plodding to paradise

COME ON OVER!

2010-10-24T22:32:00.000-04:00

If you haven't already made the leap, come on over to our new blog: http://ploddingINparadise.blogspot.com/. We've finally sailed the coop.

ON YOUR MARK

2010-10-22T23:53:00.014-04:00

Manteo, NC -- Tomorrow is the first day of the rest of my life.

I know what you're thinking. Every day is the first day of the rest of my life, but let me explain.

Tomorrow, at long last, we will untie the lines and leave this dock in Manteo, sail out of the Roanoke Sound and leave our home waters. In this marathon plod to the water, tomorrow is the finish line, the successful culmination of a 10-year plan. We made it. We did it. Our plod to the water is complete.

While I don't know yet exactly how I'll feel tomorrow, today is an emotional salad bar. Tomorrow is the first day of school, graduation, every vacation rolled into one, an appointment for a root canal, my final exam in calculus, the first day of a new job, Christmas and birthdays and anniversaries. Tomorrow is everything.

And as we head south, we'll be following Old House Channel, notoriously treacherous, strewn with markers that tenuously guide the way.As our navigator, I study the charts to determine what lies ahead and then scan the horizon, watching, waiting with faith that the next mark will not only appear but make the path clear. And just when my nerves start to fray, my faith wavering, knowing that a wrong turn means running into underwater perils, the mark appears.

But at some places along the way, the water, the marks and our movement through them conspire to create an optical illusion, and I experience moments of utter confusion. The only way to find perspective is by looking back at the last mark and then looking ahead to the next, lining them up to make sure we are on the path.

As we have navigated this long, long plod to the water, through the dense fog of an economic downturn, so many times I scanned the horizon ahead with faith that a mark would materialize in time to show us which way to turn. And each time, at what felt like the very last moment, there it was, tardy in my book, but there all the same.

Just as on the water, that next mark points us to where we were going but not how to get there. It is the path behind us that gives us the perspective we need to make our way. It is this blog that reminds us where we've been. This is where we look to line up all the marks behind us together with the one ahead to know we are in the channel, to assure us that we are on the right path.

And tomorrow, as we finally leave the dock behind us and set off into the wide open water that is our future, we laugh, we sing, we weep, we tremble in fear and jump with joy.

And then we scan the water ahead, looking for the next mark.

Chip and me and Cara Mia, we three. May we always sail on fair winds and kind seas.

TO OUR READERS: This blog, ploddingTOparadise.blogspot.com has now ended. Our long plod TO the water is now complete. You will now find us ploddingINparadise.blogspot.com. We hope you'll come along for the ride.

PROVISIONING

2010-10-13T21:19:00.001-04:00

Bridgeville, DE -- A four-night stop at Chip's parents in Delaware to:

Provision

POWER SHOPPING

2010-10-11T23:33:00.098-04:00

Annapolis, MD -- As we stood at the gate of the Annapolis sailboat show this morning, I felt overwhelmed by how very far we've come in one year. When we entered the show last year, sad and wistful, Isabella, our old boat, was back in the Outer Banks having her belly repaired. We were living in a small apartment with no viable prospects for the business, wondering if the waiting would ever end.

Last year, we watched with aching hearts as a long line of sailboats headed south from Annapolis, their bows pointing toward the Bahamas.

This year, we enter the show triumphant, no longer dreamers but cruisers, inexperienced, yes, but ready to take our place in line heading south as soon as we return to the Outer Banks.

Our shopping list for the boat show was titled "Mission Critical." This was not intended to be melodramatic but rather was descriptive of the contents:

Life Raft
Life Jackets
Foul Weather Gear
Anchor

We were waiting at the gate at opening time with our friend John, who came along as part moral support, part sherpa, part tempering agent and part court jester, all well served.

We were among the first 20 people to enter the show (nerds) and were escorted out at closing (nerds). In the meantime, we snagged an amazing deal on a Revere life raft and two Mustang harness life jackets, all the while trying on every major brand of foul weather gear.

Mission accomplished.

One amazing year. One amazing shopping trip.

One happy toast to good times -- despite the fact that the bartender was pissed at the world as embodied by Chip, and dumped half a bottle of nutmeg in his painkiller. Look at that!

HELP FROM ABOVE ...

2010-10-09T20:59:00.002-04:00

And below:

Manteo, NC -- Our friend Pete helping us with electronics installation. He'll be continuing his help from above and below while we drive to the Annapolis sailboat show.

Thanks, Pete!!!

GOING RETRO

2010-10-08T21:03:00.037-04:00

Manteo, NC -- Boat projects sound so easy in theory, but the old formula about tripling your time estimate when planning a boat job seems conservative to me.

So, the new radar and GPS arrived, but the old stainless steel stand is too short, so we had to order a new one.

The new standard for a stainless steel helm stand is 1.5", but we had to order the old 1" pipe, so it would fit the current (old) pedestal. Why does it matter? All the instrument wires have to be threaded through the stainless steel tube.

The new equipment comes with plugs that are just over an inch wide, and just a little wider than our old 1" pipe. All the wires will have to be cut, threaded and spliced or traced back to their source, disconnected, pulled back to the helm, threaded through the new pipe, pulled from the helm back to their original source and reconnected.

And those wide plugs that make the new equipment so easy to just plug and go? They are wider than the PVC conduit inside the mast -- the conduit that keeps the wires from clanging around inside the mast, which is a hollow metal tube. Nothing to do about that, so now we have two wires free-ranging in there, lying-in-wait to torture us on rough nights.

Top all this off by chasing the old wires through hatches, under tanks and behind the walls -- and then threading the new wires through the same paths. We did this today, only to discover that the new wires aren't quite long enough to reach the helm, so we now have to figure out how to get them extended.

Retro-fitting. This is how sailors learned to curse.

A SCARY PLACE

2010-10-07T20:43:00.003-04:00

Manteo, NC -- Our new GPS and radar have arrived. We're taking apart everything at the helm to make way for the new configuration to be installed.

I had the compass out and was peering down into the well beneath it. When I setting the compass back in place, I thought, "Wow, we better be sure to get the compass back in with north pointing the right way!"

I'm not making this up. I actually thought this.

Sometimes I really scare myself.

LEARNING WHAT WORKS -- OR NOT

2010-10-06T20:26:00.005-04:00

Manteo, NC -- Before I moved onto a boat, I thought, bamboo chopsticks, perfect!

Now that we've been through two hurricanes and tons of rain, the boat is a little damp. Not because it's leaking, but rather because the air is humid.

I opened a drawer in the kitchen and found those mildewed chopsticks in the photo.

Wood is fine, it just has to be finished or heavily oiled. Lesson learned.

On another note, you might wonder if it's possible to mess up a recipe with only three ingredients. The answer is yes.

I made corn tortillas tonight. They were terrible.

Guess I'll try again another day... If you have advice, please, click on that "comment" link below and let me know!

MANTEO

2010-10-05T21:02:00.001-04:00

Ah, fair Manteo, I must admit, I'll miss you.

FLOATING ER

2010-10-03T15:15:00.008-04:00

Manteo, NC -- A marine first aid kit came with the boat, so I decided to inventory the contents to see what needs to be replaced.

I fully expected to find things like bandaids, alcohol swabs and gauze. I was not disappointed.

I was not expecting a scalpel, skin stapler and a CPR mask. The instruction booklet has step-by-step instructions for things like reviving an unconscious person and performing an amputation. Jeez.

Give us a gurney and a triage team, and we'll be a floating hospital.

I'm all about being prepared, but let's hope we only use the bandaids for paper cuts and the aspirin for rum hangovers.

OUT LIKE A BANSHEE

2010-10-01T15:38:00.097-04:00

Manteo, NC -- If Hurricane Earl brought September in like a lion, then tropical storm Nicole took it out like a screaming banshee.

We'd been keeping a wary eye on the storm and the low pressure over the eastern seaboard, yet, it still caught us a bit unawares.

About 8 a.m. yesterday the wind went from zero to 20+ gusts from the south -- right on our stern. Within 30 minutes, the bow had blown too far forward and the anchors that rest on the bowsprit were pounding on the dock. It took both of us to inch the lines in enough get clear of the dock. One of us would pull the line up to make some slack while the other would pull it in on the cleat. Pull, pull, pull, "Ready? GO!" It was inelegant, but it worked -- for the moment and at relatively low winds.

The prevailing wind for the storm would be from the south, the only vulnerable direction in this marina -- and the total opposite of the heavy winds during Earl. The morning preview at 20 knots was a good warning for us that we didn't want the same thing at 40 knots.

The wind kindly backed off, giving us a calm window to get the heck out of dodge, or at least to the outskirts. We bolted to a slip on the other end of the marina that the dockmaster calls the "Sea of Tranquility."

Every 30 minutes or so for the next 24 hours, sometimes more often, I said, "Thank god we moved!"

As evening approached, the wind was gusting in the 30s, and waves were breaking over the dock. Yes, over the dock.

And then it kept blowing, not in gusts, but like a big-ass fan. We thought Earl went on for a long time, but this one, thanks to the series of lows along the East Coast, lasted at least twice as long.

Fortunately the "Sea of Tranquility" turned out to be an accurate title. Cara Mia remained calm and unscathed, yet again, even as other boats were flailing around, some sustaining a good bit of damage.

We are thankful that we safely weathered a big storm in familiar water, yet again.

SWEEPING CHANGES

2010-09-27T10:58:00.026-04:00

Manteo, NC -- I've been looking for the perfect broom to sweep our very small stretch of wood floor in the boat.

My dreams came true at Walmart yesterday. As we were standing in line to pay for our basil plant, sewing thread and ledger book, I spotted the Slipper Genie!

Thanks to Oprah, the genies might be familiar to those who have television, but to me they were a shocking revelation.

Brilliant.

Perfect.

Cue the music!

GUESS THE CHORE

2010-09-25T20:51:00.000-04:00

Manteo, NC -- Okay, what boat chore requires the following tools:

10 inches of small line
a small grabber tool
a paint stirring stick
a cup of water
a shopvac
a sheet of rubber
pair of scissors

We didn't know either. Well, we knew the chore: clean out the raw (sea) water filter. What we didn't know was how complicated it would get.

The housing of the filter is clear glass, but in this case it was jet black. When Chip pulled up the basket, the bottom disk broke off and stuck on the shaft.

My hand fit far enough in the opening to slide the disk up to within three inches of the top where the opening was smaller. Hmm. What now? String! We looped the string under the disk and it popped right off -- and fell down into the glass. Sigh. That's where the grabber tool came in.

With the disk out, we could now see an inch of sludge in the bottom of the glass tank. The shopvac nozzle was too wide to fit, so we put the tube over the shaft, only able to suck the water out from the middle. Paint stirrer and cup of water, er, cupS of water. We scraped the bottom with the paint stirrer, poured in water, turned on the vac. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. Empty shopvac. Repeat. Repeat until all the sludge is gone.

So, now we just drop in the new basket. Wait! There's no hole in the bottom. Let's drill one.

Great. Now we just put in the new gasket, and we're done. Wait! West Marine discontinued our gasket. Let's cut one ourselves.

People often ask us, "What do you DO all day?" We just shrug our shoulders.

ME, BRAVE?

2010-09-24T23:57:00.034-04:00

Manteo, NC -- As our departure date looms, my excitement is feeling more and more like anxiety.

As we complete more and more of our preparations, I feel less and less prepared.

The last few days I've worried about everything: my inexperience, the weather, whales, equipment failure, our health, bedbugs. Okay, not the bedbugs, but now that I think about it....

And then, tonight, we were walking down the dock and saw the most beautiful wooden kayak, which we failed to photograph (sorry). It was as beautiful as any of these.

We stopped to talk to the owner of the kayak, who paddled here from just north of D.C. and is headed for Savannah.

Savannah, Georgia.

In a kayak.

In the ocean.

Suddenly my big, brave sailing adventure seems like going on the flume ride at Six Flags.

Savannah. In a kayak. Jeez!

BEST BAR IN TOWN

2010-09-21T16:29:00.004-04:00

Chip bought a boat-friendly guitar, a Little Martin. Since it's made of mostly composite materials, it's resistant to changing temperature and humidity. It's supposed to hold its tuning -- so far so good!

AND THE NEXT 12 YEARS...

2010-09-19T23:10:00.011-04:00

Manteo, NC -- Today is our 12th anniversary. I decided it was time to tell Chip the truth, something I'd been hiding, avoiding, skirting, making light of for a long time now.

At brunch, I swallowed hard and came out with it:

"I don't want to go north."

"Really? Me either!"

Well, happy anniversary to us, because now that we decided we can just head south -- where we REALLY want to go -- we are jacked up.

I pulled out all the Bahamas and ICW guides. We bought a Caribbean travel guide.

YAHOO!!!!!! Now THAT'S cause for celebration.

Crystal clear turquoise water, here we come...

TUFTING

2010-09-16T18:12:00.019-04:00

Manteo, NC -- It finally came. Our wonderful mattress topper that makes the V-berth bed feel like a mattress.

After making fun of their ad for the last five years:

It seemed only fitting to make our own:

p.s. -- Chip asked me to add: That is NOT me in the first photo. That is the ad for the topper. Chip did not ask me to add this: That IS Chip in the second photo.

GOING SOLAR

2010-09-15T16:19:00.000-04:00

The solar panels. They arrived today!!!!

Two big ones that will be over the bimini, one of each side.

And a little guy that fits between the backstays -- or will when that rack is built.

GRIDLOCKED

2010-09-14T14:15:00.004-04:00

Manteo, NC -- Our society is not set up to deal with drifters like us. There is no clean way to go off the postal grid.

