Category: Uncategorized

June, 2021:

“Ubiquitous!” we heard while dinghying by.  Phillip’s head snapped around.  I did a visual sweep of the mooring field.  It was the first time anyone had shouted our boat’s name at us and I think it baffled us more than anything, like how did they know?  But, once we saw a hand waving off the transom of a beautiful blue Sabre, it clicked.  We’re being summoned my surprised face said to Phillip. 

“Ahoy!” a chipper sailor said to us as we dinghied up to s/v Talisman to meet the eager and enthusiastic duo: Jeff and Ginger.  We also learned something that has been often reenforced during our summer aboard UbiQ: there are many sailors out there who are “looking for an Outbound.”  Turns out, the Outbound 46 is even more coveted than we had known.  Jeff had been looking at them for several years, scouring Yachtworld listings for the rare gem that emerged there, even toying with the idea of perhaps getting on the list for a new build.  Needless to say, he was really excited when he found a fairly new Outbound 46 had moored just a few balls over from him in the main mooring field in Spa Creek near downtown Annapolis.  As we bobbed next to their boat, Jeff and Ginger peppered us with questions, wanting to know when we had purchased our Outbound, what we thought of the boat, what type of sailing we had done so far, how she performed, did we like living aboard her, etc.  Phillip and I were happy to answer.  Who doesn’t love talking about their beautiful boat, right?  Makes all those hours wiping worth it. 

Jeff and Ginger told us a bit about their boat, a 38-foot (if I recall correctly) Sabre.  A gorgeous boat.  And, it didn’t surprise us as we’ve found many Sabre owners are drawn to the Outbound.  Our former owner, Jim, definitely was.  Must be something about the build quality, performance, or design that just speaks to Sabre sailors.  Jeff and Ginger had been sailing their Sabre around the Chesapeake and east coast for many years.  In that regard, it was a fortuitous meeting as they wanted to know more about our Outbound, and we wanted to know more about all the local anchorages.  And, looking back, I think it was really Phillip and I who truly took the most valuable knowledge away from that chance rendezvous, because Jeff and Ginger opened the door for one of the most magical nights we have spent on the hook.  And, it turned out to be our very first on UbiQ, which made it even better and infinitely more memorable. 

“To St. Michaels, on Sunday,” we told Jeff when he asked where we were headed next.  Over the summer months, Phillip and I had been getting the boat dialed in, knocking out some small projects with our former owner Jim, and prepping the boat for this little jaunt around the Chesapeake.  It was finally time for us to “go cruising” on the new boat!  Many local sailors had recommended St. Michaels to us as it was a nice day-sail from Annapolis across the Chesapeake to the east shore, up the Eastern Bay and promised a charming walk-about downtown with a few lovely restaurants and bars and an exceptional maritime museum.  Phillip and I were both super excited to finally start doing what we bought this amazing boat for!  To GO!  But, Jeff had a suggestion for us.    

“Let me give you a tip,” Jeff said with sly smile.  “Leave Saturday,” he paused.  Our eyebrows raised.  “St. Michaels will be there.  Postpone it for a day and anchor one night in West River.” 

Why would Jeff recommend we postpone St. Michaels?  To experience the (self-proclaimed) Musical Goodwill Ambassadors of the Chesapeake!  The EASTPORT OYSTER BOYS!  Have any of you heard of this incredible little home-grown Chesapeake band?  We had no idea what we were in for but, damn, what a treat! 

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Unbeknownst to us, the scuttlebutt all over Eastport was that the Oyster Boys were planning on having one final on-the-water concert before their trombone player, Andy, was rumored to be leaving the band to finally start his cruising chapter.  And, where was this infamous finale going to take place?  In the West River where the local Sabre owners were also hosting a Sabre round-up.  When?  On Saturday night!  That’s why Jeff recommended we leave a day early for our planned St. Michaels trip so we could drop the hook for one night first in West River to be sure we did not miss this rare on-the-water treat! 

Phillip and I had never been to West River.  We hadn’t been anywhere other than Annapolis, really, in the Chesapeake.  We had also never been to a dinghy-up on-the-water concert.  Jeff was right.  St. Michaels would be there.  It was an easy decision for us.  Phillip and I decided to leave the main mooring field on Saturday just as Jeff had recommended.  We enjoyed an exceptional sail down the Chesapeake, and actually found ourselves in not one, but three different regattas along the way.  Regattas seem to rustle up every day in Annapolis, and this day was no exception. 

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After a fantastic brisk sail down, we poked our way into West River, saw the Sabre round-up further up the river, but decided to drop a good ways back in a little nook that looked perfect for us.  We laid out 100 feet of chain (enough to make us feel comfy) snubbed her up, and *voila* there she was.  UbiQ finally floating happily on her hook.  Phillip and I breathed a collective Ahhhh … This was it.  Everything we had been working so hard for since December of the year prior.  Boat shopping, negotiating, getting financing, getting our old boat sold, flying back and forth to Annapolis several times.  Turning our somewhat settled life upside down basically.  All to land right where we had, aboard a gorgeous boat, a premier ocean cruiser—our Outbound 46—floating happily on her hook.  The moment was so perfect … we left! 

We had shore to explore, people!  We love our boat, that’s for sure, but there’s another reason we cruise – to travel!  Set foot in new cities and ports.  See new sights.  Eat everything we see!  It was time to explore.  And, the minute we started to dinghy up, we knew this great spinning world was sending us an omen.  The first bar we came to during our first night on the hook was like a warm welcome hug from home: Pirates Cove.  Sure, I’ll bet there are no less than a thousand worn-down driftwood-and-tiki-hut-looking Pirate’s Cove bars all over the world.  But, the fact that we found one right there, where we had come on a whim told us (like the sight of dolphins always do) We’re doing something right here. 

So, what did we do?  Bellied up to the bar, of course, and tried our first ever round of piping hot Old Bay dusted wings!  Washed down with two margaritas … naturally.  Two apiece that is … naturally. 

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Then, we dinghied back out into West River where the pings and toots of tuning instruments drew us in.  A crowd was starting to form around the power boat in the center and I had the privilege of first laying my eyes on the Eastport Oyster Boys band. 

UbiQ’s former owners, Jim and Ann, had told us a good deal about them, as they had had the privilege of taking in several EOB on-the-water concerts, but nothing could truly prepare us for the treat of a live, sun-down serenade.  There was a sax player, a tambourine, a trombone, drums, a trumpet, even a tuba!  All on the foredeck of a power boat playing New Orleans-esque funk for all who were willing to dinghy up and dance a little.  But, don’t let my words do it any injustice, listen for yourself! 

The Eastport Oyster Boys were a real treat!  And something Phillip and I would have never had the privilege of seeing (and hearing) had it not been for fellow cruisers and our stand-out boat.  Many thanks to Jeff and Ginger aboard s/v Talisman for this awesome tip and invite!  Phillip and I had an amazing time.  We ended up being one of the few dinghies who had a dinghy anchor (thank you Mantus!) so we actually ended up being the center of the redneck yacht club for most of the evening, which was quite ironic (as it was our first time at an EOB concert) but really fun at the same time! 

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I’m sure UbiQ got a great chuckle out of us as we dinghied back to her after the concert dispersed, whispering remnants of our enchanting little backwater, salty band experience.  I know, I know, she said to us, this is not my first Oyster Boys concert, reminding us again as the sun melted to a stunning pink and blue behind her, Ubiquitous has so much to share with us. 

