gunwale and lash a piling just in time. But I'll keep trying to find confidence out here. I'll keep trying to overcome my new fears - at least I don't have to worry about boredom anymore.

P.S. - I miss you HA & MJ! I had to hang out on Pennekamp Beach with all of the Spring breakers by myself : (

Here are some of my favorite photos - the girls playing in dinghy, HA's dream home, and P fishing:

Out of Ft. Lauderdale and into the Barracudas........from HA & MJ

2009-03-11T19:54:00.003-04:00

Part 1 by HA:
As we left Ft. Lauderdale on Monday, we motored through the canals lined with million dollar plus homes. We then sailed to No Name Harbor on Key Biscayne. On the way there we saw two Portuguese man o'wars. Once there MJ and I dinghied in. Dad and I had been here before, right before Christmas, so this time I knew what was there. The last time I was there, we didn't have a clue what was on the island because we couldn't read the cruising guide, which they still haven't replaced. The half destroyed guide became a real problem in Ft. Lauderdale when it said "Beware of the . . . " and "This bridge is really low. Its clearance is only . . ." So once again I plead with my mother to PLEASE get a new copy. So back to Key Biscayne. MJ and I walked down to Lighthouse Beach and enjoyed some fruity popsicles from a snack bar there. The packaging said "With Real Fruit Chunks!!!!" and they weren't kidding, they had even included the leaves.

Part 2 by MJ:
Sailing from Key Biscayne to Elliot Key was a beautiful adventure. The waves weren't too rough, the sun was shining, and we had a little bit of breeze to fill out our sails. Once reaching the waters around Elliot Key though, we motored for fear of how shallow the surrounding waters became. We anchored Senara and then took a dinghy ride that was about 3/4 of a mile to Elliot Key. This island in the chain of the Florida Keys is the largest island that is entirely encompassed by the Biscayne National Park. After checking out the local "beach" which was overgrown mostly by mangroves and infused with a sulfurous stench, we decided to take a trail that would lead us on an interpretive nature escapade around part of the island. There were some informative signs along the way but our biggest discovery was if you ever need a free pair of non-matching shoes, this National Park can definitely help you out. Whether everything we saw on our walk along the other side of the island was left by visitors or washed up, we are not sure. But there definitely were many interesting items to be found including toothbrushes, deodorant, buckets, chairs, and Spanish birthday balloons.
After the dinghy ride back to our patiently waiting Senara, we swam and played in the refreshing water until we got cold and hungry. Back on board, we had a few drinks, turned up the Jimmy Buffett and became his next back-up singers on spoons instead of microphones. We had some delicious grilled chicken, a few more drinks, and then swapped old time stories with P & K. HA was very interested to find out that they had once partied at the Playboy Bunny Club in NYC. The moon was also full this night and it was neat to see it rising amongst the clouds while the sun was setting across the other side of the water.
This morning P and K got up really early while HA and I were lazy and slept in. (It is our spring vacation after all.) We sailed into Pennekamp State Park and tied up at a mooring ball to do some snorkeling. The water was gorgeous and we could see the bottom all around us. We paired off and tried to avoid the local tourist boat that was full of other loud snorkelers right near us. It was amazing to swim over the reef and see all the colorful fish! There were big lone fish and schools of smaller fish. They came in all shapes, sizes, and colors. We even saw a lobster hiding inside some coral - he was huge! K and I were careful to avoid the large masses of barracuda while poor HA was dragged along by P for an unwanted closer look. After snorkeling for a bit, we relocated Senara because it was becoming low tide and we needed to look for deeper waters. Now we are anchored off of Rodriguez Key and enjoying the blood-red moon and many constellations while marveling at the glow-in-the-dark jellyfish swimming around the boat.

spring break ..... from P, HA, and MJ

2009-03-08T19:44:00.011-04:00

Whooooo Hooooo! Spring break in Fort Lauderdale. Is it 1981? Maybe not, but when we stopped in for a margarita this afternoon across the street from the beach, it sure took me back to the day. A note about the boating scene - I have never seen so many boats, mega yachts, and mega homes on the water, all in one place. HA saw a factoid on the web site - there are 41,000 boats registered in Ft. Lauderdale. That is not a typo. More amazing, most boats I see are not even home ported here. No telling how many total acres of floating fiberglass actually ply these canals. I took a few pics as we made our way from the inlet toward downtown. Also, I have two guest bloggers below. My D#2, HA. And her cousin (K's niece), MJ. They are helping us re-live our spring breaks, lo those many moons ago.

Typical little houses and boats along the canalways in Ft. L.

Now I know where the Carrie B spends her winters!

MJ, K, and HA scoping out the spring-break beefcake.

From MJ and HA....
So, according to some reading that HA was doing this morning, "Fort Lauderdale now attracts a more sophisticated and affluent tourist, while largely ignoring the dwindling college crowd." Well, we would like to inform the readers that Ft. Lauderdale is still a top college spring break destination. We decided to take a relaxing tour of the beach area on this gorgeous day. The plan was to walk along Las Olas Boulevard, which we did, but we had the delightful pleasure of happening upon a street fair art exhibit. There were some gorgeous and interesting paintings, photographs, and glass work which were for sale if you had a very large checkbook. After passing the street fair and walking further down the boulevard, we got tired and hailed a cab to take us to the beach. We stopped and got margaritas (or water and snuck sips of P and K's), used the facilities and hopped into our swimsuits. The early afternoon was spent relaxing on the beach which was overrun with many college students playing corn hole and frisbee while coveting those all too well known red and blue Solo cups. HA and I ventured into the water which was a little chilly but also refreshing.
After sitting out long enough to have a few tender spots from the sun later, we all decided we were tired of the beach and wanted to catch the $1 a person Sun Trolley back to the marina. Well, since the street fair was taking up part of the boulevard, all of the trolleys were behind schedule because of the detours. While we were sitting at the bus stop on the beach, we witnessed a street side scuffle between some more than slightly inebriated college blokes. One of them must have been in a generous mood and started tossing dollar bills into the air and then left them strewn about the sidewalk. We waited for him to come back and claim them, or at least some other passerby, but no one seemed interested. Well, there were four dollar bills moving along the ground in the breeze and four of us who needed some trolley fare. HA was brave and chased down the bills and even ventured into the street for one... so where ever you are big, drunk college guy in the red shirt, thanks for the free trolley ride! Our feet really appreciated the break from the 2 mile walk back to the marina!
After cleaning up from the beach, we walked across the street to enjoy a 3-D Imax extravaganza about under the sea creatures narrated by Jim Carrey. We now all want to adopt some adorable sea lions which K claims resemble her childhood dog named Poochie. Now we are relaxing on the boat enjoying the view of sailboats passing through the drawbridge that we are docked next to, all full from the hamburgers that P grilled for us.

any given moment....... from P

2009-03-06T15:03:00.004-05:00

What a wild day. The forecast was wrong... again. We just got settled at anchor in a great little lake in Ft. Lauderdale surrounded by eye-popping mansions. But to get here, we sailed through some of the roughest seas I have been in. This morning the marine forecast called for 2-4 foot seas. Well, our 37 foot boat was burying her bow into huge waves as we pitched and rolled our way out of the Miami harbor (Government Cut). It got better once we got offshore into 100 foot depths, but the seas stayed a steady 6 feet (angry and breaking), and the wind hung around 20-25 knots ENE all day. We did make some good decisions (reefed Genoa only, life vests, deep water, centerboard down). Now we have that weird, tired but exhilarated feeling of having come through a tense day in tough seas, and other than disheveled items and a smashed up tomato, all is OK. One moment we feel like we are on the edge of trouble, the next moment we are settled, safe, and enjoying an adrenaline high.

What a great little party! You just never know. My motto is "always have cold beer just in case." Yesterday, after walking around Miami Beach, we dinghied back out to Senara and noticed that a new boat had come in and dropped anchor. Lo and behold, it was flying an Old Point Comfort Yacht Club burgee (our sailing club). Before long, the skipper dinghied over and joined us on board for a little happy hour. Simon is a Dane who bought his boat in Maine. OK, that's all the poetry for today. It was great swapping stories with an accomplished cruiser, and great to meet yet another club member from home out here on the water. Simon - we will catch up with you again in the Keys!

Any small malfunction, or weird occurance, can change everything - and Murphy is a hard worker. Yesterday morning I was routinely pulling up the anchor when suddenly the anchor windlass just quit. Uh-Oh. I seriously doubted that my back would abide the strain of pulling my 35 lb anchor and 42 feet of chain out of the mud by hand. Worse, the thought of another three months of using the boat engine to pull the anchor loose, then hand hoisting it every morning was not appealing. But after only a few minutes of tracing wires, I found one loose wire-nut, tightened it up, flipped the switch, and the drum started turning once again. Moment to moment.

Murphy worked some OT yesterday. When we had climbed out of the dinghy to walk around Miami Beach, the tide was low. While we were walking about, somehow the dinghy found its way under the pier, then the tide came in! When we returned, we found it squashed under a support brace under the pier, just about ready for water to start pouring in over the squashed rubber pontoons. It was about to go down - dinghy, motor and all. I rolled up my pants, jumped in, pulled the motor off, and deflated the dinghy while trying to hang on to the pier. Eventually, we dislodged the deflated dinghy. But now, how do we get back to Senara on a limp piece of rubber? Thankfully a nice young man in a powerboat offered to ride me out to Senara to get my air pump. Moment to moment.

daily decisions ................ from P

2009-03-04T09:31:00.002-05:00

It is morning - time to make another set of decisions that will determine whether we have a good or bad day. That is probably the biggest difference between living on a boat and living at home. Our physical comfort, indeed our well being, depends upon how we choose to deal with the elements each day - and especially during the night. We are anchored at the south end of Key Biscayne. Our only goal is to be in the marina at Ft. Lauderdale by Saturday morning. So, theoretically we have plenty of time to make a short trip. We have to sail on the outside - in the ocean - around the northern part of Miami to get around a bridge that is too low for us. The marine forecast is for 18 knot winds gusting to 23 out of the NE with 4-6 foot seas today. 16 knot winds with 4 foot seas tomorrow. The following two days are about the same, although any wind forecast more than 48 hours into the future holds no credibility down here. There are two outlets to the ocean, one is where we are now (tip of Key Biscayne), the other is the port of Miami entrance. Based on that information, we have decided to make a very short trip today on the inside, behind key Biscayne and Virginia Key to stay out of the 6 foot seas, up into an anchorage area just north of the cruise ship terminals in Miami, but just south of the too-low bridge. Then tomorrow we will exit out of the port of Miami sail up the beach to the Port Everglades inlet which is the big port entrance at Ft. Lauderdale. This can all change if we wake up tomorrow and the wind is whipping up 6 foot seas again.

