carrabelle river – Have Wind Will Travel

The Whole World … and Only Carrabelle’s Got It

November 25, 2014November 24, 2014anniedike

May 7, 2014:

If we were trying to avoid an aerial bomb strike, you would think coming in under nightfall, might be a good idea. But, I’ve said it several time before and don’t mind repeating it — we do not like to come into a pass at night, and we try to avoid it on every occasion. Unfortunately, with the absolute lack of wind and continued motoring throughout the night, we were slated to make it to the East Pass into Apalachicola Bay a little earlier than we had intended – around 4:00 a.m.

Not yet daylight. So, we bobbed around in the Gulf for about an hour to allow the sun to rise, so we could safely see all of the markers and make it into the Bay.

There she comes! And, see?? With the sun, we can SEE the markers!

We could see land, too! We had left Venice around 10:00 a.m. two days prior and had made it safely once again across the Gulf of Mexico. No small feat.

It was unfortunate that we’d had to motor most of the way. 36 out of the approximate 43 hours were spent with our engine churning away under the cabin. Ironically, that’s about the exact same way we made the Gulf crossing the last time from Clearwater to Carrabelle. An approximate 36-hour engine run, and the heroic hacking-off of the dinghy mid-Gulf. Like I said — crossing the Gulf without issue — no small feat. But, this time we were determined not to the let the 36-hour motor-crossing get the best of our old Westerbeke. If you recall, the year prior, the daunting motor across the Gulf of Mexico had unexpectedly drained our engine of her last drop of transmission fluid and she locked up the next day as we were trying to motor out of the Carrabelle River … the tight, narrow, obstacle-lined river. Fine time to lose engine power. We vowed this time once we got her docked safe and secure in Carrabelle, the first part of that boat that was going to get some good ole TLC was the engine! That is, of course, after the crew got some sleep.

We made it into the river just fine this time during the day. It was nostalgic for me to come back in and see it now, as a somewhat experienced sailor, and remember how I had viewed it then during that first Gulf Crossing and my very first passage on a sailboat, period. I realized how oblivious I had been the year before to everything that was going on. Markers, depth, wind, current. Not that I was sitting around painting my nails or anything, I had spent a good part of that trip taking care of our overtly sea-sick Second Mate, helping Phillip to the best of my ability and cooking and cleaning, but I didn’t really have much involvement in the actual sailing. Well, this time I did. It was Phillip and I. That was it. And, we were coming in to dock once again at the Moorings Marina.

I knew this time, as well, from our first entry into the Carrabelle River, that you have to stay to the right of the river. And, by right, I mean waaaayy over to the right, almost hugging the docks on the starboard side. Last time, we had come in under nightfall and run aground just after the bend in the river. Right … about … here:

I know. The Carrabelle River had not been good to us last time. We were hoping for some better River karma this time around.

And, thankfully, the River welcomed us with open arms.

We made it in around 9:00 a.m. stayed to the RIGHT of the river and clear of the bottom, fueled up, docked up and went immediately to sleep. We’d been two days at sea, on two-hour night shifts two nights in a row, had survived multiple encounters with creepy Gulf alien vessels and an aerial bomb strike. Needless to say, we were tired!

But, the minute we woke, our first order of business was the engine. That run across the Gulf had certainly burned up a good bit of her precious black gold. Our faithful Westerbeke got a complete oil drain and change that day, which, thanks to the nifty hand-pump canister we picked up from the Back Door Marine Supply Guy in St. Pete, we were able to do easily and cleanly on the boat.

Our previous owner, Jack, also converted the old horizontal oil filter mount to a vertical one to avoid the messy oil dump into the bilge when the filter is removed.

Now ours spins in vertically and sits upright, making the entire process easier and cleaner.

Thanks Jack!

