Lap-goat in Michigan

Here I am in MI, a kid sharing my lap with Lucy.

How did I get here? Well...

Flew from CA to MI to see Cynthia and await rudder repair news.
Received the news that the rudder was done.... which ended up with firing the contractor and building it myself. Yes, I'll write it up.
Sailed to NC and put the boat in a slip near New Bern... beside a ketch with wooden spars owned by a fellow named Skip.
Drove back to MI where Cynthia has gone to work where she met a fellow medico who owns goats and invited us to visit. Delightful lady, goats, and visit.... and Cynthia had very fresh and tasty goat milk on her cereal this AM.

Pandemic: stuck in Sonoma, twiddling (green) thumbs

Cynthia warned me that testing was very spotty, but I still thought I could get to CA and back to the boat before things got serious. I chose... poorly: the counties near Sonoma issued stay-at-home orders a week after I got here.... and, so, I am staying here a bit longer. Besides, I've still been waiting on the go-ahead to repair my rudder from the insurance company. In the meantime I've been here with my folks, all of us feeling a bit of cabin fever despite the nice weather and wonderful location.

So, what to do here? Various projects, including “top-working” the orange tree, grafting different varieties onto it in place of the existing “meh” naval oranges. We ordered five different varieties from the state citrus grafting supply, they arrived as green sticks in well-labelled plastic bags a few days later, and we then spent a few hours working on the orange.

step 1: cut the branch, split open the bark and gently peel it back

 Step 2: insert the carefully cut short stick of buds under the bark

 Step 3: wrap the graft in rubber bands to hold the live surfaces together and wrap it all in parafilm to prevent drying out. Label the branch (blood orange, here)

 Step 4: shade the grafts from the harsh sun for a few weeks, until the graft heals together

 Step 5: take a photo of the very odd-looking tree!

I love grafting, the surgical splicing of one tree variety onto another, aligning the growing layers (cambium) so they tie together, watching the buds swell and sprout, seeing the new flowers and fruit over the years. Delightful.

Mostly I've grafted apples and plums and this is my first time for citrus.

Now we wait... and hope that the grafts survive and grow nicely rather than drying and dying. So far it has been about three weeks and, while everything seems alive, nothing has shown signs of growth. Fingers crossed!



I've also been working on mastering and improving an old family favorite, molasses cookies. So far I've eliminated the need to refrigerate the dough and roll it in sugar. This means I can go from ingredients to ingesting in a half hour! 

Perhaps, I will soon head to MI to see Cynthia, although taking two or three extra flights scares me quite a lot in this time of coronavirus. Perhaps, now that we have the insurance go-ahead on the rudder, I can head back there to finish the repairs and sail the boat away, staying aboard on anchor in FL or NC.... although cases look like they are blowing up in FL and the boat yard launch facilities have closed down. Interesting times...

I MISS being afloat. I dream about diving into the clear water...

Gratitude in the midst of interesting times

I wrote this a couple weeks ago, but didn't get around to posting it. I'm currently winging my way to CA and Cynthia is back at work in MI. Boat should be back in the water in three weeks.... I hope.


OK, we are back in Florida, boat pulled out for repairs, me on antibiotics, Cynthia applying ice to her twinging back, and generally dealing with a bit of a downpour of issues. Details? Well...

1) Cynthia had her best lionfish day EVER, spearing 42 of the buggers and making a large improvement to the health of the reefs near Rock Sound in southern Eleuthera. I mostly assisted by sitting in the dinghy, taking the spear she handed to me, shucking the fish into a bucket, and handing the spear back. On this day, the bucket became so full that a fish flipped out and struck my leg, sticking me with three of the venomous spines. After about eight hours of agony, the pain decreased... but my leg became hugely swollen the next day and infected in the following days. Fortunately, Cynthia had antibiotics on board and I am mostly recovered after about three weeks of treatment.

