S/V AMICUS

Back on Amicus--July 2-23

It's been a whirlwind of a month.  In general things are coming together beautifully.  They haven't yet come together however, and until they do we will just have to adjust to feeling perpetually scattered.

After the last blog entry we crashed in my friend Emily's house in Duluth and spent a furious weekend combing Two Harbors and looking at over a dozen houses, inside and out.  The kids got awfully tired of it, and Cedar took to "reading" Little House stories in the car while Lamar listened supportively and mom and dad explored another house.  At one "Open House," serving lunch, Lamar poured fruit punch over her head!  It flabbergasts me still, though I wonder if she was expressing her absolute doneness with staying clean in other people's immaculate houses.  But by the end of the weekend we had a fairly good idea of what was available in Two Harbors, and what we were looking for.

At last, Amicus, after many delays, was shipped back to Minnesota. Mark spent a couple of days at Soltreks while we got used to living on the hard in the Knife River Marina.  The girls were tickled to be home again after a week of travel, and busily reacquainted themselves with their dolls.  It was SO GOOD to see Amicus back home on Lake Superior, in a quiet marina with just a couple dozen boats, the everpresent chilly breeze coming off the lake and the seagulls calling from the little island just offshore.  The weather was crisp, the sky was blue, the lake rippled, and we were HAPPY TO BE HERE.  Being 10 feet off the ground in the parking lot with no masts was a mere blip on the pleasure screen.

Then we left on a 2-week excursion that took us almost 2000 miles, back east to Lake Huron.  We visited friends on the drive both to and from, and spent over a week with my two sisters Lamar and Vera, and their families.  The Teskey's, back on land from "Satisfaction III," spent a day with us at the cottage as well, having not only returned from their trip but been to China and back for stem cell therapy for Dylan!  Those guys are on the move.  They promise to settle down now.  Altogether it was great relaxing and visiting, with real "down time" that we'd been craving.

We've been back on Amicus for almost a week now.  Mark has been at Soltreks sporadically, and starts full time tomorrow.  We got our boat in the water, finally, but still have no masts.  Which means sails piled up everywhere, no shade, no cockpit table, and no radio email.  Our cell phone doesn't work on the boat either.  If you have been trying to get hold of us, this is why you are having trouble!  Despite this, we have managed to get started with many of the tasks ahead of us.  We drove up to our storage unit and returned with the Jeep—none the worse for 13 months of rest, other than rusty brakes and a dead battery—and our bikes.  Hurray!  Mark had the tires pumped up the hour we returned, and I was out racing along the scenic by sunset.  Bliss. 

We are also working on things like insurance, library cards, bank loans, PO boxes, 2006 taxes (still!), and of course, the House Search.  And here I have a story to tell:  two weekends before I had been walking around what I had decided was my favorite neighborhood in Two Harbors:  the old section, with older bigger houses, big trees, a block-size woodsy park, and right by Lake Superior.  Could we ever get a house here, or afford it?  I wandered around trying to figure how many of these houses would actually be right for us, if they did go on the market.  I pointed one of them out to Mark, so he would fully understand what I was looking for.  A corner lot, a house neither too big nor too small, neither manicured nor derelict, a couple of big trees, adjacent to the park and one block from the lake.  When we returned two weeks later, THIS HOUSE HAD A "FOR SALE BY OWNER" SIGN IN FRONT OF IT—I kid you not!  Panting, I walked up and peeked in the front porch.  The story is not complete, and of course things could not work out, but it's looking like we might actually get this house!  You can tell I'm excited about this, but I'm trying to reign it in, knowing how often things don't work out with house sales.  The family who lives there is extremely nice and fun and potentially good friends.  They are moving to a house they're building a few miles inland.

So it appears that our transition has been very easy.  It certainly feels easy.  Soltreks so far has been everything Mark had hoped for, and he is excitedly getting his feet wet there.  It's a great relief to not have to worry about going anywhere.  Being back in the Midwest has been, beginning to end, joyful.  From the lovely climate to the laid-back and down-to-earth Midwesterners to even the mosquitos (at least we can see them!), it just feels great to be back.  We have always loved living on Amicus and it is a treat to be here all summer while we wait for a house.  Who knows, maybe we'll even go sailing. 

This weekend we celebrated our location:  first, by heading south to Duluth.  Instantly we were drawn to the waterfront where we checked out the Maritime Museum.  I guess we are Maritime Museum addicts.  On Sunday we headed north up the shore and hiked around on the spectacular cliffs—Mark's old climbing grounds—that jut out from the lake.  We agreed, again, that in all our travels we saw nothing we loved so much as the north shore of Lake Superior, which is now at our beck and call during all four glorious seasons.

Perhaps part of the ease of transition comes from knowing that we haven't really transitioned yet.  We are still on Amicus, still in "check it out!" mode.  We are too busy getting used to the present to be looking back on our trip.  Mostly I find I'm not that interested in it.  It was great—but it's over.  What's next?  My fingers tingle in anticipation of making Two Harbors my new home and community.  I look up and down streets and wonder who will be my friends, how I'll contribute.  When I look at the new high school I think outrageous thoughts, like "Will our girls graduate from here?"  I look at the county courthouse in town and wonder what kind of judges preside there and how they will respond to my inquiries about the possibilities of doing some circles in the county.

The girls, as always, are happy to be back home, particularly happy in the v-berth, a bit cramped with new toys and clothes coming in and no enforced exchange policy.  They are really into their bikes and their dolls.  Lamar has taken on a new crying habit; before bedtime and naptime she wails to us, "I don't want to go to bed!  I'm going to start crying!" and does, indeed, cry—sometimes hard and long.  Maybe she's struggling with the transition.  Cedar takes on new friends daily, none lasting more than the beachtime, or the afternoon in the park.  Both girls are newly focused on relationships:  Cedar is fascinated with familial relationships ("who's his aunt?") and their nuances ("they look upset with each other"); Lamar just sticks to the basics, getting straight who are boys and who are girls, who is old and who is young, who is nice and who is mean.

The one point I remain nostalgic about right now is the overnight sailing.  There was something about it that struck so close to my heart and guts, both.  Never have I felt so vulnerable to, and absorbed into, the elements.  Mother Earth.  On an overnight sail I would watch the sun go down and darkness descend onto our tiny rocking splashing world.  I would know without a doubt that the only way we were going to survive the night was in the palm of God's hand.  This carries a terror, of course—but then there I sit, all night, in the palm of God's hand.  How many times in our lives do we get to experience that?  So I miss it, and the awareness of God's intimate closeness, that is so muted in everyday life.

to Annapolis, MD

June 18—Rhode River, MD

Today the heat challenge took over.  There was a swimming raft near the boat and we swam over and jumped off it all morning.  In the afternoon we swam around the boat;  the girls jumped off the bowsprit for the first time.  Every time we swim these days they expand their horizons.  They egg each other on.  Cedar will methodically advance her horizons and then Lamar has to follow, or Lamar, not to be beaten, will do something outrageous, opening Cedar's eyes to the possibilities.  Mark had to outdo everyone by leaping off the spreaders.

Mark has also made some new discoveries.  Yesterday he told me with a wry smile that he finally figured out how to use the radar properly. Today he used a bumper to keep the ladder from collapsing on us—another trick that would have come in handy about 9 months ago.  His creative energies seem to be sprouting now that the pressure's off.

Other than creative energy however we have little or no energy at all.  It is terribly hot, worst of all in the evenings after stove use is inevitable and the cabin is a steam room even as it slowly cools outside.

June 19

Today there was a breeze, making life more bearable.  By late afternoon the haze had thickened to block the sun and the radio was full of thunderstorm warnings.  We never got any worth mentioning.

The end is really coming now, and we can feel it.  Every night we talk about what feels meaningful about this trip, and about our future.  Cedar continues to say that she likes living on the boat, primarily because she likes being "on the go."  I'm not sure how much she is fancying herself to be like Laura Ingalls, and how much is authentic self-expression.

Sometimes when I watch the girls I am afraid to move to shore.  I fear the mundane life that is considered par for children in our culture—a life that includes so much restriction (car seats, school lessons, clean clothes, schedules) and harmful influences (media, media, media, sugar, bullies, pollution).  Living on the water really does work for them; the very things that Mark and I find tedious (like having hours—days—of unstructured down time in settings as varied as city streets and remote beaches) are ideal for them.  Watching them thrive as they have brings out acute and indescribable feelings in us.  I notice how they depend on each other emotionally and can truly comfort each other.  I see how they play, leap, balance, inside or out, in waves or flat, sun or storm. (See the new album for pictures of these antics)  I see them developing endurance, imagination, tolerance for discomfort.  I see them handle change and stress with a grace that puts their parents to shame.  I see their complete trust that the world is out to offer them joy.  I panic because I think it's all from living on a boat.  Then I calm down and remember that there are many wonderful ways to bring up children and this is only one of them.