And, I guess I’ll have to give a little bit of a spoiler alert … it was a bit more bust than thrust.  Ahoy Crew!  It’s been a wild summer here on the Chesapeake.  Our new Outbound 46 definitely threw us some unexpected curve balls, which will be fun to share.  I was reminded time and again of what I always tell newbie cruisers (which we kind of felt like while getting acquainted with our new boat): Don’t worry too much about what you think is going to happen out there, because you probably have no idea what’s going to go wrong.  It will most likely be something you would have never predicted for sure, so just go and find out!  Boy, did we find out.  We’ve had some engine mishaps, some shipping fiascos, a haul-out, a Fourth of July blow-out, a whirlwind week attending the sailboat show, and plenty in between.  But, let’s start at the beginning, shall we?  Our first challenge with the Outbound 46 was one of my biggest nightmares in cruising: a docking debacle. 

April, 2021

As I shared previously, we moved onto our amazing new boat, a 2015 Outbound 46, s/v Ubiquitous, on a day I will never forget: April 3, 2021.  Four, three, two, one! 

She was staying at a dock in Back Creek, just a short hop from Spa Creek, Ego Alley, and the main mooring field, right in the heart of downtown Annapolis where all the boat show action takes place.  A very cool place indeed.  And, one of our primary concerns, back in early 2021, when we were looking to purchase a boat that was floating 1,000 miles away from Pensacola, Florida was where the heck we were going to keep her while we were still squaring away things in Florida, moving aboard in stages, and still working a good bit back home. 

The solution actually fell happily into our laps.  Ubiquitous came with her own slip.  Yes, you read that right.  While Phillip and I were already over the moon about the boat, when we found out she could remain happily floating in the slip she was already in after we purchased her (for a rental price that was less than what we had been paying in Pensacola, with her former owner just a short walk away and willing to check on her often) …. it truly felt like fate.  There were so many things about Ubiquitous (including her name) that just told Phillip and I she was right for us.  She was meant to be ours.  Her “slip included” was definitely one.  But, there was one caveat: we could not live aboard her full-time in that slip per the condo association rules that governed the marina there.  We could only stay aboard a few days out of each week.  It was not ideal, but a very easy rule to follow to ensure our boat had a safe, secure, temporary home while Phillip and I were still juggling this massive work/cruise transition. 

This meant, once we moved aboard on April 3, 2021, within a few days Phillip and I knew we would need to be off the dock and either on the hook somewhere or another dock where we could live and work aboard full-time.  Because we were just getting acquainted with the new power systems (a LiFePo4 lithium battery bank and a DC generator) and we were in need of pumping wifi to maintain our busy workloads, Phillip and I decided to rent a slip at a nearby marina on Spa Creek for a month to give us a guaranteed easy “home base” to charge up, get water, wash the boat, etc. and work daily while we got acquainted with UbiQ.  One of the only slips we could find in Annapolis that was not taken by annual slip-holders at the time was in the Annapolis Yacht Basin (AYB), just north of the Spa Creek Bridge (that connects downtown Annapolis to Eastport, the quaint, attractive neighboring city to the east of Annapolis), a bridge which we have now (happily) walked dozens upon dozens of times.  AYB is a great marina.  Superb location.  Fantastic facilities.  Exceptional staff.  But docking there is nothing short of a bitch! 

Let me explain. 

On the day we left the slip in Back Creek to motor over to Spa Creek to get docked up at AYB, Annie was Captain that day. 

As I’ve mentioned here several times, Phillip and I try to split all cruising roles up just about evenly.  While there are certainly roles Phillip is better at (weather routing and navigating)—same goes for me (cleaning and monkey-wrenching)—as well as roles we just prefer over others, Phillip and I try to swap out frequently so that we always keep the rust knocked off and we are both equally capable of taking on any role at any time.  You just never know what can happen out there.  We have found, although the learning process can be tough and comes with its own arguments and challenges, the lifestyle is just easier if you have two fully capable, competent, equal crew members aboard.  That was our goal 4-5 years ago when I started training on the helm and got my Captain’s license, and we have never regretted it.  Am I always comfortable behind the wheel?  Heck no!  Neither is Phillip.  But, we can both dock her, with a fairly equal chance of nailing it or screwing up a little (but not a lot).  That works well for us. 

However, knowing this was our first time to un-dock and re-dock the new boat, we asked a new friend in Annapolis, MJ with Eastport Yacht Sales, to join us just so we would have an extra set of hands on-board as … training wheels, you might say. While our former owner, Jim, would have eagerly agreed, and he gladly helped us numerous times throughout the summer, he was out of town in early April, so we called in a small favor to make sure we were prepared to handle whatever might come our way.  One can never be too careful with a new 46-foot boat!  Particularly with this crazy lady at the helm. Look out! My first day as Captain started off smooth as butter.  I turned the engine over, instructed the guys on releasing the lines, and slipped sweetly out of our slip in Back Creek, headed over to Spa Creek toward AYB. 

I have to admit, my first time poking out into Chesapeake Bay behind the wheel of our new boat was a pretty awesome feeling.  Phillip and I would have never been able to guess just a few short months prior that we would be selling our Niagara 35 and buying a new boat in Annapolis, MD.  It really has been a bewildering, enchanting ride.  I could say the same about life.  And, that morning …. Until we got close to the marina. 

As we neared AYB, I haled the dockmaster on the radio to find out where my slip was.  With a powerful engine and a bow thruster, I was (overly) confident I could dock her fairly easily.  That was until I got the instructions from the dockmaster.  This is verbatim what he told me:

“When you see the fuel dock, take the fairway to the left.  Come into that fairway, take the next fairway on your left, then your slip is down there on the right.  Come in stern-to.” 

I understood the words he had said.  Yes.  Every one.  But strung together like that, they made no sense to me behind the wheel.   One fairway … take a left into another fairway … then stern-to on the right?  What?  The?  That was way too many fairways for me to process.  As my bow started to creep in by the fuel dock, all I could see were pilings.  There were no fairways and slips, or any semblance of a marina, just monstrous toothpicks everywhere in haphazard fashion, with million dollar yachts dotted about.  Phillip was on deck pointing to our “slip” (aka a sea of toothpicks) as I was losing control over my fine motor skills and ability to communicate and form complete sentences.  I knew I was in over my head. 

As I stood there bug-eyed, my bow creeping in, the wind (which was blowing 12 or so knots (typical for Annapolis)) got ahold of me and started to push me into a piling at the entrance.  I threw her into reverse to try and avoid it but hindsight tells me that only made it worse (I should have used the bow thruster, counterintuitively, to jettison her stern away while slowly moving in reverse, but that’s the beauty of hindsight).  In the moment, I did the wrong thing and crunched us pretty good against the piling.  That was my first act as Captain. 

Knowing I was in over my head and bound to make bad decisions that could cost us thousands, I gave the wheel to Phillip, although he did not take it happily, as we both could tell this was going to be a precarious, 42-point turn, with lots of help needed to get us in there.  We staged Phillip in the cockpit with stern lines ready and MJ in his ear (but ready to take over if need be) with me on deck with lines and the boat hook ready to fend off/catch pilings.  Phillip decided to turn his bow to the right soon after easing into the marina so he could go down the second fairway in reverse, which seemed like a good plan from where I stood. 

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As I hopped around on deck checking distance on all sides (it’s mighty tight in there with a 46-foot boat), I’ll never forget telling Phillip, “I’m so glad you took the wheel.  This is way out of my skill set.”  You know what Phillip said, between gear shifts?  “This is way outside of mine!”  And he was right.  This was the toughest docking either of us had done.  Ever. 

Phillip had only stern-to’ed a boat one other time (at A&B Marina in Key West Bight in 2014, almost seven years prior to the day!), and it was 11 feet shorter with much more room to spare.  Realizing this, I tried not to chuckle as I watched Phillip listen sternly to, and try to calmly follow, MJ’s advice: “A light punch to port.  Okay center the wheel.  Neutral.  Over to starboard.  A punch of throttle.  Light thrust to port.  Again.  Little more reverse.”  I left Phillip in his zone as I headed back topside to watch our bow and nudge pilings while Phillip made several attempts.  While docking like this may be normal for many sailors, it was certainly not for me and Phillip.  Our first time docking our new boat was an incredibly tense five minutes.  Save a few bumps, however, and one pretty good whack to the outboard on the port rail, thankfully no one panicked or shouted at anyone, and we got Ubiquitous in there nicely and heaved a huge sigh of relief! 

