Welcome, Monty!

  I have a new dog, a new friend! While Cynthia was laid-up with naughty knees and a bad back, she kept an eye out for rescue dogs and found one in Detroit, a feral dog captured in TX. Within a day we had met the foster person, been approved, and drove the little fellow home.

WELL, one thing you can count on with feral dogs is that they will have some.... issues. Since Cynthia could not sit for long, I had set her up with a bed in the back of the car and Monty actually menaced her rather severely on the way home. Once home he did his best to menace me, too... but I don't submit to that "manure" and we had a... discussion... mostly physical, but also some growling and barking. We really feared that he might be untrainable, but in the ten days we have had him his behavior has moderated hugely. We believe this behavior (along with a few other things we've seen) may indicate that he survived by ambushing people near vending machines and frightening them into dropping their food. He looked pretty scary back then..

He also has a tendency to run for the horizon, for new places and people and smells. We hope this will moderate as he finds security in us and his testosterone levels drop (he was neutered a week or so before we received him). 

Other than that, he is about 11 lbs, 3 years old (maybe), poodle-King Charles Cavalier mix (maybe), very cuddly, energetic, an amazing jumper, very food driven, recently neutered, and very good at warning us of strangers. He is also a cute sweet fellow. 

Lucy and he are getting along pretty well, although she still mostly prefers to be an only dog.

I think he is a good dog and getting better. Crossing fingers that he will work out well on the boat...although he may have too much energy. I bet he will be great. Cynthia finally found a wonderful life jacket that works well for him and it arrived today.

Anyway, we plan on driving out to MA around Xmas, then down to the boat in NC, then Cynthia and Lucy will drive back to MI while I sail for FL and the Bahamas. Although, with Omicron.... who the heck knows.

Epiphany

Here I am in Sonoma, visiting my dad. I arrived Saturday after spending a week with Cynthia in MI and the boat sits safely in NC, awaiting my return in about four weeks. The grafts on the oranges are doing well and are bent down with green oranges and the near-record rain storm has put an end to the fire season, thank goodness!

In this last week, I sat down to look at the things that make my ears perk up and my tail wag. There are loads of things that are essential to me: friends, hugs, sunrises and sunsets, minimalism, problem solving, foraging, sailing.... and I've known for some time (nearly six decades) that I'm attracted to water, especially salt water.... but these are not enough.

I recalled that I fell in love with the US Virgins only after I began hunting lionfish, thus giving me a reason to swim and explore as well as helping the reefs and making the world a bit better. This summer I encountered invasive green crabs swarming the Stage Harbor beaches at night and decimating the littoral life there and wondered if , as with lionfish, one could make a difference by going out and hunting them several nights each summer. Finally, I recently read about purple sea urchins entirely covering huge regions of the northern CA nearshore area, eliminating all kelp and wiping out other species. And I thought, with a bit of excitement, perhaps one could pick a small area and eliminate the urchins, creating and maintaining a refuge for the kelp etc.

I wrote all these down, then sat back with a gasp at the realization that (no kidding!) these all have clear commonalities. Forget sailing as a life plan: while that IS a delight and moves me deeply, it does not bring meaning to my life. What DOES is making the world a bit better by doing what I can for a little piece of ocean: protecting a quarter mile of Cape Cod beach from green crabs, a mile or two of reef from lionfish, or maybe even a thousand square feet of Mendocino kelp bed from urchins...although they have professional divers working on that idea. And, who knows, there may be others interested in joining in: I know Cynthia enjoys these things.

And, of course, there is the delight of getting into the water and seeing wonderful things!

Now, I realize that everyone else probably could have told me this about myself and that I'm a bit slow to have taken nearly six decades to get there, but I'm just delighted to have finally noticed!

Battery notes and time to head south

 Heading south from Cape Cod toward NC today, Lucy by my side. Yes, it has been a long time since sailing much. Yes, I'm nervous about the currents and thunderstorms I'll be facing until around midnight. AND the temperature is supposed to plummet tonight, reaching around 50degF, so THAT will be darned chilly...

But then the temperatures should rise and winds should cooperate to bring me into Beaufort, NC or Cape Lookout around Monday. I may even have a day to spend walking with Lucy on the beaches before we need to head upstream to New Bern to store the boat and head to MI for a week, then CA for a month, before returning to chilly weather in mid-November and heading south to FL and/or the Bahamas. 

What to write about... hmmm... How about a bit on batteries!