We now have a post office box in Delaware, but we want OFF the lists, not to have the junk FORWARDED.

Sure we could just ditch and leave the new owners of our house and business to shovel the deluge of paper, but, well, that seems rude.

For two entire years, we have called everyone who has sent us a piece of mail and asked them to desist. We have gone online to request removal from lists, returned mail with RETURN TO SENDER in red Sharpee. We have called again -- and again. I have called The Company Store more than I've called my own mother. You just wouldn't believe how much freaking time we have invested in erasing ourselves.

And still, the wine shop gets spammed with piles of trash. We bring the pile of trash to the boat and once again call, write, return to sender, lick our paper cuts.

Then, here's the worst part, we order something and have it delivered to a friend's house. Guess who now inherits our junk mail. AAAAAHHHHHHH.

Not having a physical address causes some odd dilemmas. This is one of my favorites: I went to my credit card's web site to stop mailings to the wine shop. No problem, I'll have them mail stuff to the PO box in Delaware. Problem.

There are three mailing addresses associated with the account: A card mailing address, a correspondence mailing address and a statement mailing address. One of them has to be a physical address, no PO box. So, stick with me here, I put the PO box as the card mailing adress and the correspondence address. I left the wine shop address as the statement address and signed up for paperless statements. Will this work? That remains to be seen.

A few weeks ago I tried to add Google ads to my blog to make a little money when you click here. Guess what? You can't use Google ads without a physical address. Post office boxes don't count.

If I were smarter I would think of a clever play on "I think, therefore I am."

Sigh. Don't write.

BACKBLOGGING

2010-09-14T13:18:00.000-04:00

If you're just checking in to see if I've updated the blog lately, you might want to scroll down to August. There are a lot of new entries (and will be more) that show up after the Hurricane Earl hoopla.

Thanks for reading!

CONGRATULATIONS!

2010-09-13T15:01:00.000-04:00

One of my readers has published a book! Congrats to Laura Wharton on the publication of The Pirate's Bastard. Best of luck, Laura, and let us know if you'll be doing a signing out here before we leave...

A REMEMBRANCE

2010-09-11T16:05:00.001-04:00

Manteo, NC -- September 11, the anniversary of the unspeakable tragedy wrought by extremism. Religious zealotry without spirituality excludes and destroys.

There is no god worthy of worship who would approve violence against the innocent.

May the families of the 9/11 victims find some measure of peace in their loss and hope in our collective future.

OUR OWN TEST SAIL

2010-09-07T22:39:00.000-04:00

No caption needed.

We took Cara Mia out for a test sail today. It was the first time I raised the main by myself. It's a beast! The full battens make it really heavy. I got it within 6 feet by hauling at the mast and a little further by winching. Chip had to step in for the final heave ho. It will be my workout challenge.

Downeast Rover led us into the harbor.

ON SECOND THOUGHT ...

2010-09-07T12:13:00.000-04:00

Now that we've had a few days to ponder weathering a hurricane on the boat, it's time to evaluate how it went.

On the face of it, I realize that riding out a hurricane onboard a boat seems careless, cavalier, stupid. Yeah, but ours was calculated stupidity.

We've been riding out Outer Banks hurricanes on land, and securing our boats at dock, for 15 years. We are in familiar waters and have a good feel for how things will play out. Had we been far afield, our decisions would have been different.

First, let me throw out a retroactive blanket of forgiveness to everyone who didn't call ahead and offer us a place to stay. We stayed on the boat by choice, because a) we wanted to do everything we could to keep the boat safe, and b) we wanted to experience that level of storm, to hear 40-knot wind in the rigging, to see how the boat responded.

We get an A+ for predicting Earl's antics. He stayed offshore and blasted us with steady 40-50 knot winds with gusts up near 70 (we think). No water issues -- no water blowing out or flooding in.

The only thing that caught us unawares was the actual size, and therefore length, of the storm. In a closed-off cabin being tossed around in the clamor of pounding rain, yowling wind and groaning lines, it seemed interminable.

Were our lives in danger? No. Had the hurricane made a sudden change in course, we probably would have stayed ashore and kept watch.

Was the boat in danger? We were on the opposite side of the dock from the heavy wind, protected from derelict boats. The only boat next to us was a power boat, so there was no rigging to worry about. Nothing went wrong, but the wee hour scenarios went something like this:
--What if the pilings give way? That was a clear possibility. In that case, we would have had some serious banging around and likely a lot of damage. Everyone here was worried about the pilings. A large powerboat took one out a few months ago in a minor blow.
--What if the cleat on the dock gives way? Same as above.
--What if the staysail starts unfurling?

WHAT WE DID RIGHT:
--Doubled up all our dock lines
--Removed the jib
--Removed the bimini

WHAT WE'LL DO NEXT TIME:
--If we tie up to a cleat on the dock, check its integrity. Otherwise, we'll fret about it all damn night.
--Remove the dinghy and put it ashore. We didn't have any trouble, just another precaution that seems prudent.
--Remove the staysail. We had no issue other than worrying about it. The time/effort in removing it would have been much less.
--Decide based on the storm if we should remove the main. Several dock walkers thought we were negligent in leaving it on. I noticed they did not come back by to say, "You were right." The main was safe because the prevailing wind direction came right on our nose (which is why we left it).

NOT SURE:
--Dropped two 5-gallon buckets on each side to arrest rocking motion. Jeez, it's impossible to know. We were definitely rolling around. I now feel a certain kinship with ice cubes in a cocktail shaker.
--Staying on the boat. I wouldn't want to stay onboard in anything above 50 knots.

Finally, we offer a sincere apology to Cara Mia. We should not have been in the Outer Banks during hurricane season. Please forgive us for putting you through that.

SAIL TEST

2010-09-04T22:16:00.000-04:00

We went roving around on the Downeast Rover, a test of the post-hurricane sail installation. The sail and sails were beautiful!

BLOW BY BLOW

2010-09-03T17:37:00.000-04:00

8:00
The wind has started from the Northeast, quiet and cloudy. We watch with nervous energy.

Midnight
It blows. There's a light steady rain on fiberglass. The boat is rocking and groaning. Every once in a while the boat heaves a big stuttering shiver. I flirt with sleep. It plays hard to get.

1:15
The motion changes, the wind picks up. All the sounds that had made themselves familiar the last three hours have left and sent in a new platoon of noises. The most unsettling of them is a high mew like a kitten, mew mew mew, mew mew mew. Sleep still taunts and runs away leaving me feeling slightly queasy.

1:26
I was roaming around restless and stopped to look out to port. A man was walking down the boardwalk and turned up our dock. He bent his head against the wind and rain. A few minutes later we heard a loud horn blow. Wee hour mysteries.

1:44
Okay, that was a big gust. A loud bang and the trash flew open on its track. Hmm. Getting more queasy.

2:11
I'm seeing what they mean by "bands." Every 10 minutes or so, we get blasted. That damnable cat sound is consistent and annoying. My muscles are getting sore from being thrown about in a washtub.

2:16
This should be the worst of it, the next hour. We talk briefly about the cleat on the dock giving way, then quickly change the subject. Conversation is difficult amidst the cacophony.

2:22
Chip is sleeping. Amazing. I watch. A storm blast wakes him, and the boat shimmies. We turn on the spreader light halfway up the mast and look up through the hatch. The rain is almost horizontal.

2:28
A sudden pelting like gravel thrown on the deck. I jump up to turn on the foredeck light. It looks the same as before. Hail? Not sure.

2:50
We've started to get stripes of quiet, calm. Taunting. But then it comes back with a vengeance. Perhaps we'll be finished soon. I hope. My nerves are frayed.

3:04
We've passed now into what will surely be the final hour. The gusts are so strong, the boat bump-bump-bumps along like it's passing over a wooden bridge. The bigger world out there might know where Earl is but in our isolation we track it by wind direction, still north, and the plummeting barometer, still going at 29.7.

3:15
According to FM radio, Earl will not be passing Nags Head until 8 a.m. Could that be true? We have 5 more hours of this? Really?

4:56
Sure enough. This has not let up. The rain pounds. The wind howls. The boat pitches. I snatch little bits of sleep between bands.

5:01
"We expect winds to continue for several more hours and ease around daybreak." This according to automaton man on VHF weather channel. Bastard. And so we enter the fifth hour.

5:08
We both prowl around restlessly. Minutes ago we were standing three feet apart facing starboard, holding tight as the boat bucked. Two items started flying across shelves, one in front of each of us. We each in unison reached out and grabbed the one nearest us.

5:26
I guess the hours before dawn are always the hardest. We both fret. The water rises. We realize now that if something happens, a line breaks, a piling gives way, there's not much we can do. I question our decision to stay onboard. The water's too high now to get off safely.

5:53
Howling wind. This is the worst, and we're tired, nerves shot, watching the minutes tick by, cringing at every gust. I study the eastern sky, begging the sun to rise. We listen to FM radio to hear human voices. We strain over the noise only to hear them saying schools are closed today. There's some news.

6:30
The sky is brightening. Chip just went on deck to secure the boom. It's still wailing. The power has gone out in Manteo. No more AC.

6:39
The barometer has gone up a smidge. Could we be almost out of the weeds? Woods? Winds?

7:00
No, it's getting worse. The wind is intense, sometimes sounds like a low-flying jet. The rain is pounding. We rocking so severely that I'm seasick. We're suiting up and waiting for the first chance to get off the boat. She has proven herself capable. We need a break.

We left the boat just before 8:00 and huddled in the dockmaster's office with some other wet folks, the wind and rain still howling. McDonald's was the only place open selling hot food, so we got nourishment, coffee at Front Porch and then settled onto a now perfectly still boat for a 5-hour nap.

Cara Mia sustained no damage. I'll review the lists from yesterday once we've had an actual night's sleep.

I like reading my wee hour thoughts. Time will tell which ones will take root.

HURRICANE EARL

2010-09-02T13:37:00.001-04:00

A note to my blog readers:

I'll be busy the next few days getting the blog up to date, but didn't want to keep you in suspense about this hurricane. We are tied up at the docks in Manteo, ready to weather it.

What we've done:
--Doubled up all our dock lines
--Removed the jib
--Secured the staysail and main
--Removed the bimini
--Secured the dinghy on the davits
--Dropped two 5-gallon buckets on each side to arrest rocking motion (a new theory we've never tried before. Stay tuned.)

What we'll do tonight during the storm:
--Stay onboard and adjust to changing wind and water levels
--Monitor Channel 9 with all our dockmates in case anyone needs assistance
--Keep an hourly log that will eventually show up here.
--Play cribbage.
--Not sleep much!

What we didn't do:
--Remove the staysail
--Remove the main
--Haul out
These decisions will be evaluated here after the storm.

All told, it's nice to weather our first hurricane in familiar waters with friends all around.

God speed, Earl.

DINGHY: DONE

2010-08-23T15:33:00.021-04:00

Manteo, NC -- Our long-awaited engine has arrived. You might recall, we took it in for repair, which took two weeks. They called to tell us it was ready as we were leaving town for two weeks. So, now, four weeks later, the engine has come home to roost.

Chip paired up the dinghy and the motor (with the help of a small crane we found onboard), and we're in business.

The dinghy will serve as our car, sort of. For the most part, we'll be anchoring out, because, well, anchoring is free. We'll lower the dinghy off its davits (brackets that hold it up on back of the boat), use the small crane to move the engine from the cockpit rail to the dinghy, and off we go. The dinghy will wait for us on shore while we're messing around on land.

BACK IN THE SADDLE

2010-08-22T20:14:00.028-04:00

Manteo, NC -- We're feeling a bit wistful on returning to an empty beach. Our kids, Casey and Dylan (and Brett!), left for college while we were in New Mexico. We had hoped to be here to send them off. Instead, once we get things situated here, we'll be heading west again, this time to Asheville and Boone.

In the meantime, we're hard at the last-minute preparations for our watery departure, the one that has now been delayed by at least three weeks.

The big items on our short TO DO list:

--Order the Tufted Topper for our bed
--Get solar panels and install them
--Buy and install electronic navigation equipment
--Fix the water filter
--Sort out my folding bike

For that first item, we had to cut a pattern in the shape of our mattress. That sounds easy, right? Few things associated with boats are easy. Since there's no space big enough to lay the mattress out on the boat, we had to get it off the boat and onto the dock. Fortunately we were able to manage this without dunking either the mattress or ourselves, although not without making ourselves look silly. The pattern is now wending its way to get us a poofy pad to soften our sleep. So long aching shoulder!

Our work was done in time to avoid this:

HEADING NORTH

2010-08-20T23:44:00.002-04:00

Asher, Sally, Ben and Zeke

Albuquerque, NM -- How do you know when it's time to leave? We didn't. I just made a plane reservation, and we're flying home tomorrow.

Mom is able to manage fairly well on her own now. She lives alone, so we made her act as if we weren't there the last few days. She has showered, dressed, made her own meals (mostly) and gone for short walks. Her strength is slowly returning just as we're leaving.

Flying out of Albuquerque used to be an annoyance until my nephew Asher moved there with his family, Sally and their 2-year-old twins Ben and Zeke. Now it's a blast!

The six of us hopped a train this evening and had dinner in Santa Fe. The 45-minute ride back turned into a 2 1/2-hour ordeal when our train hit a pedestrian. The pedestrian was barely injured, but the paperwork took hours.

Ben and Zeke kept us entertained -- in fact the whole car. Zeke came out of the bathroom and announced, "I pooped in the potty!!"