I also realize that every joy has an attendant sorrow.  There are always two sides to the coin.  While they have thrived under their parents' constant presence, I can see how it will also be good for them to realize that their parents have lives that are bigger than our nuclear family.  Both Mark and I feel called to serve the larger world, to do our little part to make it a better place.  While we dread the upcoming separations with our daughters, we also feel it is time to dig into the world and all its problems again, of which we are a part as much as we are a part of this family.  We are lucky to have skills and passion that make possible meaningful work and connect us to other soulful people—a world that is as important for our children to witness as the ocean swells. 

I know that I am subjecting you all to a mother's ranting and obsessing about her children!  I guess it's inevitable.  Everything that we have been through as a family has been unforgettable for us, and formative (we hope) for them.  Also, one of the main reasons I am writing this blog is to be able to give it to them when they grow up.  At its essence you are reading a family journal that will some day be in their hands.

June 20

We spent most of the day with our friends the Deckers, on Spoony.  They are nearby, trying to sell their boat.  It was great to process the year together as old friends.  We have shared many things this year, and depended on each other for safety, social life, playdates, and personal sanity. 

June 21—Annapolis, MD

Right after breakfast we headed north to Annapolis, in (of course) a north wind, right on the nose.  On the way we received the unwelcome news that the shippers will not be ready on Monday after all.  We are still waiting to hear if they will pay the cost of putting the boat in the boatyard until they can ship it, since Mark was very clear with them that he was depending on them on the date they promised and had made all our traveling plans around that.  Luckily we have friends to stay with in Minnesota until our boat arrives, if need be.

We anchored next to downtown in Annapolis, which would have been perfect if the northerly wind had held, but soon after we got there we got blasted with a brisk wind from the south, opening us up to the Chesapeake.  Soon we were bouncing around and wanting to leave.  We'd already made plans for some friends to come on board that afternoon, so we hung around to pick them up and then moved up the river to the boatyard where will unstep the masts tomorrow.

So for a couple of hours we had two moms and two 4-yr. old boys on board with us, Maria and Nolan (who sailed to the Bahamas last year) and their friends Anita and Simon.  We grilled burgers for dinner and just as we were getting all the kids settled with food a huge downpour blew over us.  Pandemonium!  Boat heeling over.  Hamburgers getting soaked.  We got all the kids inside, got the food in after them, and continued on.  They were very game ("Isn't this an adventure!?").  Anita's husband works for NPR (All Things Considered) so we got to hear the scoop about working for NPR.  Very interesting.  They left in the evening as the storm cleared out and I put the boat back to rights while Mark began taking things apart.

It's quite emotional, watching our boat look more and more bereft.  The booms are off and the masts are stripped bare.  Amicus is losing her luster.  Are we ready for this? Quick, let's plan our next trip so we don't freak out!  At lunchtime today a boat sailed close by and the guy on it hollered to us that he got a picture of us by the lighthouse and what was our email address so he could send it to us?  We yelled back and it hit me sharply that this was the last day we would have the pleasure of being starred at, admired, and noticed.  Soon we will look like everyone else!  Funny how much being "special" has become a part of our identity, and how embarrassing it is to realize what a letdown it will be to be "normal."   Thankfully, I am deeply certain that we ARE ready to move on to the next thing, which will make the dismantling more bearable.

June 22

The blessing is that the weather is lovely now.  The days are hot because we are without an awning or shade, but at night it cools down and in the shade it's very pleasant.  After the masts came down the girls and I hung around here and there and looked morosely at our derelect-looking boat, while Mark prepared the masts for shipping.  By the end of the day we were all hot and headachey and depressed.  The shipping company will be at least three days late so we will be paying big bucks each night the boat sits at a dock here.  But we are leaving, regardless.  This detail did not improve our mood.

June 23, 2007

Here in the 9^th hour we decided to at least look into buying a car here.  Much can be done over the internet and by 10:00 we were ready to head into town with several car dealers' numbers in hand.  The Sheridans—Maria, Brian, and 4-yr old Nolan—picked us up and gamely headed straight for the car dealer strip mall—you can picture the place.  What followed was an insane and chaotic day, full of terse conversations with car salesmen for Mark and I, while the girls played with the Sheridans.  We kept it as short and sweet as possible, but found the deal we wanted, and by 6:00 had in our hands a new car!  Toyota Carolla.  We celebrated with ice cream and promised the Sheridans that we will be more fun tomorrow.  They were incredible all day, and so were the girls.  Mark remarked to them, "Thanks for helping us get back in debt—" a sure sign of landlubberhood.

One more day and we are outta here.  With a new car in the boat yard lot, it's pretty easy to believe.  The girls are as excited about their new carseats as they are about the car.  The feelings of loss are slowly being usurped by feelings of excitement and anticipation, though I'm finding that getting on a boat is a lot easier than getting off it.

Here our water-based saga will end.  I'm sure I'll have more to say for those that want to keep reading the blog.  But—THANKS FOR LISTENING—it's been amazing to have an audience.  If we have no idea who you are or that you are reading about us, we'd love to get a comment from you.  Please consider it.

And check out the new album. 

June 10-17

June 10-Reedville, VA

Another nondescript day in Reedville. We had a nice Sunday morning (would it be our last?) with the rituals that the girls will not do without now: pancakes, Sunday art project, reading for mom and dad, guitar and songs. In the afternoon we visited the maritime/history museum and played with the friendly family whose dock we were using.

June 11-to the Solomon Islands

We got up early and motored in another calm to the Solomon Islands. It was hot, but bearable. We got there by mid-afternoon and were astounded at the number of boats in this mile-stretch of water. Mark guesses there are well over a thousand boats here. We have been pestering the shipping company about dates, and found it would be another 12-14 days before we could ship the boat! Another hurry-up-and-wait situation. After an initial letdown (we are both feeling ready to get going with the new plan) we found a visitors center and discovered that there are lots of things do to here. So, we will take a couple of weeks to explore southern Maryland.

June 12-Solomon Islands

In the morning we visited the Calvert Maritime Museum. We thought perhaps we've seen enough Maritime museums by now, but it was highly recommended-and it WAS really good. Best were the two active otters that we could watch from the outside or the inside.

The most exciting event of the day was that we met another family, aboard a boat called "Satisfaction" of all things! We told them right away of our emotional connection to that boat name, and who were they to presume to have that boat name anyway? No, just kidding. Luckily they were a very fun family, just locals out for a couple of weeks but with a very adventurous history of sailing in Thailand, traveling in Asia, living in Alaska. Their older boy Hugo (6) and Cedar hit it off right away, convincing Cedar that perhaps boys are worth playing with after all. We planned to eat dinner together, but yet another terrific thunderstorm barreled down on us right at the crucial moment. So we stood watch (Mark) and read books in a darkened cabin (the rest) until 7:00 when it appeared that the wind challenge was over, now it was just about the pouring rain, thunder, and lightning. We got our raincoats on and dinghied over, undaunted by the thunder and lightning crashing around us. We stayed late-it was so great to have this immediate but short-lived friendship and the kids, amazingly, ate and played and shared well past bedtime. Satisfaction left at dawn the next day heading south-the opposite of us. It was great and providential, at this point in our life, to talk to adventurers who remind us that there's more to life than sailing.

So things look the same but some subtle shifts are going on. Slowly it is dawning on Mark and I that there are no great challenges ahead, that if we can keep the boat afloat during these frequent thunderstorms, and find our way up the Chesapeake another 50 miles, the watery part of our trip is actually over. For me, I find myself getting more and more removed from the boat. It's an easy nice life now, just enjoy the ride and anticipate the future. We are getting excited to see many people we have not seen in a long time. I am also getting pysched to have a frig. Bikes top the list for the girls. Mark is still figuring out how to get us off the water.

June 13-15 Solomon Islands

Three days passed easily without much notice. One day we rented a car and drove to St. Mary's historic town-a mini-Williamsburg. No one else was there so we got personalized treatment. The girls even got to pull beets and onions with the gardener! This is a 1600s era colonial reenactment, with indentured servants, chickens wandering in the house, wild pigs roaming the woods, and tobacco fields. We also got to roam a three-masted schooner. The girls were most interested in climbing into the bunks. Lamar fell down the steps into the cabin much to the horror of the guide, but she barely noticed she had fallen down; she gave me one quick questioning look, then grabbed the rail for another try.

Trying to make the most of our 24-hr. rental, in the late afternoon we drove to these sculpture gardens. We wandered the path through the woods and scrutinized the art-most of which was barely distinguishable from piles of rusted junk that often find their ways into woods-at least to us, the uneducated and undiscerning. The girls had a ball finding these cool little paintings hidden in the bark of trees.

A quick Chinese dinner and a grocery shop completed our day. We returned to the boat in the evening just in time to see "No Hurry" motor by. Never without friends! They anchored right beside us and told us how they'd spent the last week while we were, apparently, doing nothing. Staying at one marina, Todd had fixed all the bikes in exchange for the marina fee. He'd also promised to bring them back (on the boat?) two washing machines which he would then install next fall. They also found an old crab basket, fixed it and learned how to use it, and were eating crab cakes for dinner! They had also blown out both their mainsail and jib (in what winds?) but as Todd said, they had three more so no worries. They were looking for a good sewing machine and clearly would know how to stitch sails since they'd spent many a weekend in their past dropping by motorcycle rallies with their industrial sewing machine, sewing decals into leather jackets.

