Good Grub – Page 7 – Have Wind Will Travel

May 28, 2013 – Happy Haul-Out!

October 17, 2013December 30, 2013anniedike

So, in the early morning hours of May 28, 2013 (kind of a BIG day for me: http://havewindwilltravel.com/2013/08/29/may-23-2013-the-crossing-finale-oysters-and-beer/), I’d like to say I woke up, went down to the boat and spent all morning with her, steaming up of coffee in one hand, oily rub rag in the other, like a true old salt, feeling at one with the boat, the bay and the bitter-sweet ways of a life at sea. Ahhhh …..

http://elmuertoquehabla.blogspot.com/2011/06/el-viejo-y-el-mar.html

Minus the beard, of course.

But that’s not what happened. We had been at sea for five days, which means? You guessed it. More time away from work. I’ve already told you how expensive boats are. We had to get back to the daily grind. So, I went to work. At an office, with unflattering florescent lighting and stale coffee and copiers …

You’re right Javier. You do make the best copies!

Boy was that a wake-up call. After the best sail or our lives, work felt like a slap in the face with a cold, dead fish. Smack! But, I mustered through while Phillip and his Dad and the infamous Mitch (he really is a good friend) took the boat to the Pensacola Shipyard so she could be hauled out to have her bottom work done.

Roll that fabulous footage:

“Watch that dock Paul! We don’t want a scratch on her!”

“Careful now boys! She’s expensive!”

You’ll notice she was still Foxfire at the time. Having the new name put on was part of the bottom job that needed to be done.

There she comes!

I have to say, every time I see her come out of the water like this, her “bottom” all exposed for everyone to see, I feel like she’s showing her undergarments or something. Like she should cross her legs and blush as if the wind blew her skirt up.

“Oh my … what a terrible, terrible, yet highly profitable mistake for me to have stepped on this air vent like I did … ”

But, you see, Marilyn just happened to have some little matching white hot pants on underneath her billowy white dress that fateful night. Classy lady? Or well-planned? My guess is the latter. Because I’ll tell you, not every woman would happen to be wearing such showy undergarments when the wind blows up her bottoms. I’ll tell you what some of us got under there.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BV-Aw4L0B-M

That’s right. Spanx. I said it. Some of us are afraid of what might come “popping out” (Melissa McCarthy is my hero!) if we don’t suck it all in with those magic stretchy wonders. And, I’ll tell you, Bullock was lucky, because it’s the not-so-embarrassing nude-color ones that sell fast, leaving the rest of us left to scrounge through the plus-size, leprechaun green and neon blue leftovers.

I had to settle for the flaming pink pair:

“Whoa Nelly!”

But I digress …

The boat was hauled out, her “bottom” exposed for all the world to see, and the boys (and hairy women) at the ship yard set to work, getting her propped up on jacks in the yard so they could get to painting and sanding her.

Lord it scares me to see her being transported around in that thing. I keep imagining one of those big fat straps snapping and the boat crashing to the pavement, her keel cracking clean off. Uhhhh … like a parent watching their kid take off on a bike without training wheels for the first time, except WAY more important. For the most part, kids heal for free, or at least just at the price of a Band-aid and a “kiss to make it all better.” Although I don’t think that would work on the boat, I would certainly fall to the pavement and cover her in both all the same.

But the boys at the shipyard did a great job getting her all secured. Apparently, they’ve done it a time or two.

Our broker-turned-friend, Kevin, had recommended we use Brandon Hall with Perdido Sailor to do the bottom work. http://www.perdidosailor.com/. Brandon is actually the one we called when our surveyor found the potential leak in the core when she was hauled out for the sea trial, and he was able to give us a rough estimate of the potential repair over the phone that we then used to negotiate the price down. Certainly a good man to have in your corner. And, like most boat people, he’s just a great guy, super knowledgeable about all things sailboat and willing to come help with any project, so long as we offer him a beer or three. That’s pretty much standard “code” anyway. “Hey man. Want to come have a beer on the boat?” pretty much means I’ve got a project I could use your help with, and well, let’s just say, we’ve kept the boat fully-stocked with beer provisions since we parked her in Pensacola, and Brandon has helped out with many a-project.

So, with the boat propped up safely in the yard, we started making a fat list of all the things we wanted to do to her while she was out of the water: repair the suspected core leak, check and repair, if necessary, all the through holes and sea cocks, polish all the brightwork, have the name put on the back, etc. As is always the case with boats – there’s always plenty to do.

But, it was still a special day for you-know-who. That’s right, the big THREE-ONE (God, I’m old!) and Phillip the Magnificent had planned an exceptional dinner for us that evening: succulent filet topped with lobster tail along with lobster rissoto and (my favorite) sauteed spinach. We, of course, started with a bread and olive oil course:

Paired with an exquisite GSM blend.

And then threw the steaks on the grill.

I mean, really? Is there anything this man can’t do? I am one lucky girl. Trust me, I know.

He even managed (amid all of our planning, packing and provisioning for the last leg of the Crossing) to surprise me with a gift.

So, what say you? A roll-up picnic in-a-bag? A handy ruck-sack for us to backpack across Europe? A durable bag to transport dead bodies? Or smuggle illegal immigrants across the border for a little extra dough, perhaps?

I fancy your thoughts. Give me your best guess.

May 25, 2013 – The Crossing Finale – Not Very PC

September 23, 2013May 23, 2014anniedike

Like Phillip told me, apparently watching others dock is highly entertaining, particularly couples and particularly mouthy ones. It’s now a favorite past-time for Phillip and I. If Phillip and I are kicked back in the cockpit at the marina and we see some big troller coming in and hear the Captain shout “Now Linda, I need you to tie the springer line first this time!” (emphasis on first) our ears perk and we elbow each other and silently nod toward the troller because we know we’re about to get a show.

First off, trollers are huge. They need lines running from every direction to hold them in place.