Sometimes the constant drill of studying charts, pondering forecasts, weighing options, plotting courses, making contingency plans, and having to adjust on the fly can give a married couple a case of decision making fatigue. I think it was just yesterday when one of us said to the other "Why are you looking at me like I've lost my mind ?!" But I have come to believe that this is the essence of our trip. We live each day in a different environment, and in different circumstances. We have to think through the options, make the decisions, and then work together in the wind, the rain - or on a gorgeous sunny day - so that we can spend the night in a relatively safe place. Then we get up, drink our coffee, and pull out the charts again.

Journey of imagination.......from K

2009-03-01T21:26:00.004-05:00

As I have time to think – to really delve into ideas, I realize that my imagination does not go much beyond my reality. My disparate thoughts fall into memories both good and wincing, but rarely moves beyond. Even before this trip began, I could not fathom my daily routine. Friends asked what I feared and I could not come up with an answer. My fears were limited to the problems we had already faced and survived, so why fear them now? Is lack of imagination linked with a lack of intelligence? Einstein certainly seemed to think so: Imagination is more important than knowledge.

So I sit on the bow of my boat and I push my thoughts beyond my past experiences. I play the “what if” game, trying to imagine the wildest possibilities: a whale surfacing to port and rolling our boat; a mermaid teasing me with a flip of her tail; Pat suddenly jumping ship, leaving me to captain Senara. Would I panic? No, I would do what I’ve always done, the necessary jobs to survive. I would respond to the moment, to the crisis. I would rely on myself as I always have.

So how does one develop imagination? I crave creative, unexpected ideas to entertain myself, to solve problems, to make myself – and perhaps others – a little more interesting. As I journey through my 'middle' years, I try desperately, sometimes with futility, to find my childhood life of imaginary friends who accompanied me to secret forts in the palmetto bushes of Miami, but these friends have lost their voices. To spark ideas, I purposely read diverse books at the same time. "The History of God" provides surprising allusions to my articles in Sail Magazine. Interestingly, I find more blessed spirituality in the sailing articles than Karen Armstrong’s rhetoric on religions. I open myself to authors I used to avoid, fully immersing myself in their storytelling worlds.

But alas, I realize that my obsessive reading is an attempt to live some else’s imagination – not my own. Solution: write my own imagination. This is where I freeze. Yet, if I write what I know, I ignore creativity. Do I try to meld the two? Ahhh, it’s painful to change the truth. Stephen King’s advice haunts me: begin a story and go where it takes you. That advice sounds strangely familiar... sort of like taking a sail trip. But writing is so much scarier -- because the journey is on the inside.

back "home" in S. Florida! ....... from P

2009-02-27T16:52:00.010-05:00

I am recovering nicely from climatic whiplash. A two-day overnight sail trip with Karen and David (K's incredibly gracious sister and b-in-law) definitely helped me get readjusted to life in the tropics. After flying into Miami on Tuesday, the four of us sailed on Wednesday to Boca Chita island, returning to Black Point Marina yesterday. David continued to help us get reacquainted by taking us back out to the everglades today. It is near the end of the "dry season" in the glades, so the gators, turtles, snakes and birds are all concentrated around the water holes. It is impossible to describe the natural beauty of the everglades. The best part: no bugs this time of year. Wow. A few of days ago I was sitting with dad in a nursing facility where it was 35 degrees outside, and hospital smell on the inside. Today I was walking among alligators and Gumbo-Limbo trees in the 76 degree sunshine. Whiplash indeed!

Karen on the helm to Boca Chita

Gator Hole!

Snowy Egret. These were poached almost to extinction for their plumes used on ladies' hats! They look better on the bird.

Next on our agenda will be a slow sail up to Ft. Lauderdale to pick up HA (youngest daughter) and her cousin MJ who will be flying in to sail with us during spring break. Our slip rental agreement with marina here lasts another week so we will probably hang around Miami for a few more days and then mosey up to Ft. Lauderdale. Our new plan is to play with HA and MJ for a week, then K and I will set sail back down to the south Keys, then on to the Dry Tortugas. I am so glad to be back "home."

to the next adventure............from K

2009-02-22T21:48:00.002-05:00

P & I are blessed to have a group of friends that we good-naturedly call the "handhuggers." The name started because of the men's natural aversion to hug each other, but over the years, I notice that familiarity breeds affection. Our group of families have been meeting monthly for more than 16 years, sharing meals, prayer, births, illnesses, and embarrassing secrets. Each fall, we stay at cabins up at Crabtree Falls and spend hours hiking, eating, and chatting around a bonfire. We take turns preparing inspirational discussions, encouraging one another to strengthen our marriages and just dare to be better people. I don't think we set out to become life-long friends, but now we know so much about each other, we have no choice. And that's a good thing.

So, as soon as I was back in town from visiting my parents for a week, Dick and Bebe invited the group over for dinner and stories. Even after meeting such wonderful strangers in our travels this past year, I must say that being with old friends is best: the hugs when you enter the house, the familiar smell of Bebe's burritos, Renee's gourmet salad, Ken's dry humor and the four conversations going on at once. I love hearing updates on their kids, even if the news isn't always good. I marvelled at their interested questions - they read our blog more carefully than I read the newspaper. Even though Bob and Sue are in the Windy City now, we felt their presence. What great friends!

We head back to Miami on Tuesday for the last leg of our trip. I'm excited to get back to Senara, knowing that P & I have a few more adventures and lessons to learn. But, my mother has always said that the best part of going anywhere is going home. And I think come May, I'll be as excited to return home - and friends - as I was to set out on my current adventure.

grow up ............... from P

2009-02-17T09:56:00.003-05:00

In hindsight I probably sounded like a 12 year old when I said it. In the midst of all the confusion surrounding my dad's being moved from ICU to "step down" to regular hospital care and now to a nursing/rehab facility, combined with the emotions and expectations regarding which of us kids are going to sit with him and attend to his needs (and a bit of sleep deprivation added into the mix for good measure), I let it slip. I said "I am tired of all this, I just want to get back on the boat and be gone." Childish, yes. But it was a true gut reaction. I have forgiven myself for saying it, and I am now getting ready to again "buck up" and go back to the hated nursing facility for a day of needles and bed pans. I feel nauseous just walking in there. But dad needs a lot of attention right now, and I need to remember my priorities.

just rememberin' ....... from P

2009-02-12T19:19:00.012-05:00

OK, enough of this real life stuff. I am ready to re-board and get underway. As I sit here in the hospital room and prepare for another night of dozing in this hard chair, and helping with the "pee bottle" my mind drifts back to my other, temporary life aboard Senara. Was that real? Was I dreaming? I found a few pics to help me remember (and look forward again) to life in the keys.

the best laid plans of mice and men.. from P

2009-02-10T10:06:00.002-05:00

Let's play Jeopardy! The clue... "I don't know, we have to make decisions day-to-day." The correct answer... "What are your plans for the rest of the trip?"

We have abruptly interrupted our trip for a different kind of adventure. As I write this, I am sitting in the family waiting area at Sentara Hospital near home. I have been here for two days. My elderly father had a hip repair surgery performed a few days ago, and the shock to his system almost killed him. After three nights of emergency ICU care, he has now been moved into the "step down" unit and is slowly getting stronger. K is flying in today, and I am sure she will be headed to her parents' home to again help care for her dad for a while also. Senara is safely secured in a boat slip in southern Florida for a few weeks. We plan to fly back to Florida on the 24th and resume the sail, contingent on healthy parents of course. On the positive side, we get to see family, catch up with friends, catch up on mail, and take care of some (lots of) deferred maintenance around the house! I thought I would be glad to come home for a while, but I must confess - I feel like a visitor.

Another plan change (as of today anyway): We will likely not sail over to the Bahamas this trip. We love the keys, and we are just now getting familiar enough with the inlets, reef locations, marinas, provisioning stops, good happy hours, etc. so that we can now really enjoy all the natural beauty - and explore with confidence. We want/need another month there. We also want to sail out to the Marquesas and the Dry Tortugas (40 miles and 75 miles west of KW respectively). Serious adventure and primitive conditions! As an additional benefit, staying within U.S. territory allows us to communicate with home much easier, and get home more quickly if circumstances again dictate.

I have come to view our trip as a metaphor for our lives - conditions change by the hour, we have to be ready to change course quickly, always have a bail-out plan, and sometimes just hunker down. Nice surprises are all around us, and we always learn something when we push our personal limits. So our plans at this point are to adjust our sails, tack into the headers, and ride the lifts.