We were tickled to see them and hear of their latest exploits. They hung out for a day and 3-yr.-old Maria came over to play. Lamar also chose to go play on "No Hurry" for a few hours, which by my calculation might be the first time in her entire life that she has been without a family member nearby. They have three dogs, another pull for Lamar. She is the type of child I never thought I'd have-she loves animals to the point where she wants to be around dogs and picks up bugs before deciding if she should be afraid.

The afternoon that Mark decided to nail down the car rental turned into a fiasco as he found that all the options he'd found on the internet a week before, no longer existed or were prohibitively expensive. For hours he worked on getting us back to Minnesota by train, plane, bus…interspersed with discussion with me, and peppered by the wildly changing prices and availability that the internet offered up, and it was quite a circus. Eventually we came to a complicated plan whereby Mark would fly alone to the Cities, get our car, drive to Bryn Athyn where the girls and I would be waiting…enough said about that plan because luckily we don't have to do it! Because we suddenly realized that if we drove through the night and got two rentals instead of one, exchanging cars in Chicago, we were back in our price range. So Mark confirmed the rentals before they could change and then called the three different family households whose participation was necessary to the plan's success. Yay for family; they all signed right up when they heard of their part in the plan.

June 16-Sotterley Plantation

After saying Goodbye to "No Hurry" and filling up with water and ice, we motored up the Paxutent River to the Sotterley Plantation. A short walk up from the Sotterley Creek brought us to this restored 17th century tobacco plantation. One of the descendants of the family was there and couldn't have been nicer. We checked out the gardens, the fantastic view, the privy, the one-room schoolhouse, and most powerful, the real (circa. 1850) slave quarters-a 15 x 15 dirt floor shack, housing probably 24 slaves. Walking quietly around for an afternoon really did take us back to another century. This is what the Chesapeake used to look like. The pastoral air, the slowness and quietness…you could see how nostalgic one could get for this lifestyle (if one happened to be free), and reluctant to give it up for those industrialists up north. If one didn't happen to be free, it was easy-and hard!--to imagine spending your life in the sweltering heat and bugs in this field, or crammed in with 23 others, by the beautiful river.

Coming back down the Paxutent River, we decided to try to hang onto that wildernessy feel and anchor in a river that the guidebook says "no one goes into but it's no problem if you know how to navigate the entrance." Slowly we put-putted in, following the directions exactly-and did great until we shoved up against a sandbar. Partying powerboaters zipped right on past us in an intricately turning channel that was marked with tiny white poles. So much for the guidebook. Mark dinghied around checking depths while I pushed the engine in reverse. No luck. Mark then pulled the boom way out and, with Cedar helping to keep it out, hung on the end, hands and knees, swinging and looking like a dead-serious clown, while I gunned reverse as hard as I dared. Of all things, it worked! The boat rocked, then began to budge, and was soon out. We came back to the Solomons and accepted the transition back to the 21st century, with its attendant boats/houses/jetskis. Dinner was a disappointment as the chicken in the icebox had gone bad…Mark commented that if we lived out of the 1st world we'd probably just spice it up with curry and eat it anyway. We threw it out but it was already 8:00 and there was nothing else to eat but broccoli and rice. The girls were champs throughout the running aground debacle and returning to anchor, despite dinner being two hours late. Their stamina amazes me; it's like they just know that there are some times when one must hang in there and endure. They went to bed right after dinner.

June 17-to Rhode River

On the move again, the last full day's travel. As usual we started off with a great wind that died by 11:00. In the afternoon Mark made the best of a few puffs of breeze, but we motored most of the way. The Chesapeake was choppy and irregular and I guess I'm tired of fighting seasickness-today I just went ahead and felt seasick. Why not?

We got in at suppertime and found the Rhode River anchorage full of weekenders having a good and loud time. I was absentmindedly steering towards a large empty spot until Mark pointed out that there used to be an island there, and what was that little tree sticking up in the middle? Oopss----veered away just in time. Good thing someone's paying attention. Nothing beats heat and hunger in dulling the senses.

Our boat seems to realize the show is almost over. Today three things went on the blink: one toy bag is breaking off the wall. Our cockpit table has a huge crack down the middle, and our depthsounder told us nothing.

But, we are here. That is, we are 10 miles from our destination. We have the week to play around and wait for Friday, when we're pulling down the masts. A week from Monday morning we haul and ship the boat.

June 5-9

June 5-6 Dismal Swamp-Upper Lock

We ended up staying here for two full days, partly because it was a great place to be. A free dock, for one thing. There was a playground and huge park 50 yards away, a grocery store and even a cheap authentic Mexican restaurant. Also the lockmaster was an engaging fellow whose initiative turns the dock into a community with every batch of new boaters. In the mornings we ate Danish, juice, and coffee out in front of the lock (courtesy of the lockmaster). He has a garden decorated with shells from the Bahamas. We got to place our own conch shell in the collection. Right behind us on the dock was a solo power-boater who couldn't have been more friendly and generous with the internet on his boat, or anything else.

The other reason we stayed was because we had some figuring out to do. Mark spent much of the first afternoon on the phone with Doug and Lorri, co-founders of "Soltreks" (see soltreks.com). By the end of the day it was becoming clear that Mark was going to be the new Director of Soltreks! While we'd known this was a possibility for some time, its immediate reality had some implications we had not thought through before. For various reasons, late fall (our planned return date) would not work well for Soltreks. Mark was eager to get started on the right foot there, and made a plan that sounded astounding to me until I got used to the idea, but that in the end, was the way to go. We would sail up the Chesapeake to Annapolis, MD, and ship the boat home. We would have time to visit our families and find a house to rent in Two Harbors, MN (just north of Duluth on the north shore of Lake Superior) by August 1.

So this is our new plan! Lest you drop your jaw and condemn us for cowtowing to the priorities of the landlubber before we're even off the boat, I offer this side note: it is not only the best way to set up our new life on land, it also has some real appeal on the practical side. While we were both looking forward to sailing the Great Lakes this summer, there are 600 miles and 80 locks, all upstream, to motor between New York City and the Georgian Bay, between here and there-all with the masts and booms lashed to the deck. It would have been a slog, and then we would have had to rush through the Great Lakes. We would have returned without time to see family, but instead entered immediately into our new life with fulltime work.

We do have mixed feelings, of course. I was looking forward to the passage to New York (Mark was more stressed about those-he feels the responsibility of having children on the ocean very heavily), and we do like to finish what we started in proper fashion. But since when has our trip gone by the "proper" plan? We figure we've changed things so much, we're getting really good at it.

I want to shout from the top of the mast everything I've learned on this trip-what a growing up experience! What a kid I was when we started! One of the things I've realized is that we dream dreams and have ideals, and then life presents to us what it will, and we go with it. If we were afraid of plunging in to less than perfect situations we'd be paralyzed for life.

Once things were certain we told the girls our new plans. Cedar for the first time expressed an actual opinion: that she prefers living on a boat. She stuck with this even when reminded of gardens and bikes. But then she was informed of all the family and friends we were going to see in the next month alone, and larger concerns like living habitat became dormant in her mind. She was soon playing with her dolls as cheerfully as ever.

June 7 To Ft. Monroe, VA

After a day's delay to make arrangements for hauling the boat, unstepping the masts, shipping the boat, renting a car…etc. etc., we set off for the Chesapeake Bay. We were still not certain of the shipping date; we might be in a hurry, or we might have lots of time, to get to Annapolis. With "No Hurry," the aforementioned new sailing family, we motored out into Hampton Roads, with its miles of military ships and everything else. We had tentatively planned to sail into the Bay together. But when we got out there the winds were out of the NE, not the SE, and we figured we'd rather get up early in the morning and have a long sail the next day, with SW winds forecasted. "No Hurry" had a sketchy radio, and once we were more than a few hundred yards away from each other, we lost communication. They went on up the bay out of sight ahead of us. We stopped, sad to not have a chance to say good-bye. Hopefully we'll see them again.

We pulled into the anchorage at Ft. Monroe. We were looking for water, and the marina (military personnel yachts only) had an open dock with spigots temptingly close. Mark radioed the marina to ask if we could pick up some water, and after some delay were informed, irrelevantly as it turned out, that non-military personnel must dock only by the ramp. We tried that, but found no water. Had the guy heard our question? Oh well, whatever. We had enough water to last another day, we hoped.

Once again the temperatures were starting to cook, and we spent a hot uncomfortable night bouncing in the now-southern wind. Cedar and Lamar, for inexplicable reasons, managed to wake up and fuss like babies for hours, setting each other off at the slightest whimper.

June 8-to Reedville, VA

Knowing that at least until mid-morning we'd be fighting the current, we delayed our departure until after breakfast. Before we even got out it was obvious that something big and festive was happening with the US Navy. Dozens of sailboats were out with lots of flags flying. A HUGE Navy ship was planted in the middle. Several "tall ships" were in sight. Even a low sinister-looking machine was slowly powering through the water, and we realized what it was when we were informed over the radio that we could be arrested and prosecuted if we got in the way of the submarine! We dodged around the sailboats and enjoyed the show, whatever it was, until we were officially in the Bay and all the action died down.