For years I've lusted after lithium (well, lithium iron phosphate) batteries, but always found the cost too high. But spring of 2020 found me sitting down to actually analyze the numbers and deciding when to swap over.... and I found the numbers added up then and there.... but only if I built my own system. So I ordered the cells and management electronics and had them delivered to a friend in Chatham, 

then picked them up and installed them.

What fun!

What is good about them compared to the good old lead acid batteries? 

1) non toxic: one could grind them up and use them to fertilize a garden.

2) one can use over 80% of the battery capacity without damage compared to only about 50% with lead-acid.

3) They prefer to be left partially charged rather than requiring excess charge frequently, so I can keep more of the power my solar panels produce.

4) The new battery pack fits far more power and energy into the same footprint as my old batteries.

5) I can take part of my battery bank, put it in the dinghy, and putter around with a trolling motor.

6) Power tools now run far better as the batteries can put out far more power than lead acid.

Problems?

1) Existing charging electronics on my boat are not quite right and may occasionally create a problem. I have a work-around, but it takes attention if I am running my engine much.

2) The LiFePO4 batteries don't like freezing weather and charging them when they are below freezing will destroy them rapidly.

3) I can now find some cells for under half of what I paid. All electric cruising, anyone? No more propane, diesel, or oil on board! I'd love it.... maybe in a year or five.

Storms and a minke

"Adventure is out there!" Enough sitting on anchor in one place! As much as I have loved Cape Elizabeth (great folks, good anchorage (but a bit roll-y), wonderful wild raspberries, good access to Portland, close to open ocean, nice snorkeling), the sea calls... I hadn't really been sailing in nearly a week! OMG! 

So, despite thunderstorms bearing down (pm July 23), I set sail to try to catch favorable winds to Matinicus Rock to see puffins, various islands for berries, and hard-shelled lobsters at Bucks Harbor. 

Within about an hour, the storms looked a bit worrisome, so I dropped the mizzen. The winds strengthened, then died after a cloud passed nearby. Still... the wind blew from the south and my apps showed storms approaching from the north... how odd. So I watched carefully and. as the clouds came closer, I gauged their speed.

The wimpy winds died further, but the approaching clouds reminded me of breaking waves hurling themselves across a sand bar and growing rapidly closer: I reefed the jib severely and went out to drop the main.... and as it dropped the wind grew and droplets of rain began to strike. I hopped into the cockpit, zipped the flaps closed, and adjusted the steering as the winds began to BLOW!  A couple noises from below told me I hadn't secured a few items well enough, but the boat moved along under good control and the winds gradually died, skies cleared, sun set,

and stars came out.

Sunrise found me gliding along very gently, perhaps 2 knots...and I startled at a great huff of breath behind me and turned to see a great shiny black back slipping beneath the surface only a boat length (or two) away. Cool!... although I only got a couple pictures of disturbed water.

Another whale (or the same) showed up a couple hours later... and played around the boat like a dolphin or porpoise for over a half hour! Much slower than it's smaller cousins and staying slightly farther out, but often within a body length: it seemed well aware of its size and agility limitations. 

So....I wonder what attracted the whale? I see a parallel to human interactions: did it enjoy my boat's company, was it laughing at it's stolid personality, did it enjoy the peaceful behavior.... or did it find itself intrigued by the shape of my bottom? Well, I really enjoyed the time spent together and have the memories.

Friends' pics of me sailing

Only rarely do we get to see ourselves as other may. This holds especially true for the act of sailing: we do not often get to see the pictures that others may take of us in action, doing this thing we love so well. 

BUT! Recently some new friends I met in Quahog Bay snapped some photos as we headed toward Seguin Island and were kind enough to email them to me. How wonderful!

The first shows me sailing around Cape Small...

The second shows me dropping the main sail while the auto-steering keeps me on course...

Well, that's all for now. Cynthia joined me Saturday evening 6/10 and we sailed to Bar Harbor, bought groceries, and relaxed on the 11th. Today we shall see what our friends Steve and Mitsko suggest for adventure.... perhaps the gals will explore the shops and sights of Bar Harbor while we fellows will fiddle with boat repair and maintenance, each group delighted to avoid the other's choice.

goodbye to steamer clams in Maine

 As evening closes in, I am finding myself increasingly mourning the loss of the steamer clams of Maine. I've always found them here in uncountable hoards, so numerous that they could no more disappear than could the sky-darkening flocks of passenger pigeons. Yesterday I went prospecting for them, trying to find a decent number to share with Cynthia and Lucy and new friends... but they are gone from their old places, leaving only shells. Today, as I sailed slowly, I researched hearsay information I had about green crabs killing them... you know how reliable hearsay can be. Well, apparently the invasive European green crabs ARE eating them up, digging the young out and eating them before they can grow. Part of the cause is the crabs, part is the warming ocean... and ALL of the cause is US. These (well, the ones in Cape Cod) are the first clams I dug as a child and to think that they are going, going, gone.... well, I find myself with an deep ineffable sadness, unstoppable tears running down my face... as I sit here playing my comforting sudoku, with the light fading... and the approaching hurricane remnants making the winds rise. 