Pennekamp...................from K

2009-02-09T10:52:00.004-05:00

Okay, I admit it. I was nervous about sailing in the predicted 25 kt winds the following day. We took all the precautions: reefed the sails and discussed bailout options. And like most things we fear the most, it never happened. There was NO wind and we ended up motoring the 50+ miles up to Pennekamp.
Pennekamp is a park and huge underwater sanctuary on Key Largo. As a child, my family would camp there in our 8-man Sears tent. It was here that I learned the life lesson to never touch wet canvas - because it will leak. Years later, when I was pregnant with E, Pat & I took my nephew John there on New Years Day to enjoy the protected beaches. Over the years, Pennekamp has not changed much - miraculously. It is also probably the best deal in the Keys for getting a slip - only $30/night. You just have to have a shallow draft to get in and out.
As soon as we docked, we met new "old" friends. Seeing Bennetts Creek, Va on our transom, a family in their dinghy motored over and the dad enthusiastically yelled he used to live down the street from our creek. Of course, we invited the family aboard and had a lovely evening sharing P-town and sailing stories. Like several boaters we've met, this couple is home-schooling their two children aged 5 and 7 and traveling the islands. They set out from NC in December in a large catamaran and are experiencing much of the same excitement and frustrations as we have. We became such quick friends that the following evening, they let P & I entertain the kids on our boat while they went out to celebrate Sheila's b-day. P & I had a blast relearning how to play UNO and teaching them our kid's old favorite card games. We look forward to sailing with our own grandchildren one day (not too soon, girls!). We so enjoy our fellow sailors - and future sailors.

The morning after.......from K

2009-02-09T10:18:00.004-05:00

After our life-affirming night of high winds, P & I moved onto the fuel dock of the Marathon Marina - the only space available. Tying up to the dock felt like a welcoming hug from my mother - warm and safe. We had a one-manatee welcoming committee. This mammoth-sized sea cow was sucking the concrete wall on our bow. He didn't mind that we invaded his space so P rewarded him with some fresh water from our hose. Manatees love to suck fresh water. Just watching his playful lumbering lowered my blood pressure.

Our intention was to get some sleep, but P & I quickly realized that we had too much nervous energy to rest. The familiar routine of doing laundry - scrounging quarters, bleaching t-shirts, etc. - gives me a sense of control. P set out cleaning - and drying out - the boat. By late afternoon, we had changed the oil in the dinghy motor, air-dried our storm gear and found some solace in our organization.

We met an adorable family from Alaska whose boat was also tied up on the fuel dock. They had a similar experience the night before, but unlike us, they had to wait most of the night for the towboat to arrive. In fact, the towboat captain told them that he wouldn't have arrived until morning except that one of his calls (us!!) had been able to get off the shelf with the help of a fellow-sailor. Angel Don was looking out for more than just us that night! Once again, this is a great story about not knowing how many lives you touch when you do a good deed.

Our evening ended with a fabulous dinner with our good friends, Vicky & Sam, who are vacationing in Florida and the keys. It was so wonderful being with familiar friends after a night like last night - good to laugh with each other and at ourselves. P & I take credit for introducing V & S several years ago. They're both avid sailors and we thought it would be a great match - we were right. Sailing connects people in such interesting ways.

a really good samaritan .......... from P

2009-02-05T09:45:00.004-05:00

It was the first time on Senara (or any boat) where I really thought we were in danger of losing the boat. We have carefully followed the weather down here - especially over the past week. It has been a constant and uncomfortable pattern of 15 to 25 out of the north with 30 knot gusts. Each night is the same - all night. On Monday, the wind was a steady 15 to 20, with a forecast of a very strong front to pass through Monday night. So we set out of the Boca Chica inlet and set a goal of getting into Marathon harbor before the really bad stuff set in. But no-one predicted the now infamous "freak storm" (as the newspaper called it). There are precious few harbors in the keys that offer protection from all wind directions. You usually have to pick your spot based on a single wind direction, but Marathon harbor is well protected all the way around. When we arrived Monday afternoon it became apparent that every other boat in the keys knew that too. The marinas were full, the mooring ball field was full, so we motored around trying to find a spot to anchor. There were already too many boats in the space available but we finally settled on a little gap on the perimeter of the group, between two boats, about 150 feet away from a shoal shelf (I could see birds standing on it). I knew we were anchored precariously, but no choices left. To reduce our potential swing area, I deployed a second anchor off the stern but there was not enough room to really set it hard without getting too close to the shoal. At sunset it had settled down and was blowing from the southeast at around 10. It would be incorrect to say the wind shifted - it was more like a solid mass of air that bowled over the earth from the opposite direction. The strength and suddenness of this wind is indescribable. Emergency alerts were coming over the radio - apparently Marathon was the epicenter of this front (and we had worked so hard to get there!).

I am quoting from the local newspaper .... "There were 60 mile per hour winds at the Marathon airport on Monday night, and winds whipping as fast as 80 miles per hour moving over Freds Beds, near mile marker 54 in Marathon. At the Island Fish Company, a picnic table weighing 200 pounds, maybe more, flew through the restaurant, over the heads of people eating dinner, and landed safely on the other side. The storm that hit right around 8 PM on Monday was freakish and Marathon got the brunt of it." (Keynoter, Feb 4 edition).

When the wind wall hit Senara broadside, the stern anchor quickly gave way. We twirled around, and apparently wrenched the bow anchor out of the mud. Within a minute Senara was aground, pinned against the 1 foot deep shoal with steady 30 knot winds combined with the hurricane strength gusts pushing her harder and harder into the shoal. Blinding rain was hammering horizontally. By the time I could get my rain gear on and scramble up on deck, Senara was listing badly. Each big gust heeled us over against the shoal shelf so far I had some trouble going up the ladder and through the hatch as cabinets were flying open and the sound of the shoal bottom could be heard on the port side hull. K and I hollered out an agreement that if necessary we would both sit up on the starboard side rail, hang onto the lifelines, and stay on the high side of the boat - even if the high side ended up being the starboard hull. Suddenly the big gusts settled down into a steady 15-20 knot wind, long enough for me to find the phone and call the emergency number for TowBoat U.S. The dispatcher told us the towboat would come when he could, but he had to wait for the wind to settle some, and he had other calls coming in at the same time. Then I checked the tide chart. Oh no! We were at high tide, so when the tide drops, we will truly be like some of the wrecks I have seen boats sitting on shoals around south Florida. We did not have time to wait, but I couldn't think of anything to do but just hang on.

I was looking through the rain with a spotlight trying to get a good look at our situation when I heard a dinghy motor. Lo and behold! Through the torrent I saw a dinghy headed in our direction. A very calm voice with a heavy Austrailian accent hollered "Could you use some help mate?" Ummm, yes. My first thought was to thank God that someone came to help. My second thought was that he must be crazy to be out here in a dinghy. He shouted an offer to follow our anchor lines out to the anchor location, pull it up into the dinghy, and carry it out away from Senara at a ninety degree angle so that I could use it as leverage to try to pull ourselves away from the shoal (a.k.a. kedging off). My spotlight and I watched in amazement as he pulled himself toward the end of our first anchor line, stood up in his inflatable dinghy, and wrestled the muddy anchor and mud filled chain up into the dinghy all while the rain and wind was pelting and howling. I directed him away at the best angle and fed out the line. I screamed "drop it" and heard a splash. He came back around to the other side of Senara and pushed against her hull as hard as the small motor would allow, while I pulled against the kedge anchor using the electric windlass. As we were pushing and pulling, the wind settled further, K got on the helm and gunned our engine, and after several minutes we broke free! Our good semaritan again picked up our anchors, carried them out at the best angle to hold us away from the shoal, and again threw them over. Afterward he motored over to us and said "looks like you should be OK now mate." We shook hands - he said his name was Don. K and I spent the rest of the night on deck fending off other boats as we all swung around in the swirling wind. But we were safe. Only because of an incredible selfless fellow boater/angel. Thank you Don wherever you are.

hunkering down ............... from P

2009-02-01T10:44:00.004-05:00

What to do when the budget will no longer allow us to stay in the $140 per night marina in Key West, and a new series of cold fronts are blowing through with N winds at 25 to 30 knots? Well, we decided to move the boat out of the marina on Friday, up into a shallow inlet between Boca Chita and Stock Island, just 10 miles or so east of Key West. We anchored using both anchors in a Bahamian style arrangement (one anchor 90 degrees out from the other). We spent yesterday (Saturday) reading, doing e-mails, and monitoring our situation as the north wind blew steadily at 28 knots all Friday night and NE 25 knots all day Saturday. When the wind shifted toward the NE, we had to pull up one anchor (which had now become slack), start the engine, let out a lot of line for the other anchor still deployed, and use it as a fulcrum to pinwheel the boat around to a better angle toward the northeast, then re-deployed the second anchor. This maneuver resulted in us facing the wind with each anchor about 45 degrees in opposite directions off the bow. It was a big job in the 25 knot winds. But we were then nice and stable. This morning we are still hunkered down, but the winds have dropped down to 10-15, so the plan is to dinghy over to Dave and Gail's boat at Boca Chica marina and watch part of the superbowl festivities with the military retirees at the club there. Back underway tomorrow. But for today - still hunkered down.

Island time Family style.........from K

2009-01-30T14:08:00.012-05:00

We stayed in Key West longer and had more company than any other port - what a blast! E & her beau, Nick, jumped right into island time with a reef fishing trip, diving, and grooving to some great music. More blues anyone? My nephew, John and his sweet, sweet girlfriend, Sara orchestrated our dives, a quick shopping trip and a few happy hours. Sara introduced me to Kino's - a great find for island sandals. Just when we thought the party was over, my sister and her husband, Karen & David, arrived to keep the party going. One highlight was Mel Fisher's, a collection of treasures found in a sunken Spanish wreck off the Marquesas back in the 1980's - a fascinating find. I'll let the photos tell the rest although we're really bummed we didn't get photos of everyone - who's camera were we using anyway?

Does the "1" mean the first happy hour?

E was a little eager to go diving.

P with the boat's biggest catch (snapper and grouper - P did not catch either one). Nick caught a red grouper almost as big as the one in P's left hand.

full circle................. from P

2009-01-29T21:36:00.006-05:00

"He said, I ate the last mango in Paris, took the last plane out of Saigon, took the first fast boat to China, and Jimmy there's still so much to be done."