The wind was brisk out of the southwest and we bounced along, going only 4 knots as the tide hadn't turned yet, but feeling like we were going much faster. It was going to be a super-hot day-heat index of 100-a great day to be out on the water in a strong wind. Unfortunately that saving wind died just enough that by lunchtime we had to turn on the motor. The breeze was directly behind us, and about 5 knots, so that when we were motoring at 5 knots it felt like a dead calm. We spent the rest of the day trying to cool down and keep a handle on our tempers. The heat was unbelievable, and add a few pesky flies and some rolling waves and boy was it miserable. We kept the screens up which meant it was dark, steamy, and airless inside. We read, slowly, under our little fans. By mid-afternoon it seemed we'd have to spend all our time on the cabintop, in the shade of the mainsail and feeling the benefits of any breath of wind. Then we remembered we are surrounded by water. The girls and I sat in the cockpit and poured buckets of water over our heads, among other antics. It kept us busy until we started to come in to land, and we were cooler than we'd been all day.

At one point Mark let the preventer on the main loose (he had kept it up to steady the boat) and was letting the main boom go to the other side when Cedar poked her head out of the hatch. Boom! The boom clocked her in the head and she skittered over to the side. HOW did we let that happen? LUCKILY, Mark was letting it out slowly and Cedar was more scared than anything. A good reminder for us-we try to be careful about that one but had somehow let down our guard. At least she really understands now why we keep them out of the way when the boom is going over.

We motored up a river to Reedville, a quiet town with lots of waterfront. Mark filled the tanks with water and diesel while I took the girls to check out the town. We played for 20 minutes on the steps of a bank, no need to go further. I will really miss checking out new towns. It was 8:00 by the time the anchor was down and heavy, ominous-looking cloud started to come in as dusk fell.

It was finally cooling down outside but in our nice insulated cabin it was still hot as an oven. The slight breeze coming from the south brought the fumes from the fish plant on board. With a mini-fan on each of them, the girls managed to fall asleep. Mark and I were just cooling down enough, as long as we didn't move or touch anything and had a fan directly on us, to sleep-when the thunder and lightning started showing through the portholes. Finally. In a few minutes we were hustling about shutting hatches and portholes, taking clothes off the lifelines-similar to how one responds in a house, other than the way the house tips side to side in the gusts of wind, and the necessity of checking out the windows every few seconds to make sure we're in the same place. The lightning was soul-quaking-3 full bolts to the ground at once-so I dived onto the bed, Von Trapp style, hoping to keep my heart rate down so I could sleep at some point. The storm came and went, the air cooled slightly, and we went to sleep around midnight.

June 9-Reedville

A north wind and fresher air made the day much more livable, as long as we were not on land. I washed clothes and the girls and I made more doll clothes. In the afternoon we dinghied to the private dock of a grandfatherly fellow who liked our boat and suggested that we anchor in a different spot, off the beaten path of many teenagers in skiffs. He and his wife were extremely friendly. Their daughter and her children had just arrived from MN so we talked local. They knew we were searching for ice, and when we returned to get back into the dinghy, they had two big blocks of ice waiting for us! What timing--Cedar had just been moaning about her terrible thirst and refusing in advance to drink warm water. Right up to the end we keep meeting such great people.

June 1-4

June 1-Palmlico Sound

Our stay in Oriental was very enjoyable, mostly due to the great community boatyard.  The workers were all very friendly to the girls and many had their own small children at home, and boaters were always stopping by to chat.  One morning we took a borrowed truck 10 miles away (It had been 7 months since I'd driven, I realized; it took me five minutes to get the courage up to go 55) to a grocery store and thrift store where we purchased some new clothes.  Cedar PROMISED she would wear them.  (She has changed outfits, by the way, but only to have the preferred outfit washed.  Her new outfit is now her single backup.) Our last evening we invited Ben, Crystal and 6-yr-old Amber for supper (the European family mentioned in the previous entry). Crystal and I were fast friends and it felt sad to spend such a short time together.

By mid-morning we were back in the water, looking fresh and new.  Mark put things back together, watched the dripping on the dripless seal, and observed the diesel guy timing the engine.  The forecast was promising for 24 hours so we decided there's no time like the present!  We filled with water, washed cushion covers, and took one last swim.   Then we took off at 4:00 for Palmlico Sound-and just like that, went from being landlubbers to sailors again.  It was fabulous to be so mobile.

We had to sail on several tacks to get through the Sound.  We had assumed the chop would be minimal, with a strip of land protecting us from the ocean.  Well, we didn't have ocean swell but we did have a steep 3-4 foot chop.  Pamlico Sound is nothing to sneeze at; for the most part we saw no land all night other than lit buoys.  By bedtime we could turn north and fly downwind on a broad reach-our best tack.  The girls were not even seasick though no one had taken any meds and the rolling was steep enough that Lamar, sticking her head out of the front of the lee cloth, crashed on the floor head first.  This wave also sent a shot of spray up over the cabintop and down through the hatch.

The girls have come to love overnights and they went through many stages getting to sleep.  First they set up their beds on the settees with the lee cloths.  Then they hung their cloth angels over their heads (a tradition Cedar started many overnights ago.  I know I always feel better when the angels are up.)  Then they had their normal story routine.  Then they said they were "a tad seasick" and came up the hatch for "a breath of air" several times.  Finally they decided to stay put and I sat between them, singing, until all wriggling stopped.   Ahh….I breathed easier.  Now we just had to get through the night.

I took the first watch this time.   We were going at hull speed; it was a fantastic ride.  The moon was full again (how do we keep doing that?) and clouds coursed across the sky all night.  The wind was supposed to die, but it didn't until early morning, so we lucked out.  Around midnight I noticed we were dropping below five knots so I contemplated letting out the reef in the main by myself.  Could I do it at night?  I reviewed all the steps, then gave it a shot.  But I couldn't pull up the sail for the life of me, and after several tries I gave up.  I did adjust the wind vane to change our course, and I put up the mizzen.  Then I noticed what I had missed with the main-releasing the topping lift-and I resolved to give it another try.  This time I got it almost all the way up, without falling into the water or breaking a finger.  I was proud!  It may not seem like much but I had yet to do anything outside the cockpit at night, and giving Mark more opportunity to sleep was a great incentive.  (Not that he was sleeping-he was actually listening, wondering what I was doing up there!  But wasn't concerned enough to come out, anyway. FYI: No matter how calm it is, we always wear harnesses at night even in the cockpit.)

By 2:00 I was ready for more than just a series of 15-minute dozes, so I got Mark up and went down.  The wind held until about 6:00 when Mark turned on the motor.  It was broad daylight by then-another successful overnight!

June 2-Albemarle Sound

We motored up to a bridge with 45 ft. clearance-just a couple of feet extra, and it was nerve-wracking to go under, it seems impossible that we will fit!  But we did, and then entered the Albemarle Sound, another biggie.

The wind was calm all morning, which was fine with Mark because he was very anxious to be through these Sounds.  The wind was supposed to pick up that evening, and we all know that winds can pick up long before they're forecasted to.  Plus, Tropical Storm Barry now had a name and was chasing us up the coast.  Plus, there were squalls around and even a waterspout-that never touched the water but came close-behind us for about ½ hr.  But still no wind.  We motored across the sound and reached the Pasquotank River-the long wide river that leads into Elizabeth City--by noon, just as the winds started to pick up again, but behind us.  We blew into Elizabeth City, crossing several boat races in the process, and anchored around the corner.  Then we took another look at the charts and Skipper Bob and decided to get even further inland and away from any open water.  15 miles later we reached the lock that takes us into the Dismal Swamp.  It could not have been more protected.  The trees high overhead were tossing-otherwise you'd hardly even have known it was windy.

It had been a long 26 hours, but we had covered over 130 miles and could keep moving whatever the weather, so far inland.

June 3-South Mills, VA

Mark had set out an extra anchor to keep us from getting pinned to the dock we were tied to, should the winds go crazy.  We'd heard about 35 knots and 4 inches of rain and were prepared for anything.  As it was, we hardly felt a thing as Barry (downgraded to a Low after moving through Florida) passed by the coast.  A few downpours, gusty winds.  At 11:00 we left the dock (forgetting and bending the kedge anchor-oops!) to go through the lock and dock again on the other side, in the center of town.  And here we spent another day.  We had less than 40 miles to go to Norfolk, where the waterway ends, and wouldn't be heading into the ocean for at least 4 days, according to the forecast, so we were in no hurry once again.  We found a churchyard with a playground and even a bike Cedar's size to practice on, much to her delight.