2) In my damaged state, I backed the boat into a reef and cracked the rudder. Fortunately, the propeller still worked OK and steering worked enough that we were able to steer into Man-O-War Cay. Some steering adjustments let us limp back to FL despite the bent rudder and the rudder is now being repaired. I am SO tempted to create a better rudder (I've already designed the airfoil shape), but realize that I have a tendency to imagine jobs going far more smoothly that they will in reality, so will probably just allow the experts to handle it... and save this for a future job.... probably when I bring the boat out for work again in a couple years. Here is the interior of the existing rudder as well as some of the cracks:

3) Anchored in Fort Pierce, we weathered a day with winds gusting over 50mph, by far our worst storm aboard. Winds blew so hard that the boat heeled ten degrees and, once, started dragging anchors. Fortunately I had Cynthia on board and together we secured the boat.


I find it amusing that my response is gratitude. I'm thankful that through luck, an over-built boat, and some effort and partnership, we were able to handle the rudder issue safely. I'm thankful for Cynthia's skill and preparation that helped me get through this lionfish venom and infection. I'm thankful for good contractors at the boat yard who, I believe, are working to get us repaired and launched asap. And I am thankful to have our friends, Georgia and David, here in Vero Beach, providing us a home in their house while the repairs are underway. I am thankful for ice and good yoga videos and a comfortable bed to help with Cynthia's back.... and mine, for that matter. And there is SO much more that it would get boring to list it all.


Cynthia has been stripping off the horrible peeling finish from all the teak around the toerail.... and finding it terribly tedious, but very satisfying.

I've been making lots of repairs and improvements, like rebuilding a rotten beam in the galley that has been leaking and nasty since before we bought the boat: also very satisfying. Here I am fitting old paneling over all the structural wood I've added.

So.... Cynthia goes back to MI about March 8. I hope to launch the boat by March 26 and leave it on a mooring in Vero or Fort Pierce. Maybe Cynthia and I can sail in April...or maybe July.... either in Bahamas or here or NC.... we shall see. I look forward to seeing sunrises and sunsets again.

The good bits of life

Life really varies. And it seems, as I sit here on anchor, listening to the wind howl, feeling the boat shake, and hoping the anchors hold, that (in contrast to current emotional state) I get a lot of delight from life.

Let's catch up with a few high points....

To start with, Cynthia walked into the marina in Palm Beach as I tied up to the dock. Perfect timing! We sailed out with a good wind and fairly large waves, some perhaps six feet, as we crossed the Gulf Stream. A band of clouds gave us a sprinkle of rain and we worried we would be unable to see the SpaceX launch at 9:19pm, January 6.... but it cleared enough that Cynthia got to see her first launch... AND said it was worth waking up to see it. Sure was nice getting that greeting hug and sharing a rocket launch!

After two nights offshore under a full-moon, including about 18 hours under power, we sailed into New Providence mere hours before the strong predicted east winds, and spent some extra $ to use Lyford Cay Marina, a convenient and very fancy port of entry, to clear into the country. With our rough boat, dinghy, kayak, etc, we felt like the Beverly Hillbillies in the marina, but the staff and Customs/Immigration officers were delightful and friendly. Once cleared, we dashed to Clifton Bay, a very well sheltered inlet on the west end of the island.

Relaxing for days at anchor, waiting for the winds to become more favorable, Cynthia and I installed the sole (flooring) in the galley. I had pulled this about two years ago in order to deal with wet and decayed plywood below it; finally solved the moisture issue; Cynthia prepared the material by sanding off plywood, decay, and glue; and we both installed it in a nice bed of epoxy on well-sealed plywood backing. Very pleasing to walk on nice flooring again.... and we now have more storage space free... and I love doing projects together.

After a few days, the wind diminished and we had a small weather opportunity to head to Eleuthera.... but after an hour or so, Cynthia caught a beautiful yellowtail tuna and we heaved-to in order to calm the boat's motion and clean it quickly. I suggested we head back to our anchorage to get more ice and give away some excess fish, so we did. Nothing like giving away sushi-quality tuna to make friends! And Cynthia used the head and bones to make stock for a fine fine chowder!