The legend of Captain Tony is alive and well in Key West. Tony Tarracino was a shrimper, gambler, charter boat captain, gunrunner, mayor of Key West for two years, hard drinker, possibly a spy, a romantic, and father of 13 children (some say by as many as 8 different women). My education about Captain Tony began when we toured Ernest Hemingway's home place. Hemingway spent many afternoons at a little bar known as Sloppy Joe's here on the then sparsely populated island. The bar's owner was the adventurous man's man around town, Captain Tony. Many people think that several of Ernie's later literary characters were modeled around, or at least inspired by Captain Tony. One day Hemingway was making his walk over to Sloppy Joe's but found all the furniture being thrown out into the street, including the kitchen fixtures, toilets, and all. Apparently Cap't Tony had a spirited disagreement with the landlord and decided on the spot to move the bar somewhere else. Ernie asked Tony if he could have the urinal laying out on the sidewalk. That urinal became a decorated fixture on the Hemingway estate, and is still currently the communal watering dish for all the cats.

Fast forward thirty years. Captain Tony's Saloon is down the street and around the corner from Sloppy Joe's (now owned by ... who cares?). One of the many kids who played guitar and sang for tips at Captain Tony's Saloon was an adventurer of sorts himself. Tony took a liking to him and became a father-like figure, inspiring him to sing about the islands and to take some chances himself. The kid sang at the Saloon for $10 and three Budweisers per night. Of course, that was Jimmy Buffett. Now while you are drinking a beer at Captain Tony's you can still get a feel for the spirits of old Key West that died with Capt Tony. Broken tile, semi-dirt floor. A "Tony Tarracino for Mayor" sign. A huge Chinese Fig tree growing right through the ceiling. No kitsch. A basic band stand, a pool table, a damp earthy smell. A feeling. I wanted to sit there all night. I came back the next day and looked around some more.

Even though it was one of my favorites, I never really understood the song "Last Mango in Paris." Now I do. There is still so much to be done. Here's to you Captain Tony.

Sunday lessons............from K

2009-01-26T09:25:00.000-05:00

While everyone headed out for a second day of diving, I took a day of Sunday solace. I packed my rasta bag and headed for St. Mary's Star of the Sea Catholic Church - a gorgeous walk from our marina through old town Key West. It was easy to find - I just followed the sound of the church bells, "Be Not Afraid." The church is a 100 year-old white stucco building with large window/doors along the sides that open up into a courtyard. Being the beginning of Catholic Schools week, the church was decorated with banners from the adjoining school. The homily focused on keeping the school opened now that the diocese was closing dozens of other schools due to budget problems. This parish is able to keep this school open by cutting back on faculty, voluntary pay cuts and VOLUNTARY tuition increases - pretty inspirational.
The priest read an essay by a 6th-grade student, who quoted St. Therese of Avila who said, "Our faith is the fruit of what has been planted in our souls" - (or something close to that -help me, Dick!). I thought about my sporadic years in Catholic schools and the lessons of service we were taught. We didn't just collect canned goods and have them sent to a food shelter. As a class, we visited the nursing homes and played games with many of the lonely elderly, learning their names and returning monthly to visit with them. We were taught that service to others is a responsibility and a way of life. I cringe when I hear others talk about their "traumatic Catholic school days." Yeah, Sister Anthony was a little scary, but she also taught me to proof EVERYTHING twice before I submitted it - a lesson that has served me well. Sister Eileen taught me that a thoughtful, handwritten note is more valuable than a gift. Yes, planting these seeds are important.
In honor of Respect Life Sunday, the Knights of Columbus led a rosary behind the church in their grotto (a lovely reproduction of the grotto in Lourdes). I love the rhythm and unity of saying the rosary with others. When the leader got to the prayer for unborn children, his booming voice faltered, he paused and drew a deep breath, then his voice broke and he cried through the rest of the prayer. I think we were all moved by his emotion. Once again, I thought back many years when I was first pregnant with my E. She was "unplanned" and "inconvenient." Several people urged me to do the "responsible" thing and have an abortion. If not for my early seeds of faith, perhaps I would have chosen to end her life. Thank God I didn't. Instead, I am spending the most glorious weekend of my life with her, celebrating her 24th birthday, exploring the miraculous underwater beauty of this earth - and having a little bit of heathen fun too. I lit a candle for E - to honor her life, and to pray that the seeds of faith planted in her continue to grow strong and bountiful. And I thanked God for sending me here to this churchyard, to remind me that my life does indeed have purpose. I may not see the full picture now, but I have a growing faith in goodness. Amen.

another world .................. from P

2009-01-24T20:06:00.000-05:00

We finally got down there. 25 feet down today. Our oldest daughter, E, and her boyfriend, Nick, flew down to key west for four days to hang out with the old folks. K's nephew from Miami and his girlfriend (John & Sara from the previous airboat blog) drove down also. John towed his powerboat down, so the six of us rented tanks and equipment to fill in the holes of what we don't already own, braved the 2-3 foot chop, and headed out on a reef diving excursion! At first it was tough going. The flat bottom boat was pitching hard against the chop as we wrestled on our BCs, weights, and tanks. With 3 to 5 mil wetsuits we were more bouyant than expected in this super salty water, so K had to scramble back onto the boat to add more weight. That is tough work when you are loaded with equipment and the boat is slapping up and down 2-3 feet at a time. Sara stayed on the boat, helped out, and kept watch. Once we were all finally "at depth" - wow! We glided through alleyways between walls of coral reef teeming with odd, colorful fish. Past big brown, orange and purple coral, under a ledge, up through a school of light blue fish. Around a bend of more coral ledges, John waved and pointed under a shelf - two big caribbean lobsters were eyeing us. John quickly reached around behind one and grabbed him! After a few minutes he let him go - panicked, the lobster shot away from John like a bullet - straight into my crotch. That was one of the many surprises today. Tomorrow we are going back out to do a deeper dive on a wrecked trawler. I can't imagine a more interesting and fun day than the one we had today, but I have said that a bunch of times already on this trip, so I will try to just stay open to whatever happens.

Day of History: Obama & Hemingway...from K

2009-01-21T14:49:00.000-05:00

P & I started the day by dingying into Paradise Cafe to watch the inauguration of Obama. We had the cafe to ourselves and basked in watching the grand proceedings on our private widescreen TV. We decided that Michelle looked quite regal in her gold apparel and Barack was cautiously optimistic in his speech. I was disappointed with Rick Warren's prayer - far too Christian, and failing to embrace the universality of our nation or our intentions. Do Jews, Hindus or Muslim pray "The Lord's Prayer"? As we ate our Cuban breakfast, the restaurant filled up and we were joined by our Va. sailing friends, Dave & Gayle. It felt very American celebrating this day in Key West - we are the visitors in this town, yet many of the "belongers" we've met are from Cuba, England and the midwest. What a unique country we are.

Our afternoon was spent at Hemingway's 1920's home: a palatial house with gorgeous tropical gardens and a huge swimming pool - which apparently cost him his second marriage. Most memorable are the 45+ six-toed cats meandering around that have no interest in the hoards of visitors. If you want to see the cats at play, the house has a live-cam outside the carriage house (Ernie's writing studio): http://www.hemingwayhome.com/ Behind the studio is a cat cemetary, the home to Marilyn Monroe, Zsa Zsa Gabor, etc.

This is 'Archibald MacLeish' taking his afternoon nap. Even our guide looked like the rakish Hemingway with his white beard, piercing eyes

and safari hat.

Here we are with Gayle & Dave, fellow sailors from VA -

Ernie's 2nd wife put in this pool (and took out his boxing ring) when she found out he was canoodling with the soon-to-be wife #3. Ernie wasn't happy...

A portrait of E's writing studio - in his writing studio

P standing next to the urinal that Hemingway took from Sloppy Joe's Bar and placed in his backyard for decoration. How convenient.

Race to Key West............. from K

2009-01-19T18:30:00.000-05:00

Like sailing into the New York harbor last fall, sailing into Key West is a euphoric high. I barely dared to talk about doing such things because they seemed beyond me. Kind of like the first time I told someone that I wanted to learn to sail and in the back of my mind, I thought, "liar, you'll never do it." And yet here I am. What makes us pursue some dreams and not others?

Sailing into Key West is -as most things for me -much better than my imagination. The breeze was stiff (15 to 20) and it was the Acura Key West Race Week. Wow!! Huge, colorful spinnakers popped as hundreds of boats circled around us on three different courses. In truth, we were careful to stay out of their way and admired the sailors' skill and the boats' grace from afar. P was impressed with the rapid, tight tacks of the racers, and I was blissfully entertained being at the helm, and in my mind, "racing" every boat out there. We came into the harbor at the end of the day with the other boats and the air was strong with exhaustion, excitement and a sense of a good-day's work. Yes, competition fueled by a pounding sun and blustering winds is a good day's work. I know, I know - I can't compare it to the worthwhile time spent teaching a classroom of kids or spending a day with an ill parent, but it's the kind of day that feeds my soul, that makes me feel excited to be alive - and refreshes my resolve to be more generous and courageous. Isn't that a necessary part of life too?

Win, place, and show!

P & I headed for the mooring field on the north end of the island of Key West. Two tries and we lassoed a mooring ball (no tethers here! it's bring your own). Pork chops on the grill, then a night of being slapped by whitecaps in a strong west wind. I love even the disappointing surprises that make the Keys (this trip?) so unashamedly simple.

The southern-most point in the U.S. !

Floating houses!