We also checked and topped off all of the other fluids, the transmission fluid – of course! – we check that now before every crank, and the coolant. It felt good to give the Westerbeke some love after she’d carried us all the way to Carrabelle, yet again. We also gave the boat a good scrub-down from bow to stern. While we had motored most of the way across the Gulf, the half-a-day we’d spent trying to get out in the Gulf initially in 4-6 foot, head-on waves had laid a pretty thick coat of salt on the boat. You could see and feel salt everywhere – on the deck, the lifelines, the stanchions. It was like Plaintiff’s Rest, on the rocks. We scrubbed every inch and polished her up, head to toe.

After tending to the boat, we then turned our attention to the crew. It was time for a feeding. We showered up and hit the town. Yes, the hustling, bustling big city of Carrabelle! We knew, from the multiple weekend trips we had made to Carrabelle last year when our boat spent six weeks in the River having a new transmission put in, that the happening spot in Carrabelle was Fathom’s.

Or, we were at least partial to it. Our mechanic, Eric’s, family owned the bar/restaurant and we had stopped there for some incredible fresh oysters and beer before heading out last time to make the trip from Carrabelle home to Pensacola.

Can’t believe I said “I’m not really an oyster person” in that post … The Keys have changed me!

Fathom’s has a great custom-built boat-bar and the perfect outdoor deck seating right on the waterfront.

Last time we were there, we could see our boat right across the way!

Have you ever seen anything so beautiful? No, you haven’t.

And, we had occasionally heard some great live music streaming across the River from Fathom’s when we were there, working on the boat. We knew the next time we made it back to Carrabelle on our boat, we wanted to spend at least one evening eating our fill of fresh oysters and catching the live band at Fathom’s. We figured it would play out very much like a scene at Pirate’s Cove – a lot of local riff raff providing some high quality, free entertainment.

The Riff Raff cast from the Cove – November, 2013.

Since Fathom’s was on the agenda for the evening, we popped into the first restaurant we came across on our Carrabelle outing – The Fisherman’s Wife – for lunch. A fitting name for your typical quaint country restaurant. It reminded me of the little diner my grandma (Big Mom) used to take us to on Sundays – Doris’s Diner. The kind of place that keeps heaping condiment baskets on the table, complete with a sticky syrup dispenser, because they always seem to serve pancakes, and the waitresses can pull pens out of their poofy Peg Bundy hair like magic to take your order on a flip pad. I felt right at home! And, the Fisherman’s Wife did not disappoint. They served us up some incredible onion rings, a heaping salad and sandwich combo for lunch.

We walked lunch off down the main strip and found some pretty interesting highlights along the way. Like this little gem – the Carrabelle Junction!

An old fifties-style ice cream shop chock full of antique toys, trinkets and signage.

I love stuff like that. You’re always bound to see an old toy you used to play with sitting on the shelf and the memories flood you.

This one reminded me of the old Gumby & Pokey figurines I used to play with. You know, back when toys didn’t need any bells or whistles or lithium batteries.

Hours of entertainment …

Which is exactly what we found poking (and gumbing!) our way along the downtown Carrabelle strip. It doesn’t take much for us, though. We seem to find just about the same level of entertainment in tiny little rustic towns like Carrabelle and Apalachicola as we do New York City. It’s all in your level of expectation and your openness to truly explore new places – the quaint or the common. As fate would have it, we found something in Carrabelle that you can’t find anywhere else in the world. The world!? Yes, the world. Without Googling, do any of you faithful followers know what it is?

May 24, 2013 – The Crossing Finale – A Trail of Tears

September 3, 2013December 30, 2013anniedike

We woke Thursday morning to the sound of gerbils. Angry, evil, little warbley gerbils. (Yes, that’s a word. If it in any way conveyed the throat-rattling, turkey gobbler-like sound they made, it did it’s job. It’s a word). You might think gerbils are these cute, cuddly little creatures, all soft and innocent, but I’m here to tell you they’re not.