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I learned later that the bow thruster had stopped working for Phillip mid-docking which made the entire ordeal more stressful and challenging for him, although I wasn’t even aware of it at the time.  Hence the bust in our thrust.  In all honesty, Phillip did great.  Our initial docking was well beyond either of our skill sets, yet we didn’t hit another boat and we didn’t strike any part of the dock … hard enough to cause damage.  And, most importantly, no one got hurt.  In our book, we call that a “successful docking,” no matter how embarrassing it might have been, how angry it might have made either of us, or how much we never want to do it again.  No permanent damage to boat or crew is our standard for a successful docking, no matter how ugly.   

We even learned later (and this always seems to happen in cruising, although it never ceases to surprise me) that a fellow cruising friend of ours had whacked his outboard on the port rail in the same fashion during a challenging stern-to docking but he (say this in a proper British accent) “knocked it clean off the boat.”  Thank you for sharing that Neal.  No matter what wild mishaps you seem to encounter in cruising, there is usually a fellow cruiser (often someone you know) who can easily one-up you on it, which is oddly comforting.  At least we didn’t knock our outboard off the rail!  There was that.  And, that poor outboard.  The first five things we did to him, before ever cranking him and taking him for a spin, was crash him several times into pilings.  Sorry buddy.  We were just learning. 

But, we did learn two important lessons about our bow thruster during those initial hairy dockings:

Lessons Learned from Our First Go with the Bow Thruster

FIRST: Our most important lesson for the day was the true function of the bow thruster.  This is not something we had on our Niagara and not even a system Phillip or I had ever used in our years of experience boating.  The concept of a bow thruster was entirely new to us.  The important thing we learned about the bow thruster that day, and in the weeks that followed as we practiced docking time and again (even stern-to, which I hope we never have to do again … ever.  Ever, ever, ever) was this: the “bow” thruster on a sailboat, despite its deceitful name, does not move only the bow.  It pivots the boat on its keel.  Meaning, whatever distance you move the bow while activating the bow thruster, the stern is going to move the opposite way in equal measure.  If you are not aware of this (as we were not initially) it can be problematic as you’ll jam your stern into a piling or the dock unknowingly trying to move only the bow.  However, there is an upside.  This means not only can you steer the bow with the thruster, you can steer the stern.  Meaning, when you’re coming into a dock in reverse, you can literally steer the stern sweetly into position with the thruster alone, without any thought or consideration given to prop walk.  This is why we like our switch formed in the shape of an actual boat reminding us as we turn it that it moves both the bow and stern in equal, opposite measure. 

SECOND:  So, how did Phillip break the bow thruster when he was docking?  It turns out when the boat was not responding quite as immediately as he would have liked when engaging the bow thruster, Phillip apparently thought the answer was to turn the switch with the same amount of strength he thought it would take to physically move the boat.  Phillip had literally been pushing that wee little button as hard as he would the actual bow.  We had a great time reenacting his vigorous efforts, however, in wailing on that poor little broken boat-shaped toggle.  Move, boat, MOVE!  But, there was no ill-will to be had over it.  Had it been me at the helm that day, there was a much greater chance Annie would have used the throttle with equal force, revving up in a panic and smashing into a million-dollar neighboring yacht.  So, replace a $60 bow thrust switch?  Or repair $30,000 in damage to your dock neighbor?  That was not a choice to fret over. 

Overall our first few weeks aboard were a crash course in docking.  Needed for sure.  Fun?  No.  But, after those first few weeks of practice (and bumping, banging, and bow thrusting) I can easily say now both Phillip and I can fairly accurately dock our boat with little fanfare, bow-in or side-to, especially.  But, in all, we hope to do far more anchoring and mooring-ball grabbing than docking.  And, we repaired our bow thruster switch, also with little fanfare, and discovered our outboard, despite the painful initiation, happily cranked and ran just fine, zipping us all over Spa Creek and Ego Alley over the month of April.  Seems he hasn’t held it against us.  Thanks _____.  We are still waiting for his name to come to us.   

AYB was actually a very nice place to stay considering the walking distance to downtown, amenities, mail, laundry, etc.  and a fantastic venue to watch the sunset over downtown Annapolis (while hearing “the colors” every morning and evening from the Naval Academy!).

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But, when we finally left that marina, for the final time, Phillip and I vowed to try to never find ourselves in a marina so tight, with a strict stern-to requirement.  The most exciting part about successfully de-docking and leaving AYB that day, May 6, 2021, was the miraculous realization that we would never be back!  See ya later dock neighbors!

I filled a bottle up with some bubbly Annie Charm, shook it, and let it explode on folks at the recent Trawlerfest in Baltimore. Speaker Annie was definitely ON! I gave three talks: 1) an informal ladies tea (which was a great candid conversation with gals who rightfully have a lot of questions about going cruising); 2) “Rock the Boat” encouraging more females to get out and go cruising (I’m pretty sure I cursed a handful of times but had the whole crowd laughing a good bit); and 3) my “Bahamas Top Ten” which was the most widely attended (and appreciated it seemed) talk. For that reason, I’m including my Bahamas Top Ten slides from my presentation below (by popular request from Trawlerfest attendees).

What a whirlwind three days, but I met so many new boaters, some just shopping for their first cruising boat, some with decades of experience, even a few ladies who were working hard to convince their male counterpart to go cruising (which was a pleasant surprise for me)! I also got to meet the famous WX forecaster, Chris Parker, in person for the first time, talk all about my new lithium batteries with Tom Trimmer at Custom Marine Products, and have some fun, candid conversations with Rudy and Jill Sechez who wrote a very helpful book on Anchoring as well as the Director of America’s Great Loop Cruiser’s Association (AGLCA), Kim Russo. Many thanks to PassageMaker/Trawlerfest and my team at SAIL Magazine who helped line this up for me. I felt like we were able to encourage and inspire a lot of new (and old) boaters to get out and go, which felt really nice in today’s crazy Covid climate.

Speaker Annie ready for a big day of talks (had to send Phillip pics of me as he had some work obligations and couldn’t make it). He had to approve of my outfits … lol!

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My speaking venue! Thankfully it was outside, which I requested, and the weather was fabulous every day. I was surprised that all these seats filled every time!

The Baltimore waterfront in and around the Inner Harbour was really quite lovely, too, and a great place to walk after all of my daytime gigs were over.

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And, without further adieu … here are my Bahamas Top 10 Slides. There are some very helpful links in here to help folks navigate Customs, find ports of entry, purchase Explorer Charts, and get updates on Covid travel restrictions and requirements. Also, some fantastic pictures! Putting this together made me think Phillip and I have got to plan another trip back to the Bahamas very soon. If any of you have more questions that aren’t answered in the slideshow, feel free to email me and Phillip and I will do our best to try to find answers or resources for you. But, the websites included (at the end) of the slides are the best place to find the most up-to-date info on Covid and travel to the Bahamas. Hope to see some of you out in those beautiful Bahamian islands someday!

While we certainly did not plan it that way, and I didn’t even notice until we arrived in Annapolis, MD, I will never forget the day we moved aboard our new 2015 Outbound 46, Ubiquitous (who has since taken on the fun nickname gifted to us by her former owner: “UbiQ”) as it was April 3, 2021.  As in four … three … two … one … BLASTOFF!  On our new adventure. 