Just a cool picture of a cutter rigged ketch.

paying the price.................... from P

2009-01-14T19:49:00.000-05:00

It had to happen. We had 5 or 6 perfectly gorgeous days, 80 degrees with a 10 to 15 knot trade wind. Now we are stuck between two back-to-back fronts. The first one passed through last night, blustery and wet. I checked the anemometer around 11:00 PM - it showed 23 knots. No problem, we decided to wait until today and sail on to Key West in the afternoon. That was before we saw the updated NOAA forecast: another front coming through starting in the wee hours of the morning tomorrow. This one promises to produce sustained northerly winds of 25 knots for three or four days - with gusts to 30 - so change of plans. This time of year, you gotta pay the price of the winter northerlies in order to enjoy the tropical lulls. We are currently anchored in a well protected harbor between Big Pine Key and Little Torch Key, and we are especially well protected from the North. If we sailed on to Key West there are only a few places to anchor, none of which would give us good lee protection. So we played it safe and decided to sit tight. I put our secondary anchor in the dinghy, carried it out 80 feet away from Senara, about ninety degrees from the angle of our primary anchor rode, threw it over (remembered to tie the other end to Senara first) and pulled it in tight. So now with two anchors set we are ready for the anticipated four day siege, so long as our groceries and fresh water hold up. Our boat club friends (Dave and Gail) are in a marina near Key West. I just learned that they caught a flight home and drove their car back down here! Nice to have friends with wheels! So tomorrow we will see Key West after all - just that we will arrive in the back seat of Dave and Gail's car rather than Senara's cockpit. Actually it will be nice to get a guided preview.

Ever had a $75 lunch for two? Chalk it up to another "first" for me. The great part is that it was almost worth it. On the way around the point of Big Pine Key lies the super exclusive Little Palm Island Resort. We just guided Senara up to the dock like we belonged there. We were met by an older gentleman dressed up like Captain Stubing on the Love Boat who told us we had to have reservations or be a guest, just to have lunch. Before we headed off, a very nice hostess walked down the dock and first asked if I had a shirt with a collar on board. Once I assured her I would change clothes, she said we could have lunch there if we would behave. We had an absolutely fabulous lunch in an incredibly luxurious tropical atmosphere while watching a photo shoot of professional models on the beach below us. I guess you gotta pay the price.

Shooting the shoot.

Zen Garden

"Cabana boy! Move my knight"

The Blue Book.........from K

2009-01-12T08:23:00.001-05:00

All I asked was, "Where should we go in Key West?" And out came the Blue Book, the coupons and a pen. Kenlyn consulted her Blue book and made a list of the best Happy Hours, the times (some begin at noon), the dinner specials and the addresses. Her Blue Book was her private directory of everything important to her - including her home's wallpapper swatches. I was mesmerized as she giggled her way through a tour of Key West for us, complete with celebrity sightings.

P & I were at Dockside Bar (aka: Sonbrerro Marina Office on Marathon Key) when we lucked upon Kenlyn and Louie. They spend 4 months a year on Big Pine Key escaping the Wisconsin winters. And they are FUN!!! Kenlyn & I spent the evening laughing at the "blind" bartender and sharing life stories as if they were comedy routines. P & Louie talked sailing, fishing and the Keys - a perfect match. We must have told them we were heading down to Bahia Honda Key to anchor out, because two days later when we sailed into the harbor - there they were!! An instant party. They graciously invited us over to the "campground" - a gorgeous resort filled with interesting retired art teachers, geologists, and quirky people who don't mind living unconventionally. We played with the friendly Key deer and then headed to NO NAME PUB - A NICE PLACE IF YOU CAN FIND IT. What a blast. It's a little island restaurant known for its pizza - and everyone who has ever been there tapes a dollar to the wall, ceiling, bar, etc. It looks like a million dollars! The guy sitting next to me said the latest estimate is actually at about $300, 000. Who can count that high? We made our contribution and spent another evening laughing at nothing and everything. P & I even got added to Kenlyn's Blue Book.

By the time they took us back to our island, the park rangers had locked the gate. Who knew? No problem - we went back to their island, jumped on Louie's boat and he took us back to our boat. It was a full perigee moon and we only ran aground once. Again, no problem - Louis and P jumped overboard, gave the boat a few pushes and off we went. I could live like this - no problem.

Welcome to Bahia Honda Key!

Now that's what I call a happy hour.

Bahia Honda Beach

Key Deer - small, docile, cute, and you are not supposed to feed them.

P & Louie. These must be the beer goggles I have heard so much about!

Adding ours to the collection at No Name Pub

the cavalry ........................ from P

2009-01-09T22:00:00.000-05:00

We carefully picked our way along the channel markers into Marathon Key harbor knowing the water was thin here. I watched my sounder move from 8 feet to 6 feet to 5.5 feet. It is freaky when you can clearly see the bottom, and it looks impossibly close. But we had a slip reservation in a fun marina at the very end of the harbor, walking distance from town. Plus there were hundreds of other boats, most bigger than us, in here. So we ghosted ahead. We split the red and green numbers 18 & 19. I looked ahead and found 20 & 21, but along the way there was a row of four floating red diamonds (shoal markers). To the right of the shoal markers was a mangrove marsh about 60 or 70 feet away from the markers. To the left was a huge mooring ball field with boats tethered to them, again with about 60 or 70 feet in between. 50-50 chance. I chose to take the side where I saw boats floating on their mooring balls. Wrong call. We (once again) experienced that sick instant where you feel the boat's keel plowing into a mud bank. I reversed the engine, gunned it, made a lot of noise, stirred up a lot of white mud, and did not budge. I double checked the tide chart - yes we would gain another 6 inches of water over the next two hours - so I just need to relax and wait. Lo and behold! A small squadron of three inflatable dinghies came zooming toward us from somewhere in the fleet of moored sailboats. The first dinghy to reach us wasted no time with formalities, he just asked a few pertinent questions; "What type of keel do you have? How much do you draw? How deep is your rudder?" Soon, the lead dinghy had my main halyard tied to his stern and was pulling Senara over from the top of her mast, toward the port side, to create an angle in order to lessen the depth needed to clear the keel. The other two dinghies had snugged up to our starboard side near the bow and were pushing like two little tugboats. On the third attempt we were off the mud bar and back over to the correct side of the shoal markers. I never learned their names. As I was hollering "thank you" a hundred times, one of the guys said I was the second boat today, and the fourth boat in a week to get stuck there. They said to just consider myself a member of the club. This was yet another experience of other sailors' willingness to help someone in a jam. My debt grows larger. Just a few guys with dinghies, hanging out on their sailboats, drinking beer, and willing to help. To me they were the cavalry who came to save the day.

Islamorada..................from K

2009-01-07T18:20:00.000-05:00

It's been 6 days since I've been on dry ground. I must say that I was eager to dinghy into Islamorada this morning. I wanted to see other people, to use a regular bathroom and buy shampoo. But once on land - and after a great lunch of conch soup and a fresh fish sandwich, I kept looking back at the water. The 'restaurant' where we ate is more like a big tiki bar on the beach with chairs and tables that look over the boat harbor. We could see Senara swaying in the sun. And I just can't get over how perfect it all is: the hot white sun is cooled just enough by the gentle breezes that come in off the water - on both sides of the island. I never dreamed that I would have such a perfectly gorgeous day, let alone a whole week of breathtaking sunsets, colorfully funny fish and delicious breezes. So after a day of visiting shops - of course a book store - and meandering through a private resort, I am happy to return to my own little island of a boat. She has everything I need right now.

Florida Bay

Lorelei's at Islamorada

I did finally see a manatee. It was in Miami when P & I were provisioning the boat. A fisherman said a manatee had just passed under the bridge, so I ran to the other side and I almost missed seeing it because I was looking for an animal the size of a dog - this one was more like a rhinocerous. He looked like a great big 3000-pound baked potato. He was moving only about 2-3 mph but I understand they can go as fast as 15 mph. I wouldn't want to have one chasing me. He seemed pretty docile though - just big! Also, P learned that the "Barracuda looking fish" he described in his blog below was indeed a Barracuda! I am Glad I didn't know that when he was staring at me.

the reef..................... from P

2009-01-05T19:55:00.000-05:00

Everything is a different color than "normal." Of course, the first thing you notice is the water: interlocking streaks of aqua blue, cobalt blue, and a very light swimming-pool color. The bottom around the coral is white sand with patches of brown grass. Even the sun looks different - very white.

It was a big decision to navigate through Angelfish Cut and come outside the chain of keys (key chain?) into the Hawk Channel. Hawk Channel is about two to five miles wide and ten to twenty feet deep, running between the keys and the reefs on the ocean side. There are only two other places along the keys to transit between the bay side and the ocean side, so it is a commitment. But it was a good decision. At the North Dry Rocks we tied Senara to one of the mooring balls that have been graciously provided for snorkelers' use by the park service. Even though it extends 6 miles or so off shore, the entire reef is part of John Pennekamp State Park. It was a little nerve-racking to steer Senara up into a reef with waves breaking on the coral not more than 50 yards away, but the moorings are well placed so we tied on and jumped in. Actually, while we were pulling on our wet suits, I noticed the boat was moving - sure enough the mooring ball tether had somehow worked its way off the bow cleat and we were free drifting (thankfully toward the channel, not toward the reef). I thought to myself: self, what would you have done if we were both snorkeling and looked up to find Senara gone? Self could not come up with a good answer. So the second time we caught the mooring ball tether, I cleated it tightly on one bow cleat, then took another line and lashed the teather across to a second cleat. Even while snorkeling I peeked up a few times just to make sure she (the boat) was still there.

Once we settled in the water and cleared our masks, we found that colorful, silent other world. All the colors came toward us. First, a school of small yellow fish hanging around a patch of purple fan coral. Then a big colorful clown fish and a large white flat fish with a purple streak down his back. Then white sandy bottom, and a huge (3 or 4 feet long) silver barracuda looking fish, which I can never remember the name of. That's when K squeezed my hand hard. Later we were back on board sunning ourselves and our gear, wondering if we had just been dreaming again.