Second, we know we’ve got a couple, a highly vocal Captain and a poor ‘Linda’ somewhere who’s scrambling for lines. We also know this is not the first time they’ve docked together because apparently old Linda didn’t tie the right line first last time and the Captain was displeased. He then shouted “And make sure to do a cleat hitch, remember!” (emphasis on MEM). Poor, poor Linda. A cleat hitch isn’t hard. It’s just around a couple of times, some swoop loops on each end and pull tight (or that’s how I’ve programmed it into my mind anyway – real technical Annie speak for you), but here ‘tis:

Sadly, though, it seems our dear friend Linda had been struggling with it. Poor, poor Linda. Phillip and I smiled slyly at each other. Oh yeah, this scenario is fraught with potential. We are definitely watching and standing ready to hop up and grab a line if Linda botches it.

It seems the good folks of Panama City felt the same about Phillip and I that day, and they, too, were definitely watching. Thankfully, they were also ready and willing to lend a hand. As the boat lurched into the slip, an old salt came running down the other side of the dock (apparently the side I should have jumped off on) and had Phillip throw him the stern line. He told me to jump back on the boat and toss him the bow line, which I did. I then jumped off, this time with a springer line in hand, and got us nice and secure. Whew! No crashed boat, no dock wreckage, and Phillip’s eyes finally returned to normal after an hour or so. Well, technically after a drink or three.

Having played the role of Let-Down Linda for the day and justifiably displeasing the Captain, as soon as we were showered up and back on the boat, I promptly threw him together a stiff drink. That always helps!

Here you go Cap’n.

Whew. He smiles. All better.

And yes, people, I was wearing a dress. You can see a little white fluffy sliver of it in the first pic. I mean, I only jumped off the boat without a line – no damage was done – it warranted a remorseful drink only, not a full-frontal apology, okay?

After drinks on the boat, we set off and and started foraging for drinks on the street.

Downtown PC was quaint and lively with fun little quirky bars scattered about. We decided on a place , that being The Place (http://www.theplacerestaurant.net/4543.html), and popped in for a swig.

The old-timey bar was great (and well-stocked!). Our bellies full of fine liquor and our “spirits” high, we stumbled on back to the marina to stock up on transmission fluid and hunker down for the night. Phillip played the domestic role this time and whipped us up an amazing batch of shrimp feta pasta.

Don’t crowd the onions!

This dish has definitely become a favorite for us on the boat. The ingredients are fresh and easy:

Onion, parsley, garlic and shrimp.

Oh, and butter of course. That salty, yellow bounty of the gods. Butter just makes everything better.

Tossed with fresh tomatoes and pasta. Super simple and easy to throw together at sea. (Recipe here: http://havewindwilltravel.com/2013/06/04/april-17-23-2013-the-crossing-chapter-two-sailors-delight/).

And, as it always seems is the case at marinas, we had some front-row seating to some real entertainment while we were making dinner. While we definitely prefer to anchor out as opposed to docking at a marina (for one, it’s cheaper – the nightly rate on the boat is … ummm … FREE) it is fun sometimes to stay at the marina and watch all the “crazies.” They’re everywhere. And, marinas seem to attract a very unique breed of them. Drifters, so to speak.

While Phillip and I were putting the finishing touches on dinner and setting the table up in the cockpit, we noticed the guy next to us was working on a real project boat. It was dusty and chalky with tools and buckets and hammers lying everywhere. A real mess of a boat. It looked something like this:

And he was coated with dirt and paint splatters, sweating and sanding away on the deck. Then, out of nowhere, we see this woman walking toward his boat. Well, I take that back we heard her first, very distinct heel clicks coming all the way down the dock. And, these were some serious heels, wedges I guess you would call them, about yay high:

Yeah, the crazy kind, that crazy people wear.

And when she finally came into view and we could take her in, she looked something like this:

Yeah … a real fox. And, paint-splatter guy looked something like this:

I know, right? This scenario was fraught with potential. We were definitely watching. Phillip and I slouched down a bit in our cockpit and eyed them furiously over the rims of our rum drinks. Miss Fox walked right up to his boat, gave him a knowing nod and held her hand out for assistance. Dirty Dude helped her into the cockpit, no words having been exchanged yet that we could tell, and she turned around and made her way backwards down the steps in the companionway. Granted, I think that’s the only way you can take steps like that

in heels like those.

Once she was down below, Dude put his hand in his pocket, pulled out something that I can only describe as “folding money,” fondled it for a minute, then shoved it back in his pocket and followed her down. Phillip and I shared an excited “inquiring minds want to know” look and kept our eyes on them. They stayed down for all of 3.5 minutes, give or take, and then she came back up solo (not a smudge of makeup out of place) stepped off his boat and clicked her heels right on down the dock. Dirty Dude came back up about a minute after, big grin on his face, chugging down some Gatorade and then he set back to work on this boat, like nothing ever happened. Phillip and I poured over the possibilities. Was she a hooker, a prostitute? His dealer, his daughter? Who the heck knows. Marinas are so entertaining. Hell, sailors are entertaining. This one, in particular, was not very PC.

Phillip and I could not stop chuckling about it as we plated up dinner.

Table for two please?

This place was super fancy. We had to make reservations well in advance. I mean, it was dinner

AND a foxy show.

We were ready for a relaxing evening after the passage from Carrabelle and we knew we needed a good night’s sleep before we made the last 24-hour run to Pensacola. We settled into the cockpit, devoured the shrimp pasta and toasted the sunset before calling it a night.

May 23, 2013 – The Crossing Finale – Oysters and Beer

August 29, 2013December 30, 2013anniedike

The day finally came. May 23rd, and we were headed back to Apalachicola to finally bring our boat home. We hitched a ride again with our sail groupies – you remember these guys – Phillip’s fabulous folks:

We loaded up the truck again with all the tools, supplies and food (aka, the “provisions”) we would need to make another passage.

I also had the pleasure of opening a few little gifts on the drive over as it seemed yours truly had a big “day” coming up.

That’s right, I saw fit to grace this world with my presence during the early morning hours of May 28, 1982.

“Delivers only the best … ” You’re damn right they do!

The gifts were great. I certainly do enjoy birthdays. I couldn’t help but notice, though, they were all different versions of soaps, scrubbers and other self-cleaning products. Perhaps Mary was trying to tell me something?? She’ll be glad to know I put them to good use on that trip. For five minutes after each of the 1.5 showers I took during that 5-day passage, I was fresh as a daisy!