The sun was just starting to set over the interstate when we set off on what we jokingly called “our first overnight in the Prius.”  It was roughly a 15-hour drive from our home in Florida to Maryland, where the boat was docked, and we had too much ridiculous boat/cruiser stuff to even think about flying with it all.

Think kite gear, wake boards, pots, pans, tons of tools (including big ass tools), spares, dishes, bedding, foul weather gear, pumps, gadgets, … the list goes on.  Phillip and I were both a bit amazed at the sheer quantity of stuff we had been able to cram into our “little” Niagara 35.  We first debated shipping it all via a crate or pallet or renting a sprinter van, perhaps.  But after playing some creative Prius Tetris in the garage and going nuts with the Space Saver bags it seemed about 80% of our boat stuff was going to fit in the Prius for the first haul.  We liked this option for our first trek to Ubiquitous because it would give us a free “run-around” car for the four to six weeks we knew we would spend moving onto our new Outbound, provisioning her, and getting some things dialed in before we would fly back home to handle some work/admin matters later in the summer.  Because this wasn’t a permanent move-aboard, shove-off situation.

At least not immediately, not yet.  For us—two lawyers working remotely with a full workload—a sudden shift, from spending only winters aboard and commuter cruising the rest of the year, to 100% full-time liveaboards off somewhere disconnected in the remote islands, even on a boat as spacious and comfortable as the Outbound, was just too extreme at this immediate juncture.  Phillip and I need reliable wifi and cell signal to continue doing the work that we love and that funds our cruising.  We also need to be able to hop on a plane frequently so we can handle matters that come up that require our presence.  Our version of cruising may not be what many picture when they dream about selling everything and sailing over the horizon and, you know what?

That’s totally okay.  Cruising is not one size fits all.  It’s whatever fits you.

And the reality of it, as opposed to the dream, will always be better, even if it’s not what you initially envisioned.  Phillip and I have learned (the hard and costly way) that schedules and rigid time/place commitments can really throw a wrench in the overall goal and plan to cruise slowly safely.  We also know nothing has to happen fast.  Are we going to sail the Caribbean?  Are we going to cross oceans?  Of course, but as with everything that happens on a boat: Smooth is Fast.  Hence, our goal back in April, 2021 had been to slowly move aboard, get to know and understand UbiQ (there are a lot of new systems to absorb and learn), and start to fix and maintain her minor issues while gunkholing around in the Chesapeake and flying home as needed.  Then we planned to tackle the bigger items that were identified during the survey/sea-trial during a haul-out scheduled in the fall before we prepared to shove off for the winter months, as we normally do, headed south. 

While the USVIs, BVIs, and the Caribbean in general have always been a goal, particularly one we would like to achieve after failing to accomplish that journey in November, 2019, it was just one potential plan among others.  Honestly, after dealing with a winterized boat during the survey/sea-trial—a totally foreign concept to us in sunny Florida—that was covered in snow when we first saw photos of her, our only real plan for the winter was: TO NOT WINTERIZE THE BOAT.  That was it.  Whatever journey took us to climates during the winter that would not require us to winterize the boat, Phillip and I vowed to consider a successful cruising season. 

Pretty simple plan, no?  Sometimes the simplest ideas are the best.  The freedom this plan afforded us actually excited me as I had no idea what my next five to six months would look like, where exactly we would be, what sights and cities we might visit.  All we knew was that we had just bought a really badass boat that was a dream to spend time on, we had steady income with the ability to work remotely, we are healthy, and the world is our oyster.  Can it get any better?  Our answer is no!  I think you can see that excitement in this silly photo I snapped when we first started to move onto UbiQ and settle in for our first night aboard. 

So, what fun things were we doing in the weeks leading up to and following 4-3-2-1?  It still feels like a whirlwind …

We went out for our last sail aboard Plaintiff’s Rest as her owners, a bittersweet but heartwarming sail.

We had plenty of get-togethers with Pensacola friends we knew we wouldn’t see for a few months.

We sucked every soft good possible down and packed the Prius to the gills.

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We “shoved off” on a 15-hour drive across country from Florida to Maryland. 

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We found ourselves mesmerized waking up in the vberth of Ubiquitous which feels more like a hotel room than a boat. 

Photos preserved in Annie’s mind only …

We started finding places to put everything, then changing our minds, then changing them again (shout-out to my brother who bought us this awesome Galleyware nesting pan set that fit perfectly under the oven). 

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We cooked and had our first “romantic” night aboard, with our oil-stained “garage sheet” (a work sheet we’ve laid down for umpteen thousand boat projects) as our table cloth.

We started labeling things like nobody’s business (thank you P-Touch!).

We found ourselves thrilled to find we had landed in Annapolis right when all of the dogwoods and cherry trees were blooming – it was mind-blowingly beautiful.

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We started the first of many “things we need for the new boat” lists.

We started doing little projects that made us feel like we were accomplishing things.

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We were mesmerized at how much sailing goes on here, every day, particularly by the youngsters who find it “fun” to tack around in tiny spaces!

We worked. 

We cooked (lawyer by day, chef by night : ). 

We hosted our first guests aboard UbiQ (say hello to long-time Annapolis sailors and good friends of UbiQ’s former owner, Richard and Idarae!).

We fell in love with watching the ducks, boaters, artists, and ice-cream eaters at the end of Ego Alley (I spent many days there working at what I call my “branch office,” which is essentially wherever I can find wifi for the day).

And, we let the boat start deciding how we were going to spend each day (#newboatnewproblems) as the boat maintenance never stops. 

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Those first few weeks aboard were filled with squeals, cheers, research, and head scratches as we began to dig into our new Pandora’s Box.  While the Outbound was definitely a significant upgrade, in many ways it came with all of the very familiar problems, issues, comforts, and discomforts that life aboard can bring.  That part of it actually thrilled me because I think the durability that life aboard requires is one of the things I love most about cruising.  I kind of like that it takes extra steps to make coffee, do the laundry, shower, “start the car” (aka lower the dinghy and crank the outboard) and “keep the place up” (maintain the boat).  When those extra sweaty steps come with the tradeoff that I don’t have to blow-dry my hair or put on a suit or go to a fluorescent-lit cubicle to sit and work all day, it’s a more rugged, rich lifestyle I can wrap my arms around and fully embrace. 

feel that life aboard UbiQ was going to be very different than life aboard Plaintiff’s Rest but in more important ways, the very same.  There is just something about happy hour in the cockpit, particularly after a physically demanding day of boat work followed by a cockpit shower, that just fills my cup.  I could tell immediately this new hybrid life—with UbiQ at the center—was going to fit me like a glove. 

Next time, I will share our first attempts docking this new beast (one of the things that really made us hesitate in getting a bigger boat) and our first bumps and bangs (because those are going to happen).  We also look forward to sharing our thoughts on how UbiQ sails, with just the two of us aboard, her sail plan and the Dutchman system on the main, as well as using electric winches.  Oh, and our first gale aboard UbiQ. Yuck. But, we survived! Stay tuned!

“There’s not any chance you would be willing to fly up from Florida to Baltimore to speak at our Baltimore Inner Harbor Boat Show in September would you?” she asked, with a little trepidation.

“Well … funny you mention it as I’m in Annapolis at the moment,” I told her, and that was it. Back in July, our plot was hatched. 

I’d never heard of a “Trawlerfest” before but when Sarah with AIM Media, an affiliate of SAIL Magazine, offered this speaking opportunity to me it felt a little too serendipitous to turn down as Phillip and I knew we would be traveling to/from the new boat on the east coast and Florida throughout the summer which would likely put us within quick driving distance to attend the Baltimore Inner Harbor Boat Show, aka their “Trawlerfest,” so I agreed!  Yours Truly will speaking right along some other sail-ebrities who have inspired Phillip and I time and time again over the years:

• The uproariously hilarious Nigel Calder;
• Chris Parker (whom I have talked about and heard about for years in any conversation about weather planning and the Caribbean); and
• Pat Rains who I personally consider a badass as a journalist, news reporter, freelance writer, and international cruiser [insert mind-blown emoji here]

were just some of the names I recognized.  But, I’m excited to meet Rudy and Jill Sechez, Bob Arrington, Tom Trimmer, Jeff Merrill, and Steve Zimmerman as well.  They all will be contributing a valuable array of topics to the show.  Here is the seminar schedule! 