They’re loud, mangy, annoying little boogers that woke us up at 5:15 on Thursday morning. Or, whatever it was sure sounded like gerbils, at least how I would imagine they would sound, if four of them were stuffed in a sock together, all wrestling and rabid. For your benefit, I tried to capture the lovely sound that morning so you could truly understand. Listen very closely:

http://youtu.be/1J0GBY2HB4A

And I would apologize for the language, but it was early and they were annoying and we are sailors, so … I make no excuses.

Okay, so you have probably figured out by now that they weren’t gerbils. They were birds. Angry birds.

I’ve since learned this particularly noisy breed tends to inhabit lots of marinas and they like to wake you up at four in the friggin’ morning with their warbley, sock-wrestling mating calls. Effin gerbils!

And, just as an interesting aside (so you get the benefit of all my hard blogging work), every time I Googled for images of gerbils, Richard Gere kept popping up. Yes. The actor. Richard Gere. I mean, every time! There were even pictures of him with gerbils.

I know … creepy, right? Which is why I decided to look into it. And, you gotta love Google because I found this little gem. Enjoy:

http://urbanlegends.about.com/od/celebrities/a/richard_gere.htm

Richard … you old dog, you! And, to add icing on this glorious cake (and this will be my last mention of ole’ Richard, I swear), Phillip got a big kick out of the fact that I had never heard this “gerbil rumor” before and had to conduct an independent investigation. I guess my age is showing. As several of you reminded me after my last post, I am, in fact, younger than MTV (http://www.cnn.com/SHOWBIZ/Music/9807/31/encore.mtv/).

So, the angry birds did deny us a nice, leisurely rousing that morning, but it wasn’t too much of a sacrifice as, if you recall, we had planned to wake up early and get under way before sunrise. Gerbils, or birds or angry roosters, we were ready to jump out of the v-berth regardless and get our beautiful boat a-goin’.

We checked the fluids: gas, oil, coolant and transmission fluid (of course!). Like I said, we will never again, until our little sailing hearts stop beating, NOT check the transmission fluid before we crank the engine. Whether it’s been a half hour or four days, we want to see that dipstick coated in sweet, pink nectar before we’ll even thinking about turning the engine over. So, with the fluids in check, we readied the sails and tossed the lines and headed out into the Carabelle River. We puttered along (knowing full well this time which side of the river to stay on http://havewindwilltravel.com/2013/07/08/april-17-23-2013-the-crossing-chapter-seven-right-of-the-river/) and made it out into the Gulf right at sunrise. And it was like she rose just for us:

Or it seems that is how sailing can make you feel sometimes. Like the world is spinning just for you.

And, this time it was just Phillip and I. Me and the captain, off on our first couples cruise. I was feeling like one incredibly lucky gal. I mean, could life really get any better?

Perhaps just a little, with a warm mug of heavenly hazelnut coffee I suppose, but just a little.

We brewed up some coffee and enjoyed the sunrise, and the sail, and the feeling of finally having her back out there in blue waters, headed home. There wasn’t much wind, so we were motoring most of the morning, but I could have spent all day in that cockpit, holding the helm, or curled up with a book (or my laptop!) just watching the water float by. I was perfectly content. But, that’s why I’m only the first mate and Phillip is the captain. Thankfully, he had the wherewithal to think to check on the engine. I mean, she had been sitting for a month, she just had a new transmission put in, and we had been running her for about an hour and a half.

Phillip gave me the helm and went down below to see how things were looking under the “hood,” which in our boat, is akin to looking under the sink. In order to access the engine on the Niagara, this “L-shaped” piece that houses the sink pulls back to give access to the engine, like a-so:

In place:

Pulled back:

And, the cool part is the sink hoses are all long enough and run in a manner that doesn’t require any unhooking, etc. to pull the sink back. You just pull it back, lean it gently against the table (we put a pillow in between to cushion it), do your business under the “hood,” then tilt her back down gently in place, and the sink is none the wiser. It’s really quite handy and, unlike many other boats which require removal of covers, plates, hatches, screws, etc. to get to the engine, this little “flip-top” contraption makes for very easy access when you’re underway. I tell you all of this because it was a feature we were about to become incredibly familiar with and incredibly thankful for.