Funny: I didn't feel quite this way when beloved Wyoming forests died of bark beetles... but, then again, I never actually saw those dead forests, just pictures. And my coral reefs (but I never saw them in their prime)... and my abalone (but I haven't been there for decades)... Same goes for ash trees, American elms, American chestnuts.... I guess this is the first beloved bit of my beloved Earth I've seen die by our hand. 

Another possibility might be that I connect to the natural world through foraging and this removes an important bit of that. 

Ah, well. Life goes on.

Swallowtail butterfly invasion

Hello from Southeast Harbor, Maine! I'm relaxing on board, bundled up in winter clothes, listening to the rain and wind and waiting for the storm to pass. In the meantime I am cleaning up the boat, cooking, catching up on sleep, visiting with friends on the boat next door (Esprit), and writing a blog post....

When we returned to the boat in NC, we discovered that parsley in the herb bucket, while still alive, had been severely pruned back....by eight striped caterpillars: black swallowtails!

Some folks use pesticides to remove these or pick them off by hand, but we welcomed them and brought them with us when we sailed to New England. On the way, they reached maturity, barfed out the remaining undigested food when their bodies quit accepting it, crawled off to find a safe place, and pupated. Some pupated on the plants,

others we caught before they left and put in a jar until they pupated, some we found as they crawled onto me,

and two others hid away: one in my hat

and the other behind a cushion. 

Cynthia left for MI, disappointed that she would miss their emergence. I managed to sail to Chatham and get a mooring before the first emerged and flew to shore.

Two looked as though they might not emerge before I headed to Maine and I KNOW they can't fly to shore from the boat miles out at sea, so I used a clothes pin to secure their stem or cardboard to the ivy on an old ivy-covered mailbox post.... and we got to see one actually emerging!

My mom recalled that they might be popping out and asked me to glance at them when we returned from a walk. I found one in the act of emerging from the pupa, a process that only takes a minute or so: what luck!

Over the next fifteen minutes it pumped the wings up like an inflatable pool toy until they looked ugly,

then pretty good, 

then until all the wrinkles disappeared.

 Then the bug waited for an hour or so for the wings to slowly harden, the soft, floppy, perfect wings swinging in the occasional breeze. We tired of "watching paint dry" and, when we checked a bit later, the butterfly had flown.

And yes, they ARE native to Cape Cod as well as NC, so we were not introducing an odd species.

Becalmed and swimming with mahi mahi

I wrote this as I sailed solo from Cape Cod to Maine. Am now anchored in Quahog Bay in Casco Bay.

Cynthia, Lucy, and I set out from the marina near New Bern on June 2, heading south to the sea rather than more sensibly catching the forecast heavy south winds to sail north up the ICW to Norfolk and the Chesapeake.... but we feel confined in "the ditch" and my gal was really looking forward to fishing! We anchored in Cape Lookout Bay for a couple days to wait out the winds,

then sailed even FARTHER south to round the cape and then east to round the storied Cape Hatteras before heading north. Of course, as soon as we rounded Cape Lookout the winds diminished. We crawled along, slower and slower, until we rounded Cape Hatteras, angling a little farther off-shore than normal to catch a ride on the Gulf Stream.

Now, normally, the boat moves at around five knots, so taking a detour to gain an extra two knots doesn't pencil out, but the forecast told us not to expect much wind for days, so we drifted and wafted along the Gulf Stream and the current doubled our speed.

Stifling in the heat, looking down into the liquid blue of the stream, I thought about swimming... but water a mile deep just makes me nervous somehow. Then I caught a glimpse of brilliant colors: electric blue, yellow, and bright green.... a fish! And another! And a few more! (No, I did not get ANY decent photos through the distorting lens of the water surface)

After all my reading about the fish loving to take up under floating objects and years of sailing, this was the first time I had actually seen mahi mahi (aka dolphin fish or dorado) in the water! 

In fifteen minutes Cynthia had rigged a line and the fish chased her lure... but no bites. Within a half hour she had found one they could not resist and hauled in a gorgeous fish which quickly went into the cooler.