After agreeing, however, my immediate next thought was … what the heck am I going to say?  To trawler owners?  Most of your offshore, hard core experience will not translate to boaters who typically don’t go on overnight passages, Annie my devil’s advocate brain was telling me.  What on God’s earth will you have to share that will be relevant to them?  But, this is the very reason I (proudly) have multiple personalities.  There’s Video Annie, Shipyard Annie, Diesel Engine Mechannie, and also … of great importance in moments like these … I have Brave Annie who says to that voice: “Oh shut up you!  I’m at least going to give it a try!” 

You tell ‘em Brave Annie!  I did! : )

So, I wracked my brain for some ideas that would speak (pun intended) equally to sailors as well as trawlerers (that’s a word today).  And, as the Boat Show folks requested, I came up with two topics.  The first is the topic I am often most inspired to speak on: getting ladies more involved in all aspects of cruising.  You can blame small-but-mighty Pam Wall for that one as she energetically and emphatically encouraged both me (back at the 2015 Miami Boat Show) as well as every other budding cruiser she speaks to, to ensure all persons aboard, be it the wife, daughter, dad, whomever are full-fledged CREW.  There are no passengers.  Everyone is equal CREW.  And, I couldn’t agree more.  I have interviewed Nick O’Kelly (author of Get Her On Board) at length on this topic.  

I also created my own video about it: Episode #75: How to Get Your Wife to Go Cruising. 

I am committed to empowering women who want to go cruising with the truth that they are far more capable and resourceful than they let themselves believe and that becoming an equal CREW member aboard will only enhance their cruising experience.  I am passionate about this topic.  The second, a Bahamas Top Ten, was one the Boat Show folks requested and I am always happy to share our wonderful experiences from the Bahamas.  So, for any of you who will be attending the Baltimore Boat Show, this is what you’re in for from the enthusiastic Annie Dike:

I was also asked to participate in an informal ladies tea with the other female speakers on Thursday, which I believe will just be an open forum where all the ladies (speakers and attendees alike) can just share openly on any topic.  I think this one will be really beneficial as well for any female spouse who may be reluctant to go, or participate actively, in cruising for (perhaps) the wrong reasons.

Thursday, September 30, 1 pm – 2:45 pm

Informal Ladies Tea with Jill Sechez, Annie Dike, Pat Rains and Kim Russo

This seminar is for women who think they may want to go cruising or who have only recently entered into the cruising lifestyle and have a wide range of questions best answered by other women, and, alas, without any men in the room.

All told, I’m very excited!  I’ll be spending the next few weeks working on my talks and gathering fun photos, videos, and other content to accompany them.  As a little sneak peek to share with you all here, Phillip and I (yes, he truly is the mastermind when it comes to a great deal of our HaveWind content) have come up with a fun potential idea for my Rock the Boat seminar.  In order to give my many stories, lessons, and tips a coherent central theme, we have thought about pairing each with a well-known movie snippet.  One of the stories I always like to share is designed to encourage women to, when in charge, take charge like a man would.  Meaning, don’t apologize, don’t cater, don’t worry about what the other people (often men) are thinking. Be selfish in that moment and cater to the needs of the boat and yourself (like men do so often!).  Sorry guys, it’s not an insult as it often makes you a much more confident leader, not always better, but more confident and decisive. 

The story I use when teaching this lesson was one that took me a while to learn but once I did … ahh the freedom.  Here’s the scene: often, when you are attempting to dock or de-dock, there are other people around (usually other cruisers, or dock hands, or shipyard workers, 99% of the time they are males) waiting to give you a hand, or help you if you need it.  And, previously, when I was just starting to take the helm, I would always feel guilty if I kept them waiting if, perhaps, I wasn’t quite ready to go, or the engine hadn’t yet warmed up, or I needed to take another lap before docking because I had misjudged the wind or current, any of those things.  In typical female-style, I would aim to please and cater to them and apologizing when I felt I had not.  But, after a while, I realized I was often coming into, or leaving, the dock when I wasn’t quite yet ready and confident simply because I didn’t want to impose on the men there waiting to help me.  I was so worried about their time, their needs, and what they were thinking about me, that I often sacrificed my own time and needs in the process.  Ladies, what man does that more often than not?  Sacrifices his own time and needs simply to cater to strangers around him?  Eggggsssactly.  When you dial into you, your needs, and the boat’s needs, and forget about the dudes on the dock, you’ll find they’re not as concerned (or even aware of you) as you thought they were.

So, what movie did Phillip and I come up with to champion this message? 

That’s right ladies.  Don’t take it personally.  Because you know who IS into you in that moment?  Who is 100% devoted to responding to your every request and aiming to please and impress you?  The boat!  She is SUPER into you.  She’s eagerly awaiting your every decision and instruction.  She’s counting on you to take care of her, not those dudes on the dock.  Who cares about them? the boat would say!  Once I realized that about the guys standing around waiting to help—they’re just not that into me—I gave me all the freedom in the world to take my time.  Now, I never allow myself to be rushed while warming up the engine, going through my own de-docking checklist, setting up my lines for release, double-checking everything.  They can stand there for 15 solid minutes and I don’t give a flying flip.  Those guys can either wait and help if and when I’m ready (and if I want and need them to) or they can mosey on down the dock, because my focus is on me and my boat. 

And, I hadn’t really noticed myself learning this lesson.  It wasn’t like an “aha” moment.  It was something that just evolved over time.  But, I became very aware of my change in mindset in an “aha moment” when we were leaving the shipyard recently on our soon-to-be-sold Niagara 35.  The boat was finally splashing after her extensive Hurricane Sally repairs, in February 2021, and Annie was captain that day.  As they gently placed her in the water and all the Travelift and shipyard guys (and other friends who had come to see us off – again, 99% men) were there standing around waiting, I checked the sea cocks and cranked the engine.  As she was warming up, I was checking for water out the back, noting the wind speed and direction, unlocking the wheel, and getting dialed in at the helm and basically, just taking my time getting settled while our Westerbeke warmed up (this generally takes a full five minutes) not making any eye contact with the dudes on the dock.  I even repeated things over and over while still totally ignoring the guys who were waiting on me.  I was being very manlike about it. 

Megan and her husband Chris were aboard as they were set to purchase our boat—as long as she performed beautifully that day during the sea-trial (which Phillip and I were 100% confident she would).  And, Megan, as a woman would, noticing all of the guys standing around waiting for, and watching, me asked me: “Why do you keep looking over the back?”  And, in that moment, I could feel her feeling what I used to feel: They’re waiting on you, Annie.  They’re watching you wanting you to go.  You’re holding them up. I smiled at Megan, because I knew this was going to be an awesome teaching moment for her, as I told her simply “I’m not going to let them rush me.  I’ll leave when I’m ready.”  Megan’s face took on a stoic look as (I believe) the lesson soaked in for her. 

And, I did not allow them to push me out of the Travelift and set us out into the bayou until I was full-on ready, no matter how long it took, no matter how long they fidgeted and stared.  Now (as I hadn’t piloted our boat in five months), did I put her in forward as opposed to reverse initially and try to go the wrong way at first?  Of course!  I’m still Annie, with all of my dumb little quirks and mistakes, but because I was settled, I was ready and calm, I could simply laugh about it, throttle back, and put her in reverse before gently gliding out. 