We stopped back in Apalachicola before making our way over to Carrabelle to check on the boat and spent a delightful afternoon walking around downtown, poking our heads in quaint little shops and, basically, just smelling the roses.

We came across some neat old relics:

Some creative artwork:

And some fitting words of wisdom:

That Ben Franklin sure was a smart guy. Alcohol always makes me happy!

But, we had a lot to do to get the boat ready for the last leg of The Crossing, so it was off to Carrabelle to check on her and get her all packed up.

How’s that cockpit looking Mary? “It’s ready to go!”

How about the crew Paul? “I don’t want this one to go!”

As I look back through these photos, it seems Phillip did most of the “checking” while me and the groupies just engaged in a fun photo op. Sorry Phillip!

Yeah, that’s me, doing wildly inappropriate things behind Phillip. Very mature …

We did meet with Mechan-Eric to take a look at the transmission he had put in and saddle up, of course. Funny thing how they want to get paid after doing work. I mean … Eric was great, though. He had done a good job for us and had finished up the job just in time for us to sail her home. He walked us through what all he had done and cranked the engine. It was the first time we had heard her turn over in a month. She grumbled and sputtered and started purring! I don’t think I’ve ever heard a more glorious sound. She was running! Eric showed us the transmission, which he had painted a bright, cherry red to match the signature color of the engine, and shifted her through the gears (drive, neutral and reverse) so we could see the transmission at work. Everything looked great. We gave it the old Roger Ebert and we were ready to go!

We decided to celebrate and polish the evening off with some oysters and beer (is there any better way?) at Eric’s family’s salty sea bar across the river – Fathoms. And, I tell you, I’m not really an oyster fan. I mean, they look like snot rockets in a shell, but I have to say, these were the best darn oysters I’ve ever slurped down.

Not snotty at all!

The oysters, that is. These two here are pretty snotty!

We ate our fill and admired our boat across the river.

Yep – that’s her!

I swear I could see her little stern wagging. Like a sad-eyed puppy at the pound that had finally been picked! We were going to scoop her up and take her home with us! First thing in the morning, too. And, I do mean first thing. Phillip and I were planning to get up and going before sunrise, so we needed some rest. We bid our sail groupies adieu, enjoyed one last Carrabelle sunset in the cockpit and shut her down for the night.

May 11, 2013 – Such Great Heights

August 14, 2013December 30, 2013anniedike

After the bad news from Kevin about the batteries, we tried to call the marina in Carrabelle several times to get Mechan-Eric or a technician, anyone, on the phone to make sure our boat was plugged in and getting a charge. I finally got a woman on the line who said she’d “look into it” but I got the impression she was less than enthused and not nearly as concerned about our boat as we were. Or, scratch that, not nearly as concerned I felt she needed to be.

It sounded like she was writing my name and number down while painting her nails and twirling her hair, planning to leave them on a flimsy post-it note on the desk of someone who was already gone for the day. I was less than pleased with her response.

But it was Thursday. And, whether I went postal on her or not (which I didn’t – thinking she could light a match to the boat if she wanted to – best not to piss off the caretakers), we were not going to feel comfortable about the batteries until we went down there ourselves to see what kind of charge they would hold, if any. When we got back to the boat on Friday night, she was plugged in but only had about three (out of four) bars. That meant she was not yet fully charged but she was taking a charge, which was a good sign. When we had left her the weekend before she had NO bars – nothing, zilch, nada. So, some bars were good.

Now, I think it’s time for a fun little battery tutorial, don’t you? Because I now know way more than I ever want to about marine batteries and if I had to suffer through it, alas, so do you! So, shall we?

This is our E-Meter which shows four different readings for the batteries (these are the four circles under the “18.3” reading) from left to right:

1. “V” for Volts: Our battery bank is wired for 12 volt output. Meaning, the volts reading should ideally show around 12.5 – 12.6 volts (at max charge – a little over 12).

2. “A” for Amps: This reading (which is lit) is showing 18.3 amps are going into the battery because it’s plugged in and receiving a charge. This reading indicates the flow of amps either in (a positive number when the battery is receiving more charge than it is discharging) or out (a negative number when there is more discharge, like when we use it to run the fridge, lights, etc. while not simultaneously charging it). Much like a tank of gas, the batteries have a capacity to hold only a certain number of amps (i.e., gallons of fuel). Ours holds 450, so when we’ve burned 50 amps off and don’t re-charge it, we’ve only got 400 left, no more.

Knowing this, you start to get real familiar with just how many amps certain appliances are going to “cost” you. For instance, the fridge pulls about 4-5 amps/hour, the lights and fans another 1-2/hour, and these are purely luxuries (you can always bring ice and use flashlights). As you can imagine, it’s easy to start getting real “Scrooge-ey” with use of electronics on the boat.

Turn that light off would ya? It ain’t Christmas!

But, Scrooge or not, there are some things you simply HAVE to run whether you like it or not: a mast headlight so other boats can see you when you’re at anchor (1-2 amps/hour), navigation lights (bow, stern and mast) so other boats can see you when you’re under way at night (2-3 amps/hour), etc. Hence the all important “Ah” amp hour reading.

3. “Ah” for Amp Hours: This reading shows you how many “amp hours” you have pulled off of the battery, much like the needle on your fuel gauge. If the amp hours are showing roughly half of your 450 amps (around 225) remain, you’ve used about half of your tank of gas. Which begs the question: how long can I go on a half tank? That’s where the time reading comes in.

4. “t” for Time: This is the total time you have left on the batteries based on your usage and is akin to the number of miles you can go on the remaining gas in your tank. As you know, the faster you go, the less miles you can travel on that tank. Similarly, the more appliances you use, the less “time” you have left on the batteries. And, just as you don’t want to suck up all the rusty junk floating around in the bottom of your fuel tank, you don’t want to let your batteries get down below 50% because it’s not good for them. So, when you near the half-way mark, you should really try to give the batteries a charge (either by running the engine or plugging in if you have access to shore power).

See? All very interesting stuff that you can impress your friends with at cocktail parties.

Oh Bob … Your amp hour calculations are so exciting they make my head spin. Ha, ha ha!

Trust me, everyone is dying to know about marine batteries. I promise, just ask them. If they say they’re not, I would just walk away. They’re clearly boring people.