K getting ready to go

Mooring balls at the reef

Blur of realities.............from K

2009-01-03T15:38:00.000-05:00

Yes, I'm back on board, but my thoughts are still with my Dad back in the hospital and my mother having to make impossible decisions. I spent almost 3 weeks with them - in and out of the hospital, up and down at all hours of the night, so it is a bit of a struggle to fully appreciate the penetrating heat of the Florida sun and the gorgeous, clear water bluer than pool water -- just yet.
My Dad developed a dangerous infection in his chest cavity following the surgery, which blurred his view of what was real and imaginary. Interestingly, he always recognized all of his family members - even his newest granddaughter-in-law, and he would ask us appropriate questions like, "how are the girls?" and "where is your next port-of-call?" Most of his other meanderings were not so lucid. We heard endless details about a cruise he was planning for the entire family from New York's Lake Chautauqua (his childhood playground) to the Everglades. Yes, the entire family was going to caravan in pontoon boats down the coast and the CIA was guarding our mission. His details and itinerary were so convincing that sometimes we almost forgot it wasn't real. Likewise, one night in the hospital, while I held his hands to remind him not to pull out his chest or nose tube, he insisted he had to get out of bed to get me something. I told him we could get it later, but that wouldn't satisfy him. Finally I told him to tell me what it was and I would get it for him. He said it was a chart of the Tortugas. He was insistent that I sail there, and it was very important that I go to Jefferson, "a very old place with forts and embattlements." I guessed he was getting confused with our earlier talk about our visit to St. Augustine, and told him so. He insisted that I should sail to Jefferson and told me so several times. Finally, I agreed I would try, knowing full well that there was no Jefferson and sadly added this adventure to his other stories of delirium.
A few days later, I flew to Miami on New Year's Eve and met P at my sister's house for a needed reunion. P was eager to review the charts for our trip through the Keys and I half-heartedly perused the chart as he suggested a tentative itinerary. The Keys are a convoluted morass of funnily-named islands, sounds and harbors. And there, 70 nautical miles west of Key West, near the Dry Tortugas, is a little island, home to Fort Jefferson, a historic point of defense and Civil War prison. My spine tingled. Although I berated myself for not having believed my father, I feel much better knowing that I'll keep my promise to Dad. Fort Jefferson is scheduled for February - maybe we should make it a family excursion.

back underway .................. from P

2009-01-02T19:08:00.000-05:00

I have both of them back. My wife and my transmission. The transmission was still under warranty, and K is finally back on board - yeah! We set out from the marina this morning under sunny skies and 76 degrees, sailed for a few hours and anchored behind Pumpkin Key. Getting back into the groove - boiled some shrimp and watched naked people on another boat diving into the water. We did not use the motor much at all today, but the transmission feels smooth and everything is working great. Thank you Karen, David, John and Mike for making our extended visit so comfortable and fun. Now we have our compass set at 180 again and we can't wait to see what happens next!

Christmas Safari............... from P

2008-12-29T19:58:00.000-05:00

Where do I start? Just to keep track, I need to just list a few events in order:

HA and I arrived Christmas Eve after an exciting stormy sail at Black Point Marina near Homestead FL to spend Christmas with David and Karen (K's south FL sister). David picked us up and got us "home" in time to change clothes and enjoy a warm family style Christmas eve dinner with his family. That was followed by a fun Christmas morning opening gifts and constantly eating. I told David about a transmission problem I had been lately monitoring aboard Senara, so he spent Christmas afternoon down in the engine hole helping me diagnose it. Friday I called a mechanic who actually drove up from Key Largo that afternoon. He determined the transmission was "effed up" so he removed it and took it back to the shop with him. While I was working on this issue, HA left with David to go airboat riding in the everglades! Check out the pictures below. Saturday morning, HA boarded a plane in Miami and flew home. Since I was jealous of her airboat outing, David was nice enough to take me out Saturday afternoon. David's son (my nephew-in-law) John and his girlfriend, Sara joined us on John's superfast racing airboat too. I learned that Senara's transmission would not be fixed in time for us to depart on Sunday as scheduled, so I called K and suggested that she could extend (again) her stay in VA to continue helping with her dad's health issues. She rescheduled the flight down for Wednesday (new year's eve). Sunday, David invited me to join him out to his hunting camp with his brother and friends for a couple of days. So I rode with him on the "buggy" out to camp, 13.5 miles off the road in the middle of the Big Cypress Preserve. The information at the game check station says the Big Cypress is 729,000 acres of nothing but nature. Amen. I actually tapped a 6 foot alligator on the nose with my hand and fed him a hunk of venison. I have been on one of my nature highs all day. Then this evening we learned that K's dad has taken a turn for the worse. So here I sit with a wide mixture of tired excitement and exhilaration, combined with frustration and concern. It has been an incredible, adventurous Christmas thanks to Karen and David. K and I were married down here, and I very much feel like a true part of their South Florida family. But it is also the first Christmas that K and I have not been together in 25 years, and I am afraid that this Christmas marks the beginning of a difficult stretch for her dad - and the whole family. The yin and the yang. A lot has happened in the last five days. It really has been a safari, literally and figuratively. I will remember everything about the everglades. I will remember being with family during the fun of Christmas, and during the difficulty of bad news. I will remember David being incredibly generous with his time. And I will remember missing K.

HA and David airboating in the glades! Yes she drove it too.

Ever since I saw the show "Gentle Ben" as a child in the 1960s, I have wanted to drive an airboat in the everglades. Now I can mark it off my list. Wow!

Now that's what I call a four-wheeler! David built this swamp buggy himself using a frame and motor from a Toyota 4WD pickup.

This is gator country. And yes, this is me hand feeding a big gator. You have to tap him on the nose with your hand, then he opens his jaws and you toss the venison in. My heart is still pounding.

I guess he is full. He is headed out across the front of the camp.

Boca Chita Boca Chita Boca Chita..from P & HA

2008-12-25T19:38:00.000-05:00

The name of this place is just fun to chant. If you do it the right way, you want to start singing the 1974 remake hit "I can't stop this feeling (ooga shaka, ooga shaka)." Anyway, Boca Chita is an enchanting little island in the northern keys, straight across the Biscayne Bay from Homestead, FL. The cruising guide mentioned that this was a good spot to get out of an easterly wind, and we badly needed to do that - it had been blowing 20 to 25 out of the E-NE for three straight days. We had an exciting, wet sail from Key Biscayne, splashing along at 6 knots under a reefed Genoa only. We touched bottom in the shallow water just before getting to the island and I initially had a sinking feeling we were going to spend a sleepless night aground in a near gale just 100 yards from our safe haven. Fortunately we were able to back off the white mud and re-route. We almost cheered when we came around an old lighthouse and into a deep little protected harbor area with wooden bulkheads to tie to. HA immediately started exploring the island, I chatted with a few other boaters who found refuge there, and I started noticing a few incongruous details. The lighthouse was short. There were a couple of abandoned buildings built from the same coral rock as the lighthouse, and a foundation with no building. But there was also a public restroom, informational signs, a group of teens trying to tent-camp in the wind, and a walking trail; not to mention the well done bulkheads with perfectly spaced cleats surrounding the boat basin. Turns out, this island used to be privately owned by Mark Honeywell who developed it into his own little retreat in the 1950s. Before final completion, his wife "died tragically" on the island, so he abandoned it. The lighthouse was just decoration and the buildings were for various personal uses. Many hurricanes later, the Florida Park Service took over. We had a restful (and still) night's sleep in this surprise port of refuge.

The next morning, looking out of the Boca Chita basin toward Biscayne Bay.

HA and two palms that decided to grow vertical again after hurricane Andrew.

There are a few more comments that I (HA) would like to make about Boca Chita. firstly and most importantly, mom and dad desperately need a new cuising guide. I guess that comment isn't really about Boca Chita on the surface, but it does relate, sort of. Normally my mom navigates and does a little research on the next destination while dad sails. To do this she uses different cruising guides for different parts of the coast. The southern coast criusing guide got soaked on thier second week of the trip. Now this is a 300 page spiral ringed book. It wasn't a little wet around the edges, but every page had absorbed as much water as possible. I wasn't there to see the water-logged version of the book, but I got the pleasure of ripping apart pages that were dried together only to find the page I needed quite unreadable. When the book was first destroyed due to broken water tank vent, dad was ready to go buy another book. A readable version. But no, mom said no, it was unneccessary, she would be the main one to use it anyway. MOM, YOU NEED A NEW BOOK. This little tidbit of life aboard should also explain why we were so surprised by what we found on both Key Biscayne and Boca Chita Key. My second comment is that coral rock is really cool. I want to build a house out of coral rock. My third comment is about the chanting. Right after we tied up, we started fixing lunch. I have a very clear image of my father standing at the sing washing his hands, when he started bouncing up and down chanting "Boca Chita Boca Chita". I then have a very clear memory of opening my mouth and proceeding to make fun of him. Now two days later, I find myself walking around my aunt's house chanting it to myself. I'm just saying, give it a chance, it's addicting.

My mask is leaking! We tried snorkeling for a while in the lee of the island.