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The point being, ladies, is that you should be dialed into the boat, not the dudes on the dock.  She is the one who is truly “into you” in that moment, who is listening to you, and who wants to please and impress you.  Focus your time and energy on her in those moments and she will reward you in droves.  Megan has since told me that was a defining moment for her in her own evolution as an equal partner aboard her boat, and I couldn’t be prouder.  Phillip and I couldn’t have hand-selected better owners than Chris and Megan for our beloved former boat, and it warms my little salty heart to think I played a small role in Megan’s growth as an equal crew member.  “Not a passenger,” Pam Wall would say sternly.  “Crew.”

So, tell me followers, what do you think of our movie theme and my Rock the Boat seminar?  Would you attend?  Any topics of areas of interest that you think would be helpful to cover when trying to encourage significant others who may not be as passionate or excited about cruising to become more involved?  Phillip and I are always open to input.  And, if any of you are planning to attend the Baltimore show, please let us know!  If you are but have not purchased tickets yet, enter promo code ANNIEDIKE for a 15% discount on all seminar tickets and thank the Baltimore Inner Harbor Boat Show folks for it.  Hope to see some of you there!

The thought gutted me.  I felt a thick, black goo filling me from the inside as my throat tightened and I blinked back tears.  Immediately when the word was first spoken to me … “totaled” … all I could see in my mind was her holding on, her bucking and groaning against the dock that dreadful morning, September 16, 2020, as Hurricane Sally slowly released its grip on her. 

As I screamed across what was left of the marina to her through the ripping winds and chop “HOLD ON BABY GIRL!” she did.  She.  Did.  Plaintiff’s Rest held on when dozens of other boats hadn’t, when other boats crashed into her and sank beneath and beside her, when docks around her broke up and tore away.  She.  Held.  On.  And, now, that was going to be it?  After all that, we were going to just give up on her?  That was the one scenario in all our post-hurricane decision chaos that I told Phillip I just couldn’t stomach.  We didn’t want to make an emotional, financially irrational decision, of course, but after everything the three of us had been through, the thought that we would let Plaintiff’s Rest, our baby girl, get hauled to a dump to die because of … money?  Especially when she was salvageable. 

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Considering the spectrum of damage Hurricane Sally unleashed on the boating community in Pensacola, the damage our boat had suffered was respectively minor.  It wouldn’t cost quite her total value to fix her, but it might be close, something I learned only after that hurricane struck, could cause an insurance company to total the boat.  Total.  It felt like such a callous, dismissive word. 

Thankfully, we were very lucky in that it turned out the cost to repair the damage to her rudder and stern rail and the severe dock rash she endured all those hours in the slashing dark did not amount to a figure that tipped the scale.  The day we got the news Plaintiff’s Rest was going to be repaired, I cried.  My chest opened up and I hugged Phillip even harder than I had that moment on the dock when I saw her mast upright in the driving rain.  Our baby girl was going to have more chapters, more pages to turn, more adventures.  She was going to live.  Once that was determined, the thought of buying a new boat and handing our amazing Niagara over to another sailing couple to enjoy all that she has to offer no longer felt like a nauseous jab to my stomach.  As long as she continued sailing, traveling, and teaching her valuable lessons, I was 100% okay with that.  But, I knew I was going to be damn picky in who we turned her over to.  It wouldn’t matter if they were willing to pay more, if any buyer planned to let her sit, that would be a non-starter.  Our Niagara loves to go!  She deserves to go.  But, in those early months of this entire transition, in the fall and winter of 2020 when she was undergoing repairs and we were just wrapping our heads around the idea of selling her, I could not have dreamed up a better transition for our Niagara. 

Here’s the crazy thing.  We didn’t even list her.  We didn’t “show” her in the normal sense to anyone.  We didn’t even hire a broker.  It all happened so seamlessly.  I guess when you have a boat as cared for as ours—as loved—with a price that is well worth the life she still has to live and the amazing journey she can still offer any hearty, willing sailor, it’s not surprising.  Don’t get us wrong, Phillip and I did not decide to sell our boat because Plaintiff’s Rest is not capable of sailing around the world.  She is.  Just not quite as comfortably or safely.  But capable she is.  In droves.  And, when this wonderful couple—not new to sailing, but new to owning and cruising their own boat—spent just a couple of hours on our boat crawling through all the cubbies and lockers and going through all the immense repairs, upgrades, and work Phillip and I had put into her, there was really nothing to debate.  She’s a damn fine boat and that’s exactly what they wanted.  That’s exactly what they deserved.  

Let me joyously introduce to you Megan and Chris, the new owners of our Niagara 35.

After a very close friend of ours, who was privy to our pretty private decision to sell our Niagara and buy a new(er) boat, merely mentioned as an aside that “Phillip and Annie might be selling their boat” to some mutual friends of ours, a small crack opened in their minds that immediately began to flood their brains and set them off on a similar tailspin that Phillip and I had post-2020 and post-hurricane: Maybe it’s time to get serious about our goals of cruising.  Maybe it’s time to buy our “forever boat.”  Maybe … now … is the time.  Covid seemed to have that effect on many people.  And, while Megan and Chris had taken sailing courses and obtained several ASA certifications and had chartered boats down in the BVIs, they had not yet taken that next leap of buying and cruising a boat of their own—the true reward of a cruising lifestyle.  While they are experienced sailors, becoming knowledgeable, capable boat owners is where their fears lied, which I felt was the right thing to worry about.  As I often tell many people thinking about cruising: the sailing is easy; the boat maintenance is hard.  But, one great thing about our Niagara?  It would come with endless supervision, mentoring, and advice from Phillip and me.  We made it very clear to Megan and Chris that we loved our boat, we wanted to see her thrive in a new chapter, which meant we had every incentive to help at every juncture possible with trouble-shooting, research, repairs, and maintenance.  That kind of peace of mind for a new owner is invaluable and we were happy, overjoyed, to offer it as it meant a whole new journey for our beloved boat. 

I’m thinking that may have been what finally tipped the scale for Chris and Megan.  Or maybe it was the stunning varnish, our Niagara’s classic lines, her spotless bilge cubbies, her solid design and construction, her perfect layout, her … I could go on. 

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I’m sure they would be hard-pressed to say exactly what it was that made them wrap their arms around our boat and welcome her into their family, but Phillip and I were thrilled they did.  There was no negotiating on the price.  It was what it was, Chris and Megan either wanted her or not, and it turned out they did, subject to a satisfactory survey/sea-trial of course.  But, Phillip and I, knowing every nut and bolt and every project that had ever been done on that boat since we bought her in 2013, most of them DIY, had absolutely no reason to believe she would not pass a survey/sea-trial with exceedingly flying colors. 

And pass she did.  We survey sea-trialed her in February, 2021 (as Phillip and I were in the thick of negotiations for the 2015 Outbound 46 we ended up purchasing) and the four of us were so confident that the boat was solid, it was well-maintained, and it was the perfect boat for the two of them, we even helped Chris and Megan put the new name on the boat before we splashed and before the survey was ever conducted. 

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We all just knew.  Kevin, our broker for both our Niagara and the Outbound, came that day to congratulate all of us on the sale and splash got a big laugh in the name-change pre-survey.  “Well, that’s one way to get a potential buyer emotionally invested,” he said.  In all, it was a fantastic day.  Chris and Megan, rightfully looking out for their own interests, hired a highly-recommended surveyor in the Florida Panhandle, Chris Mills, who spent over seven hours thoroughly scaling the boat. 

A running joke that came from the day was mine and Phillip’s repeated answer to the dozens of questions Mills had to ask about our many, many upgrades and repairs.  “When was that done?” he’d ask.  And almost every time Phillip and I would say “2016.”  That was the year we spent three months on the hard changing out the rigging (from rod to wire), repairing our rotten stringers, repairing the keel seam, and doing about a-thousand other projects all of which mandated a “2016” answer to his questions. 