So, we let ours charge up fully and then unplugged her and kept the fridge and some lights running to see if she would actually “hold” a charge. It wouldn’t help anyone if she showed four bright shiny bars when we set off into the Carrabelle River only to drop down to nothing the minute we got back in the Gulf. This is what Kevin told us can happen when batteries are completely drained and re-charged. But, we were apparently lucky – this time. We watched her for two hours and she held a steady charge, which gave us hope.

With the battery situation now put to rest, we set our sights on the Genny and getting her raised back up on the forestay. (Recall that’s the wire that runs from the mast to the front of the boat that the Genny furls around).

Well, I’ll tell you we learned a very valuable lesson that day. “Don’t let go of the halyard!” That may mean nothing to you, but you’re about to see why it’s so darn important. It’s something terribly basic but easy to forget. Like the sailing equivalent to “Don’t crowd the mushrooms!” Such brilliant advice.

Thanks Julia!

So, the halyard. On a boat, that’s any line (which, remember, is a rope) that is used to raise a sail. On our boat, there is a clamp on the end of the halyard that pulls the Genny sail back up the forestay. After we had dropped the Genny halyard from the top of the mast down to the bow of the boat to lower and take off the Genny, we promptly pulled the halyard right back up to the top of the mast, thinking “What a nice, safe place for it. I’m sure it’ll drop right back down when we need it to … ”

We were dumb. So dumb. Julia herself should’ve slapped us.

BAM!

Because I’ll tell you what didn’t happen. That halyard didn’t drop. Wouldn’t drop. We shook and banged the line, hoping the clamp on the end of the halyard would vibrate and wiggle down, but it wouldn’t budge. So, I remind you again, “Don’t let go of the halyard!” Now, how does this all translate to entertainment for you? Trust me, it does. Because guess whose happy little ass had to climb that 50 foot mast to get the halyard down. Uh-huh … That’s right. Yours truly. Albeit a bonehead move and not one I think we will make again anytime soon (let’s hope), that little mistake of ours took me to such great heights:

And there she goes …

Annie are you okay? Would you tell us? That you’re okay?

I’m okay!

That is one tall mast let me assure you. And, you may be wondering how the heck you climb a thing like that. Years of training with Tibetan ninjas, that’s how.

But I think I’ve enlightened you enough for one day. I’ll save that post for another. I’ll tell you, though, it really did feel incredible up there. Every tiny little rock of the boat is magnified and it feels like you’re swaying from side to side like blowing with the wind in the top of a tall pine (when the boat below appears to be standing perfectly still). Funny thing about climbing a mast, though. It seems to attract a crowd. A bunch of old salts, who clearly had nothing better to do, started to gather around as I ascended, telling Phillip “Woman like that oughta have a sister!”

I do. She just didn’t get the looks in the family so we don’t really like to acknowledge her.

Poor thing. I don’t know what she’s made of herself. Probably nothing nearly as cool as a sailor-slash-blogger. Not nearly.

The good news is I made it down safe and sound and the boat was looking ready to go. We emptied out the fridge and turned off all the electronics so she would stay juiced up no matter the “plug” situation. Mechan-Eric told us they were expecting the new transmission to arrive the next week and then they would drop it in there. All seemed right with the world, so Phillip and I headed home to start planning the last leg of The Crossing – over drinks and dinner of course! Phillip made us his famous pan-seared grouper and mushroom risotto with sauteed spinach to celebrate the big climb:

Because he’s just kind of amazing that way.

May 4, 2013 – A Little TLC

August 2, 2013December 30, 2013anniedike

So … a new transmission. That’s what we were debating anyway. There was the option to rebuild the old one. Mechan-Eric told us he could take it apart and look at it to see what condition it was in, but we knew we had put that thing under some serious strain, I mean — enough heat to make her lock up, fracture and ultimately fail. That’s a lot of heat, right George?

Oh yeeaahhh.

For a small price bump and a lot of peace of mind, we decided to just go ahead and replace it. Eric found one on Ebay for us but the stupid seller wouldn’t let him buy it and get it shipped out until the auction ended (15-20 days) and there is no way we could wait that long for the boat. We were jonesing to get back out there. So, enter our broker, Kevin, super-sailor and (on this day) solver of all problems. Kevin found us a transmission on Craigslist that was just right. Some sailboat guru down in Jacksonville had a brand new one he had bought a year ago for a project boat that he never got around to.

Can’t imagine why …

Regardless, it was just sitting on his shelf so he was nice enough to sell it to us for a smooth $2,300. Ouch! Boats hurt the bank! But, our boat was parked in Carrabelle and the only way to get her home was to slap a new transmission in there, so we clicked and bought baby! Our new transmission was on its way.

In the meantime, we couldn’t just leave her sitting there all alone in a strange place, weird barnacles growing on her and fish nipping at her, and no one to wipe her deck and tell her how “purdy” she is. Uh-huh. Not our boat! So, we headed down to the ole’ Apalach area to pay her a visit (it was the first of many we would make down there) and give her a little TLC. We had several things we wanted to do – inspect the bilge to make sure we didn’t have any significant leaks, get the propane tank to have it re-filled, make sure the stuff in the fridge was still cold and take down the head sail (the “Genny,”) so we could have the UV cover re-sewn as the surveyor noted in his survey it was starting to rip and it really started fraying and flapping during The Crossing. You know, real interesting boat stuff. (Remember, I told you sailing is hard work – don’t you forget it!).

But, we really fell in love with the sleepy little downtown area in Apalachicola. We had a great time piddling around in all the little shops, sipping some local brew and booze and mixing in with the regulars. We particularly enjoyed the Owl Café (http://www.owlcafeflorida.com/). Phillip had been there before (seriously – there’s nowhere the man hasn’t been) and he was impressed with the gourmet grub, so this time we decided to check out their more casual Tap Room around the corner:

I loved that old rickety bar,

with the ‘helm’ they made out of quirky beer taps.

Creaking floors and clinking beer mugs. That place was great. We strolled right in and asked for a drink!

Phillip’s got some serious ‘swag.’

We scarfed some phenomenal crab cake burgers and washed them down with beer and bright, fruity cocktails.

Yum!