The train attendant put him on the intercom, "I pooped in the potty!"

Fun times.

COMMUNICATION ATTEMPT

2010-08-19T13:36:00.001-04:00

Roswell, NM --

Chip: Our relationship needs a tuneup, some attention.

Me: Are you feeling tense?

Chip: Funny.

Me: Didn't you say there's too much tension?

Chip: No, "some attention."

Me: Oh. yeah, I have a hard time emotionally multitasking in this kind of situation. I suck sometimes.

Chip: Yes.

Me: You're not supposed to agree with that!

Chip: What that "it sucks sometimes?"

Me: No, I said I suck sometimes.

Chip: Oh.

ON THE ROAD...

2010-08-18T23:25:00.028-04:00

Roswell, NM -- ... to recovery, that is. Mom is making great strides now that she's home. She is still on oxygen but is getting up and dressed on her own.

We gave her a silly marine whistle that sounds like a goose to call us when she needs help in the night. She rarely needs it now and instead uses it to scare the bejeezus out of us when we least expect it. That's progress.

tamale |təˈmälē|
noun
a Mexican dish of seasoned meat wrapped in cornmeal dough and steamed or baked in corn husks.

Chip has discovered the tamale. He now orders at least one everywhere we go.

sopaipilla |ˌsōpīˈpēyə| (also sopapilla |ˌsōpə-|)
noun
(esp. in New Mexico) a deep-fried pastry, typically square, eaten with honey or sugar or as a bread.

I have rediscovered the sopaipilla. They are what makes New Mexico the Land of Enchantment.

enchilada |ˌen ch əˈlädə|
noun
a rolled tortilla with a filling typically of meat and served with a chili sauce.

WRONG. In New Mexico we don't roll enchiladas. We make them flat and put a fried egg on top.

Chip and I are making the most of our time here, the most weight gain.

Long live the green chile.

I LIVE ON A BOAT

2010-08-15T13:14:00.009-04:00

Roswell, NM -- While living on a boat is fabulous, fun and fulfilling and sometimes other "f" words, I have found that "I live on a boat" is an endlessly handy excuse.

I'm not dressed appropriately? Sorry, I live on a boat.

My luggage doesn't match? (What luggage?) Oh, I live on a boat.

My clothes are wrinkled?
I'm taking too long in the shower?
My hair looks a mess?
I smell bad?
I don't understand your cultural references?

It's a bit of a reach but worth a try for others:
I was speeding officer?
I forgot your birthday?
I can't remember your name?
I caught your hair on fire? Sorry. I live on a boat.

MY PARANORMAL LIFE IN ROSWELL

2010-08-14T22:01:00.004-04:00

Roswell, NM -- We've got mom home now. Home in this instance being Roswell, my hometown.

I have to admit that I rarely admit to being from the UFO Capitol of the World. When asked where I'm from, I change the subject. Then after further questioning only confess to being from New Mexico. Under harsh interrogation and Klieg lights, I divulge the ugly truth and have the subsequent conversation about "that UFO thing."

It would be a waste of words to rewrite my thoughts on being from Roswell, because I did it once back in 1996. Following is a reprint of an article published on washingtonpost.com, a long ago and still fresh tale.

--::--

My Paranormal Life in Roswell

by Tammy Kennon Hudson

WashingtonPost.com Production Manager

June 21, 1996

To some, my hometown, Roswell, may be just a sleepy little dot on the southeastern New Mexico plains, but for fans of the "X Files" and flying-disk buffs called "ufologists," it is the UFO capital of the world.

Yes, it's true. If you haven't heard of Roswell, you must not watch "Unsolved Mysteries." It seems that back in July of 1947 some wayward little intergalactic craft, or a weather balloon, depending on who you ask, was zipping across southeastern New Mexico near Roswell, and took a wrong turn. Down, that is. It crashed into the only thing it might encounter in the plains outside Roswell: the ground. The rest is, well, quasi-history.

The UFO vein runs deep in Roswell, even in my own family. Long before the 1947 "Roswell Incident" began to get attention in the late '70s, we were well versed in our own UFO stories. There was the one my mom's friend told about her relatives who cowered in their northern New Mexico ranch house while a UFO zipped around outside. Another favorite was the huge, mysterious glob of colorful wire that hitched a ride on my cousin's car in the desert outside Las Cruces. And, even better, there was the chilling story about my sister's close encounter while camping in the woods near Capitan. This UFO actually flew in and out, making the lights flicker on and off in her camping trailer.

The relationship between Roswellites and space has always been a strange one. On the one hand there is the legitimate relationship. Robert H Goddard, the father of modern rocketry, launched his first prototypes from the plains outside of Roswell. My mom and her siblings would surreptitiously watch him drive past their place in the country. They thought he was crazy. He always had mysterious paraphernalia hanging out of the back of his truck. They would hear strange explosions coming from his land just over the horizon.

Then there was Edgar Dean Mitchell, who went to Berrendo School with my mom. He turned out to be a real, live space traveler -- a NASA astronaut.

But on the other hand, there's the "UFO thing." Just ask around in Roswell. If the guy you ask hasn't seen a UFO, his aunt has, or maybe his neighbor or his girlfriend's second cousin has. The way people talk, you'd think Roswell is some kind of intergalactic Stuckey's -- you just have to stop. There is so much terrestrial interest in these cosmic tourists that Roswell now sports two thriving UFO museums.

Last year one of my old high school buddies told me the "real" reason all the UFOs are buzzing the Land of Enchantment. You see, she heard that those industrious extraterrestrials are running an interstellar mining operation. They're getting something in New Mexico that their own planet can't produce (green chiles, perhaps?).

Regardless of the reason for the visitations, the Holy Grail for a Roswellite is definitive documentation, actual proof of extraterrestrial existence. Every Harry, Louise and Mabel has a video camera at the ready, hoping to be featured next week on "Inside Edition" and make an all-expense-paid guest appearance on Oprah.

In the quest for documentation, it is my uncles who lead our clan. One year my family was all atwitter because my Uncle Bob took an actual Polaroid snapshot of a UFO. Sure enough, there it was for all us earthlings to see: a flying silver disk hovering just above the trees in Uncle Bob's back yard. Turns out he had glued two pie pans together, thrown it in the air like a Frisbee and got his daughter to snap the picture.

Then there's my Uncle Dow, who features a UFO in his annual Christmas light display, which is so elaborate the Roswell Daily Record featured it one year. Well, old Uncle Dow spotted a real UFO zigzagging around in broad daylight last year. Last time I was in Roswell he invited me over to watch a videotape of it. Despite great effort on my part, all I could see was a brilliant blue sky with patchy clouds. In the background I could hear my uncle saying, "Oh look, there it goes again!" Then, the camera operator, my Aunt Hazel saying, "Well, Dow, I just can't see it in the view-finder!"

As a kid, it never occurred to me that all the UFO lore was, shall we say, paranormal. Maybe I've been gone too long, but I couldn't help smiling recently when my sister complained to me on the phone about the growing UFO hoopla in Roswell.

"This UFO thing is just getting out of hand," she said. "It's bringing some real weirdos to town!"

OUR OWN LITTLE HEAVEN

2010-08-13T16:46:00.005-04:00

Albuquerque, NM -- We found it. The store of our dreams.

Okay, maybe that's an overstatement, but we often walk through entire stores without seeing anything relevant to our lives, usually leaving without buying anything.

And then we went to REI. First there was the bike department. Then the backpacks and bags, and then the high-tech fiber clothing and then the hats with UV protection. A few hours and several hundred dollars later, we came out with that amazing bike tool, which has everything we don't know how to use to repair our bikes, two tire patch kits, a little bike saddle bag that fits under the seat, a couple of hats, a foldup Sherpani backpack, a computer bag for Chip....

Mom's been released from the hospital now. She's making quick progress. Hospitals are no place to get well. We're all staying in a hotel, still taking turns mom-watching, spending the remainder of the time that we're not at REI with my nephew and his awesome family. It's unplanned family time and perhaps more precious for that.

Cruising offers us more time to spend with our families, but otherwise takes us so very far away from them.

LOST IN DAYS

2010-08-10T20:31:00.008-04:00

Albuquerque, NM -- Days pass in the foggy existence of hospital life. We laugh, we sit, we talk.

They ask mom what day it is, and we all glance at each other, uncertain.They ask her what year it is. I can tell she doesn't know, so she cracks a joke to steal time.

She's stable now but weak. They promise us parole soon.

"I'm sorry I interrupted your plans," mom says.

"I'm sure I interrupted yours a few times over the years," I reply.

WATCHING OVER MOM

2010-08-08T23:24:00.004-04:00

Albuquerque, NM -- I sit in the eery light of the nighttime ICU. The whir of machines, the beep of the heart monitor, my own nervous watchfulness keep me from sleeping.

Mom has been here for a week. I just arrived tonight.

Sometime during the night I heard her stir. I rose from my makeshift bed on the recliner to see if she needed help. She reached out with her eyes closed, took my hand and gently stroked, stroked, stroked it, for those few moments spinning us back through time. I stood beside the bed in my socks feeling small and weepy.

We're keeping a schedule, my sister, Chip and me. One of us on watch around the clock. It's always the nighttime when mom gets restless, when I wonder if she misses my dad, wonder if she feels alone, wonder if we're enough.

ON THE RAILS

2010-08-06T23:31:00.008-04:00

Drop boards in bad need of refinishing.

Waiting doesn't have to be unproductive. Today we taped the toe rails and I slapped on another two coats of finish -- and while I was at it, I decided to sand down and coat the companionway drop boards (our front door).

Could someone please remind me to take "before" photos? I'm lame at that, but the photo there shows pretty much how bad they were. Now they're shiny and lovely along with the toe rails.

Today was not a good day for mom. They opted to do another emergency procedure to clear some of the blood clots from her left lung. The lung collapsed on Wednesday night and has not recovered.

Drop boards refinished.

After a tense (on my part) hour, they emerged successful. Our hope is that she will now stabilize. We've purchased one-way tickets to Albuquerque leaving on Sunday, two days from now.

p.s. -- "You know what happens tomorrow," I told Chip yesterday. "The dinghy motor will be ready." Sure enough. The doors are opening.

CAR-PAY DIEM

2010-08-05T21:27:00.007-04:00

Two weeks ago -- and two days before I was going to list my car for sale -- I backed out of the parking garage and peeled the rearview mirror off the driver's side door. ARGH.

I took it to Luke, our awesome mechanic, with visions of a $300-400 bill. He fixed it for $180.

Yesterday a young man called to ask me if my car was for sale. He took a cursory look and called to say he would buy it.

This morning I met the guy's dad and mom (who turned out to be customers from the wine shop) at the bank. They gave me my asking price in cash. I signed over the title, just like that. Done.

"How did you hear about the car being for sale?"

"Luke our mechanic."

Aren't broken mirrors supposed to be bad luck?

GRILL SARGEANT

2010-08-04T21:35:00.003-04:00

The new, undamaged grill has finally arrived, the grill we've been admiring at the boat show for 8 years.

One more thing checked off the list. We now have a second kitchen in the cockpit.

Mom continues to have complications and procedures, far away in New Mexico. Every day, every hour her condition changes.

We check flights. We make checklists for leaving the boat. Then we wait.

And grill in the cockpit.

REASONING

2010-08-03T21:21:00.019-04:00

Last week we grappled with why we couldn't make the break, leave our home waters. No matter what we tried, something prevented us from leaving.

"The universe took one of our spark plugs," I told Chip about the dinghy motor landing in the shop for 10 days. We can't leave without it.

It's now clear in hindsight why we were waylaid here in Manteo. This impending trip to New Mexico would have been so difficult if we were already in the Chesapeake. We would have to find a safe place to keep the boat, find people we trusted to keep an eye on her. And then we would worry.

One of the things we like about cruising is that we are able to help our aging parents. The last five years with the wine shop, it was not possible to leave on short notice or stay indefinitely. Now we can. Sooner than we thought.

We monitor mom's condition from afar, judging the best time to make the trip. Our hope is to arrive when she goes home so we can be there to help her get back on her feet.

The struggle we face is her continued life-threatening complications. My sister and I confer on the phone, but she is the one who is there to make the life and death decisions, to listen to the litany of hideous things that could happen as a result of the procedures she approves, spending her nights on a recliner in ICU.

One thousand eight hundred and eighty-five miles seems infinite.

THE MIDNIGHT CALL

2010-08-02T20:26:00.002-04:00

Our daughter, Casey, and our 5-year-old friend, Townes, slept over with us on the boat last night. We played games, romped in the playground and went on an "adventure." Sweet times.

Everyone was quietly in bed at 10:00.

Soon thereafter I got the first call.

My 78-year-old mom was coughing up blood and being flown from Roswell to Albuquerque.

By 4 a.m. she was having emergency surgery to repair two tears in her left lung, in danger of bleeding out at any time.

After four hours of surgery, they gave up on repairing the second tear and planned to go back in this afternoon.

By 4 p.m. she had stabilized and apparently the other tear is healing on its own. She is on a breathing tube and heavily sedated, therefore content and resting.

We will see what tomorrow holds.

A trip to New Mexico is in our near future.

*That image is a card Townes made for us, by himself, while his parents were sleeping. He doesn't know how to write cursive, so he found a Cara Mia shirt and copied the text. We love you, Townes. You will always have a home on Cara Mia.

THE GRIP OF THE LAND

2010-08-01T14:25:00.006-04:00

Perhaps we underestimated the steely grip of the land.

Little things pile up and together become big things. Chores that should take an hour grow extracted and take many times that. Others get done but create five more in their wake.