Then we pulled out masks, snorkels, and fins and climbed into the water to see the fish face-to-face. Cynthia took loads of pics

while I worked on cleaning the boat bottom with an endless abyss below me.

This adventure alone made the sail worthwhile, even ignoring other things like
    >whales wallowing and blowing nearby
    >multiple pods of dolphins visiting and playing around the boat
    >incredible phosphorescence
    >another delightful swim the next day, although without fish
    >a large glowing solitary dolphinoid, perhaps 10 to 15 feet long, that 

           overtook the boat one night, then swam on.
    >anchoring in Narragansett Bay, a delightful and easy place to anchor and visit.
    >a visit from Ted and Daniella at the shore near our anchorage.

    >swallowtail caterpillars pupating
    >Lucy finally managing to relieve herself regularly during our week on board!

Ah, sailing adventures!

Hello from Sonoma!

15 May: a bit later than I usually visit my folks in Sonoma, but quite nice. Fire season should not start for another couple months, but we've only received 7" of the normal 19" of rain last winter and things are dry, dry, dry and the first major CA fires have popped up. We've been enjoying strawberries from the local farm that has been growing them for the last couple decades: definitely the best strawberries I've ever found for sale. And some of the grafted oranges I started a year ago are progressing nicely: the blood orange graft has grown long and healthy and the little green fruits studding the multiple Cara Cara grafts swell noticeably by the week. Zero clouds (except for "coastal low clouds"), 50deg at night, 80deg by day.

Tomorrow is my dad's birthday and, coincidentally, Cynthia is flying in with Lucy. On Saturday May 26 we will take the red-eye back to NC and our floating home and wend our way north.

Speaking of sailing, family finally visited while I was in FL: my brother Peter and his two children came to visit for a week. Sadly, Angela had to remain behind to tend to Bailey, their canine family member, as he recovers (fingers crossed!) from back surgery. 

Peter and the kids seemed to enjoy the trip. Alex and Rory paddled the kayak and poked around the mangroves where Alex photographed lazy lizards.

They testing out various masks, snorkels, and fins in the murky waters along the local breakwater (Peter found the biggest queen conch I've seen in years). 

Another day we moved to the clearer water along a local sunken sailboat (numerous fish and dozens of lobsters). 

On the final day we sailed to a nice dive around an old lighthouse at the edge of the Florida Bank, gentle winds and small waves making for a perfect dive day.

It seems like a VERY long drive for them (18 hrs each way) for a mere five days aboard with me, but I certainly enjoyed having them visit.

The Birds

I've been paralyzed with indecision: should I write about lithium batteries, travels, the first family visit to the boat, fishing, the FL Keys, lousy forecasts, or further storm damage? Obviously, I've decided to write a bit on the exhausted, storm-tossed visitors I get.

A few days ago I arrived in NC after a passage from Miami and a brief anchoring and rest in Winyah Bay, SC. The initial leg of the journey is typically simple: hop onto the Gulf Stream and head north when weather looks favorable.

My PredictWind app forecast good conditions with the exception of a bit of storm forming a wall around Jacksonville, FL, so I headed north at nearly 150 miles per day, drawing closer and closer to the "stalled front", as the forecasters put it.

As I drew within six hours, the radio forecasts started becoming ominous, saying things like "take shelter if possible" and "every person on board should wear a life jacket" and other phrases to warn of thunderstorms along the coast. None of this inspired confidence or a relaxed attitude, but I guess that WAS their intention.... however, since I was 90 miles from shore I had no option to take shelter and, although I know that thunderstorms typically die quickly when they leave land, the best description of my attitude would be "anxious", especially when they warned of east gusts to 50mph.

Finally, the storms reached me and I felt considerable relief to actually be working my way through the strong wind and building waves rather than simply anticipating....

and, after an hour or so, the wind died away to nothing and I sat in the boat, flopping in the remaining waves. 

By sunset, the sea had calmed and a light breeze blew me north...

and, as light dimmed, visitors began to arrive. The first was a sparrow-sized bird with a brick-red breast, apparently very happy to find a solid spot to land so far from shore. It lit upon an anchor and remained there. Sorry about the quality, but night shots...

The second, a shorebird completely unequipped for landing on a structure, arrived with multiple bumps and much flapping, finally falling into the cabin where it stood in some confusion, then began preening it's feathers.

The final arrival circled the boat several times in darkness, drawn by my well-lit sails, then with the avian equivalent of "I don't like this at all, but this is as good as it gets", landed first on the deck, then by the solar panels on top of the cockpit. Odd looking bird and rather shy, but exhausted as it was it made little attempt at further hiding and I got a decent look at it: a kingfisher! 