To sum it up:

But, we were eager to get to the boat to see how she was doing and get started on our projects. So, it was on to Carrabelle to check her out. We were thrilled to find she was still tied up, plugged in and seemingly chipper. I swear she wagged her stern a little bit when we walked up.

Phillip couldn’t wait to get to her and give her a little pat on the head.

Hey there girl!

We got the head sail down and started mopping up the bilge with sponges:

A lovely job that left my mits looking very lady-like. Emily Post would not approve!

We also visited with our “boat neighbor” who was tied up next to us at the dock and who claimed to be ‘piddling around on the boat’ to avoid the ‘nagging Misses.’ Can’t blame him there. But, he took a real liking to Phillip (can’t blame him there either) and followed him around like a lost puppy, curious to get into whatever he was getting into. “What ya doing now?” He would say, every couple-a-minutes. But he was quite the character, with a hot bod.

That’s right ladies, take it in:

And, a rockin’ 70’s bowl haircut. Like Captain & Tennille:

But far more Tennille than Captain. (And just in case anyone felt the same – Captain sure was giving me a creepy serial killer vibe in this pic … Staring at me with those beady eyes … *shiver* )

Our neighbor was a lot of fun, though, and he offered us up some great wine (real easy way to win us over – works every time!). We shared a glass with him, toasted the sunset and shut her down for the night.

April 26, 2013 – Comfort Food

July 26, 2013December 30, 2013anniedike

We spent the day Friday working (despite all deceptive blog content to the contrary – we do, in fact, have day jobs, which we certainly needed to keep in light of our impending boat-related bankruptcy) and recovering from our kite session the day before. (Kiting has a tendency to make you sore in places you didn’t even know existed!). Particularly when you master tricks like this:

Which I can assure you I did NOT. I’m about 834 lessons away from it though (and still sore all the same).

We finally got a call from Eric the mechanic in Carrabelle with some good news and bad. Doesn’t it seem that’s always the case. He had taken the engine apart and it didn’t seem the problem was with the engine. A big whopping “Whew!” from the Plaintiff’s Rest crew! He initially had thought that water on the heads was preventing the engine from turning, but he had taken it apart and found no water. He then found what he thought could be metal shavings in the oil filter which he told us was a particularly bad sign. That meant something in the engine had likely failed and locked up. He examined the entire engine, top and bottom, but nothing. That left the transmission, which he planned to take apart and have a look at in the next few days.

We were a bit relieved that it wasn’t the engine. Replacing those puppies can be very expensive with the cost of a new engine running in the $10k range. Of course, that’s just the cost of the engine, not the labor to put it in and actually install it (we’re talking thousands in labor). Anyone know a good bankruptcy attorney? (I do!) Not a small chunk of change, and not a price anyone is happy to pay, particularly so right we had just shelled out some serious change to buy the dang boat. But, we were not pleased to hear about the metal shavings and likely failure. The repair was likely going to require a rebuild or replacement of whatever part had failed. We knew we were going to have to put up some more dough.

Depressed and downtrodden, we did exactly what I did when I didn’t get asked to prom: made some comfort foods and ate our feelings:

Yum! I’ll have three please, but with a Diet Coke … I’m trying to watch my weight.

We did make some dough of our own, though (pizza dough) and put together some killer home-made thin-crust pizzas.

The trick is to keep pressing and spreading it until it’s paper thin, almost see-through, to get that great crispy thin crust.

One grilled chicken and home-made pesto with mozzarella.

The other – fig, prosciutto, arugula and bleu cheese.

Un-friggin-believable. Trust me. And, with plenty of wine, of course.

Hottie McToddie!

Ruin this savory Italian feast with a Diet Coke? Please! We settled on a nice pinot and didn’t stop until the bottle was empty and every morsel was devoured.

We relished the feast, toasted the sunset and called it a night

We hoped for some “good-er” news about the engine next week. We were all bad news-ed out.

April 17-23, 2013 – The Crossing: Chapter Four – Good, Quality People

June 18, 2013December 30, 2013anniedike

I would like to say we woke Saturday morning to the peaceful sounds of birds and water gently lapping the hull, but that’s just not how it happened. Phillip and I had the pleasure of waking to his Dad hovering over us in the V-berth snapping photos at 6:00 a.m. like the paparazzi proclaiming, “Awww … your first night in the little bed. How was it?” Was? … We’re still kind of sleeping in it. So …

He had the best of intentions, but we were really waking up to a photo shoot at the crack of dawn. Thankfully, Phillip knew just how to handle him:

Phillip: Yeah, Dad, it’s great back here. Let me show you. Take that door, there. Yeah, unlatch it.

Paul (with excitement): Oh, neat. Here?

Phillip: Yep, right there. Now pull it toward you.

Paul: Like this?

Phillip (with patience): Mmm-hmmm. Just like that. Now step back behind it.

Paul: Okay.

Phillip: Keep pulling it until it shuts.

Paul (muffled from the other side of the door): Oh, I see what you’re doing …

Phillip: Yep. We’ll see you in a bit Dad.

I swear I could hear Paul’s shoulders slump like he was the last kid picked in P.E. class. (Which by the way – never happened to me – you never get picked last with a name like this):

BOOM!

But, Paul did the right thing waking us up. Whether we were going to head out that day or stay and ready the boat for the passage, we had a lot to do. We got up, made some coffee and enjoyed the sunrise while we checked the weather.

Around that time, we ran into a fellow docked there in Clearwater who, like us, had just bought a boat down in Punta Gorda and was sailing it back to Pensacola. His was a 32-foot Seaward Unlimited. A beautiful boat:

The Bottom Line. And, it just so happened Phillip knew one of his crew. They were former neighbors in Pensacola. So we chatted them up and talked about our plans for crossing the Gulf. They were interested in buddying up and making the passage together. Having another boat make a passage with you (especially one like this) is always a good idea. So, we agreed to stay and wait out the worst of the storm in Clearwater on Saturday and head out with them first thing Sunday morning to cross the Gulf.

We started readying the boat for the expected 20 knot winds and 4-6 foot seas. Phillip got Jack, the former owner, on the phone and asked him about the storm sail (a smaller sail that is used in heavy winds) and the dinghy, which was held up by davits on the back of the boat with the outboard engine attached to it. Jack told us how to rig the storm sail and told us he had strapped the outboard securely to the dinghy so we shouldn’t have a problem with it. We decided to spend the afternoon rigging up the storm sail.