In the late afternoon I heard a "hello!" and popped my head out of the hatch to see a couple on bikes and a little girl in a child's seat behind, sleeping.  Another boating family!   The guy-Todd-was anything but shy and full of admiration for and questions about the boat.  Turns out they were on the other side of the lock in their sailboat, and Maria was 3 years old!  When she awoke she came right aboard and I was proud to see Cedar and Lamar, hungry as they were, entertain happily for over an hour as the adults chatted.  This family is rugged, salt-of-the-earth, with an old fixer-upper yacht.  Todd is a truck-driver, ex-army type, who exalts in finding "garbage" and turning it into useful boat accessories.  He was just setting up an old restaurant umbrella/awning to shade the cockpit.  Their colorful chatter livened up our day and they stayed for a long time, finally leaving at the end of a downpour.  We just love this aspect of sailing-always meeting new and interesting people.

June 4-Dismal Swamp

In the morning we walked ½ mile to pick strawberries at a pick-your-own place.  They were abundant and soon we had a full bucket.  As soon as we arrived home I realized I had to act fast to save all these strawberries quickly mushing in the hot sun.  The three girls had a squishy doll tea party and I resolved to make a strawberry pie by dinnertime.  At 11:00 we left and by 3:00 we were through the Dismal Swamp, waiting along with 5 other boats to get under the bridge to the free dock on the other side.  It was a tight squeeze at the dock and luckily the boats already there moved over to make room for us.  I made the pie and Mark ran to a nearby convenience store for ice cream, and we invited our new friends over for dessert.

Check out "Blue Water Sailing" in June to read another article, with lots of pictures, by yours truly!

to Oriental, NC

May 27-to Spooner Creek, NC

Thanks to Skipper Bob's guidebook, we pulled into a shallow, little-used lagoon which was surrounded by condos and homes, each with its private dock. It was Memorial Day weekend and we felt a little bit like we were crashing a backyard party as we watched the families get together and pile onto jetskis. But we were there for one purpose only. A short dinghy ride and 3 blocks away there was an endless strip mall, with Wal-mart, Lowes, and other massive stores that we curse and use at the same time. We got many items we've been missing for months, and Mark could prepare for the upcoming haulout. Lamar got a new snorkel (belated, I know) and Cedar got a flashlight for caving (also belated). We spent $300 and returned to the boat loaded down. We spent the rest of the afternoon playing with our new toys while Mark took another trip in. It was hot and we showered freely in the cockpit. We are so used to people watching us go about our daily business we hardly notice anymore.

May 28-to Oriental, NC

At long last, we did one last hot stretch. The palm trees are gone and big deciduous trees have appeared, much to our delight. Shade! We arrived in Oriental by early afternoon and immediately grownups took turns napping while the girls played quietly. By late afternoon we were ready to head into town, a quick dinghy ride away.

This town will be our home for a week so we were curious. All the good things we'd heard were true-Oriental is friendly, quiet, and very boat-oriented. The smell of fish is distinct but not overpowering. The town is neither on the down-and-out, nor overtaken by mansions.

In the evening a small powerboat ran aground right by the dinghy dock and Mark radioed to them, offering to bring over a kedge anchor. They accepted gratefully and he swung the anchor in the dinghy, rowed over, and showed them what to do. Mark is a gifted rescuer-not only is he skillful and reassuring, he has no sign of the condescension that can tarnish the attitude of the rescuer. This is borne from the humble knowledge that if he wasn't in this pickle yesterday, he could be in it tomorrow. In this case, we didn't have to remember very far back to recall being grounded and ignored in the middle of a channel.

He also assumes that the problem can be fixed-and that one must continue to work until it is! I think he surprised the skipper on this power boat (who was standing helplessly by the controls) when he hopped into the water to push. In a minute he too was in the water. Eventually they got another power boat involved, and got off.

May 29-Oriental

The week promised to be HOT. It was too hot to play at the playground, too hot to do much of anything but dread the upcoming week with the boat hauled out and no breeze to cool us off. In the afternoon we pulled up the anchor and went outside of town and anchored in the Neuse River so that Lamar could try out her her new snorkel and we could all cool off in the water. Unfortunately the water was too brown to see anything-but it was also brackish, not nearly as salty as the Bahamas. The girls could swallow a little without gagging. We stayed out there to enjoy the space and sense of privacy.

With supper simmering on the stove, we pulled up the anchor and motored into a narrow channel. With only one "oops" 180 degree turn in a narrow harbor, we found the travelift (haulout machine) and parked in there for the night, to be first in line the next morning. Immediately we were greeted by a couple of boaters, interested in our story and eager to share the benefits of the boatyard and their own vehicles and bikes. How friendly!

May 30-Oriental

Our favorable impressions were confirmed the next morning when the Sailcraft boatyard guy-in-charge got us out of the water. He was accommodating and friendly. He told us about the Martins, our sailing family heroes from their book "Into the Light," who lived here for over a year and worked for him a decade ago. Best of all, there was a pool right there. I no longer had to worry about the sweltering heat!

We watched our home get lifted from the water, looking like it had been well used in the past year. Lots of people were interested in our life on board, and our slimy boat was the proof of our accomplishment. The girls, after the initial excitement of seeing their home rise into the air, got impatient to be aboard again. Then we picked up our mail, and were overwhelmed with connections we'd been missing for so many months. We read two "Blue Water Sailing" magazines with our articles in them, and a bunch of pictures (all 2 years old, of Lake Superior sailing). Wow! What a cool life this is! This haulout has given us the unexpected chance to rest on our laurels. Part of me wanted to tell Mark to sandblast the bottom, we're heading out again! Then I read a huge packet of "Amicus" material (not our boat, but the organization-dedicated to integrating offenders back to community-that I used to work for, and hope to work for again) and was inspired again by what can be accomplished when one decides to stay put and work for the betterment of the human race. Which way to go? It's hard to know how to respond to our dreams! We know from hard experience that big ideas need reigning in as well as nurturing.

So now as I write, Mark is sanding the hull and we will soon head down to the pool once again for relief from the heat. Life is good; we have only to choose from many good paths.

May 31

Two days into living "on the hard" have been very enjoyable and not at all the endurance test I'd feared. The only flaw is that Mark is either working hard in the hot sun with toxic sand and fumes, or lying up on the settee waiting for paint to dry and enduring splitting headaches. This is a downer! Plus strange to have two different lives for the first time in a year. The girls and I have spent most of our hours at the pool, and have met two new sailing families! One, with two pre-teen daughters, have lived on their boat, coasted up and down the coast in the summertime, and otherwise live in Oriental while the dad builds a house. The girls are homeschooled. The other, originally from England with one daughter, have been up and down the coast and into the Caribbean over the past 7 years. Now they are working on the boat and their daughter goes to school here. Both families have reminded me of how many different ways there are to go about merging a watery life with a terra firma one. As always, it takes only seconds for the kids to play with each other, and minutes for us moms to connect. Cedar is working on the crawl and diving to the bottom to pick up things. Lamar simply dives in and dog-paddles, head down, to the nearest assistant, barely looking up to gasp and dive down again. If we don't watch sharp, she will head out to the deep end on her own. Having older girls around to play with has increased their enjoyment exponentially; it's almost impossible to get them out.

Antics on the ICW

May 16, Beaufort, SC

Not to be confused with Beaufort, NC, we motored into Beaufort, SC (Bew-fort) in the late morning. The bridge didn't open until 2:00 so we anchored for four hours and visited one of the best playgrounds ever-a nautical theme, with "sails" shading the benches for supervising adults. Today, and frequently, I was thinking about both the money and the priorities that it takes to make a really nice playground.

Just getting our lifestyle up to US standards has made every shopping trip a series of treats. New toothbrushes, new crayons. New books every chance we get, til our shelves are full again. Amazing how high is our standard of living, and right now we have the unique opportunity to choose it consciously-or not. I am eternally grateful for the abundance of books.

By evening we were ready to anchor in a beautiful spot just off the ICW. Once again, the weather has been very pleasant, with a chill in the evenings. Now if only we could get the N out of the wind!

May 17, ICW

All I have to record this day is our log, which gives our mileage at the beginning and at the end. I remember two anchorages, but that's about it. Not much happened, I guess.

May 18-Charleston, SC

Woke up to thick clouds/fog, which hung around for so long and smelled so strongly of campfire that we decided it was mostly smoke from the front-page-news wildfires west of here. We got a downpour too. We arrived in Charleston by early afternoon and soon dinghied to the dock to surprise our friends on "Grace" whom we hadn't seen since Long Island, Bahamas. Our first sailing friends with kids since Easter! In seconds Cedar and Finn were racing up and down the dock in some private enterprise which involved screeching, holding hands, and scraping barnacles off the pilings, while Lamar (displaced?) sat in my arms. We spent the afternoon finding out how to see Charleston in a day. It was thick and muggy, and cool, and my brain kept remembering scenes from my childhood backpacking trips in Wyoming due to the strong campfire smell. Charleston has the Visitors Center to end all Visitor Centers, which was a sign of things to come. A beautiful city, fully equipped to occupy all interested travelers.

In the evening it poured some more, and it was cozy inside, dark and gloomy outside. We haven't had to cozy up inside for so long!