We each had a list of people interested in buying our cars, but when we were ready to sell, the people disappeared.

The damaged grill had to be sent back and a new one shipped (slowly) to replace it.

The topper we ordered for the mattress will be here in three weeks.

That engine for the dinghy? Still waiting.

Ah, we wait -- a wait riddled with good times and good friends and no schedule. We are not suffering.

TAMMY-PROOF?

2010-07-31T17:05:00.000-04:00

Today I found some windproof matches.

I tried one to see if it worked.

Then I tried to blow it out.

I hope I don't burn down the ocean.

QUESTIONS FROM MAREN

2010-07-30T18:26:00.021-04:00

Maren: When are they going to launch for good?

Darn if that isn't a good question! I'm sure you're not the only one wondering that -- including us. We thought we might be gone by now, but just this week, we took the dinghy motor to be repaired, and they said it would take TWO WEEKS. We're waiting for our new grill to arrive and still have to sell both of our cars before we can leave. In the meantime, we're trying to get other boat chores done.

For instance, we want to buy solar panels, so we can get our electricity from the sun (your mom will like this). You might have seen one solar panel on the back of Cara Mia:

Solar panel is just above and in front of the flag.

There are newer solar panels about the same size that will give us twice as much power in the same amount of space, so we want to replace it.

Maren: Where will they go first?

When we leave, we will go north to the Chesapeake Bay. Even though you could get there by car from the Outer Banks in a few hours, it will take us several days by boat. At its fastest, the boat only goes about 7 miles per hour. Ask your mom or dad to show you how fast (slow, actually) that is next time you're in the car. Make sure there's not anyone behind you, because they'll honk!

We'll stay in the Chesapeake until hurricane season is over this fall. In the Chesapeake, we can practice sailing in a huge body of water without being in the ocean. Our boat is new to us, so we want to get to know it and get it set up like we want it before we go in the ocean.

We'll be going back to school like you, sort of. There's an online class we'll be taking to get our captains' licenses. In the class we'll learn about safety and how to find our way around (called navigation).

Thanks for reading!

MAKING MUSIC

2010-07-29T19:19:00.011-04:00

For the last three months, we've been stuck with old technology on the music front, since the stereo on the boat did not have an input to play music from our iPod.

After that long slog of putting all our CDs onto the iPod a few years ago, we were down to one CD that actually belonged to Dylan: Nickel Creek's Nickel Creek album. Now, I love Nickel Creek, but one CD for two months was getting REALLY tedious.

So Chip bought a new car stereo for only $59, (why didn't we do this three months ago?) and we toughed through installing it ourselves, a task that could have been ridiculously easy if the billion-wire plug was the same on the old stereo and new. No, of course not, so we spent an hour or so splicing wires while sweating (we had to turn off the power and thus the air conditioning).

Now thanks to technology our musical repertoire has exploded without taking up an entire room.

Thankfully the new stereo has not exploded -- at least so far.

YOU KNOW YOU'RE OFFICIALLY A CRUISER WHEN...

2010-07-28T20:42:00.033-04:00

...you marvel at washers and dryers that operate without demanding quarters.

...you have more bags than you have clothes.

...you get annoyed when all the articles about John Kerry's new $7M sailboat talk about taxes and not the boat!

...it takes three whole days at the in-laws, before you realize you can use HOT WATER to wash your face.

POST OFFICE BLOCKS

2010-07-26T20:47:00.007-04:00

Our tenuous plan for handling our mail: Get a P.O. Box near Chip's parents in Bridgeville, Delaware. Easy.

My conversation with the post office worker went something like this:

Me: I need info on renting a P.O. box.

Dude, looking all confident: All you need is a driver's license and a car insurance card.

Me, feeling hopeful: Do I have to be a Delaware resident?

Dude, looking impatient: No, but we have to send a letter to your current residence and have it sent back to us with proof of residence.

Me, feeling less hopeful: You mean, like a physical address?

Dude, looking somewhat confused: Yes?

Me, feeling ashamed: I don't have an address. I live on a boat.

"You live on a boat!?!?"

We stared at each other for a minute or so.

Me, grasping at straws: What if I used my in-laws' address?

"Okay, what's their address?"

"I don't know. I don't live there."

Dude, longing for a customer who wants a simple book of stamps: I better go ask.

He walks away and then turns back: How long are you gonna be doing this?

As far as the U.S. Postal Service is concerned, we do not exist. I hope they notify the IRS.

ONE LESS TO DO? BOO HOO.

2010-07-22T19:28:00.002-04:00

We fix, we polish, we stow, we order parts, we tilt away at a very long TO DO list that looks like this:

--Fix the water filter

--Get the dinghy motor working

--Fix the hand pump

--Organize the cockpit lockers

--Get the stereo working with the iPod

--Order the grill

--Service the air conditioner
--Clean out the bilge
--Get a P.O. box

--Research electronics

--Sell cars...

You get the idea. We're always anxious to scratch something off the list.

We ordered a fantabulous, all stainless Galleymate grill with visions of T-bones in Manteo, mahi-mahi in Hopetown dancing in our heads -- and marking "order the grill" off our list.

The grill arrived last week while we were at the boatyard. Our anticipation was so great, we had already bought the first meal to cook on it. Alas, it looked like this:

Boo.

Boo hoo.

Remove "order the grill" from the list. Add:
--Box up grill and take to UPS
--Wait for new grill to arrive

[Insert your own trite phrase about forward progress here.]

QUESTIONS FROM MAREN

2010-07-20T18:44:00.044-04:00

This morning I had this message from my friend Ivy:
"I thought I would transcribe the “20 questions” Maren has asked since being on your boat. Thought you would get a kick out of seeing your life through the eyes of a 6 year old. We decided this morning we would read her your blog and follow your journey. I love that you are teaching her (and others) to live their dream!"

Well, Maren, I'm so excited to have your questions. I'll occasionally put one of them here and tell you the answer. Thanks for reading. (Maybe you can send me a new picture. This one is over a year old. You're much more grown up now.)

Question #1:

Maren: “where do they get drinking water from?”

Cara Mia has a big tank under the living room floor that is made to store water. It holds as much as three bathtubs -- maybe more!

Look around next time you're at a dock, and you'll see faucets, just like the ones in your yard. When we're at a dock, we attach one end of a hose to those faucets on the dock and one end to the tank on the boat, then turn on the water until the tank is full. There's a gauge, like the gas gauge in the car, that shows us how much water is in the tank.

We filter the water as we put it into the tank and then again before we drink it. Filtering means putting the water through something that catches any bad stuff that might be floating in there. Have you ever dragged a net through the water? The net catches whatever is bigger than the holes that are in the net. Our filters work just like that, but the holes in the filters are so tiny they catch things that are too small to see.

When I lived in a house, I used water without ever thinking about it. Now that we have to carry all the water we use and then replace it, I am much more careful about when and how I use it.

TRY THIS: When you get up in the morning, fill a one gallon milk jug with water, and pretend it's all the water you have for the whole day. Every time you need water to wash your hands or brush your teeth or have a drink, take it out of the jug. By the end of the day, you will not only see how much water you've used, but you'll learn to use it more thoughtfully. That is what we are doing on the boat but with a much bigger jug!

Some day we would like to get a watermaker, which doesn't really make water, it just takes ocean water and removes the salt and other stuff that makes it taste icky. Watermakers cost a lot of money, but once we have one, we will have water as long as there is water in the ocean!

THE BIG REVEAL

2010-07-19T13:34:00.000-04:00

Chris Hannant

Beth Macom

Chris Hannant

Beth Macom

Chris Hannant

Beth Macom

Cara Mia
Italian term of endearment, or, literally, "My Beloved."

Our thanks to all who shared this moment with us -- and those of you sharing it vicariously.

As Chip said,

"Dreams without friends would be like a boat without sails."

OUT OF THE BAG

2010-07-17T16:52:00.001-04:00

Our newly christened vessel gave us a ride back to Manteo Waterfront early this morning, all shiny and happy, her new stainless steel cockpit rail winking at us the whole way.

The depth meter wasn't working right, so we had some confusing moments, including a little kiss of sand. Chip felt it and immediately throttled down, so the plowing was minimal. We crept back into the channel and made it in without further incident.

We've kept the new name relatively secret in hopes of doing a big 'reveal' at the party on Sunday, but as we approached the Waterfront, we needed a hand tying up for a pump out.

"Manteo Marina, Manteo Marina, this is, uh, uh"

I may not be overly superstitious, but I didn't want to invoke an old name.

So I said it.

Carl, the dockmaster, radioed back,

"Oooh, the cat's done outta the bag!"

LOL

Half out, I guess.

INTO THE DEEP

2010-07-16T21:20:00.001-04:00

Our life seems to be full of meaningful moments these days as we take our last steps to the water. Today our newly named boat was set free.

According to tradition, there are appropriate steps to follow in changing the name of a boat. Even though we are not particularly superstitious, we do love a nice ceremony, so we read the lore and then constructed our own version using rum and a metal washer with "Good Company" written on it.

And in the slant of the sun's early evening rays, following the long-held tradition of seafarers, we retired the name of Good Company by dropping the washer in the water and thanking her for many years of faithful service.

Then Chip offered a tot of rum to the gods of the deep, and, with a toast to the four winds, we entered the name of our new sailing vessel into the log of the sea.

And, in another long-held seafaring tradition, we passed the cup of rum amongst us, our boatyard friends, our new boat and the setting sun.

OURS NOW

2010-07-14T18:16:00.084-04:00

Naming a boat is a challenge and not one easily conquered -- at least for us.

I've already written about all the things we will NOT be naming her, but the list of what me MIGHT name her topped out at fifty-five names. When we went to stay on the boat for the first time in April, we took along our short list of candidates, but the second we stepped onboard, it was apparent that most of those names simply did not suit her.

She is no Willow nor Sunflower. She is not sweet or lacy or in any way a Waterlily. No, this boat is substantial, regal, royal, graceful, grande in a very French way.

We abandoned the initial list and started over, scouring our family trees, lists of flowers, birds, colors, queens and goddesses. We considered foreign languages, characters from literature and lyrics of songs. But the name came quietly one night in May as I was reading in the V-berth. It was not a book title nor an author but a simple phrase that made me turn my head and say it to Chip.

For a week, we called her the new name and agreed, it was perfect.

And today we went to the boatyard to meet our boat with her new name.

I was all nerves. The artwork, we knew, was beautiful. The color we chose was perfect. But despite my confidence in all the components, I was shaking.

We approached at her bow and walked all along the mirror glass hull. Together we walked past the stern and slowly turned together to meet our new boat.

Sheer perfection.

Tears of joy.

But for now, it's just between the three of us, our little secret until we officially introduce her on Sunday.

THE BOAT WITH NO NAME

2010-07-13T15:12:00.002-04:00

Sparkle and shine...

GOOD COMPANY'S FINAL VOYAGE

2010-07-12T22:41:00.032-04:00

Good Good Company carried us safely this morning to Bayliss Boatworks in Wanchese, a one and a half hour trip from the dock in Manteo.

It made me reminiscent of the same trip with Isabella last fall. Once again we passed the long row of identical houses at Pirate's Cove. Once again we slipped under the bridge and down the narrow channel beside Roanoke Island. But this time, nine months later, even though we follow the same path, we have come so far. This time we are so near the finish line, making one final victory lap before heading out.

Since moving onboard, this was our first time to take Good Company on a trip. As we were traveling, I went below to get something from the bedroom. Here we were, underway, and here was our beautiful house just below. Perfect.

We're pulling her out of the water to do some work. First, she'll be getting a new stainless steel rail around the cockpit, in part to sport our shiny new stainless steel grill. We're also having her light blue bottom painted a darker blue, the first baby step in moving away from the blue theme (I promise it will make sense later).

Tomorrow her old name will be removed, and the hull and transom will be cleaned, buffed and waxed to a $7 million Bayliss shine.

And just before she goes back in the water, she'll get her lovely new name to be unveiled at the christening and bon voyage party next Sunday.

TOOLING AROUND

2010-07-11T20:39:00.008-04:00

With parts sorted and stowed (except for that one bin), today was tool time. We bought some soft-sided tool bags at Home Depot, forever liberating ourselves from those cumbersome plastic tool boxes that fall apart, or worse, open at inopportune moments. Besides, the soft-sided ones conform better to boat life -- and boat hatches.

The tools worked themselves into fairly obvious categories: wrenches, pliers, screwdrivers, etc., and my favorite category, "McGyver tools." Things like a telescoping magnet, weird grabby tweasers for picking up small objects in hard-to-reach places, a bendy screwdriver and a telescoping mirror for those impossible to see spaces.

Everything went without incident into the three bags leaving us with a short list of items glaringly missing from our arsenal, like flat screwdrivers and wire snippers.

The tiny things went into tackle boxes:

Whew. These lazy days.

THE SUM OF OUR PARTS

2010-07-10T22:39:00.085-04:00

"What do you guys DO now?"

"Stow stuff," doesn't really tell the story, but that photo does. Would you just look at that?

Today, we pulled out all the parts we have inherited from the previous owners of Good Company and all the parts we ourselves have accumulated from our previous two boats.

The job at hand went something like this:

Divide parts into sensible categories.
Find appropriate bins to hold each category.
Find an appropriate place to stow each bin.
Remember where we put everything.

We started with the easiest category: Sailing hardware. Picking through the mound like gleaners, we slowly pulled out all the shackles, D-rings, blocks and the other little doodads that we sailors love to have in our toy box. Then we snuggled them down nicely in one of the dozen or so fully locking bins purchased for this extravaganza.