Come explore the enchanted island with a history......

surprising Key Biscayne...... from HA

2008-12-24T08:37:00.000-05:00

On Monday, we did Key Biscayne. We were sailing from Miami, not really sure where we were going, and dad saw a little inlet that that looked like it would protect us from the prevailing wind. When we motored into (what we later learned was called) No Name Harbor, we saw signs declaring it as part of Bill Baggs State park (Lord of the Rings anyone??) and there were too many boats moored there already for us to fit. After mooring right outside of the "harbor", we decided to dinghy in. Now one thing that mom and dad never talk about on this blog is how diffucult it is to do things on the boat. Becuase of the lack of abundant storage everything has a particular place, sometimes underneath of another items particular place. So an hour and a half after deciding to go to shore, we finally dinghied away from the boat. The first highlight of my day was that we found bathrooms!!! yay!!! Then we started wandering around the key and came to a sign pointing us in the direction of Lighthouse Beach. We had no idea how far it was but thought we would go down the path a bit and see if we found anything. We were getting ready to turn around when, AVAST!, a lighthouse was spotted in the distance. We had no idea that there was actually a lighthouse. We should really do a little more research before we show up on an island. There were park rangers manning it and a rebuilt light keepers house. There was a lot of important history there that I didn't know I needed to know. Since we didn't even know that there was anything on the key, we didn't have the camera, so here is a pirated picture.

a note from REAL life.........from K

2008-12-23T19:19:00.001-05:00

As much fun as Miami sounds, I do have to share some exciting news from the home front. My Dad has received a clean bill of health for the cancer - no chemo necessary! We're thrilled. We still have about another week of the stomach tube feedings, but he is starting back on soft/solid foods and life is good!! I'm so glad to be able to spend this time with my parents over the holidays. We've had some wild nights (no street dancing, P -- but plenty of wild stories and imaginative journeys).

Dad's dial-up service can't access my emails so I've missed corresponding with everyone - but please know that I'm thinking of my wonderful friends and wishing y'all the most blessed of Christmases - I sure got my gift!

Miami! ................... from P

2008-12-23T07:59:00.000-05:00

The first nice surprise was that Dave and Gail from our boat club at home happened to be coming into Miami at the same time as me. I knew they were coming down the ICW but they started almost a month after us. I told Dave which marina I was going into, so he arranged for the same one. The next nice surprise was that the waterfront area adjacent to the city marina is a lively place to say the least. An open-air mall with two levels of high-end shops, souvineer shops, Cuban restaurants, tour boat landings, helicopter rides, a sound stage, and a Cuban guy hand rolling cigars for sale right there. The best "surprise" was my daughter, H, joining me onboard for a few days through Christmas. After dinner at one of the authentic Cuban restaurants, the four of us were entertained by the salespeople who demonstrated their toys and barked at the loud throng of people strolling by. Then came the real entertainment. A high energy Cuban band started up at the soundstage, and scores of people just started dancing. They were into it. They were dancing with super-fast feet, lots of jiggling and gyrating. Judging from the older man dancing with the balloons on his head, and the other guy who started taking off his shirts (yes shirts), we figured the object of the dance was to draw as much attention to oneself as possible. It was hopeless to try to understand the singer, or anyone around us; if you don't speak Spanish well, then you just watch. All of this was after a full day of walking around Miami and spending a few hours at the art museum, which exhibited a strange mixture of avant-gard stuff. We saw a stack of old Fed Ex boxes, a pile of wrapped candy, a room full of TV sets - each showing dark footage of life in the old iron curtain Russia, and a video of women smoking cigarettes. I didn't get it. Walking the streets, I felt like I was visiting a different country - but it was great entertainment. One woman tried to sell me some alligator shoes. Actually, they were pretty cool. But I will stick with my boat shoes.

Wilson's cousin .......... from P

2008-12-20T19:17:00.000-05:00

I had been alone on the boat for a good while. Until this past Friday. Now I have Harry on board to talk to. I rescued him from the water while motoring around the Pompano Beach area in the dinghy. Harry is a very good listener. He agreed that we should jump outside at Ft. Lauderdale and sail in the ocean, along the beach to Miami yesterday. No need to risk trying to get under a 56 foot bridge south of Ft. Lauderdale on the ICW with a 55 foot mast. I would rather not scrape off the anemometer and the VHF antenna up there. Besides, the ocean was calm yesterday, and the forecast calls for 4 to 6 foot seas here on Monday and Tuesday. So Harry agreed yesterday was the day to go. We are now anchored with what must be 100 other boats in Miami harbor just across the causeway from the cruise ships where last night we saw the best lighted boat parade I have ever seen! One of the boats had a latin disco theme complete with dance floor lights and dry ice effects. They were more like parade floats than lighted boats.

I am very excited to have my daughter #2 (H) join me today! She is on Christmas break and caught a ride with K's sister (Kathy) for the 14 hour drive down from K's parents' home. K remained behind to help her dad during his recovery for a while longer. This morning, Kathy has to get back in the car and bring H down from Orlando to catch up with Harry and me. I am very much looking forward to sailing south to Homestead with H! I am also looking forward to having a two-way conversation.

Harry at the helm.

Catching rays in Miami.

baby it's cold (not) outside...... from P

2008-12-19T19:21:00.000-05:00

Did I hear that it is cold somewhere? Here in the Palm Beach area it was 78 today, with a hot sun that demanded a layer of sunblock. The combination of warm sun, clear cobalt water, pink resort hotels, palm trees, and an easterly tropical breeze can be very intoxicating. I now understand why the snowbird sailors do this every year. Hmmmmm.

Hard to believe it is almost Christmas. Feels like June! This is a "self portrait" - I was playing with the camera timer. K may not be able to re-join me until the weekend after Christmas.

sailing solo into the tropics........... from P

2008-12-18T09:55:00.000-05:00

It has been five days. Using her sister's car, K dropped me off at the marina in Cocoa. She and her sister (one of the other Ks) drove back to Virginia to help nurse their father back from his recent cancer surgery. So five days ago I set out on my own to keep Senara moving south - so far so good! Every day I have found myself saying "I wish K was here to see this!" As she predicted, I have seen several manatees. I tried to coax one over to the boat using orange peels but he didn't seem interested. I am now seeing the gorgeous aqua-marine colored clear water. Yesterday I couldn't help myself - after dropping anchor I donned my snorkel and fins and jumped in. The water temp is in the mid 70s here and the air temp is around 80 in the afternoon - so it is comfortable to get in. It is cool to be able to snorkel over your anchor and see exactly how it is set on the bottom 10 or 12 feet down.

I am now in the Palm Beach area. Coming through Jupiter was entertaining - the homes and the boats sitting behind them make your jaw drop. I had gotten used to seeing nice waterfront homes, but these were special.

Flying solo presents a few challenges. When anchoring, I have to pick my spot carefully, usually around other anchored boats, idle near the drop spot, reverse the engine to give me a little backward momentum, drop into neutral, run up to the bow, unlock the anchor, free the chain, make the drop, run back to the helm and reverse slowly to set the anchor. Picking up the anchor is usually not a problem unless the wind and current are pushing the boat hard. When that happens the boat starts heading for other boats, or the shore, as soon as the anchor is free from the bottom. Of course, I am still standing on the bow pressing the windlass button, spraying the chain, and trying to get the anchor locked in while the boat is headed toward trouble. Other challenges usually involve trying to read the chart, or get lunch out of the fridge down below, but the auto pilot helps a lot here.

In Vero Beach I went into a mooring ball field, called the marina, and they assigned me mooring ball 11. No problem. Except when I got there, there were already two boats on the mooring ball. Looking around, I saw that every mooring ball had two or three boats rafted and tied to one ball. So I eased along side the boat I was apparently supposed to raft with and hollered for the skipper. It looked like he had gone ashore for awhile. Hmmmm. How was I going to pull up alongside this other boat in an adverse current, and throw a bow line and spring line over, then jump off my boat and tie me up to him? I tried to envision steps to make that work, but it was not going to happen. Especially when a soft touch at the helm would constantly be required to ease up to his boat. I looked behind me and saw a couple in a dinghy coming in my general direction. Thinking these may be the occupants of the boat I hollered to them. After some shouted conversation I ascertained that they were on their way to the restaurant, and they ascertained that I was in a bind. In a flash, the woman drove the dinghy up alongside Senara and the man (Toby, he shouted) climbed over the liflelines and aboard! He helped with the bowlines as I pulled Senara alongside the raft-up boat. As it turns out, the occupant of the raft-up boat (Doug) was there and he came out from below and gave me a hand. I should have hollered or knocked on his boat instead of assuming he was gone, but I still couldn't have handled the bow without the unselfish assistance of Toby - thanks wherever you are! I hope I can help some others as much as I have been helped on this trip. Most sailors are incredibly helpful (empathetic?).

Note: I set a new record yesterday - 6 bridges had to open for me. I am in a stretch of the ICW where there is a bridge every 3 miles or so.

Merry Christmas from Christmas!

2008-12-18T09:48:00.000-05:00

Before leaving our good friends and family in Orlando, we stopped by the town of Christmas, Florida just so we could mail a few Christmas cards with a Christmas postmark. I just like typing the word "Christmas." So, MERRY CHRISTMAS!

playing bridge................from P

2008-12-15T22:18:00.000-05:00

It usually goes something like this.... "Ft. Pierce North Bridge, Ft. Pierce North Bridge, sailing vessel Senara, over." "This is Ft. Pierce North Bridge, go ahead." "Ft Pierce North, I am a southbound sailing vessel coming into your view - requesting a bridge opening, over." "No problem captain, bring her up close and I will commence an opening." And voila, the bridge horn sounds, the barriers start dropping, the lights start flashing and the cars start stopping. If it is a bascule bridge, the roadway seems to split in half as each side angles up, pointing skyward. My job is to open the throttle and get through quick, with the mast splitting the middle - where I can see sky instead of bridge. I have learned that the correct etiquette is to get back on the radio as soon as we are clear of the bridge and say something like "Ft. Pierce North, Senara is clear, have a Merry Christmas!" Sure enough the bridge tender will chirp back with "Merry Christmas to you - y'all have a safe trip, over." I look back and see cars stacked up across the bridge and wonder how many people are sitting there cursing their luck for hitting the bridge just when it is opening. Then I remember how many time I sat in my car and thought the same thing. A different perspective changes everything.