As I held the wheel, I could hear Phillip down below pull the sink back, set it against the table and click on a flashlight to take a look at the engine. I saw his light moving in and around the engine and I could hear him wiggling some things and tinkering around. I wouldn’t have thought much of it had his silence not continued for just a little too long. Minutes passed and he he didn’t pop his head up and give me a thumbs up, or say “Everything looks great,” or “Good to go,” or anything like that. He was just quiet. Too quiet. I wanted to ask him how everything was going, but I knew he’d tell me when it was time, and a part of me didn’t want to know. I was perfectly content to sit up there at the wheel, watching the water dance by, pretending we didn’t even have an engine, or fluids, or any of that.

Engine? What engine? I’m just sailing along up here. Doop-de-doo:

But, Phillip finally raised his head in the companionway and gave me the exact look I was fearing. Something was wrong. He told me to put on the auto-pilot and summoned me down. I came down the stairs, and he handed me the flashlight without saying a word, which worried me even more. Although after the initial leg of The Crossing, I was certainly far more familiar with the engine than I was before, I was no diesel mechanic. If the problem was obvious enough for me to SEE with my naked eye, it was probably bad. And … it was. Underneath the engine and slithering on down to the bilge was a bright, pink trail of fluid.

Phillip and I were hoping it was just some of that famous Westerbeke Red paint Mechan-Eric had sprayed on the transmission to make it match the rest of the engine.

No, big deal. Just some paint. Surely that’s it. But, as it always seems, life can never be that simple. Having run the old transmission slap out of fluid the last time, we were all too familiar with that pink viscous liquid to be pretty darn sure what was trickling out of our engine was more likely than not transmission fluid. Phillip showed me what he had found during his wiggling and tinkering,

The leak:

Little red drops kept forming, one after the other, under the shifter arm, and falling to a grey grave below in the bilge. There was no denying it. Our brand new, bright red, painfully expensive transmission was leaking. We were two hours from Carrabelle, twelve hours from our next stop, with little wind and only a half quart of transmission fluid to get us anywhere. I felt like I could have cried too, a little red trail of tears right down to the bilge.

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 20, 2013 – Play Some Skynyrd!!

August 23, 2013December 30, 2013anniedike

So, the last leg of The Crossing. The final push. The last mile. The home stretch. This was it. After a month sitting stagnant in the lonely waters of the Carrabelle River, we finally got word our boat was ready to come home. Mechan-Eric called on Monday to let us know he was expecting the transmission on Tuesday and would be installing it on Wednesday. “That’s great,” we said. “We’re coming Thursday.” And so the feverish planning began. Phillip and I had talked to some friends about helping us make the last leg of the passage back, but it seemed no one could get away for another 5-6 day trip … Except ME!!! I felt like Gladys at the Senior Citizen’s Dance – just dying for Phillip to Pick me! Pick me!

I’d learned a lot on The Crossing and felt like I had really earned my stripes. I was ready. Put me in coach! As true as that may have been, I had certainly proven myself sea-worthy on the first leg of The Crossing (or so Phillip told me while he gave me an “atta girl” pat on the head), the sad truth was I was the only one available. I was his only hope, so I got the position by default:

Fine by me. That meant I was going!

So we started planning. We decided to leave on a Thursday (May 23rd), via a ride from our ever-faithful sail groupies (aka Phillip’s folks), enjoy a final leisurely stroll with them through downtown Apalachicola on Thursday afternoon, crash on the boat that night and get up Friday morning to make the first passage to Panama City, about a 24-hour run. We were going to decide then whether we wanted to stop in PC for the night or just keep trucking across the Gulf to Pensacola.