The next round we pulled out the electrical paraphernalia, then light bulbs, then adhesives and sealants, category after category, bin after bin.

You know how when you move, the first round of boxes are so organized and focused? Each box has a label like "books" or "photo albums," "kitchen utensils," or "office supplies." Then you come to the end and there's a box with five paper clips, a baseball, two envelopes, a single mitten, a ragged road map, a plastic lid, a thesaurus, a squeegee and a hot pink crayon.

That's how our day ended. We now have one bin with random things like a piece of Lexan, three gas struts, a cabinet latch, four plastic cups that we can't quite identify but are afraid to get rid of them lest we find out, a dozen wooden plugs and other disparate items that defy categorization.

But that, my friends, is a bin for another day.

EXPLOSIVE

2010-07-05T23:23:00.021-04:00

We unwittingly docked 100 yards from the only fireworks between Roanoke Island and Corolla. They were expecting 14,000, but by my count there were off by 10 or 11. Our quiet little marina turned into a red, white and blue mob.

BEFORE:

DURING:

CHIP DAY

2010-07-03T20:27:00.007-04:00

Happy Birthday, Chip! Do you remember that we celebrated your last birthday on a boat in Manteo? Honestly, I didn't either, but I cheated.

How very long ago that seems. And our To Do List?
1. Sell the wine shop
2. Sell the house
3. Sell the current boat
4. Buy our cruising boat

None of them were checked off yet. As usual, you worked on your birthday. We were still living in our house with Isabella out back. We had not yet decided what kind of boat we would buy.

Last July, we had nothing to measure the distance to our dream, no idea how far off it was or how long it would take us to get there.

But this year, with every item marked off that To Do List, we have emerged triumphant from the waiting room.

All that holds us now is four little ropes.

At last.

They say love is more precious than gold
It can't be bought, and it can't be sold
I've got love enough to spare
That makes me a millionaire -- Solomon Burke

YOUR MOM

2010-07-02T17:07:00.001-04:00

It's transportation week on Good Company. Now that the folding bikes are in the fold, and soon to be in the hold, it's time to get the dinghy working.

We lowered 'er off the davits and into the water. She was looking a little depressed, so Chip pumped some air in to keep her afloat.

I missed the operation, but Chip somehow got the motor off the bracket on the stern rail onto the dinghy transom without dropping it in the water, which is exactly what I would have done.

A couple of pulls on the handle/rope/pulling thingy (what's that called?) and, well, nothing. About a hundred pulls later, still no firing.

Chip says there are several things to try before we call in professionals, so we're still grounded, sort of, if you can be both afloat and grounded at the same time.

OH NO, WE GOTTA GO

2010-06-29T22:14:00.030-04:00

I gotta get a bike
And I gotta paint it red -- Butthole Surfers

Chip got me a new bike! We'll be selling our cars in a few weeks, so it was time to double our folding bike inventory.

He's been doing research for weeks and has been itching to get me on two wheels. We decided to try a relatively inexpensive version to see how the two opposing philosophies hold up under identical conditions.

Does the more expensive Downtube folding bike with the internal hub hold up better in a marine environment? Will the less expensive Port Runner with the derailleur take the same beating and keep on pedaling? Will Tammy run into any more fences or perhaps right off the dock? Stay tuned for this and more as the wheel turns.

PLEASE NOTE: Not only did we get different brands, they are also different colors.

THE LAST LOAD

2010-06-28T22:13:00.022-04:00

My car has been a hapless storage unit ever since before we sold our house. Everything that can't find a place anywhere else, anything that's being ferried from one place to another, trash, it's all in there. And today it was too much.

"We have to bring the last load in!"

What a joyous moment! We're in! We're in!

It's a jumbled up mess. The bed in the aft cabin (now dubbed the studio) is not visible through the junk, er stuff.

The next stage will be to make sense of the piles and then stow them, but, did I tell you? We're in! We have containment!

For the first time since July 2008, all of our stuff is in one place.

Home.

(I accidentally left my camera in the car last week -- in intense heat. That's why the photo of the last load looks so blurry. No worries. All it needed was a good lens cleaning.)

DISENTWANGLING

2010-06-21T15:36:00.042-04:00

Chip describes selling the business like untangling a big pile of string. You methodically work out each strand until it's free, and then go back for the next one, hoping at some point to reach the last rope (insert your own "last straw" joke here).

Our chores include things like transfer the domain name, get a lease termination signed by landlord, cancel credit cards used for business purchases, notify phone company and power company of new ownership, file dba cancellation, copy and send email list to new owners, notify advertising contacts of change, pay final bills, collect invoices and receipts needed for tax purposes, find a place to store those invoices and receipts, get everything you do notarized (at least it seems like it), close LLC, close business bank account, pay final sales and use tax, closeout payroll.

Each day we get a few more things off the list. Step by step by step. Looking for that last rope, the one keeping us tied to the dock.

NEW ENDEAVORS

2010-06-20T21:11:00.028-04:00

Most of our time is spent at the boat now. Bringing belongings in from the car, trying to find places for them. It surely seems like Keystone cars. How can this much stuff keep coming out?

We do the mindless and pleasant little chores that come with living aboard: fixing leaky faucets, cleaning out hatches.

Today's big chore was pulling out of the slip and around the dock for a pump out (emptying the holding tank).

Before we returned to our slip, Chip was sitting in the cockpit when a kid came up with a bloody foot, another victim of those perilous underwater hazards: barnacles.

It was our first use of the first aid kit. Our first first aid.

I hope all subsequent uses are as benign.

EXCHANGE RATE

2010-06-18T22:10:00.003-04:00

Today we handed over the keys to the wine shop.

We can no longer go in early. We are no longer on call when the store is open -- or when it's not.

For five years and 23 days, we have been on-call 24 hours a day, even on vacation. For five years and 23 days, we got the call when the security alarm went off, even at 3 a.m., even when we were in Palm Beach.

Now, we no longer have to worry about POS software or internet connection, credit card service providers or cooler compressors, ballasts or heat pumps.

Now we can worry about furlers and GPS, diesel engines and zincs, rigging and solar panels. Bottom paint, harnesses, flares, sea cocks and through-hulls.

A fair trade?

OUR CHEERING SQUAD

2010-06-17T21:53:00.003-04:00

When we opened the wine shop, we expected it to be successful. What we did not expect was the colorful cast of characters who delivered that success.

From the beginning, our customers welcomed us, entertained us, brought us gifts, shared their joys and sorrows, their pets, their families with us. We celebrated their good news: engagements, weddings and pregnancies. We laughed and cried at their stories and applauded their milestones. We welcomed their babies and watched as those babies grew into little people. We mourned the loss of a few sweet souls and miss them still.

It was this sense of community that made us go against all conventional wisdom in selling our store. Instead of keeping it under wraps, we shared all along our dream of sailing. As we made that dream a reality, our family of customers became our cheering squad.

Today, that squad came running into the store to give us high fives and hugs, to cheer us on our way and warn us about pirates.

And just as I would have expected, they welcomed the new owners, Laura and Phil, with the same enthusiasm.

Even though we leave our Chip's community in good hands, it is a bittersweet farewell.

The first payment in the price of leaving.

REALIZING TWO DREAMS

2010-06-16T09:58:00.003-04:00

Following is the newsletter that we sent to our Chip's Wine & Beer Market community.

YOU ARE INVITED...

... to a major celebration!

Thursday, June 17th
4:00-7:00 p.m.
Chip's WIne & Beer Market
MP6 Plaza

Wine, beer and snacks provided

REALIZING TWO DREAMS

What are we celebrating? Now there's a good story. And what could be better than a good story with a happy ending? How about two intertwining stories, both with happy endings?

Most of you already know that Chip's WIne & Beer Market has been for sale. We, Chip and Tammy, opened the store in 2005 to help finance our dream of sailing full time. You have watched and waited with us as we slowly (very slowly) sold our house, our belongings, sold our old sailboat, bought a new one and brought it down from the northern Chesapeake. The last thing we needed to accomplish before sailing away was to find new owners for the wine shop.

It was always important to us to leave our awesome community of customers in good hands, and if we could have magically conjured up the perfect people to leave you with, we could not have done any better.

Introducing Laura and Phil

It gives us great joy to introduce you to the new owners of Chip's: Laura and Phil Wayland.

Laura and Phil had a little dream too: owning their own wine shop, and just as the owners before them, they have done the hard work to accomplish their goal. We know you're going to love them, and they have great plans for improving the store.

Laura has six years of management experience in the wine business as an independent wine consultant. She repeatedly won awards for her work and just so you know how fabulous she is, her peers voted her "heart of the company" in 2008. She has marketing, communications and event coordination experience as well. Laura loves wine and loves hooking people up with wines they will love.

Phil has a degree in Integrated Science and Technology (we don't know what that is either, but he's fun and has a great sense of humor). He works in the information technology industry, but you'll be seeing him around Milepost 6 a lot. He will bring his knowledge of business operations managementto provide some back room financial oversight for the store. You might see him in the beer aisle sometimes too. ;-)

Laura and Phil are young, energetic, brilliant, snob-free and love to laugh out loud. They met in college (James Madison University), have been married 10 years and have two beautiful children, Tyler, 7, and Loxley, 6.

And by fulfilling their dream of owning a wine shop, they have enabled us to launch our adventures at the sea.

We hope you'll join us on Thursday to celebrate two happy endings, or, on second thought make that two happy beginnings.

The Last Word

Finally, we bid you a big and tearful thank you. In part, dreams come true on the strength of a well-laid plan and hard work, but we know that we've been carried this far on the shoulders of our customers. You made this store a great success, and we have been grateful every day that you chose to shop with us. Thank you for being part of giving our dream life.

If you want to come along for the ride, you can follow us at:
http://ploddingtoparadise.blogspot.com/

Fair winds,

WINE SHOP SOLD

2010-06-14T18:34:00.002-04:00

It has happened. Three days short of 20 months on the market, five years and 18 days into a five-year plan, we sold the store.

Shouldn't there be leaping and tears or high fives and delirium? In fact, we are still and quiet.

This, the last item on our TO DO list, has been mythical for so long, I think I lost sight of the possibility that it could be real. It had moved into the realm of unicorns and mermaids.

But there is nothing ephemeral about what we're feeling now.

Gratitude is as big as the heavens, fathomless and eternal.

A BIG PARADE IS SO INSPIRING

2010-06-10T18:43:00.018-04:00

The bank says our deal on the wine shop will close next Monday.

"What!?!?" our lawyer said. "If this were a parade, the folks aren't even lined up yet."

Our lawyer was one of the many who warned us about the last days of closing a business sale, the disagreements, the histrionics, the legal entanglements.

"I should have warned you," I said. "Things often happen this way for us. Once it's time, the door doesn't just open, it gets blown off with dynamite."

"I hope for your sake, that's what happens," he said. "It would be one for the books."

Yeah, put on your hazmat suit.

GOOD THINGS COME IN THREES

2010-06-09T21:06:00.000-04:00

Selling a business can be a rancorous affair. Everyone has warned us.

Of course, they told us that about buying a boat -- and selling one as well.

However, nobody really warned us that we would sell a boat, buy a boat and sell a business, smooth as silk, and come out the other side, each time, with new friends.

The wine shop buyers, Laura and Phil, have been a pleasure. The first time I met with them at the store, Chip kept coming in to see what all the laughing was about. They have shown great respect for us and what we've built. From the start there has been an openness and trust that we feel sure will carry through to the finish.

Today we planned together how to make this transition as positive as possible for everyone concerned, how and when to announce the sale and how to introduce Laura and Phil to the customers.

There's probably a perfect sports phrase to insert here about a triple play or a trifecta or a hat something. I like to think of it more as a triple miracle.

WELL, YOU ASKED

2010-06-08T22:44:00.020-04:00

Saturday night while we were slogging through inventory, Chip was fretting over some expensive Italian bottles on the shelf, bottles that had been there for four years.

He hates to saddle the new owners with expensive inventory that's hard to turn. We kindly took one of them (poor us).

Today, Chip was in the back room doing some paperwork when Mike, one of our employees, came in with a register receipt.

"You might want to check your high-end wines."

Someone came in and 10 minutes and $1255 later, left with all but one of those Italian bottles.

Did he have wings?

THE FRENZY

2010-06-07T17:50:00.002-04:00

Over the months the wine shop has been on the market, I've made a half-assed effort of preparing for a fictional handoff. This week, with a real life handoff looming, my effort has become full-assed.

It's daunting the amount of work there is to do for a potential closing late this week or early next (don't know for sure), beginning with removing things from the store that don't belong here, like our sailing stuff in the back room. (Is an anchor in the back room bad Feng Shui?) And that little sailboat on the top shelf that belongs to our Mr. Fix-It, one of the many small things that accumulate over the years.

Then there is the information handoff, vendor lists, advertising contacts, phone numbers. What files do we have to keep? Which ones do we have to leave for the new owners? Which ones can just be tossed, because they are of no use to anyone? Why did I keep so much irrelevant paper?

Details, details. Who pays what portion of advertising for the year? What outstanding gift certificates are out there? How do you hand over a website and a Facebook page?

Why didn't I figure this out a long time ago?

Lack of faith, perhaps?

COUNTING

2010-06-06T23:01:00.008-04:00

As this weekend approached, we debated whether or not to do inventory at the wine shop.

If the deal on the store goes through, we will have to do a complete inventory with the buyers if they choose to do so. For our own peace of mind, we'd like to know that it is as accurate as possible. We've also included in the deal a par dollar amount for inventory. If we know exactly how much is in the store, Chip can fine tune the ordering and sales to get close to the par.