May 17-Charleston, SC

We woke up to cool brisk NE winds, and a gorgeous day. A perfect day to see Charleston.

With "Grace" we headed downtown on a marina shuttle. First we visited the "Tall Ships" that were docked downtown. Massive 3-masted schooners from all over the world. I boarded one from India, a Navy training vessel. The sailors were all friendly and polite and told me all about what it was like to sail from India. The most difficult sailing conditions they encountered were off the coast of Florida.

Next we went to the "Confederate Museum" hoping to learn about the Civil War. But it turned out to be a room full of artifacts kept carefully by the Daughters of the Confederacy. We moved on. The girls were losing it so we lunched in a big park with many memorials. This city is full of beautiful homes, gardens, churches, memorials, and museums. Then we went to the Charleston Museum. Lamar slept in the cloth backpack while we wandered through. Cedar was patient as we were very slow. They had a great antebellum era section and a great kids section. We walked back afterwards, with tired feet and shoulders. Cedar's fatigue did not stop her from racing up and down the docks playing the aforementioned secret game with Finn the instant we arrived at their boat.

In the evening a dinghy roared up with an unknown family aboard! They are from Minneapolis, and have been living in the Charleston harbor for over a year with their two little boys, Dad schooling and Mom working. When he gets his nursing license they can head south. What a family! Too bad we didn't meet them sooner.

May 20-out of Charleston

With winds promising to clock to the west, we had high hopes for an overnighter. In the morning they were still east of north, and strong, so we decided to motor up one more day and then head out that evening or the next morning, when things calmed down. But a mile or so into the waterway, the throttle knob suddenly stopped working. (This is a long story-it had been feeling looser, less responsive, for months. Once Mark tightened something below, and it seemed to help. But we still had to hold it manually in place (or with a piece of string) above 15 RPMs.) Mark experimented with it, up and down, while we drifted down into a closed bridge. He managed to hold us back until the bridge opened. He then went below and opened up the engine and held the throttle down there while I steered and the cabin became a fast disaster, girls hungry and tired, full rattling engine blasting into the messy cabin. We went about 5 miles and were able to anchor, engine racing in forward and reverse since Mark couldn't be below to throttle down. Yikes.

After emptying out the back hatch and crawling upside down inside, he pulled out the throttle cable, certain it had busted. But when we tested it in the cabin it was fine. Mystified, he went over every inch of the throttle system and gasped when he suddenly found the problem, a loose nut. Suddenly he saw how the whole system worked and why the nut made the throttle act as it did. He has not exactly enjoyed this process of becoming a diesel mechanic, but here is another part of the engine that he now understands and can fix. And the throttle now works better than it has in months.

Mark put the engine, the cabin, and the back hatch back together and we were off by 1:00. But getting to another inlet by sunset was now out of the question. We motored til dusk and then enjoyed another beautiful secluded anchorage.

May 21-more, more ICW

Now with a landfall beyond Cape Fear out of the question, we couldn't leave the inlet until midafternoon. We set out at noon and motored in near-calm until 3:00 when 15-20 knots from the southwest-the gradient winds-hit us in about five minutes. We doused the jib and turned into the big river that is the inlet to the ocean. We had about 10 miles to get out to the last buoy. The first mile was okay but then the channel turned still more south and the SW wind came right up at us. The tide was going out and it made for that wind-opposing-tide situation that we have learned to avoid. The chop was 3-4 feet of steep waves, stopping us cold in the water other than the current. Cedar did not help by having a huge mysterious (Dramamine-induced?) temper tantrum. When the bow started getting buried and Mark started to lose steerage, we reluctantly turned around. It was a very strange sensation because as soon as we were turned the motion became smooth and downwind, but because we were now against the current we were only going three knots over the ground. We were flying over the water though, at least six knots.

For the next fifteen miles and four hours we fought our way upstream in a wide chaotic channel. A fishing skiff caught fire about 1 mile ahead of us but three powerboats got there and fished the people out of the water long before we were on the scene.

We pulled in at dusk again, frustrated and discouraged. The winds will be good for another 24 hours or so but we have no way to access them. Things happen for a reason, so for some reason we were not meant to get out there this time. Once again, we are not in control of the situation and trying to keep a decent perspective. Seems like sometimes all one can do is stick with it, endure. It didn't help to find out that we will likely be fighting the tidal current most of the day tomorrow.

May 22, ICW

Not much to report this day. We were against the current all day. The winds were flukey and didn't really help. Ah well. I learned a big lesson by trying to read while steering; I very nearly hit a marker that I never saw until we were going by it-on the wrong side-and bumping the bottom.

Anyway, we made it. Tomorrow's another day.

May 23, into North Carolina

Mark got us going super-early because the evening before we'd bumped bottom for about ½ an hour (in a place where he and Ryan had easily anchored last fall. Tides must be very strong right now). He hoped to get out before low tide which was just before 7:00. But about 10 feet out of the channel, into the mud we go again. (The 5th? time on this northward journey?) Knowing that the tide was falling fast, Mark acted quickly. You'd have thought our life depended on it as he grabbed the kedge anchor, attached a line, and threw it out. He tried to reel it in half dozen times while I gunned the engine, but the anchor never held. Even I was surprised when he then jumped in the water! "What are you going to do?" I asked stupidly. (Remember, it was still very early.) "Push." He actually managed to rock the boat. Then he swam out the kedge anchor one more time. No luck. By this time the girls had heard the racket and woken thoroughly up. We turned off the engine and started our day. The no-see-ums were back.

At 7:30, breakfast eaten and parents calmer, the water was starting to come in. We spun around, set the kedge anchor, tried some more. When a big power boat went by and we rocked in the wake, we got off.

We are reviving a bit from the last few depressing days. It was a beautiful morning and the winds were back NE. Lamar dropped her stuffed horse into the water right under a highway bridge. From inside I heard an urgent toddler scream and saw Mark instantly let the jib fly. You can bet I hopped on deck. Hero Daddy turned around and I grabbed the horse with the bucket.

Cedar is on her fifth day with the same outfit. Clothing has become such an issue that we have decided to leave it up to her. On cold mornings she cuddles in a blanket to avoid putting on something warmer. She even opted not to put her outfit in the wash, or change after taking a solar shower. She does care about cleanliness so we'll just see how long this goes on. I am busy practicing a new skill--keeping my mouth shut--knowing that as long as she has something to prove, she will prove it. Grandma Gordon, your Christmas shorts are getting some good use!

May 9-15

May 9-Still at Fernandina Beach

This low did end up stalling, sort of, and acquiring a Tropical Storm name, Andrea. During the day all "tracks" pointed towards landfall right on top of us tonight or tomorrow. This was not as big a deal as might seem-predictions were for 35 knots at most onshore. It's been kind of interesting to watch and experience the weather on the outskirts of a major swirling Low, as we have been doing for the last five days. We get everything-sun, storms, layer upon layer of all kinds of clouds, and always the wind-except for short periods of calm. Weird. We don't really have forecasts any more, just tracking of the storm. All winds depend on what she will do, and the truth is, no one really knows what she will do! When/if she reaches land, then we will be able to relax.

So we kicked around town for another day, grateful still for our spot on the edge of the dock-maximum viewing, minimum stress. We are itchy to get going, as usual. Even when this low dissipates there are several more on the way, so our hope of sailing offshore to Charleston is looking unlikely. So much for that settled May weather we had heard about! We are reduced to hoping merely that the Intercoastal stops looking so angry; there were actually whitecaps out there today.

May 10-still in Fernandina Beach

So Andrea remained indeterminate-stalling, losing Storm status, but still hanging around. All right, this was getting old. Our month's budget was disappearing in marina fees. The last day was perhaps the windiest of all, with full-on breakers on the Intercoastal. We bit the $$$ bullet and walked to a local History museum, which included a guided tour. Miraculously the girls lasted through the historic tour with its 5-century review of northern Florida. Eight flags have flown here since the first Europeans came in the 1500s.

In the afternoon our next door neighbor on the dock stopped by. "We have a problem, we have too much ice cream. Would you be able to get rid of it for us?" We graciously accepted and after supper spent the evening in a trawler with a very nice couple who were fast friends with the girls. For Mark and I it was fun to talk to other adults! They took their (now grown) children to France for a year. They assured us that kids remember way more than you'd think, and that for their oldest, who was 4-5 when they were there, it was a life-defining year (she is now a French teacher). How very encouraging!

By late evening the wind was down to a breeze for the first time in 5 days.

May 11-to Georgia marshes

The wind was blowing 15 knots out of the NE, dead on the nose, in the morning. But the chop in the Intercoastal looked downright benign and we were out like a shot, along with about a dozen other boats. I felt like a biker in a triathlon-starting before the rest, but being passed the whole time. It was several hours before we stopped being passed by power cruisers every few minutes.

Soon we were in Georgia-Good-bye Florida! We pushed against tidal currents almost all day and could barely sail. But at least we were getting somewhere. We had to cross several inlets, one of which was wide and current-ridden and full of confused swells. The water was thick and brown, adding to the excitement. It was a ride until we turned around a buoy and threw up the jib, and flew downwind, down current, from 3 knots to 7.