Phillip and I were actually surprised by the end of the day thinking back through all we had done on the boat.  There was no doubt we had spent years pouring our blood, sweat, money, and tears into her.  And, there was no doubt Plaintiff’s Rest had spent years giving us her all, carrying us offshore across the Gulf for our first “just Phillip and me” trip in 2014 to the Keys, thundering her way to Cuba in 2016, dazzling us in the Bahamas in 2017, 2018, and 2019, taking us out for a hundred memorable weekends on the hook in Pensacola, and teaching us so many valuable boat owner lessons over the years. 

Looking back on these many memories makes me tear up now thinking how much we gave to our Niagara, how much she gave back to us, and how much she is going to give Megan and Chris and they are going to give her as they sail her around our pristine, wondrous local waters of Pensacola and begin planning and undertaking longer trips across the Gulf just as Phillip and I did when we first acquired her.  Our Niagara is ready to carry, teach, and wow them.  She has an amazing new chapter to embark on and she is very much alive, which made me thrilled when I learned the name Megan had chosen for their boat, which means “to be alive, living.” 

Vivante

[vivɑ̃]

ADJECTIVE

To be alive. ⧫ living.

For those of you curious about our Niagara and her next chapter, know that, to the fullest capacity possible:

Elle est Vivante. 

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It felt quite surreal.  In any other year, at any other time, this would be completely normal, but at this moment—December 30, 2020 at 9:15 a.m.—walking into an airport amid a sea of masks, getting on a plane and wiping our seat, tray, and armrests down with Purell wipes, courtesy of Delta, the starch scent of disinfectant in the air, it all felt … strange.  Just strange. 

Phillip and I hadn’t been on a plane since puttering from Nassau to Eleuthera back in March when we were scrambling to get back to our Niagara in Spanish Wells, Bahamas.  While we had planned, initially, to only move her to Great Harbour Cay for hurricane season, once we landed on March 13th, it became clear that the world was shutting down around us and a mad-dash sail back home to Pensacola, FL was likely the only way to keep her under our wing for hurricane season.  We called it our Corona Crusade, when the auto-pilot went out, we weren’t allowed to go ashore for supplies in most places, but somehow Phillip and I made some of our most memorable cruise memories during that voyage.  Isn’t that just the truth about cruising, though?  Sometimes the worst of times are the best of … memories?  Perhaps that’s why we keep coming back to it.  Every cruise is either going to be great or it’s going to make for a great story.  Those are two pretty good outcomes.  And, with the world still in an unprecedented lockdown in December, 2020—a reality that struck us again and again walking through the empty airports, watching everyone’s eyes darting back and forth from above their masks—our plan to travel in the future on a boat that could truly take us everywhere was solidly reinforced.  I don’t think they can shut down the ocean.  Don’t tell me if they can. 

With our last-minute flight to see the last remaining Outbound 46 available on the market, s/v Ubiquitous in Annapolis, Maryland, booked, one thought kept ringing through my mind.  “For offshore, we couldn’t have made a better choice.”  It was what former Outbound 46 owners, Lisa and Andy, told us.  In researching the Outbound 46 we found the Outbound owners’ forum was superbly active and many former and current owners happily share information there, even with people who are simply shopping for an Outbound 46.  Lisa and Andy on s/v Kinetic stood out to us as they are highly experienced offshore sailors, captains, and sailing consultants, having successfully completed many offshore passages in their 2015 Outbound 46, the hull number (No. 59) built after Ubiquitous (No. 58).  In the days before our flight to Annapolis, Phillip and I set up a Zoom call with Lisa and Andy, who generously shared an hour of their time to talk to us about the Outbound 46, its build quality, the different features, its performance, etc.  They even knew our owner, Jim, and s/v Ubiquitous.  They told us Jim was a meticulous owner and that Ubiquitous was a very well-kept boat.  Good news.  The exterior and interior Outbound 46 tour videos in my previous blog post are actually of Kinetic.

Our chat with Lisa and Andy only solidified our hopes that setting foot on an Outbound 46 would tell us what Phillip and I already felt we knew: for offshore, we couldn’t make a better choice.  On the plane, Phillip and I were tingling.  My pulse felt electric.  And, it was a good thing I had so much adrenaline pumping through me because Annapolis was bone-chilling.  We were expecting lows in the range of 29 to 36 degrees and highs from 40 to 52 (our warmest day).  We stayed at Governor Calvert House as we did when we attended the boat show back in October, 2019.  It was wild to think when we had last stayed there, had last been in Annapolis, we could have never predicted all of the extreme change that lied ahead for us.  It was also a bit wild when they assigned us the very same room we had stayed in back in October, 2019.  Phillip and I took it as a sign.  An omen.

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Our suitcases, which we had stuffed with sucked-down Space Saver bags to house all of the huge fluffy layers we knew we would need, exploded in the room, our cargo growing three times its size.  I distinctly recall wearing long johns, a long sleeve, a fleece over that, my puff jacket, and my foul weather jacket out to dinner that night and I was still a little uncomfortable.  But, nothing could chill our fiery moods.  The next day Phillip and I were set to meet the owner of Ubiquitous, Jim, at the boat at 11:00 a.m.  His broker, Forbes Horton, was out of town, but they all agreed it was fine for showing, just the three of us.  It was all happening so fast (literally because it had to, Ubiquitous was highly sought after) it felt unreal.  Within a matter of three weeks Phillip and I had decided to get a new boat, get a bigger, more complicated boat, get an Outbound 46, specifically, and now, perhaps, get this boat, 2015 Outbound 46, Hull No. 58, s/v Ubiquitous.  We wouldn’t know for sure, however, until we stepped aboard.  Everything on paper is just that—paper—until you step aboard. 

My heart was pounding as we approached her.  She was brilliantly white, her stainless glistening all over.  She was 46-feet, but she didn’t look too big.  It was a strange revelation Phillip and I both had.  Standing next to her at the dock, she didn’t feel like she was too much boat for us, a feeling Phillip and I both expected we might feel coming from our moderate 35-foot Niagara.  That was comforting. 

It was a little odd meeting Jim for the first time while staying six-feet apart and wearing masks but, despite it, his knowledge and sense of humor easily started to shine through.  Soon it was time to step aboard, a step we had to make carefully as the dock was a bit icy.  The boat, however, Jim had carefully dried and he had the Webasto diesel heater aboard churning, keeping the boat warm and dry.  I remember grabbing a stanchion post to help myself aboard and noticing, when I put all of my weight on it, it did not budge.  Not one bit.  While our Niagara is a solid, well-kept boat, I can wiggle just about every stanchion post on the boat no matter how many times I tighten the screws at the base.  The one on Ubiquitous took all of my mass as if I weighed nothing.  The railing on the back also came up to my hip, much higher than it had on our Niagara.  The tall railing all around the stern felt like a hug.  The cockpit also allowed Phillip and I to easily brace against the opposite seat.  We could each lay down fully on either seat.  The back of the seat was also comfortable (which is not true for us on some other boats, Catalinas in particular with the slanted back is quite uncomfortable for us). 

Then I stepped behind the wheel and was stunned.  “I can see!” I squealed.  Phillip and Jim both gave me an odd look.  But, on our Niagara, standing behind the helm the dodger is right in my line of vision so I would often have to stand with one foot on either seat and bend down to look over the dodger to see, not a position you want to hold for hours on end.  And, when I sat on the Niagara, I couldn’t see well over the companionway.  On Ubiquitous I could see (through massive, tall, supremely clear Strataglass windows) whether I was standing or sitting.  The visibility on the Outbound won my heart as I knew I was going to match Phillip toe-for-toe in handling the boat.  Our vision of cruising is where either of us can fulfill any role at any time.  We truly strive to have two fully competent, equal captains aboard.  So, visibility for me checked a massive item off my list. 