After Cynthia flew back to MI, I waited a couple days for a weather window, then set sail for Eleuthera again. Huge swells met me as I left the shelter of the bay, some crashing in shallows, others simply humping up into great glassy slopes over the deeper shoals I needed to cross. Torn between continuing and turning back, I sought the deepest water, navigating by chart and water color, taking the 8' waves sideways (to stay off the shoals) and depending on my sails to prevent wild rolling.... until I made it out into deeper water and the open deeps. Here the wind waves were tiny and the swells lifted and lowered me gently, the peace of sailing all the sweeter by comparison with the enforced period anchored and the "interesting" exit from Clifton Bay.

The next day I reached a calm anchorage near Spanish Wells, anchored and snoozed a bit, then headed south, through Current Cut, and across the shallow waters of Eleuthera Sound under light winds. The waters here sounded at 12' to 25' deep, contrasting with those I'd sailed the night before... more like a mile or so deep. Once the sun set and wind died to a breeze, I glided along with my running lights. At some point, I heard loud puffs of breathing and knew dolphins were pacing me, but couldn't see them. It seemed they were avoiding my rather blindingly bright running lights, so I turned them off....and, within a minute, shining dolphins with sparkling comet trails sped around the boat in twos and threes, playing around the bow, leaping into the air, and ducking under the keel, putting on a wonderful show in the moonless darkness. I watched and did a little yoga until they departed. Dolphins in phosphorescent water on a dark night delight me.

I can't help wondering: I've read that we have a happiness setpoint, a level of happiness to which we gravitate. Does this mean that more delight means more misery.... and, in a less gloomy light, experiencing downs leads to more delightful upswings? Or, to put it another way, "that was a long, painful, dark, noisy night.... And now the sun is rising.... how nice!"

The rocket's … orange glare?

As a child, I recall watching the Apollo count-downs and listening to the noise from the TV set as they lifted off. And once, driving across Wyoming, I stopped into a town, population about 15, walked into the bar, and watched one of the early shuttle launches. I even heard a loud and long rumble as I sailed north past Cape Canaveral last spring and looked around too late to see what probably looked like a slow-moving spark in the darkness. But I never saw it in person... until recently... TWICE!

I mentioned watching the SpaceX Falcon Heavy on the 21st. At about 7:10 I noticed a bright orange light, like those nasty sodium vapor lamps, in the south-east. Then, as I looked, it slowly gained height and I realized it was the launch I hoped to see! After the first stage burned out and separated, the second and far dimmer second stage flickered to life and I could see it climb further. Binoculars showed some sort of halo around and preceding it, like the halo of a comet. The powerful sound of the liftoff, traveling lazily toward me, didn't reach me for nearly a minute after liftoff and it felt quite surreal watching the violence proceed in silence.

I remained in the Cape Canaveral and Titusville area for a few days, enjoying good anchorage well away from the biting insects nearer shore. And, one morning after I had moved to a more sheltered spot near a main bridge to Canaveral, I noticed a LOT of early traffic. Rush-hour? I heard honks of cars and could see the heads of people on foot and on bicycles crossing the bridge, silhouetted against the pre-dawn sky. I, too, was out, enjoying yoga while the sky lightened.

And then I heard a cheer and looked about to see a bright light rising in the east. I took several photos in hopes one or two might come out well, as the rocket climbed,

the roar arrived, the rocket went out and then reignited,

See the rocket on the other side of the mast?

and the light of the sun struck the high and rising clouds of steam from the exhaust.

Memories like this get filed under "Very, very, very sweet".


Current situation: anchored slightly north of Vero Beach City Marina, ordering loads of stuff, shopping, and getting lots of work done on the boat (rebuilding some of the engine room, building a propane locker, and creating better storage space... and maybe working on a decent deck bed so we can comfortably sleep out under the stars). In a day or three I SHOULD be at a point where I can clean the boat and no longer itch from sawdust... and will be able to put things away!