Quickly we confirmed everything we'd heard about Georgia-remote, buggy, and marshy. You'd see boats up a river, or around a bend, and the mast would stick up out the grass. It looked like we were all traveling on grasslands. Everything lies very low. It's quietly picturesque, and a welcome change. To anchor, we merely went until suppertime and then pulled into a little river and dropped the hook a hundred feet off the channel.

We had been traveling parallel to another ketch for several days, with a lone, young guy (Craig, I think) aboard. He anchored right beside us, and we invited him over for supper. He had just bought his boat and was taking it to Savannah. The girls immediately took over the conversation that he and Mark kept trying to have, showing him their dolls, dragging him down to the v-berth. I think we're kind of lonely!

That night we gloated as the dusk descended, with no wind, and our new no-see-um netting securely covering every porthole and hatch. That is, until Mark in the v-berth, mid-story-telling, watched a no-see-um easily pop right through the tiny mesh! "Crushed" is a mild term for what I felt as we raced about: up with the bug tent, what do we do about the portholes? (we decided on a double layer of the new mesh-at least make them work for our blood!) Cedar and Lamar enjoyed the drama, and the extra time sitting on the settee, muttering "Darn! Darn!" while Mark set up the bug tent. I managed to feel miserable just expecting the worst-though in the end, it wasn't a bad night. Too cool for the bugs to get too terrible.

May 12-Georgia

Our plans for a dawn departure were stymied by the one thing that can stop you cold in the Intercoastal-fog. Dead calm, thick fog, and soaking wet with dew. We finally got off around 9:00 when the sun pierced through.

It's a good thing we already ate our anniversary dinner because here was the actual day and we motored all day with no civilization in sight. However the girls and I made chocolate-chip cake, and we had Tamale Pie for supper. The meal was marred only by the splayed-out horsefly remains in the corner of the cake when I pulled it out of the oven. (Did I mention the horseflies are terrible during the day?)

Cedar has been a champ these long days on the boat. She gets a project going-setting up house on the cabintop is still the favorite, with her dolls, a snack, and Little House-and is gone for hours. Lamar has been uncharacteristically fussy, and it took us forever to figure out why. Finally I took a look inside her mouth-aha! Four molars coming in! What with her snorkeling, writing her letters, singing with bluegrass bands, it's hard to remember she's technically still a toddler. Can it be that some kids her age are still in highchairs, cribs, diapers? We started giving her Tylenol, with mixed results.

Craig anchored right beside us again, so we had him over for dinner again. He was grateful to be relieved of his diet of Fritos. It was a beautiful evening, still breezy so no bugs. He said that there were alligators all over the place that morning! Funny we don't even know what to look for! But you can guess we will be looking after this.

May 13-to Turner Creek, GA

An easy 20 miles turned into a long slog as the current was against us the whole way. It was HOT-in the high 80s, humid, and windless. We pulled into Turner Creek right at noon, just as the engine sputtered and died! Mark dashed to the front and dropped the anchor, which left us in the middle of the channel-safe but conspicuous. I was just beginning to grasp all the implications of this, thinking from the cockpit, "I'm so glad we are not in the gulf stream with yet another engine problem…" when Mark popped up looking sheepish. Our first tank had run out of fuel. He switched tanks and pulled up the anchor, and we were off-and the engine sputtered again. Drop the anchor, bleed the lines. Mark was sweating bullets, pulling up heavy chain and working deep in the hot engine. The girls as usual were completely unperturbed by this change of circumstance and were only thrilled to be allowed to put their fishing lines in the water without danger of fouling the propeller. After Mark bled the lines twice, and the engine still sputtered, he let me move in for a minute and grab lunch for the girls. This time the engine revved up just fine, and he pulled up the anchor again. We motored into the channel, and I was closely watching the depthsounder, which went from 20 feet to 4 in the middle of the channel. Whoa! But it was too late, and we were aground in thick mud, with no idea which way to go. Mark hopped in the dinghy and poked an oar in all around, determining that we simply needed to get over to the left a few feet. He dropped a kedge anchor in, returned to Amicus, and began pulling the anchor rode in. Amicus swung grudgingly around, and soon was free. All this time we'd been passed by numerous skiffs and powerboats and no one even gave us a wave, let alone an offer of help, making us feel even more ridiculous-unless of course we were invisible. Just as we got free a sailboat finally came in, so we followed it a mile up the river and anchored. Ahhh…

In the baking heat we had a late lunch and naps. Mark sacked out, overheated and worn out. Anchoring is heavy, back-breaking work and he'd done it about four times that day. But it wasn't the last. After Lamar woke up we headed out in the dinghy to see the town. We saw a police skiff coming and hightailed it back to Amicus to pick up our adult lifejackets. They didn't mention the lifejackets but did ask us to move further to the side of the channel. And since we were right there, we could hardly dinghy away, promising to do it later. So we got back in Amicus and re-anchored further downstream. Then, back in the dinghy and heading to town-just as a dark-looking series of clouds and rain started looking very close and in fact came right over us as we turned tail and headed back to Amicus once again, now in a cool NE blast of wind. We made it back before the downpour and had pizza for dinner. The cabin was cool and we were tired.

May 14-Savannah, Georgia

We took a bus to downtown Savannah. It was a cheap easy ride and a great day. I was dying to indulge all my intense memories from reading "Gone with the Wind" and see the remains of a city that burnt to the ground. I learned on a historic tour that my memory is faulty and while Atlanta burned to the ground, Sherman decided that Savannah was too lovely to burn. Savannians were so grateful to him that they gave him a set of silver when he left.

Savannah is indeed beautiful, and full of history. To me there is a dark undertone to it, an element of studying the "scene of the crime," given that this was the center of slavery, Cotton was King. Millions of Africans set their first foot in America on one of the many squares (now parks) downtown, to be sold. There was too much to take in in a day, but our cursory search determined that while colonial Savannah is a point of great pride, pre-Civil War Savannah is more difficult to learn about, despite the fact that in terms of wealth, culture, influence, it was their time of greatest prosperity. I wonder if they have yet to figure out how to share the underside.

There was a huge grocery store right beside our anchorage so we stocked up on the way home. Both girls crashed on the busride home, unfortunately, and were up until all hours.

May 15-to South Carolina

In the morning Cedar stayed home with Mark who was changing the oil while Lamar and I checked out the public library. It was closed so we went next door to a preschool. I was shocked (though I don't know why) to see my gregarious little girl turn so shy she couldn't even speak. Thumb in mouth, she clung to me and watched the 2, 3 and 4 yr. olds in their classrooms. Even the 4 yr. olds seemed younger than Cedar and I wondered again at what a change this is going to be for Cedar, and how she will do with school.

We motored out of Turner Creek at lunchtime and in mid-afternoon, motoring into an extremely fast tidal current at low tide at a narrow cut, we suddenly swirled sideways and I knew instantly we were aground. Just then a guy came on the radio to warn Mark to ignore the red buoy-too late. Two SeaTow skiffs (free towing for members, which we are) were right there…waiting? They say they were doing a shift change, but I don't know! To his credit the guy did try to warn Mark over the radio. Cedar and Lamar were busy Not Napping inside but instead singing "The Old Gray Mare" at the top of their lungs. They didn't even notice the boat heeling way over but gladly came up when I let them off the nap hook and said they could watch the towing. With great efficiency Sea-Tow zipped in, took down our information, and pulled us off. The heeling over we did to get off made us amazed at how shallow and thick the mud was. The guy was happy to accept the "tickets" Lamar and Cedar gave him as tokens of their thanks. As I watched Lamar leaning over into the skiff and shouting at the guy about her ticket, I couldn't help but wonder, "Is this the same little girl I had this morning?"

Northern Florida

May 3-5 Cocoa Beach to northern Florida

I report three days of slogging up the Intercoastal Waterway. Actually, it hasn't been bad at all. There's something refreshing about being able to get up in the morning and do what you planned to do without a lot of deliberation. The Intercoastal is nice that way. By afternoon each day there was a gentle land breeze and we rolled out the jib. The girls have taken over the cabintop and the main boom, which is their horse. They have saddles, bridles, and reins, and bring their dollies on long rides. Then they bring up more and more accessories, until all their toys plus half the kitchen is up there. We don't complain, and if the boat heels over, pick up the stuff on the lower deck. It's enough that they are happily surviving these long days without breaks. It has been HOT-in the 90s on shore. Under the awning and in the breeze, it's still pleasant.

One evening we ran aground trying to anchor in a tight spot where we anchored last November. It was low tide and very muddy, so Mark simply took the dinghy out and set the anchor where he wanted us to end up. When the tide came in and we lifted off, he pulled us in with the anchor rode.

The worse thing has been the no-see-ums. We put up the bug tent every night now which makes sleep possible, but still not abundant. It's too hot, with no wind, and we are still getting chewed in the cabin.