But what if it doesn't go through? We will have spent an entire weekend, Saturday night, Sunday morning and Sunday night, counting -- all for naught. Will the count count?

The news yesterday about the loan approval bolstered our resolve --and our energy -- to start counting, to touch every bottle we own this one last time. We made it through all the wine, four hours last night, three hours this morning and four more tonight.

Before we started counting though, I helped myself to a bunch of Russian River Pinot Noir, but it turns out I'm just an amateur.

My bottles were in the $40 range. Chip was snagging $100, $200, $300 bottles. I love him. As we were counting, he would come across a wine he loved and call out, NAME OF WINE, THREE, no, make that TWO.

It seems a small reward for five years of hard, hard work, and for Chip, 30 years in the wine biz, the wine wiz. If you ask me, it's better than a gold watch.

And it makes me happy thinking of all those beautiful anchorages where we'll raise a glass.

CLOSE ENOUGH TO TOUCH

2010-06-05T16:21:00.063-04:00

At 2:18 this afternoon I signed into my email and found my life free of another huge qualifier: our buyers' loan was approved! That huge "IF" is now gone.

I called Chip at the wine shop, sobbing. I'm sure he thought someone had died, but no, it was happy sobbing, relief, fatigue, joy, impatience, all coming out in great heaving gasps.

We have so much experience at waiting, but waiting for something on a far horizon is quiet, almost calming. This new waiting, so near the goal is urgent, too intense to be ignored, so deafening it commands center stage. Nothing can distract from our shining goal, right there in sight, painfully close.

And so, after the tears, we celebrate one more step on this plod to the water, close enough to touch.

AGE AND GRACE

2010-06-04T16:41:00.094-04:00

"Why didn't I do this a long time ago?"

That's something I've said often about cruising, but, really, how would that have turned out?

My much younger self would have had some clear advantages, say stamina and grace moving about a boat, running up and down the companionway steps without groaning about it the next day. I would have been braver, more adventurous and less cautious.

On the other hand, I would have zoomed headlong, head strong and mouth first into the world, befriending and offending everyone I met. Opinion, especially my own, was synonymous with "truth." Neither did I know the difference between religion and spirituality. Subtlety was a subtlety that was lost on me.

I could not differentiate between happy people and clowns, or between being articulate and being intelligent. My place in the universe was unclear to me, I just knew it was somewhere else.

At 50, I still travel with the same demons, but I've civilized a few of them. The meaning of opinion is now clear to me, as is the realization that it rarely shares the same space with truth. And my opinion? That isn't really needed anywhere. I have grown deeply spiritual and anti-religious.

My place in the universe is more clear, and it is not on the horizon but here and now and in this cockpit. The years have shown me that if I give, it comes back, and the less I have, the richer I am, lessons too trite to put on a t-shirt.

At 50, I clearly lack the same physical grace for moving about the boat, but age has blessed me with a certain grace for moving about the planet.

GALLEY HO!

2010-06-02T18:09:00.000-04:00

Can I just say I am flummoxed by how to organize a galley? We've attempted to pare back our kitchen supplies to the bare necessities, which begs the question: What are the bare necessities?

And once you've figured out what they are, where do you put them? The galley has a lot of small cabinets and compartments, some easy to reach, others deep under and behind other spaces, some underfoot. How do you decide where to put things so you're not diving head first under the sink every few days?

Enter Chef Rob Mitchell, professional galley tamer.

Rob has been working as a chef on yachts for a lot o' years and offered to help us get organized -- hey, we're not stupid (usually).

In preparation for The Galley Master, I pulled out everything I had haphazardly thrown into the cabinets and hatches and unceremoniously dumped it all on the salon table.

Rob breezed in and after five minutes of looking at our gear, sorted out about a third of it and said, "Keep this."

He then picked up a notepad and made a list of things like stainless steel measuring cups and spoons, a colander without a handle, stainless steel tongs, among other things, and said,

"Buy these things."

In 10 minutes he had accomplished what would have taken me several years -- if ever -- to figure out.

Then he looked through the galley and started stowing. I knew he would find appropriate places for all the pans and utensils -- which he did -- but I didn't expect him to sort through all our food and organize it.

Isn't food just food and you jam it anywhere and everywhere?

Not if you're smart. He arranged all the food by how and how often we will use it.

We now have a baking cabinet, an everyday/snack cabinet, a hidden storage area for things we won't use often (like dried beans and canned goods), etc.

Can I just say Rob Mithcell rocks?!??!?!?!

DISQUALIFY US!

2010-06-01T17:15:00.054-04:00

I worked for a few years in the public information office of a nuclear physics lab. My job was to write brochures and scripts explaining accelerator physics to the public, and as if that wasn't hard enough, all the facts came with qualifiers. It's really difficult to coin a catchy phrase with "electrons accelerated to almost the speed of light." "Electrons zipping along at nearly the speed of light." No matter how you say it, the message is that the electrons are not going the speed of light.

I remember complaining to anyone who would listen, "Can't you just accelerate them TO the speed of light?"

Definitive statements are so much more compelling. It seemed a small thing to ask...

And now, I find myself desperate once again to dispel qualifiers from my life: we're almost ready to go sailing, we've almost sold the business, if we sell the business, when we sell, after we sell, when we're sailing, if we leave in July, if we leave in August, if we sail by the end of the year, if the loan is approved, if the deal closes in June, maybe we'll sail before the end of the summer.

The weight of the qualifiers grows heavier each day.

We thought we might hear about loan approval in two weeks, and each business day past two weeks drags by. We hear rumors of SBA money running out. We wait. We watch. We toss and turn. We answer the unasked question with a shake of the head.

Can't we just GO? Set an actual departure date?

Definitive statements are so much more compelling. Okay, maybe the speed of light was not a small thing, but this? It really does seem a small thing to ask ....

BUDDHA, AN ASHTRAY AND A MOUSE IN A RED GINGHAM DRESS

2010-05-29T23:53:00.001-04:00

home |hōm|
noun -- a place where something flourishes

All those big plastic bins holding the last of our belongings are starting to feel like so many Pandora's boxes. Every few days we pull another one out of the car and release its content, every time left to deal with the consequences.

The truth is, we don't want any more stuff on the boat, but once it comes out of the proverbial box, we have to remember its history, judge its value, weigh its role in our future, and if we keep it, deal with the increasingly onerous task of finding a place for it on the boat.

Tonight instead of the painstaking process of pulling out each item and debating its fate, we played a game of Top Ten, taking turns picking something out of the bin until we each had 10 items. The rest would go back in the car and eventually be dispatched to Goodwill.

The bin held tools, cookbooks, folders, printer paper, books, charts and fabric, but except for a putty knife, neither of us chose those things with practical value.

Instead, Chip picked a small stuffed rabbit I gave him one long ago Christmas, a dog-eared notebook of song lyrics in progress and a Queen Elizabeth II ashtray given to us by a friend. I kept a decorative wooden mermaid, a tiny Buddha that Chip gave me and a little stuffed mouse in a red gingham dress made for me by my great aunt Flora when I was nine.

We've spent months stockpiling the practical yet impersonal necessities of life on a sailboat, the things that will help us survive. But today, we both felt the need to bring aboard the sentimental and fanciful essentials of living, the things that will help us thrive.

BALANCING ACT

2010-05-28T23:12:00.013-04:00

Today we were attempting to replace a tiny piece in the dinghy motor that connects a fuel valve on the hose to a switch used to open and close the fuel line.

The maneuver required holding the miniscule part in place underneath the hose, guiding it blind into a tiny, dark cylinder and clicking it onto a corresponding switch -- all while balancing the motor in the rocking cockpit.

AAAAAAHHHHHH!!!! We took turns dropping the part into the casing of the motor and delicately fishing it out with those oh-shit tweasers in the photo.

Finally, all that time playing Operation as a kid paid off.

We were attempting it for the dozenth time, when we heard a loud snap and froze in place.

"What was that?!?!?!"

It was the part snapping in place.

We haven't tried it yet, but if "ON" on the switch really corresponds with the fuel being "ON", it will be a miracle. If "ON" is really "OFF," it will be charming.

HAPPY ANNIVERSARY, CHIP'S

2010-05-27T21:31:00.020-04:00

Five years ago last night, we pulled an all-nighter.

It was our 41st day straight of painting, hooking up computers, installing shelves, getting a seemingly endless number of permits, ordering products, entering inventory into the computer.

We were almost ready except for putting up shelf tags -- on 2500 items. Chip's family helped us, spending hours studying tiny labels and looking for their corresponding products. We sent them home at midnight and kept plugging away at it, hour after hour. At 6 a.m., I walked over to the California wine aisle and found Chip sprawled on the floor, sound asleep.

There was no ceremonial moment when we said, okay, we're ready, let's open. In fact, we forgot to lock the door and someone came in.

"Are you open?"

We looked at each other, shrugged our shoulders and so it began.

The business plan we wrote had a five-year exit strategy. I thought surely the way our lives go, this, our 5th anniversary, would be the day we would hear the loan was approved.

Sure enough, about four o'clock my phone rang. Caller ID said it was the buyers' broker.

There was news from SBA, but it was not approval.

"SBA wants all the paperwork changed to show the name of the buyers' corporation."

We looked at each other, shrugged our shoulders and so it continues.

Happy 5th Anniversary, wine shop.

EVERYTHING NICE

2010-05-25T18:09:00.030-04:00

If you're under the impression I'm coating everything I own in plastic, you're not far off. So much for my earth-friendly, living-on-a-boat gloating.

As I was trying to stow things in the galley, I just couldn't find enough or at least the right spot for my space-hogging spices. I remembered reading a tip for that in one of my sailing magazines and decided to implement it today.

Supplies:

Ziploc Snack Bags

3x5 cards
A plastic bin

Instructions:
Dump the contents of a spice jar in a bag. Write the name of the spice on a card and seal them up together.

It made me miss the days of doing craft projects with the kids. And look at the result! Flat, easy-to-store bags instead of round, half-empty bottles.

These are the things that distract your mind from waiting.

Sort of.

IF OR WHEN?

2010-05-24T21:29:00.000-04:00

Why do the waiting days drag by so slowly? As we await word on whether we have sold the wine shop, I notice an ever so slight change in our words.

At first we expressed no acknowledgement that we might be leaving soon.

"If we leave sometime this summer..."

Tonight I noticed a "when" instead of "if."

"Where should we go when we leave?"

We were sitting in the cockpit, entertaining the possibility of sailing soon, using the 'when' and 'where' words.

We spoke of Solomons Island on the western shore of the Chesapeake where we laid over one too-short night on the trip south. It was a place we thought we'd like to revisit .... sometime.

"But I want to anchor out somewhere for the first few weeks. I didn't see any anchorage space, did you?" I said.

Conversation meandered on through Ocracoke and Oriental and St. Michael's.

"Is that an Island Packet?" Chip asked.

In the Chesapeake, it is not unusual to see other boats like ours, but here on Roanoke Island, we don't spot them too often. Sure enough an Island Packet 38 passed quietly into the marina.

Almost an hour later, I said, "Isn't that an Island Packet!?!?"

Another one.

We were in the dockmaster's office when they both came to check in. No, they were not travelling together. No, they didn't know each other.

Where were they from? Both of them?

Turns out, there is good anchorage space in Solomons, along with new friends and a car we can use if we need it, or should I say when we need it?

MOMENTUM

2010-05-22T22:42:00.059-04:00

You know how Chip and I are always on the lookout for signs that we're "in the stream," headed in the right direction?

When we opened the store in 2005 Chip bought some wines he calls "window dressing," high end, highly rated, famous wines that people like to see on the shelf. But, at $200 and $300 a piece, they have been sitting there for 5 years.

Chip woke up night before last worrying about those pricey bottles, not wanting to saddle the (possible) new owners with them.

Yesterday, he came home from the store and said, "You're not going to believe this: somebody bought six of those expensive French bottles."

"Awesome!" I replied. "Now, maybe someone will buy the big bottle of Chimay that we've had for 3 years."

Today, I was running the store while Chip was teaching a wine class.

One of the students bought a big bottle of Chimay.

We're in some stream. We hope we know which one but still afraid to believe.

THE PRICE OF PLAYING

2010-05-17T22:10:00.000-04:00

It is apparent to me at this particular waypoint -- having quite successfully planned the disposal of a lifetime of belongings and stepped across the water onto a boat -- that I maybe failed a little bit at projecting the emotional impact of removing my entire foundation, of willfully flinging the carpet out from under my life. I thought doing it on purpose would make it all fun and lighthearted.

And, god knows, there have been happy moments and those dividends will be paying us back for years.

But there's the proverbial moment when the Pink Panther steps off a cliff but has not yet begun to fall. No amount of jaunty in-air paddling can stave off the inevitable. Where's the fun in planning that?

So, on this emotional plunge, I plummet through the emotional spectrum, anger then giddiness, then intense stress, then utter frustration. Chip and I go from hand-in-hand camaraderie at the sheer joy of accomplishing our goals to sniping at each other like siblings in the backseat.

We both feel scattered, shattered, fragmented, not in a tragic way but in an I-can't-find-my-pillow-and-I-want-to-cry and an I'm-falling-off-the-edge-of-the-world-holy-shit-oh-no-but-this-is-really-freaking-cool sort of way.

But doesn't that make sense when you think about it? Someone else lives in our house. Our old boat is now with new owners. Our belongings have been scattered far and wide, like little bits of us sprinkled all across the country.