Although it was the right thing to do, it was a futile endeavor because just as we were pulling the halyard to connect the storm sail, the line snapped and the sail fell in a loose heap on the deck. The halyard for the storm sail (which is a fancy way of saying, the rope) was so old and dry-rotted that it just broke right in two. So, we decided to forego the storm sail and just secure everything else as best we could for rough seas.

After a day of hard labor, we made our first sit-down gourmet dinner in the galley. Remember the shrimp feta pasta I told you about? (http://havewindwilltravel.com/2013/06/04/april-17-23-2013-the-crossing-chapter-two-sailors-delight/). And, when I say “we” made it, I actually mean Phillip,

and I’m just taking full credit because that’s the kind of person I am. But, it was a grand meal, laden with heavy glasses of wine and tall tales at sea.

Full of liquid courage, we decided to hit the town and see what good quality people were roaming the streets of Clearwater. And, let me just tell you, my friends, the streets were littered with performers and peddlers of every kind of “ware” (and “wear”) you could imagine. Words will never do it justice. No, only a cheesy, finely-narrated slideshow will do.

There was a man on stilts making balloon animals (at least I think it was a man):

And please take note of the classy clientele in this photo, because unlike others, these ladies at least dressed for the occasion:

There was a woman getting an ass tattoo right there in the open:

And I normally wouldn’t say anything if Thelma here wanted to ink herself in front of a crowd. More power to you! That is IF she were getting something cool tattooed on. But no. This chick was getting some rainbow kittens permanently impressed on her derriere. Like, fifth grade, Lisa Frank, Trapper-Keeper kittens:

Real classy.

There were just crazy people everywhere. Some were talking to themselves. Some were imitating the statues:

I’d watch out for this one. I’m pretty sure she’s beyond help.

Some were apparently even dropping their panties.

Yep. It was a wild night in Clearwater. But, the finale performance for the night was a really cool one. This guy sets up a couple five-gallon drums and beats the hell out of them.

He wowed us all with his self-proclaimed (although I think it’s worthy) “world-famous” one-handed drum roll. Check it: http://youtu.be/a3IsqXpztnA. Phillip was definitely impressed:

Even Mitch was mesmerized.

Although I’m not sure you can see him in that pic. He looks just like another character we all know and love who likes to blend into the crowd:

Minus the hat I guess. Otherwise … a spittin’ image.

In all, we had a great time checking out the town and watching all the “crazies” that came out FOR the show but who, in actuality, WERE the show. We got back to the boat around 9:30 p.m. and crashed. We woke the next morning all business. The boat was buttoned down and ready. All we needed was a good breakfast before we got under sail. We hit up the local greasy spoon for one last rendezvous with our sail groupies and, unexpectedly, one last crazy! Our waitress. What a sight?!? This woman (again, I presume she was a woman) weighed about 89.4 pounds soaking wet and looked like a pile of toothpicks glued together. There were all kinds of tacky t-shirts and things hanging on the wall and she repeatedly told us:

“Now all of this crap …

is for sale!”

And, for her, “sale” had two syllables, and a “y.” I, naturally, bought a tacky t-shirt to memorialize the occasion. Who wouldn’t? Phillip and I now lovingly call it my “big boobs shirt” because it’s graced with their infamous logo:

Phillip and I checked the sea state one more time,

then it was back to the boat and time to get under way. We checked in with the Bottom Line guys and they were ready to pull out too. We picked a haling channel to go to if we needed to talk via radio, decided our next stop would be Apalachicola, an approximate 28-hour passage (138 nautical miles) from Clearwater, and set off. We had a great morning sail.

The sun was peeking through the clouds, we had some strong, but steady, northeast winds, and we could see Bottom Line in the distance.

That was, until, the squalls began . . .

April 17-23, 2013 – The Crossing: Chapter Two – Sailor’s Delight

June 4, 2013December 30, 2013anniedike

On the 18th, the crew woke to a lavender sunrise and a light breeze. It was a beautiful day. We were rested and ready to go. We tore through the Hampton Inn schmorgas board breakfast and hit the road. Our sail groupies were eager to make the big send-off.

The parents and I headed to Publix to make the big provisions run and, I have to say, I ran a tight ship. Mary was assigned canned goods and other non-perishables while I ransacked the produce and meat departments. I sent Paul to the back to gather boxes and bags and he cleaned them out. We looked like the old Supermarket Sweep contestants

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fgPFlPXK7yc

Minus the matching numbered jersey sweatshirts of course. Man, these people are excited. And, just for an extra laugh (so all my hard blog work doesn’t go to waste) – this is worth a minute of your life, trust me: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UO_tm-C7yfU).

I texted Phillip a few pics to make sure I had picked up the right items.

Annie: The pink right?

Phillip: That’s my favorite color.

This was for the shrimp feta pasta we made on Saturday night. Yum! (Although Phillip’s version is way better, this recipe will help get you there: http://www.food.com/recipe/michelles-penne-with-shrimp-tomatoes-and-feta-318465).

364 dollars later (ouch!) we made it to the boat and started stacking up all the goodies in the cockpit. Down below, I was initially a little worried about how we were going to fit everything in the boat. Remember all that crap on the Provisions List? Well, now we had it – we just had to find a place to put it on a 35 foot sailboat. But, I will say, that turned out to be a non-issue. There were more nooks and crannies on that boat than an English muffin. (Which, interestingly enough, are patented and were recently the cause of a top secret muffin scare. Oh my! A riveting read I assure you: http://usatoday30.usatoday.com/money/industries/food/2010-07-29-english-muffin-lawsuit_N.htm). Thankfully, we were able to cram all the crap in all the crannies in record time. We shook hands with Barbara and Jack and engaged in a nice photo op to memorialize the big event.

They were excited for us but a bit sad to see their beautiful boat go. We promised to take good care of her and they assured us if we did, she would certainly take good care of us. We set off around 11:30 a.m. and headed out into Charlotte Harbor.