The trio remained aboard for the night and, at first light, two left and, I hope, survived to make it to shore.

The shore bird, not accustomed to this terrain, remained, slipping and stumbling and flapping as the wind and waves gradually increased. I finally approached it, picked it up (SO light and soft!), and released it on some flat cushions in the cockpit. From there it launched, landed in the water, then took to the air and disappeared into the distance. 

I wonder if numerous lost birds simply land in the water and die. Sad to think of. I certainly enjoy their visits and wish them well. I realize that my photo of one of the birds is probably unrecognizable, but would be curious about the species of the other two, should anyone recognize them.

Rise and shine!

The sudden roar of my diesel engine cut into me, yanking me like a puppet on a string. Clearly the engine was, once again, surging as it ran out of fuel.....probably a clog in the feed line... should I try pumping in more with the squeeze bulb or shut the engine off before it sucked more air into the fuel system? The engine room was nearest, so I slid back the door in the dark... and found silence rather than the roar I had braced for. I ran up to the cockpit and found that the screaming engine was a fishing boat a quarter mile off, the most incredibly loud and obnoxious boat engine I've ever heard, pushing the fishing boat against the current, heading out to sea in the darkness before dawn..... and I realized that I had been asleep when this noise hauled me unceremoniously from the arms of lethe, operating on instinct and adrenaline. 

As my heart gradually slowed, I did the rounds, checking anchor lines and neighboring boats: the new arrival was making huge loops as it navigated the forces of wind and tide while the longer anchorage inhabitants moved slowly or sat steady. Perhaps 70 degF, a steady breeze under clear skies, and a bright moon.... not bad at all. And, after some yoga finally calmed my heart and eased my various aches, I brewed up some hot mocha and watched the sun rise.

BTW, I have had some trouble with dirty fuel and am going to solve it this week. And I have dragged anchor before, although not enough to hit another boat... but did have one drag into me a few weeks ago: no significant damage, thank goodness. Ah, the adventures of living in a boat: people in houses hardly ever have a neighboring domicile come knocking in the night!

That's all for now!

Never-ending repairs in Fort PIerce!

 Here I am in Fort Pierce, five weeks later, STILL working on the boat. I COULD sail now, but little things keep coming up.

To start with, I knew when I bought the boat that the samson posts needed to be replaced, but figured I could get along for a while without repercussions. That was mostly correct, although unexpected repairs DO add a certain something to cruising adventures. I had put off the job because there were so many surrounding jobs that would make it take longer. For example, the deck needed to be re-cored and this alone would add ten days simply to do the bow area. Also, I would need lots of materials.... and wasn't sure how much.... and would need to have it shipped to most places I might work. 

That brings us to Fort Pierce. Here I know of local suppliers and anchorages where I can get the materials and do the work I need... and any more materials are just a mile away. So I tackled the repairs...

1) remove the fore-stay, jib, and furler and set them aside (tie to a stay so it will not sway much)

2) remove the bowsprit and set it aside on the deck.

3) remove decking and coring and samson posts and haul to shore.

4) remove old samson posts below-deck and clean the area where they attach to the hull 

Here are the old and new samson posts....

5) Grind the remaining thin skin of fiberglass to make it adhere better to the new core

6) Install new foam core and stronger Coosa core (dark section) in a bed of thickened epoxy

7) Glue foam spacers where the new posts will go through the Coosa

8) Install about a dozen layers of very strong glass (1708 in vinyl resin) 

9) smooth the deck with grinding, sanding, and fairing compound

10) Install the samson posts after cutting the holes. 

Attach them to the hull in the anchor locker (I later added the filler pieces of wood between these)

Fiberglass them in place and apply finish to them.

11) prime and paint and add non-skid

12) Install bowsprit, new pin, new whisker stay chainplate

13) Install fore-stay, furler, and jib

14) Discover that the furler will not function and narrow it down to a frozen top bearing.

Order and install new bearing.

While doing these things, Cynthia and I re-cored most of the rest of the deck. After she left, I re-cored the final bit and painted the starboard deck (in process for about fifteen months, so "yay!").

All my deck is now DONE! I think I may actually be done with the itchy work! YES!

Once, while rowing to shore, something big shook my rowboat.... probably a startled manatee. A couple days ago, I actually saw a trio of them only ten feet from the boat! And, of course, there are loads of dolphins and frequent nice sunrises... 

and sunsets....

Stay well, my friends.