We started making another provisions list (you remember the beast of a list we put together for the initial Crossing: http://havewindwilltravel.com/2013/05/19/april-12-2013-purchase-and-pork-planning-and-provisions/), planning out our meals, checking our inventory of equipment. Making lists and checking them twice, basically. Since we were a little more comfortable with the boat (and figured with just the two of us, minus one mouthy second mate, it would be a bit quieter this time), we planned to bring a few more leisure items this time – books, the Kindle, the ukes, etc.

Wait. Record scratch. Errrhhht. The whats?!?! You heard me. The ukes. Ukeleles.

Little four-stringed guitar wannabe instruments that are great for the beach or the boat or just about anywhere your little uke-ing heart desires to play them. You’ve heard them, I’m sure, in many Jack Johnson numbers, but I think Eddie Vedder really gave them that rock star sizzle.

Oh, and there was also that Hawaiian guy with the rainbow song:

Whatever Iz name is. Ha ha. I kill myself some times.

My blog, my cheesy jokes. I get to laugh if I want to.

Phillip actually got a uke first after several of his friends started bringing them to the beach to pick around on while waiting for the wind to blow. Turns out, picking on a uke is much better than picking gnats and flies off each other while you’re sitting around waiting for the wind to blow. Once he got one, I was destined. We started out with some Mraz:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XoHw-hqiJHA&sns=em

Then graduated to some classic rock:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Dp-F7nWZGmw&sns=em

I mean, who doesn’t like Marshall Tucker Band? Seriously? I can tell you these classy folks right here do.

We hit the town for some post-uke session drinks after the filming of that fine Marshall Tucker number. We were the ones in the back of the bar, PBRs in hand, shouting “Play some Skynyrd!”

Yep, real classy.

Phillip and I are certainly not headed for a record deal anytime soon, but we don’t really care. We just have a good time plucking and a-playing.

Besides my heart’s still set on Broadway. I think my pal Lucy and I got a real shot!

https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?v=4992095483331

Ahh … the things I post on the internet for your sheer entertainment. You can thank me later – or better yet, thank Lucy. She rocked that number!

So, with the ukes and our musical ambitions on board, we set our sights on Apalachicola and getting our boat home. Finally. The big trip was just two days away and we were beyond excited! I mean, could life get any better??

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 9, 2013 – Plaintiff’s Rest Unplugged!

August 8, 2013December 30, 2013anniedike

We woke up the next morning to a hot, stuffy boat. The fans we had blowing on us during the night, our “boat AC” if you will, weren’t running and we were sweating like two prostitutes in church. The fridge wasn’t cold either so a nice, refreshing glass of OJ was out of the question, too. What kind of five-star operation was this? Pretty Woman got better treatment than this, and she was an actual prostitute! Phillip went up to check on the cord and, sure enough, Plaintiff’s Rest had most definitely been unplugged:

Ours is the sad, little unplugged one on the bottom.

We had been operating under the assumption that our boat would remain plugged in while the folks at the marina were working on it, which is why we had left the fridge running. Don’t want the caviar and Cristal to go bad. Well, you know what happens when you assume … There we were – two asses baking on the boat.

It could have been our boat neighbor, good ole’ Tenille, who unplugged us so he could run a belt sander or beer fridge or something, or one of the mechanics or some other boat that pulled up. We eyed everyone around us suspiciously, but the truth was we had no way to know who dunnit and it didn’t matter anyway. It was already done. The batteries had run clean out. We plugged her back in so she could recharge and started packing up to get back home.

If you recall, we had taken the Genny sail down so we could re-sew the sail cover. Now, the sailing newbies out there (trust me, I used to be one) may be scratching your head. What on earth does that mean? Let me drop some sailing knowledge on you. So, the Genny (short for genoa sail) is the headsail on the boat.