The sailing was prime that day. The sun was out. The wind was blowing 8-12 knots and the waves were 2-3 feet all afternoon. We started to play around with the sails some and learn the systems. No matter how much you know about sailing, it always takes a bit to learn the rigging when you’re on a new boat. For us, this consisted of a very complicated pull-and-wiggle approach where I would pull or wiggle a line from the cockpit and Mitch, up at the mast, would find the line I was expertly pulling and wiggling and determine what it controlled, the outhaul, or the boom vang or a reefing line, etc. We, of course, forgot most of that when it came time to reef (pull the sail down a bit) but it just takes a while. After we got the sails up and trimmed and on a nice tack, the crew took a collective breath and let the afternoon seep in. We put on some good music, made some snacks (tuna salad sandwiches and homemade guac!) and, as all good sailors do, shed a few clothes.

Some of us relaxed more than others:

Now I did promise a full-fledged Chaucer rendition of Mitch, didn’t I? You readers … so demanding. Mitch. Where do I begin? First, I must say, he’s an incredible friend to give up five days to sail across the open Gulf with us and help get the boat back. As fun as it is, remember what I told you about sailing, it is indeed hard work, and we were out of touch with the rest of the cellular world for days at a time. That’s a big commitment, and there is no way we could have done it without him. There, now that I’ve given Mitch his due praise, let me give him his due description. As I’ve told you, Mitch is all of six feet, four inches. While that may seem pretty normal for a guy … on land … it’s a bit much for a 35-foot sailboat. Mitch lumbered and bumbled around that boat like an elephant going through a carwash. Each step of his foot on the deck sounded like Neal Armstrong landing on the moon. I honestly felt sorry for him while I watched him clamor up and down the companionway stairs and through the hatch. He must have felt like he was crawling around on Playskool equipment.

I think the fear of getting stuck in the hatch prompted him, each time I got up to go down the stairs, to ask me for something he needed from down below, rightly earning him the name “Mitch, While-You’re-Down-There, Roberts” for the duration of the trip. He was a talker and a screamer but he had a heart of gold. Mitch taught me a great deal about sailing and he was a true asset on the trip.

We watched the sun set over the bow of the boat on Thursday evening and congratulated each other on an excellent day of sailing.

I got industrious and labored away on some sweet potato chili in the galley. I managed not to blow the boat up and fed the crew right and proper. It was a sailing miracle! Clearwater was still another 15 hours away and we had a long night of sailing ahead, but the crew was full and content and ready to make way.

April 12, 2013 – Purchase and Pork; Planning and Provisions

May 19, 2013December 30, 2013anniedike

No surprise here. We bought the boat. The closing, in and of itself, was quite uneventful. Just some signing of documents, exchange of papers and emails back and forth. But, our broker was excited (not in that I just made a sweet commission kind of way), but in a genuine, yet even more selfish, I just got another friend with a boat kind of way.) Through the boat-shopping process, we definitely made a friend out of Kevin, and it came out that he and Phillip shared an equal appreciation for all things pig. Chops, ham, bacon, oh my! He gave Phillip and I a great “Congrats on Closing!” gift:

In case you were wondering, we did try the chop recipe. The book calls them “Sweet and Garlicky Pork Chops” (page 191). We more appropriately named them Kick-ass Asian chops and gobbled them right up!

The BBQ Bible is fab – get you one: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/listing/2688835178385?r=1&cm_mmca2=pla&cm_mmc=GooglePLA-_-Book_15To24-_-Q000000633-_-2688835178385

So, with the closing behind us, we were now faced with the daunting task of planning the trip to sail the boat back from Punta Gorda to Pensacola. I, in my infant, virgin, sailing days (I reflect back on those now with affection and a little chuckle, thinking, “Awwww, Annie … tssk, tssk”) I thought it was going to be a glorious vacation. Beautiful, sunny days, the wind blowing through my hair, while I lay basking in the sun on the main deck, not a care in the world. What a grand excursion this would be, I thought. What should I wear? Which bathing suit should I bring? The sporty one? The string bikini? Decisions, decisions! It was like Legally Blonde sets sail!

(In case you were wondering, to my surprise, it appears that has already happened: http://broadwaytour.net/legally-blonde-sets-sail-with-norwegian-cruise-lines. Yes, they made Legally Blonde into a musical. It was that good.)

Now, you all, who know me well, know I’m far more rough-and-tumble than frills-and-lace, but I simply had no idea how volatile sailing could really be. I didn’t know it was completely, and I mean utterly, inescapably, dependent on the weather. Hence the name of this fine editorial: Have Wind Will Travel. Translation: no wind means no sailing. Extreme wind means extremely rough sailing. Bad weather means bad sailing. On and on. And, I can assure you, sailing, while at times can be just what I envisioned, a pristine sunny day, the wind dancing through your hair while you lay, stretched out like a Brazilian supermodel on the deck (I don’t know about you , but I always look like a supermodel in my daydreams – always), the remaining 68.4% of the time, it’s work. Hard, manual labor. Up and down the companionway stairs, holding the helm against rolling waves, cleaning, scrubbing, cooking, adjusting the sails, coiling the lines, closing the hatches, opening the hatches, cleaning, scrubbing, cooking, folding, packing, docking, up and down the stairs. And, did I mention the cleaning? Scrubbing? And cooking? And, the HEAD, don’t even get me started …

You want me to clean the what?

Yes. With tiny tissues and Clorox wipes. Get to it. (And no, I did not pack the bunny ears for this trip. But thanks for asking.)

I know now what hard work it can be, but I did not know that then. Yet I can assure you every ounce of exerted energy is worth it. There is nothing, and I mean absolutely nothing, like being out there on the water. It is incomparable. But, while a hard worker and great cleaner/scrubber/ cooker, I was admittedly new to this whole sailing business, and Phillip knew he needed a good, trusty sailor (a.k.a., a “real salt”) or two to help us make the crossing. While many were interested – apparently, for some, crossing the Gulf in a sailboat is a real bucket list item – few could really take the time off to make the trip. It was going to be a 5-day passage, at least, longer if the weather did not behave (and, clever foreshadowing be damned, know that the weather, in no way, shape or form – behaved. She blew like a scorned mistress. That bitch!).