Then I walked forward and I did so without once having to turn to the side, lean out around a shroud, or otherwise try to squeeze past any rigging as I had to do on many of the boats we had boarded during boat shows.  I just walked.  The width of the side decks was impressive.  Then there were granny bars.  I’ve never had granny bars.  I climbed right up with ease and could reach the top of the main and every chalk on the mast. 

And, even though the boat is 46-feet long, a good four-or-so feet of that length is behind you at the helm, so looking forward, she really feels more like a 42.  The Outbound 46 just didn’t feel wildly bigger than our Niagara.  It was exciting.  And, she felt so substantial.  Although the interior below is beyond stunning, it is also impressively strong.  Every handhold felt like a two-inch thick club in my hand and one magically appeared at every point I felt I would need to grab hold.  Doors shut and clicked as if the boat had never flexed in her life.  And, she was cleeaannn.  Almost every bilge locker we opened looked like I could eat my dinner down there.  It was clear the boat had been exceptionally well-maintained. 

And, she struck the right balance of performance and pleasure.  Not only were the decks, hardware, rigging, build, etc. exceptionally substantial, but curling up in the corner of the saloon felt so luxurious.  She was just beautiful, with all the necessary creature comforts: solid surface countertops, fans where you want them, color modes on the LED lights, cedar-lined closets with LED lights inside that come on when you open them.  It was like a five-star hotel.  And, the little features really spoke to me: a separate scupper the anchor chain, the crash-forward bulk-head, keys to lock the engine compartment, locking floorboards, massive stowage under the bed, the locking buttons on all lockers and drawers, curved edges on the countertops so no crumbs gather, a pan at the bottom of the companionway stairs to sweep dirt into, pad-eyes for tethers all over the cockpit.  I could go on, but I’ll stop myself here.

While the many, many complex systems (particularly the lithium battery bank) did have our heads spinning, overall Phillip and I were exceedingly impressed.  I’m not sure Jim had other showings where the potential buyers crawled all over, opened every single hatch, tried to look at and ascertain every hose, every wire, every fuse and switch.  But, Jim was gracious and fun, honest and seemed to enjoy answering our dozens of questions.  Phillip and I had come with a long checklist of items to look at and ask Jim about (literally, an eight-page bullet point list) that Jim cordially walked through with us, beginning to end. 

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We had come to Ubiquitous at 11:00 a.m. on December 31, 2020, and when Phillip and I started walking away from the dock a little after 3:00 p.m. we were shocked that four hours had just passed and it felt like a blink.  We were simply enthralled with her.  Ubiquitous did nothing short of blow our socks off.  As Phillip and I headed back to Calvert House that afternoon, we knew we were definitely going to pursue this boat.  Negotiations still had to be undertaken and compromises made, but he and I didn’t have to discuss much further.  “I want that boat,” we both told each other that night.  Then we did what any good sailor worth his salt should do to commemorate their good fortune and luck.  We ordered up a massive pizza from Fox’s Den, picked up three bottles of red wine at Mills, put on Captain Ron and drank ourselves into a deep sleep, with visions of Ubiquitous dancing in our heads and an exciting, wonderfully new year that lied ahead.

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“Sh*t honey!” Phillip shouted into what had once been library quiet air, spooking a splash of coffee out of my cup. 

“Jesus Christ, what?” I scolded him, while wiping coffee off my lap, not knowing what he had just found.

“I … might have found her,” Phillip said, his voice lifting at the end with just a little too much hope.

By her Phillip meant our new boat, our new home, our new adventure.  In the wake of Covid and Hurricane Sally, with our lives just a bit upended, we hit a tipping point.  Phillip and I decided, rather than overhauling Plaintiff’s Rest to add all the systems we would need for our next chapter—full-time liveaboard cruisers—it made more financial and practical sense to get a newer (either newly built or gently used), slightly bigger boat instead that already had all the complex systems.  And, in our hunt we had settled on the Outbound 46 as the premiere ocean cruiser.

The night before we had fortuitously run into our broker, Kevin, and, looking back, I think seeing him that night was just the nudge we needed to push us just outside of the 35-40-foot limit we had put on our hunt.  Kevin had been really struggling to find a fairly new boat (in that size range with all of the systems we needed and wanted) that was a right fit for us.  It was such a seller’s market at the time with Covid having inspired many others to do that thing they had been only dreaming of for years: buy a boat.  Inventory was incredibly low.  Frankly, Kevin was frustrated.  Phillip was frustrated.  And all signs just seemed to be pointing to the other side of our initial 35-40 foot bubble.  Kevin gave us just the nudge we needed that night to tiptoe over to the “dream boat” list he had previously sent us (that Kevin, he’s a smart broker), which included, all in the 45-46 foot range, a Passport, a Hylas, and an Outbound 46, albeit an older one, 2007, which is just another reason we had not initially given it much thought.

The next morning, Phillip cracked open his laptop first thing and searched on Yachtworld for Outbounds.  Only three came up.  A 2007 somewhere in the Pacific … not ideal.  A 2012 in Annapolis, MD … promising.  And, a 2015, also in Annapolis.  But, out of these three, only one was not under contract.  The 2015, s/v Ubiquitous.  *click* went Phillip.  Minutes later I had a lap full of coffee and Phillip had his eye on a target.  We got Kevin on the phone immediately to see if we could coordinate a hot trip to Annapolis to see Ubiquitous first-hand before she was snatched away!  Once we started looking into the Outbound 46, it became very clear there were two places these boats do not stay: on the dock, and on the market.  They are highly coveted vessels, and for good reason, with exceptional build quality, design, performance, and comfort, all in a moderate-sized ocean-crushing boat. 

That day we also stumbled onto an article John Harries had posted on Morgan’s Cloud (Attainable Adventure Cruising)—a valuable sailor’s resource Phillip had been following for years—offering up a solid review for the Outbound 46, where he wrote, griping about most of the wide, flat-bottom, double-helm modern boats Phillip and I always loathe at the boat shows:

“except for the unpretentious boat lurking between the high-rise condo-marans and the big-assed marina queens. The boat perhaps most noticeable for the lack of a lineup of eager people waiting to be wowed by yet another interior designed to maim the maximum number of crew from nasty falls if she was ever taken offshore. As you will have guessed, that boat was the Outbound 46, and after just one glance I was smitten, a process helped along by knowing that she is from the board of Carl Schumacher, one of the all-time great sailboat designers, who would have become far more well-known if he had not died so young.”

I have to admit, I could feel Phillip tumbling over in that moment.  He has always found Harries’s advice to be well-researched, sound, and (as Harries himself said) unpretentious so I knew his words had really sunk into Phillip’s psyche.  When I read the article, it gave me chills.  I felt like Harries was telling me about my future.  It was a deep breath, fill your lungs day.  Hypnotic, I would say.

I was snapped out of my haze when Kevin pinged back quickly with good news.  The broker listing s/v Ubiquitous was Forbes Horton, a name we had heard often on Andy Schell’s podcast at 59-North.  (Shout-out to Andy and Mia!) Phillip had heard Forbes give an interview on Andy’s podcast and we knew his was a trusted name in the world of brokers, which was a good sign.  We felt Forbes would give it to us straight.  More good news, the owner lived just a short walk away from the dock where Ubiquitous was happily floating and he was retired and free to meet and show her to us at any time.  That day started with a shout and a spill, and it ended with Phillip and I having booked two tickets for a quick trip to Annapolis, Maryland over New Years Eve.  We truly were starting 2021 off on a totally different path! 

Go ahead.  I know you want to.  Drink in this listing.  I give you s/v Ubiquitous.

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