It’s called the headsail, or foresail, because it’s for-ward, up near the “head” (the bow) of the boat, as opposed to the back (the stern). The Genny is furled (really fancy sailing term for ‘rolled up around’) the forestay, which is the wire that runs from the mast down to the front of the boat. In the previous photo, she’s pulled out, and here, she’s furled up:

Now, you may be thinking: Well, how do you pull her out and roll her back up? Great question. With your teeth! I’m kidding (but that may explain some scraggly pirate grills out there …

No, you do it the same way you handle all sails on the boat – with lines (another real fancy word for rope!). So, you have lines (ropes) that pull the Genny out, either to the starboard side or to port

You see them here, one going to either side of the boat.

You then secure them on either the port or starboard side with big wenches in the cockpit. You remember these (they debuted in several of The Crossing photos):

And you roll (furl) her back up with one line that runs back to the cockpit and it spins the drum you see here at the base of the Genny to roll her up:

Ahhh … learning. Wasn’t that fun? Reminds me of the good old days of PBS and “The More You Know!”

Oh, and Reading Rainbow circa 1983.

And if his pink ski jacket and knitted fingerless racquetball gloves (hot!) didn’t take you back, this certainly will: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SQcItttVuRY.

So, the UV cover on the Genny is the green trim you see here:

That covers the entire sail when it’s rolled up to protect it from UV damage when it’s not being used.

The cover on our Genny had begun to tear and flap during The Crossing which meant we needed to sew her back down to be sure our Genny was getting adequate protection from the sun. Nobody likes a burnt Genny.

So, we packed the sail up and took it over to our trusty broker’s house for some hard-core Martha Stewart action with the sewing machine. Did somebody say Sew Party?!?! Yes, please!

Roll that fabulous footage:

Yep, that’s exactly what you think it is. A big ass sail we dragged into Kevin’s foyer.

Kevin was a rockstar with the sewing machine.

After we (well, I should say Kevin – he did all the real work) got her all stitched up, we dragged her out to the front lawn to properly flake her.

In other words, fold her up right – like so:

It took some thinkin’

More on my part than the boys. But that didn’t stop me from telling them how to do it (never does!):

But we got it done and shoved her back in the Prius till we could get her strung back up on the boat.

Then, as one always must do after sewing festivities, we engaged in a rousing arts and crafts session with Kevin and Laura’s little cutie – Kai (beautiful name by the way – it’s Hawaiin for ‘Ocean’ – he’s clearly got sailor’s blood).

Did someone say Sticker Party?!? Yes, please! Let’s face it – pretty much anything that ends with “party” is going to be a ‘yes’ in my book!

Anyone who can rock a Sponge Bob sticker on the forehead gets a kiss from yours truly!

Great fun was had by all and it was very productive. We got the sail cover fixed and we thanked Kevin, Laura and Kai by leaving them with an original, signed hand-made Annie sticker masterpiece.

So good it kind of blows your effin’ mind, right? I know. I get that a lot … They can hock that puppy once I die and make some real dough!

But, we had one major problem. As we were telling Kevin about the boat and the battery situation, he laid some nasty news on us. Apparently, it is not good at all to run the batteries on the boat completely down. Turns out simply plugging her back in doesn’t always work. Once they’re run completely out, they sometimes can never be charged back up, or if they do charge up, they can’t hold the charge. Kevin was worried our batteries might never recover.

I tell ya … with boats … if it’s not one thing it’s a damn-nother.

We still had one more leg of The Crossing to make (about a 48 hour sail total) to get her from Carrabelle back home to Pensacola, and if the batteries were toast, we were going to have to throw a new batch in along with a transmission. So, we needed to know exactly what kind of state our batteries were in – sooner, rather than later. We jumped back in the car the next day and drove our happy behinds back to Carrabelle to check on the boat … yet again.

Nice action shot of Phillip making the drive – all serious and Japanese anime-like. Go, go Speed Racer!!!

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 29, 2013 – Oh the Irony!