But, we finally lined up a second mate. (You may be thinking the more talented, knowledgeable bloke is the Second Mate?? You’re darn right. I had already started this blog by then and deemed myself First Mate so … too bad). With our Second Mate, Mitch, whom I will give a raucous, Chaucer-worthy rendition of later, on board, we started planning for the trip. This was going to be quite the excursion. Getting settled into a boat for the first time while simultaneously planning a 5-day passage across the Gulf is kind of like … like packing for a … Or moving into a … No, it was just as it sounds, like moving into a boat, sailing it 150 miles off-shore then crossing the Gulf of Mexico in it. There is nothing I can compare it to. (And believe me, as a writer, I tried, first with a camper trailer trip cross-country, then in an RV on a safari … ). Nothing worked. Nothing could compare to prepping a boat for this passing. There’s sails, rigging, lines, an engine. The galley, stove, saloon and head (I mentioned the head). A life raft, flashlights, flares, emergency provisions. A radio, electronics, batteries, etc. And we had to make sure all of that worked, could be fixed, or could be done without, in the middle of the Gulf. For us, it was a new boat and a new crew, and we were going to give both a massive shake-down right out of the gate. We spent weeks trying to think of everything we were going to need. From paper towels and soap to flashlights and flares, and food. My God! We were going to have to stock a whole kitchen from scratch. It was daunting.

But, thankfully, it resulted in a finely-tuned, every-trusty Provisions List. We created this especially for the Gulf Crossing but we’ve vowed to run through it every time we leave the dock as it’s a great reminder of all the crap you’re going to need to make a passage on the boat (big or small):

https://docs.google.com/file/d/0BzpUUAS5f-I0Q2tSREpBMWJzZGc/edit?usp=sharing

As you can see, it was quite detailed, and thorough. And, I can assure you, we still forgot stuff. Plenty of stuff! But, we were definitely of the impression this was a work of art when we had finished it. We planned to drive down to Punta Gorda on a Wednesday (April 17th), set sail early Thursday morning and bring the boat into Pensacola late Monday night. That was the plan, anyway. It always starts with a plan …

March 26, 2013 – Some Food for Thought

May 7, 2013December 30, 2013anniedike

Thankfully, we didn’t have to wait long. Jack had the boat well-priced and we made a reasonable offer. After a few small moves on both sides, we quickly reached middle ground and struck a deal, contingent, of course, on the survey/sea trial, which was scheduled for April 3rd. That meant another trip down South to Punta Gorda to make sure the ole’ gal was truly sea-worthy. I figured in the meantime, I better do some things to make sure this ole’ gal was sea-worthy – like, learn how to cook … in the galley!

Cooking on a boat is not much different than cooking at home. You’ve got a stove, an oven, some pots and pans. Aside from having to strap yourself into a space the size of your pantry and keep boiling pots from sliding around and toppling over while the boat is heaving to and fro, it’s exactly the same. For a visual – imagine this sea state while you’re gingerly sprinkling a little oregano on your soup: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Nf7FddPO5QM). To replicate the feeling at home, you can get yourself nice and sloshed one Friday night, spin around 10 or 12 times in your kitchen and then try to cook yourself a nice, hot meal. You’ll find on occasion, you’ve punched garlic right onto the counter and dumped an empty ramekin into the pot, or that you’ve seasoned up an empty burner to perfection while your sauce turned out a little lackluster. Cooking in a boat galley requires a lot more agility and hand-eye coordination than actual culinary skills.

The primary differences you want to keep in mind are fewer pots and less provisions. The more meals you can make in one pot, the better. With fresh water in short supply, the less dishes you have to wash, the better. So you can either up your one-pot meal repertoire or improve your spit-shine capabilities. I recommend the former. One good book we found useful for inspiration was The One Pan Galley Gourmet.

http://www.amazon.com/One-Pan-Galley-Gourmet-Simple-Cooking/dp/0071423826/ref=sr_1_2?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1367761480&sr=1-2&keywords=one+pot+galley+gourmet

This little gem is chock full of quick and easy one-pot dishes that are perfect for the boat. I also got a little creative one night and perfected a sweet potato chili that has now become a staple at Châteaux de Phillipé. It’s a nice, filling substitute for the traditional beef and bean chili.

http://www.kitchendaily.com/recipe/sweet-potato-black-bean-chili

Pairs well with a sweet red zin or syrah (as it has a little kick).

We also tried a beef and broccoli stir-fry one night that made the cut. The trick is to roll the beef around in the corn starch mixture first to get that nice, brown crust on it before stir-frying with the broccoli.

http://www.epicurious.com/recipes/food/views/Stir-Fried-Beef-and-Broccoli-13212

Pairs well with a bold cab or even a malbec.

And, another go-to, of course, is a classic vegetable soup. Now, I’m not talking about that watered-down Minestrone crap they serve at Olive Garden. This recipe allows you to throw pretty much any leftover veggies in the pot (perfect for cruisers trying to use up veggies that are about to turn, or, as my grandmother would say, “ruirnt” (that’s a technical, Alabama term for spoiled. I’m serious, although Urban Dictionary had an entirely different, yet equally entertaining, take on it: http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=ruirnt. Note the usage: “Dude, he is … “).

You really don’t need a recipe for the veggie soup. Just know you’ve got to start by cooking the heartier vegetables (carrots, celery, onions, potatoes, etc. – those that take longer to soften) first – in a little oil and salt. After they soften add your spices, broth and lighter vegetables (tomatoes, mushrooms, any leafy vegetable, etc.). Bring to a boil and let it simmer for about a half hour – seasoning and tasting as you go. (I also recommend sipping wine all the while and throwing some in the pot).

Depending on your seasoning, this pairs well with a good blend, granache or hearty merlot.

If you’re not hungry after all of that, your taste buds don’t have a pulse. Or, better yet, if they do, they’re the scrawny kind that get their lunch money stolen at school.

If these seem like easy recipes, it’s because they are. Remember the whole strapped-in-a pantry, heaving-to-and-fro bit. You need easy recipes on the boat. Forgiving, lasting recipes that you can make under any conditions and that will keep you and crew going for days. You’ll learn. Until then, pour a few extra glasses at home, do the spins and shout hearty sea expletives while you cook up a storm and mimic life on the open seas. Enjoy!