On the 6th, Cynthia arrives... and I hope we can slip out to the Bahamas between strong weather fronts, but it looks pretty iffy. If we must, we will simply remain here or sail south on the ICW and await better conditions for crossing.

Hmmm....I hear there is another launch near midnight tonight. I'll have to look...

Capers Island ghost forest

From my last post, you may have pictured our adventures on Capers Island as mostly using Lucy as a tick and burr detector

but we found far more enjoyable things as well.

Cynthia spotted ibises! I've never seen these before, with their curiously curved bills, they remind me of flamingos.

And, hiking in hopes of finding the "beach where one can take a swim" (although we planned no such activity in the chilly weather), we finally left the grass and found a sandy wash, which we followed down hill

and found a ghost forest looming out of the fog.

Lucy loved the open sand, the large tree trunks to run along, and possible places her terrier instincts told her might hold prey..

Cynthia and I loved the hard, open sand to stride along and the beautiful, ghostly, and quite photogenic forest.

Pretty neat stuff!

Current status: Cynthia & Lucy in MI, I'm aboard near Cape Canaveral... and just watched the Boeing rocket launch pre-dawn yesterday (12/20). I saw SpaceX's Falcon Heavy launch a few days ago and, I believe, got struck by a little tornado (watched it approach as I sat at anchor: very brief and violent). Today I'll sail to Melbourne, FL and anchor for a rainy day tomorrow. 

Things that can draw blood

I'm writing this from an anchorage in Mosquito Lagoon just north of Cape Canaveral. I actually got to watch Elon Musk's Falcon Heavy launch last night! Very very cool! I plan on doing some work on the boat here before moving farther south soon.

Cynthia and I sailed south from NC on favorable winds, then ducked into the ICW (Intra Coastal Waterway) when the winds became problematic. The strong north-east winds would have kicked up large waves and we would have rocked and rolled and been unable to walk about for days... and belongings would have worked loose and been tossed about inside the cabin. Ugh!

The ICW takes a far more sheltered route. The views are quite beautiful and there are chances to get groceries, ice, fuel, and showers.  Any issues? YES.
1) pilots need to pay close attention to the channel  or WILL run aground. A chance to take ten minutes to relax is rare.
2) Running at night thus seems unwise, so one might make 40 miles per day.
3) Wind and current are often unfavorable, so one burns much fuel and "enjoys" noise and fumes.
4) Finding a good spot to anchor can be tough as there is so much shallow stuff, strong tidal currents, and large tides.
5) temperatures this time of year are far colder than out in the open. We wore long johns most days... and were still darned cold.
6) if weather warms, out come the biting bugs! We found midges in abundance, mosquitoes.... and, on the only wild island we visited, numerous ticks. And that brings us to... Capers Island, SC.

We loved Capers Island. It offered a nice chance to hike to the ocean, stretch our legs, give Lucy a chance to exercise, and see some local nature close-up. It even had some plant identification signs that a Boy Scout installed a decade ago for a badge. One thing it did NOT identify was some horrible burrs that easily penetrate skin to catch a painful ride to a new growing spot. And one could not even pull them with fingers as they would puncture those as well! Lucy's cries were our first alert, but none of us enjoyed these and we tried to identify and avoid the non-descript patches of these burrs,

As we returned from our second walk, we noticed a brown tick on Lucy's black fur....and then another and then many more.

After returning to the boat we checked her well and found perhaps twenty or more on her the size of sesame seeds. And another fifteen or twenty on each of us in our layers of clothes! And, no, we did not discover them all, finding another half dozen over the next couple days. Ugh. We may visit the island again someday, but will use loads of deet to protect ourselves.

Finally, a creature that draws blood that we LIKE! We found dangerously sharp oysters in abundance! Along the shore of these marsh islands and many others grew huge mounds of oysters, each bonding to others to form a reef. We did not bother eating any, but I love seeing such healthy populations of such beneficial creatures, filtering excess algae from the water and improving the ecosystem. Very nice.