I have come to enjoy the bridge openings. A surprising number of these bridges will simply open upon request. Today there were two other sailboats within sight behind me. I requested a bridge opening, and I said "I can wait for the following boats if needed, over." But the tender said he would open the bridge for me, and the next one, and the next one. So I went through and watched behind me as he closed the bridge, then opened and closed it twice more within an hour. I think he was just having fun. Sometimes we do have to wait a while, as some bridges will only open on the hour. That's when a gang of boats get bunched up, all of us waiting together like horses ready to break out of the gate. It really gets interesting when the current is ripping through the channel under the bridge as it often does. Sailboats are notorious for poor handling in reverse. If there is a 2 or 3 knot following current and six sailboats are trying to keep from crashing their masts into the bridge by reversing their engines, it can look like a weird ballet of slow motion bumper cars trying to avoid each other while staying in the channel. I know for a fact the bridge tenders are entertained by this. I actually heard one of them hooting at us over the radio.

Some days we will have no bridge openings, but most days at least one. I think our record is four bridge openings in one day. I figure we must have been through no less than 30 bridge openings so far since we started the southbound leg of this trip. Each bridge tender has a distinct personality and they are all characters. I guess you get that way after years of talking to faceless skippers on the radio and pushing the "open" and "close" button all day. I always try to envision the person behind the voice on the radio (channel 9 in Florida). We have had the good ol' boys - I picture them up in the bridge tower wearing a cowboy hat and drinking Pabst - they will say "Sure 'nuff, come on up here and we'll see if we can't get you through" or something like that. We have had the girl that sounds like she might be 15 years old - "Ummmm, OK, um, OK, I will open in 10 minutes, no, maybe 15 minutes, OK?" We had one snarky bridge tender that sounded like she was shouting at the radio from 10 feet away, then got upset at every boat that asked her to please repeat her instructions. But my favorite was a very nice, and sometimes emotional, older gentleman. We anchored near the bridge, and we left the VHF radio on, so we could hear him coaching every boat through the procedure. He would say things like "bring her on captain, bring her on" or "come to starboard some more, bring her on." To one of the boats he said, "I am almost 70 years old and I am retiring at the end of the year, and I just want to say that you sailboaters are about the nicest bunch of people I have ever had the pleasure to come in contact with" as he started to choke up. Several of us got on the radio and thanked him for opening the bridge when we needed it and wished him merry Christmas and good luck in the future. If only the people sitting up there in their cars could hear.

Worst nightmare. A friend of a friend had their boat dismasted in North Carolina because the bridge tender closed the bridge on them while they were coming through. I can't imagine. Thanks John for the picture and the reminder to be alert around the bridges.

life aboard................from P

2008-12-12T22:43:00.000-05:00

Living aboard a sailboat has been described as long stretches of boredom punctuated by moments of sheer terror. My personal experience would require a transposition of that description. I would posit the following: A string of differing experiences ranging from crawling down into the engine area to look for a worrisome "smell" to sublime hours of just watching the water, the dolphin, the flora, the sun, the houses, combined with necessities of survival including what are we going to eat today and where are we going to sleep tonight, plus the high exhiliration and hard physical work involved in being moved quickly across the water by the wind and current, topped off with the excitement of what might happen in the next hour or next day. Whew!

This life really is about living in the moment. You really don't have much choice. It is both humbling and gratifying to plan your life around the forces of nature. And then change the plans. Sometimes we are sailing in a perfect breeze on a sunny day, and hours later we are getting beat up by high seas and driving rain. Decisions are made a moment at a time. If we have been living "on the hook" for 4 or 5 days we are ecstatic to get into a nice marina in an inviting town. After we have been in a marina for a couple of days, it feels to me like a huge relief to pull the lines aboard and get underway again. Like being freed from a cage. Maybe in 4 or 5 more days we will be ready to tie up to a marina somewhere again. Some towns are a "must see" such as Charleston and St. Augustine, and we have been pleasantly surprised by the lesser known places such as Belhaven, NC and right here in Eau Gallie, FL. When we do "go in" we very much enjoy walking the towns, having breakfast or lunch at a local joint, haunting one or two of the pubs, being tourists, sightseeing, and of course walking the marina to look at boats and talk to sailors.

When we are underway the conditions dictate the activities. If it is rough weather we are both focused on the visicitudes of the passage. Where is the next mark? The next bridge? The next inlet or safe anchorage? How do the engine gages look? Are we both dry? Does everything feel OK? Sound OK? If it is smooth and nice we can go on for 8 or 10 hours taking turns at the helm. I like to stay on the helm for 5 or 6 hours at a time. I am not sure what I do exactly, but I seem to stay totally entertained watching the water, checking the chart, watching the GPS, walking forward to look at the rigging and sails, listening to the VHF radio, and other really important stuff. K will take the helm for 2 or 3 hours or otherwise read, check the chart and guide book regularly to keep us straight, do crosswords, or just chat with me in the cockpit.

When we are at anchor in the evenings, dinner is a major event - always hot - usually grilled out or sometimes stir fried. Then we usually pull out the charts and cruising guide to plan the next day, listen to the weather reports, read, chat, or sometimes we can pick up a good digital signal and watch TV on the laptop. If it is nice outside we can often be found up on the bow looking around at the stars and lights. If we get weathered-in for a day or so, out come the cards or scrabble or triominos. After a full day of sailing sleep comes very easily unless we are at anchor and the wind picks up in the middle of the night (as it often does). This usually means a bouncy boat, slapping waves, banging halyards, and a misbehaved dinghy. Not much sleep when that happens. I have to crawl out of bed a few times to secure some noise maker, and check for anchor drag. Believe it or not, I enjoy all of this. It sounds strange, but I never feel that I am wasting time. It's not easy, in fact it is physically and mentally demanding. It's not all fun, sometimes things get very tense. But it is working for us. In fact, K and I have recently been wondering aloud.... how will we be able to adjust to the "normal" life again?

Games in the bunk on a cold day. You go first.

Being tourists ashore.

It can be tricky grilling over the gunwale. But I think I have only lost one chicken breast so far.

The Woodfin Suites...........from K

2008-12-11T16:14:00.000-05:00

Every family needs a Kathy - you know the wonderful person who communicates with everyone and remembers to call on your birthday. To top it off, Kathy lives centrally, so her house is a favorite and frequent stopover as our extended family travels about. I try to squeeze in a yearly visit around scoring AP exams each June. She & her husband, Woody, always make me feel at home by having big toys floating in the pool and a new pet - usually a guinea pig or another horse - to meet. So once again, P & I are treating ourselves to another rendez-vous at the hacienda, complete with a belated Thanksgiving turkey and tree-trimming festivities. We're blessed to have family who are also great friends!

It is so interesting how familiar some of the ornaments are!!

Manatee Zone......................from K

2008-12-06T08:12:00.000-05:00

I'm beginning to think that the "Manatee Zone - NO WAKE" signs are just a ruse to make boats go slow. We've been seeing these signs for four days, and no sightings of a manatee yet! The dolphin are still plentiful, although we've noticed their tail fins are much smaller than the ones farther north - a different family? We've adjusted to the slower pace - more leisurely breakfasts, longer books, and afternoon naps!
We've been staying on the hook since St. Augustine, which I surprisingly love. There's no stress of making arrangements with marinas and tying dock lines and remembering bathroom codes. P just tosses the anchor and we pray it holds. The evenings are warm so we watch the sunset (around 6 pm!) from our cockpit while playing cards or dominos. We're not seeing familiar boats, which means that they are either way ahead of us, or we have somehow sailed ahead. If that's the case, we'll give them a week to catch up while we hang in Cocoa Beach. We're going to spend some time with my sister, Kathy here. Actually, P may continue this leg of the trip solo as my sister & I drive back to Va. for a quick visit. My Dad's surgery went well, but we're eager to spend some time with him and Mom when he gets home from the hospital. Any available (temporary!) first mates for P?

That's what I call "hard aground."

Around here the water is wide but not very deep. The buildings in the background are part of Kennedy Space Center at Cape Canaveral.

We love and appreciate the extra hour of sunlight

we have gained. We noticed a few extra minutes

per week as we moved south.

shorts! ........................from P

2008-12-05T10:21:00.000-05:00

Finally! We crossed some magical line on the way to Titusville. What is that? Perspiration? Am I hot? I think I am hot! The sun is boring down like summertime! I hit the auto-pilot and ran down below to dig out my shorts and t-shirt. It took a while to find them. I got back behind the wheel and changed clothes right there. I have never been so glad to put on sunblock. I am hot again today - no complaints!

charmed by St. Auggie........from P

2008-12-02T19:08:00.000-05:00

Pop quiz: What is the oldest city in the U.S.? The city with the oldest Catholic Parish in the U.S.? The city with the only military fort never conquered even after 5 full assaults and numerous sieges? The city with the most pubs per square mile? I already gave away the answer - St. Augustine of course. This is our new favorite city. It is impossible to walk more than a block without stopping and reading a historical marker. The place was first settled by the Spanish conquistadores in 1565 - that's 42 years prior to the Godspeed, Susan Constant and Discovery setting sail. The big brick pavers you stroll on were actually used for ship ballast on the trips over from Spain. The town is now one big living museum packed with people strolling the decorated streets and frequenting the quirky shops. The combination of narrow alley-streets, gas torch lights, odd buildings (we had a beer in a pub built up in the boughs of a live oak tree), and remnants of ancient fortifications all give the feeling of a haunted party town. We looked in the brochure for guided tours and quickly decided on the guided Pub Crawl. Great decision! Our guide described the city as having many layers - literally and figuratively. Each construction project turns up an old grave or some 17th century artifact. Each conversation turns up another connection to the past. We attended mass at the oldest parish in the country (Cathedral-Basilica of St. Augustine) and, like our ancestors, took a moment to give thanks that we stopped here!

Let's check out this street

Old marketplace

The Castillo de San Marcos

This respectable looking place was the old speakeasy for the local officials during prohibition

Guarding the shop. He must have gone on the pub crawl.