I recognize that this sounds whiny and ungrateful, but what I'm leaving here is a blueprint for those who want to reboot their lives. Doing great things, making life-altering changes comes with sacrifice. It would be disingenuous not to acknowledge that.

When the stakes are high, so is the price of playing the game.

LOCKED IN -- OR OUT

2010-05-14T22:32:00.000-04:00

We officially signed a contract on the wine shop today with a closing date on or before July 1 -- whenever the loan is approved -- IF it is approved. Do we dare hope?

As Chip was vacuuming at the end of the day, he pushed the wine shop office door closed, and it locked him out -- with his keys inside. Or did it lock him in?

Does the wine shop want us to stay -- or go?

Only the crowbar knows for sure.

TO DO: Get new doorknob for office door.

MOVE ABOARDS

2010-05-12T17:22:00.002-04:00

I've developed a big crush on vacuum bags, so to speak. They make large, water-absorbing things small and waterproof. Awesome. That photo shows two memory foam pillows and a queen size comforter. (Every since I bought the extra-large vacuum bag, Chip has developed a strange fear of the shop vac.)

Slowly, things are finding new resting places inside the boat. The back bedroom is the staging area. One day it gets relatively clear. The next we bring in a new load. Sigh.

Very soon maybe we'll be live aboards, not move aboards.

DEALING

2010-05-09T22:24:00.113-04:00

I read recently that it takes 18 to 24 months to sell a business. Our store has been on the market for 20 months, so that makes it a sure thing, right?

In those 20 months, I have received several offers, low ones asking for ridiculous amounts of financing. In fact, I've been asked to finance hundreds of thousands of dollars by people offering me no credentials, no resume, no business plan, no references, just, hey, what do you think, can I run your store and maybe pay you for it later? I thought not.

We waited, because it's what we do.

About two months ago, I started noticing a change in the inquiries. It was my personal barometer on the health of the economy, my first sign that there was some life springing up out of the darkness. The prospects who contacted me were more serious, moving at a faster pace, and, perhaps most encouraging, they were more financially qualified. Several even grasped the philosophy of the store, and understood the steps we had taken to build and solidify the brand.

And so, I got hopeful.

And then I got an offer that was not low and was not asking for financing.

We are nearing a deal, but we are tiptoeing around like we've stumbled upon a deer in the forest, afraid to move or speak lest it gets spooked and runs away.

Will the deafening clacking of my typing cause it to bolt?

Nevertheless, here I type, quite loudly: We are about to sign a contract to sell the wine shop.

And guess what? It entails more waiting. The buyers must be approved for a loan. We should know in two weeks, three weeks, maybe four?

Life in the balance.

ONE OF THESE IS NOT LIKE THE OTHER

2010-05-07T13:30:00.004-04:00

Yesterday I walked into T.J. Maxx, a new store to me, and a new store to the Outer Banks. It was my inaugural shopping trip since moving onto a boat. I heard they have a kitchen section, and we need plates, bowls, cups, glasses (of the non-glass variety).

Inside the door, I turned to port, planning to do a full circumnavigation. The first section was luggage, none of it waterproof -- or collapsible. Jewelry and handbags, none marine friendly, none needed. Then the shoe department. I admired the cute sandals and colorful sneakers, but I'm already over quota in my own shoe department. Clothing, no. I have too many land clothes that get wrinkled, don't offer UV protection and don't dry fast enough. Towels? Not quick drying.

Here I was in a store filled with things that had zero relevance for me.

I was surrounded by women pushing carts filled with metal photo frames -- with actual glass in them, breakable dishes, lovely vases and cute jeans. Me? A hapless interplanetary visitor observing the strange ways of these earthlings ... and yet, wasn't that a memory of me doing the same thing?

Normal once but no more.

WAIT! Look: bamboo bowls! I bought five of them. Does that make me semi-normal? Pseudo normal? Abnormal? Paranormal?

This morning my sister called.

"Can I call you right back? I'm in the bath house."

Freak.

JUST ENOUGH

2010-05-05T17:22:00.001-04:00

We slept the sleep of the exhausted last night, thrilled to have made it to the Outer Banks, and deliciously comfortable in our V-berth nest.

We're officially live aboards now, but for awhile we'll be moving-aboards.

While on the one hand, it's an amazing feat that we pared a houseful of belongings down to three carloads of stuff, stuff that fit beautifully into a fictional boat and a fictional cruising lifestyle. But now that the fiberglass has hit the water, all that stuff seems, well, too much.

The boat is spacious in boat terms, but in house terms, we're pretty much moving into the equivalent of a nicely appointed garden shed.

As people stop by to see our new home, I watch their reaction, curious to see if, as I expected, they would view us a borderline nut bags. What I didn't anticipate is that people would look longingly about the boat, settle in and heave a huge happy sigh.

Many times already, I have heard, "This is really all you need, isn't it?"

They lament their full houses, crammed attics, bursting storage units. What a crazy, untenable economic system we've built. Truly, how can we maintain an economy that can only thrive if all of us keep consuming?

I'm not really doing my part to stop the madness. I've only traded in my jeans for new high-tech pants, ditched my rolling suitcase for a waterproof duffle, and given up stoneware for wooden dishes.

But one day soon, this tradeoff must end. The boat is a container. When it is full, there will be no marine trailer pulled behind us, no luggage rack on deck.

I look forward to that moment when we can finally declare that we've crossed the finish line, that what we have onboard is just enough.

LOOKING FOR SIGNS: Headed South Day Six

2010-05-04T12:18:00.003-04:00

Coinjock 36°20.276N | 75°57.399W

The end of this trip south was now so close it was making us antsy. So close in fact, that four impatient friends made the short drive from the Outer Banks to Coinjock to welcome us and Good Company to North Carolina.

With only one leg to go, the weather prediction was unsettling, calling for a chance of scattered thunderstorms in the Albemarle Sound, right in our path.

After all the good decisions we had made up to this point, we didn't want to blow it now.

I was feeling a lot of pressure to get to the Outer Banks to deal with the offer on our business, to move our things out of the rental house (already several days overdue) and to manage some freelance deadlines. Feeling pressure to go regardless of weather is not good seamanship.

At 9:00 a.m., still unsure, we began preparations to leave and agreed to watch for signs that we should stay -- or go.

This is a regular practice for us. If we're uncertain, we lay the question out there and wait for direction, which might not be a text message from god, but on the other hand, it's usually clear.

Right away, I went into the bathroom to stow things for the trip. I picked up what I thought was a container of dehumidifying gel. It had done its job and turned into an oily liquid, and as liquids do, went splattering all over the room.

"Is this a sign?" I asked.

"We'll have to see," Chip responded. "That's one strike against leaving." Often, when the signs aren't completely clear, we wait for three strikes.

I continued stowing while Chip went to fuel up and pump out.

A few minutes later, I heard him laughing.

He was working in the cockpit when this boat went by:

See what I mean about clear?

We pulled out 30 minutes behind Follow Me into a day that was overcast but stopped short of being stormy. When we peeled off the ICW at the mouth of the North River, we officially entered home waters. Colington Island, our home on the Outer Banks for 12 years, appeared on the horizon, and our new home, Roanoke Island was right there across the water.

But landmarks on a watery horizon, just like long-planned goals, are always further away than they seem. It took several hours to cross the Albemarle Sound, especially on the safe -- and long -- route toward the southern tip of Roanoke Island and the entrance to the channel that skirts the island.

Hundreds of boats travel the Intracoastal Waterway (ICW), but very few leave it to stop over in Roanoke Island like we were doing. Yet, as we motored toward the entrance of Shallowbag Bay, the radio squawked and I heard:

"Manteo Waterfront, Manteo Waterfront, this is Follow Me."

And we had, all the way from Coinjock.

We tied up in our new slip, tired, relieved, happy and ready for whatever the still-uncertain future might hold. Will we be here for a few weeks, a few months? We don't yet know.

As always, we're waiting for the next sign.

Manteo 35°54.525N | 75°40.119W

THE POWER OF A BOAT: Heading South Day Five

2010-05-03T22:28:00.015-04:00

Great Bridge 36°43.368N | 76°14.751W

I was an art history major for a few semesters in college, until I realized I was as likely to find an art history job as I was to purchase the Mona Lisa. But during that deliciously decadent period, I ate up art history in great heaping spoonfuls. One of the theories I relished for evaluating a piece of art is placing it in its historical context, in the bigger world around it. To understand an artwork completely, according to this theory, it must be judged in its unique place and time, looking at what came before it and how that impacted what came after.

Despite the fact that I blog in real time, I find it much more interesting and compelling to look back at my own story in my historical context and in the bigger world around me, looking at what came before big events in my life and how that impacted what came after. Rarely am I able to recognize the big moments when they're actually happening. Except for sometimes ...

From the moment we made an offer on our new boat, Good Company, in December, it was as if we untied the lines of our lives and moved into the current -- after so many stagnant months of waiting. Her power to move us forward started resonating in our lives before we even got her in the water. The offer, the acceptance, the rare weather window in January for the sea trial, the idyllic commissioning and handoff, from the day our relationship with Good Company began, we've been plowing steadily through calm, deep water.

We closed the deal in January and hoped to bring our new boat from the northern Chesapeake to the Outer Banks in February, but the universe needed to tie up some loose ends first, so in epic fashion, the northern Chesapeake remained frozen solid, locking us out. On March 1st we got a contract on our old boat, Isabella. Yet again, we had an idyllic handoff, and the new owners sailed her away on April 2nd, releasing us from the specter of caring for two boats at once.

By the time we came to bring Good Company home, our 5-year TO DO list was now reduced to one item: Sell the Wine Shop, an item we've been tilting at since listing the business in September 2009.

We left Great Bridge this morning on a short, easy trek to Coinjock, intending to give ourselves a break after the previous day's 12-hour slog, and excited to finally pass into North Carolina waters. It was apparent as we neared the state line that the weather was not going to give us a break. Chip hailed a northbound sailboat to check conditions.

"It's blowing pretty good, but stay to middle of the channel, and you'll be fine."

"Blowing pretty good" was a steady 37-knots -- straight across the beam -- in a very narrow channel through the shallow water of the Currituck Sound. We've learned that navigating the ICW goes much smoother with both of us on duty. I track our progress on the chart and scan the horizon for the path on ahead, giving Chip verbal directions as he concentrates on maintaining the immediate course.

We were taking the occasional cold spray over the starboard rail, when not 10 miles past the state line, we approached the more sketchy part at the southern tip of the sound that required more navigation finesse.

That's when my phone rang. I'm not a big phone-answerer, often letting calls roll to voicemail, even when I'm not navigating in a 37-knot blow. But this time I answered.

For the next few minutes, I would say, "hold on a second," shout directions to Chip, then tuck my head back under the dodger so I could hear the voice on the other end.

It was a broker alerting me that he was emailing me an offer on our business.

Looking back in real time, we can only place that phone call in the context of what came before. We don't yet know how that will impact what comes after.

Until then, we rely on what we do know: Good Company. Good fortune.

And so we continue, homeward bound and hopeful, navigating together through calm, deep waters.

Coinjock 36°20.276N | 75°57.399W

TRIANGULATING: Heading South Day Four

2010-05-02T22:30:00.075-04:00

Deltaville 37°33.480N | 76°18.799W

Today's Chesapeake was not as user-friendly as yesterday's. Instead, we were barreling through 3-foot swells, practically launching off the top of them with a body-jarring landing on the other side. Sitting in the cockpit, this is not such a big deal. Going to the bathroom: BIG DEAL.

With the boat bucking around, I have to either pull up my pants with one hand (level of difficulty: EXTREME) or find a way to use two hands without toppling in a bruised heap (level of difficulty: IMPOSSIBLE). That's where triangle pose comes in.

I lean my butt against the wall with my legs at a 45° angle, making a triangle with the floor, pull my pants up to the top of my thighs. Then I push my butt away from the wall so that my weight is leaning on my shoulders, making a larger triangle, and pull my pants up the rest of the way. Even I find this amusing.

Our path today required a lot of triangulating above decks as well. On previous days, our destinations have been relatively easy to navigate, but since the time we left Rock Hall, I had been dreading two things: passing the mouth of the Potomac and navigating through Norfolk, both with their own complications. With the Potomac behind us, I was feeling pretty antsy about the dense Norfolk chart and the potential for heavy traffic from container ships and aircraft carriers.

But like the previous obstacles, it seemed less intimidating when we got there. With so many landmarks, triangulating was more obvious. In fact, when we passed through, I was surprised how relatively simple it was -- except for the 25-knot wind barreling across the channel, blowing us right toward the aquatic Death Stars:

And just as it was in passing the mouth of the Potomac, timing was in our favor. On a Sunday, there were no mega-ships moving about, just a lot of recreational boats zipping around, one pulling someone on an inner tube, weaving in and out of large power boats, the same type of people who would pull someone down the interstate on a skateboard.

We passed under lift bridges:

People sunning in inauspicious places:

Through a lock:

And after a 12-hour day, thanked Good Company for delivering us safely to Great Bridge.

Tied up behind:

Great Bridge 36°43.368N | 76°14.751W

**A special thanks to Debbie Miller for giving permission to this random blogger to use her beautiful Triangle Pose painting. See her work here.

MOUTHING OFF: Heading South Day Three

2010-05-01T22:12:00.000-04:00

Solomons 38°19.680N | 76°27.477W

"The mouth of the Potomac can be rife with cross-currents, tidal rips and fish traps... Several world cruisers have said that this was the roughest place they've encountered in bad weather." --Waterway Guide Chesapeake Bay

As we moved into the Chesapeake headed south, we set our waypoint heading and watched the shoreline. Something just didn't look right. But what? I ran below to check our heading, and we were on it.