May 6-Fernandina Beach

We slept so poorly that around 6:00 we just gave up. There wasn't a breath of wind and it was humid and buggy. The girls, who'd been up frequently at night, finally went to sleep just as we called it quits and poked our heads outside. Big winds were on the way and we had planned to leave anyway. We upped the anchor and headed out. It smelled strongly of…grass, salt, muck. I would have found this distasteful six months ago; this time I enjoyed having any earth-based smells at all. Also the sky was overcast, low clouds, definite signs of weather coming; what a nice change! After awhile even 80 degrees, sun and puffy clouds can get old.

We reached Fernandina Beach by late morning, pulled up to get diesel, and inquired about slips at the marina. They were gone, but Mark thinks the guy took pity on us because of the kids, and found us a spot anyway. Most boats were anchored in the wide waterway, ready to get pasted.

We were SO lucky to get this slip, in the end. Within an hour or two after arriving the winds kicked up past 20 knots, with more and stronger coming. The boats out in the waterway were bouncing, and we would have been stuck out there, unable to bring the dinghy in, perhaps for days. Instead we wandered ashore and found a large festival in full swing! Though the tents looked in danger of blowing over, this historic town was overflowing with thousands of visitors. Free gadgets, hundreds of artwork stands, and costumed pirates handing out necklaces and "arrgggg"ing. It one of those days that includes many days: was it possible that we had woken up in a buggy swamp? Mid-afternoon there was a downpour, and then it REALLY started to blow. This system has hurricane-force winds out near Bermuda (but is NOT a tropical storm, in case you were worried, and has only 1-100 chances of becoming one). We enjoyed being able to hang out in town and not worry about Amicus, safely tied into a dock for once. In the late afternoon we listened to a musician and sucked on sno-cones.

With bodies covered in old bug bites (especially Cedar), we nevertheless slept like babies, the first solid sleep since before the no-see-ums. No bug tent, blankets to snuggle under…we were in heaven. It was in the low 60s, unheard of chilly, if you include the wind.

May 7, 2007

We woke up to 30+ knots of wind and pulled out our fleece. We found cheap laundry machines and washed the kids' quilt, phew what a relief. It feels like a Midwestern fall day: cool, crisp, windy. There was plenty to see so we wandered the wide sidewalks. For the third time in a week someone asked us if the girls are twins. Lamar must really be getting tall. She has outdone even Cedar in her motherly devotion. Her baby is in the sling at all times, other than sleeping when we insist that baby sleeps to the side. She can even swing around on the playground, still crooning to baby.

In the afternoon we took showers and then headed into town to go out for our wedding anniversary dinner. We ended up having a magical evening, completely unexpected. The restaurant was an old mansion. It was the weekly bluegrass open mike night, and the musicians began to gather. Guitars, fiddles, banjos, mandolins, and a bass. Nothing is happier than bluegrass music; smiles were everywhere, feet were tapping, and harmonies were growing. Cedar and Lamar couldn't keep still and danced, much to everyone's delight. Twice the musicians invited the girls up, and I'll be darned if they didn't get up there and sing twice-"Do Lord, Oh Do Lord" and then "You are my sunshine." Cedar sang right into the mike, eliciting a roar of applause, while Lamar mostly rocked her dolly, in the sling as always. They brought the house down. It was hard to leave, and we sang and danced most of the way home.

Subtley I watch us turn our energies towards home. All I could think during the evening was that it was high time to get the girls playing some instruments; singing is no longer enough, and we need more music in our lives. Another sign: the other day I was listening on NPR to a discussion about sex offenders re-integrating into communities, and someone said "If we push them too far to the side, we will lose them. And then are we safer?" Reflexively I cheered aloud--I still really care about this stuff! And can't wait to return to it, when the time comes.

May 8

That night the wind blew so strongly that even in our protected spot, the boat heeled heavily over at times. There's a hurricane watch out. The storm is about to come to land. If it doesn't, it could become a tropical storm. We'll know by tomorrow night.

This morning I took a long walk to the grocery store, hitting Wal-Mart and a thrift store along the way. Most importantly, I bought a bunch of mesh material that will serve for no-see-um netting.

Last stop in the Exumas

April 16-more of Cambridge Cay

At suppertime I was fiddling with the pressure cooker lid while the beans were boiling rapidly. Somehow Cedar either tipped or jarred the pot and the boiling beans spilled/splashed on her. Instantly Mark grabbed her and poured cold water all over her body, calling out for more. "Cold water! Cold water!" After a second or two he hollered, "Where are you burnt?" and Cedar, already hysterical, screamed "NOWHERE!" Lamar was also hysterical by now. After a minute of calming down, it became apparent that her leg was in fact burned. We piled on the aloe and put it in front of the fan and gave her a homeopathic remedy. There were no blisters. Mark gave a sigh of relief and pronounced it a first-degree burn only. I told her every burn story I could think of (my sister's burnt foot in the mountains of Wyoming topping the list) and then branched out into all other accidents. It kept her entranced, but after a half hour she was crying and complaining of the pain again. We gave her Tylenol and another half hour went by. She said the pain was much better and we had a fairly normal evening. The burn covered the inside of her thigh and some on her calf as well.

Mercifully, it was the first cool weather we'd had in weeks. Instead of being restless from heat, we snuggled under blankets and even Cedar slept well. The mildness of her burn is no doubt due to Mark's brilliant water-throwing reflex because that water was definitely boiling. I was only too happy to sleep on a wet cushion that night. We were reminded of our vulnerability and grateful once again for health and wellbeing, without which a trip like this would never even be in the realm of possibility.

April 18-19 Norman's Cay

We took advantage of light winds to motor then sail 25 miles north to Norman's Cay. This will be our last Exuma island, so we resolved to take full advantage. With the relatively easy living Mark and I are ready for a little excitement, but the girls could never tire of the beach and water and the endless fort-building, shell-collecting, and snorkeling/swimming that avails itself here. To amuse ourselves Mark and I have taken to reading aloud to each other, as well as the occasional borrowed DVD movie, watched on our laptop with such minimal sound that we have to guess at the dialogue. These movies have been a great escape for us; we get lost in Hollywood's realities and can almost forget (til we hop outside to pee) that the wind is blowing 20 knots and our anchor could drag at any second and toss us onto shore.

The other incongruity with the movies is the food deprivation that accompanies it. No carton of ice cream for us! Even the oranges hanging over the settee are off limits; we gave up fruit long ago so that Cedar and Lamar could each get ½ an orange a day, minus whatever section I may beg off of them. They also get the sweet potatoes, the other lone remnant of fresh food on this boat. One thing I've learned about stapes: we still have all the dry beans and rice we could eat, but we would have to be in true starvation mode to eat any more of it. At our current level of hunger, we eat the required amounts, but no more. I could have stored fewer plain staples and a bit more fun food.

Enough already with the food woes! I am also suffering from a mild case of swimmer's ear and have not swum for several days. Instead, we have explored Norman's Cay which has the dubious honor of being the old center of one of the biggest drug cartels in America, the home and operation of drug runner Carlos Lehder. It is now in ruins, and Mark and I were both fascinated to poke around and imagine: was this Lehder's house? (the ruined mansion atop the hill) The workers' quarters? The harem? (the pile of trailer homes) There was even the remains of a conference room and offices-what was taught here? Could there be any stashes of cocaine hidden somewhere still? Before the big drug bust (which we heard was in the 80s, unverified info.) there were even unproven murders of cruisers who happened accidently into the cove where we were now anchored. I wonder what it took to take this place down? A plane lies half-buried in the shallows. Cedar learned a lot and is fascinated by the whole idea of drugs, and not for the first time either. It comes up in her read-aloud stories, a dead giveaway that it's ticking away in her brain somewhere.

April 20-other side of Norman's

This morning we woke up to north winds-finally the westerlies are clocking around. The girls and I visited a tiny island while Mark scrubbed the hull once again (the need for a coat of anti-fouling is acute at this point). Coming back we were surprised with strong NE winds, already coming through the cut from Exuma Sound. The easterlies are back, and we lost no time getting out of there. We motored around the island and all its reefs and sandbars, anchoring on the other side-a seemingly simple maneuver which, due to faulty waypoint recording on our GPS (oops) and a sudden steep wave chop, became a harrowing ordeal as we found ourselves rollicking near dark-colored patches of water (coral reefs) that despite our dedication to the GPS, kept appearing out of nowhere. Finally we gave up on the waypoints and crawled in by eyesight alone-the difficult, though most dependable method. Once again, one can never rely too heavily on electronics. It's one thing to have to psyche up for a challenge and then meet it, but quite another to be mentally prepared only for another calm day and then be accosted with fear and trembling. The silver lining was once again the girls' heroics; despite the crashing about they never got seasick, but dove around on the settees (don't ask me how they jump around so much without crashing amid such motion) and happily dove for their "treats" when we finally arrived.

Starting tomorrow, we should be moving with a purpose again. According to Chris Parker, the "Bermuda high" is back and we should have long periods of ideal north-bound sailing weather in the near future. We will sail to Nassau tomorrow to provision up, then shoot up for the Grand Bahama Is. at the next opportunity. Then rest up for the big crossing back, this time with the wind and the gulf stream both pulling for us.