I then pulled out the chart to check the first waypoint, which I had mistakenly entered as E instead of W. That's E for EEK!

But now, heading straight toward the mouth of the Potomac, we were leading a life of quiet trepidation.

According to the guidebook, the most favorable time to pass the mouth is at low tide, and we timed it almost to the minute. We entered the mouth exactly at slack tide.

I'm happy to report, that the mouth did not chew us up nor spit us out. It did not foam or bare its teeth. We made a mute, 90-minute passage in near perfect conditions.

A long, five hours later, on our approach to Deltaville we heard a loud clanging crash near the stairs that sounded like dishes falling. I looked around but found nothing out of order.

"We'll find it later," Chip said presciently. The only thing more clairvoyant would have been if he said "momentarily" instead of "later."

I relieved him at the helm, and within minutes the engine alarm blared. The temperature gauge was pinging above the high temperature mark of 240°. Lights were flashing. (I'm not really sure this is true, but when I play it back in my head, there are definitely red lights flashing.) Chip dove for the throttle, shoved it into low and bolted downstairs.

"TURN IT OFF!" he yelled. I turned it off.

Sitting at the helm alone in the sudden quiet, I assessed our situation. The depth meter read 45 feet. Good. The wind meter read 0 knots. Bad. We were adrift.

I looked to starboard and could see land about 300 yards away. Good (help nearby) and bad (shallow water).

I kept watch for, um, something, while Chip clanged around below.

"YAY!" he called out. "It's a broken belt."

Yay? He had been reviewing all the potential -- and potentially expensive -- disasters that could have caused the engine to overheat. A belt was not such a big deal, IF the previous owner stashed a spare belt.

New problem: where might that stash be.

So as Chip dug through hatches below, I took matters and furling lines into my own hands. I unfurled the staysail and the jib, both of which began to flop around in fluky 1-knot winds. By the time Chip had found not one but two replacement belts, I had both sails partially full and the boat moving very slowly in exactly the wrong direction. Just as I was preparing to tack, Chip called up, "Try the engine now!"

"Wait a minute, I'm tacking!"

"WHAT?!?!"

After an extremely unsuccessful tack, which ended up at about 250° instead of 180°, I turned the key and the engine came back to life, sans alarm.

From start to finish, Chip had the engine running in less than 20 minutes.

Me? I had sailed us about 60 yards off course, dashing all hopes of winning the day's Most Valuable Crewmember award.

We put the engine in gear and pointed toward Deltaville. I rolled in the stupid sails.

After a 10-hour day on the water, we tied up, exhausted, hungry and triumphant from tackling both the mouth of the Potomac and an unexpected engine repair. We threw on semi-clean clothes and headed out for dinner.

Halfway down the dock I stopped in my tracks.

"What's happened to us?!?" I lamented. "This is only our third day of cruising."

Chip hadn't shaved or showered. I hadn't showered, washed my hair OR put on makeup.

And we were dressed alike.

Deltaville 37°33.480N | 76°18.799W

THROUGH THE CROWD: Heading South Day Two

2010-04-30T22:00:00.009-04:00

Annapolis 38°58.630N | 76°29.168W

We're not fly-by-the-seat-of-our-pants, devil-may-care, insert-trite-phrase, sailors. In fact, we work hard at being good Boy Scouts, making sound decisions, weighing the facts, consuming all the data, planning our route, waiting for weather windows.

For this trip south, we've made an effort to employ all the navigation devices onboard, we mapped out our route on paper charts, found the waypoint coordinates on the laptop and then punched them in on the GPS.

Last night when Chip entered today's waypoints, he named each one with a letter of the alphabet, in order, so I could easily work through them by following the alphabet. However, he started with Z and went backwards. Since I'm the one who runs below to check our heading and set waypoints, I expressed, shall we say, surprise at his choice of letters. He claims he couldn't find A, but I'm pretty sure he was testing my sobriety.

Right about at waypoint Y, we stumbled smack damn into a J boat regatta. Dozens of racing boats clustered together, headed in no particular direction (apparently the regatta had not started), and no two in the same direction, spinnakers flying.

Since we were heading straight into the wind, they were all tacking back and forth across our path. Add to that the fact that we were under power, and they were under sail, which meant we had zero right-of-way. We sped up, slowed down, idled, did a 360. It was just plain comical.

By midday, the regatta a pleasant memory, we were kicked back in the cockpit, feeling confident in ourselves and our vessel. Using dead reckoning, we verified that our GPS waypoints and autopilot headings were correct. With each hour, we gained a little more trust in the purring engine. We even felt wise and seasoned when we raised the staysail to smooth out the ride -- and were delighted to see that we had installed it on the furler correctly. Ah, yes, we were awesome.

That's when we got the radio call, "Sailing vessel headed south, this is the northbound sailing vessel passing you to starboard. There's a partially submerged barrel in your path about one quarter of a mile ahead."

No words passed between us, no eye contact. At the helm, Chip threw back the throttle. I leaped out of the cockpit and hit the side deck in a full-speed, Fred-Flintstone-midair pedaling, running crouch.

For the next 20 minutes, I stood on the bow scanning the water, scanning, scanning, scanning, fearing the deadly barrel was right in our path, and I might not spot it.

'Nothing,' I shouted back to Chip, "I wish we'd see the #&$ thing, so we'd know we passed it!"

But, there was to be no such reassurance. We bobbed along 45 minutes before powering up, our confidence at a very low ebb. We expend so much energy conquering the things we can control, and now here was something new we hadn't even thought to worry about. At least the Titanic knew to watch for icebergs. And how do we give right of way to an object we can't even see??? If there was one barrel out there, did that mean there were more? What else was lurking out there just beneath the surface?

We did not know the answers, and so we motored on.

In the early evening, we approached our last waypoint and a perfect parenthetical closure to our day, ending up in the midst of fishing tournament boats coming in for the night. Dozens of them. Zipping all around us. At one point, two sped by, one on each side of us, at full speed, careening us into an impressive 30-degree heel -- one way and then the other.

We tied up side-to at a quiet dock in Solomons, the end of a long, carefully planned day spent dealing with things for which there is no plan.

Solomons 38°19.680N | 76°27.477W

FLYING THE COOP: Heading South Day One

2010-04-29T21:07:00.004-04:00

Rock Hall 39°08.481N | 76°15.710W

We did it! We broke the bonds of Rock Hall.

The conditions weren't ideal, but boy, were we ready to go, all three of us. When we took the port breastline off, it was almost completely chafed through.

On our way out, Rock Hall had one last gambit for us. The marina is in an L shape that is tighter than Beyonce's jeans. To get out, we had to back out into an area just longer than the boat, turn to port and make an immediate 90-degree right turn -- in gusting wind. We started by having a minor squabble about how to untie and shove off, surely brought on by fatigue, stress and nervousness, but once we threw the lines, Chip did an admirable job. We didn't hit anything, always goal number one.

After we cleared the marina, and headed toward that bridge I'd been watching longingly for TWO WEEKS, Good Company performed flawlessly, clearly showing off for us.

We left Rock Hall under a gray, hazy sky, blowing and cold. We had taken to calling it Alcatraz after another "rock" that's notoriously hard to escape.

And four hours later? We pulled into Club Med. We slid into downtown Annapolis under bright clear skies, temperature in the low 70s, the water still as a sleeping baby. We tied up to the bulkhead in front of Starbucks, walked to Pusser's for lunch and two extra large Painkillers.

Heaven, if not a little disorienting.

That evening as we were lolling in the cockpit pinching ourselves:

thinking all first-day-of-the-rest-of-our-lives, I looked over and saw a young couple posing for photos. They were angling to look like they were onboard our boat, so I offered to let them come aboard.

As it turns out, they were taking their engagement photo. A sweet and perfect ending to our first day cruising. New beginnings for everyone, brought to you by Good Company.

(The photographer Gil Seo, has an exhibition in New York at SBD Gallery starting May 29.)

Annapolis 38°58.630N | 76°29.168W

FULL CIRCLE

2010-04-29T20:44:00.000-04:00

So many years we have made the pilgrimage to Annapolis for the sailboat show, daring to dream of a cruising life, hoping to be more than magazine sailors, to stop posing and start sailing. Year after year we were would-be cruisers buying books and charts, dreamers picking out folding bikes and bed springs, attending seminars about navigating Caribbean waters.

For many years in a row, we stood not three feet from where Good Company is tied up, watching the same demonstration of a tiny sail going up and down on nylon lines, the very system that we now use to effortlessly drop our main.

Just last fall we stood outside the sailboat show staring at an Island Packet bobbing at a mooring, silently chanting, maybe next year. Maybe next year.

It is not planning that brought us to Annapolis, the first destination at the beginning of our cruising life, because that would be contrived and even maudlin. Instead it is that uncanny circle of our lives that turns oh-so slowly but unfailingly comes back around in a perfect loop, tying up our hard-earned efforts in a big, red karmic bow.

ROCK AND ROLL

2010-04-28T13:58:00.001-04:00

We're still in the grips of Rock Hall. It's blowing all right. Straight across our beam accompanied by two foot swells. The motion of the boat makes me wonder how loud music purloined the term "rock and roll."

AND it's cold. The wind chill drops down in the 30s at night.

"We gotta get outta here," we keep repeating. Today it seemed even more urgent as the wear and tear on both us and the boat began to show.

I want to leave so badly, I peeled the tape off the starboard rail in a 30-knot blow, freezing. Chip offered to help, but I excused him from the nasty task and crawled on alone. There's never pictures of the good stuff.

When the boatyard closed we took their truck and puttered around town like two bored teenagers, looking for anything to keep us from our rocky, rolly, noisy home out there.

For a while we huddled in the hospitality room, me sleeping on the couch, Chip watching American Idol. Pitiful.

Good Company is begging us, "Get me outta here!"

CHESAPEAKE MONITORING
National Highs/Lows
7 day Rock Hall | Weather.com Rock Hall
Chesapeake Wind Forecast
Maryland Tides
Virginia Tides
NOAA Coastal Waters Forecast

THE BIG WAIT

2010-04-27T11:54:00.000-04:00

Does it seem like we do a lot of waiting?

That's where we are again. Waiting. Chip's back. We're ready to go (sort of), but the weather calls for high winds the next few days, so we'll lay up in Rock Hall until it passes.

We could have made it across to Annapolis today, but the boatyard had to make a final trip up our mast to fix the light they forgot to fix last time. By the time they came back down, it was too late to start.

In the meantime, we've put ourselves on a system-a-day plan until we get it figured out.

While Chip was gone, I tackled the water heater and AC/heat unit.

Today is the navigation system. Chip brought an adapter to make the GPS talk to the laptop, so we're poring over Nobeltec software and the Garmin GPS -- and their manuals -- attempting to find ourselves and our route easier on the way south.

Our days are filled with packing glands and Y valves, bilge pumps and water filters. One at a time.

I only got through half the toe rails before the weather moved in. I've left the starboard side taped in hopes of getting another coat on before we untie.

The wind blows. And so we look longingly out across the water. And we wait.

STORMY THOUGHTS

2010-04-25T21:44:00.001-04:00

About 11:30 last night, I thought, "Well, Mr. Automaton, where's your big-time storm?"

A few minutes later, as I was brushing my teeth I heard something that sounded like a tractor rumbling down the dock. I turned off the water and cocked my head sideways, like a beagle, listening.

At the same moment I identified the roar as wind, the boat made a sharp heel to starboard, the lines groaning at the shift.

"Really? Zero to 30 in the time it takes to brush my teeth?" I asked.

In answer the starboard rail squished the bumper into a piling with a loud SCREEEEK.

I realized in that moment, that most of my attention had gone toward keeping the boat away from the dock on the port side, to the complete neglect of anything that might push us to starboard, like a 30-knot wind at midnight.

That's when the gusts turned into a steady blow, and my guts turned to jelly.

The rain started pelting on the fiberglass roof. Lightning flashed. The boat started rocking in earnest, bang, bang, banging against the dock lines and screeching on the bumper. It sounded like I was lying beneath the tracks in a busy subway station.

This boat weighs more than 10 tons, and in that moment the whole of it was resting on my shoulders.

It was not the storm that scared me. No, this was much bigger.

This boat has been on the water -- and around the world -- for 10 years. Now in my first week as caretaker, is it doomed to break apart on my watch? Am I actually capable of taking care of a 40-foot boat -- by myself??? Have I finally taken on more than I can manage?

And worse, if I can't manage tied up to a dock, how will I react in the big, wide ocean? Will I even survive?

I was having an existential crisis with a thunderstorm as the soundtrack.

I called Chip.

"It's blowing. I don't want to go out there. What if a line breaks? What if I loosen the line and the wind gusts and the boat gets away from me?" I babbled.

He calmly talked me down, or in this case, up.

"It always sounds worse than it is. Just put in some more bumpers if you can't pull it off the piling."

So, I took a deep breath, put on my big girl foulies and went up there. As advertised, it wasn't all THAT bad. It was cold and raining, but it was the foulies that got wet, not me. During the previous week, I had learned how to unwrap the dock line from the cleat part of the way, wait for a little break in the wind, then haul it in before the next gust. And that's what I did, hauling in the port breastline, between gusts inching by little bits away from that starboard piling.

But, just in case, I jammed in one more bumper before going below.

And by morning, I had conquered a few more items on the checklist:

30-knot squall at the dock: CHECK
Existential overreaction at midnight: CHECK

There are never photos of the good stuff.