July 29, 2013December 30, 2013anniedike

While I could easily entertain you with what we did that weekend, the food we ate, the movies we saw, all with cleverly-timed quips and supporting Google images, this is, in fact, a sailing blog, and I imagine (scratch that, I know – because several of you have pestered me about it) you all are far more curious about the boat and what the heck is going on with the engine than anything else. Well … join the club. The boat was our main concern too.

Thankfully, Mechan-Eric called on Monday and said he had found the problem. It was the transmission. Of all things. Turns out we had run it completely out of fluid and it over-heated and locked up. While we certainly appreciated the news, it was not well received by the lawn mower focus group. We were still standing around scratching our heads:

The transmission?!? That thing ain’t got no transmission!

(And, just for fun – check out this creative bunch of eligible bachelors):

Some people clearly have too much time on their hands. They must write blogs or something.

We really were surprised by the diagnosis, though. I mean, like a car, the transmission fluid is not something you regularly check on a boat. At least not as much as the oil or the coolant. And, we’d had a survey done just a few weeks prior (which we assumed had entailed checking the fluids). We had also had no problems with the transmission – no issues shifting gears – no sign at all that the transmission was struggling. Like I said before, that engine ran perfectly, up until the moment it didn’t run at all. So, needless to day, it was incredibly irritating to find the reason we had to call The Crossing and leave the boat docked up at a diesel mechanic’s marina in Carrabelle was a lack of transmission fluid because: a) it’s super cheap, like a buck forty-nine a jug or something, and b) we had some on the boat anyway.

What’s worse – and this is Mitch’s ultimate redemption – when Phillip was checking the fluids that fateful morning (the oil, the coolant, the gas, etc.) he asked Mitch to hand him the engine oil so he could top it off, and Mitch had inadvertently handed him the transmission fluid instead.

Yes, irony – the opposite of wrinkly. And, when used in a sentence:

No, Doug, I don’t think your elbow handshake is awkward at all, I just want to know how Ted here got his shirt so crisp and irony.

While that usage is fun (obviously I’ve had a little too much fun with it), I meant it just as Alanis intended, like rain on your wedding day. When we looked back on it, we couldn’t believe Mitch had almost saved the day. Almost. But, more so, we couldn’t believe we had run the thing slap out of fluid. Really?? Thirty-eight cents worth of that pink nectar dumped in there and it would have saved us? But, we learned a very valuable lesson. Always, ALWAYS, check all (and I do mean ALL) of the fluids before you crank the engine. We do it every time now – even the transmission fluid.

Of course, that is now. This was then. And, we were looking at shelling out another $2,500 for a new transmission (not to mention the labor to have it put in). Kind of sucks, don’t you think?

And yeah I really do think.

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 25, 2013 – Oh, Go Fly a Kite!

July 23, 2013December 30, 2013anniedike

So, we left the boat in Carrabelle and made the last leg of the trip back to Pensacola in some non-descript Ford Festiva-like rental car. And, poor car, if my best recollection of it was some model that could only aspire to the level of a Ford Festiva. I mean, perhaps they’re not that bad.

Okay, it seems they are that bad. But, it couldn’t have been a Festiva, because Mitch would have looked like this in it:

But, we did get a rental from the Apalachicola airport/car-rental/coin-operated laundry mat, and the guy who brought it to us turned out to be not only the airplane mechanic but also a pilot, the air traffic controller and a rental car extraordinaire. They really know how to double up in ole’ Apalach. But, the drive back was long and lackluster. We were leaving the boat behind. With no answers. No timeline. No clue as to what was even wrong, how long it was going to take to get her fixed or (worse) how much it was going to cost.

So, Phillip and I did what we do best: found solace in the wind. We got a great kiting session in that week while waiting for word on the boat. And, you might be thinking … kiting?? Awww, in a wispy, wheat field with a rainbow kite?

All father and son-like? How sweet!

No, not Hallmark kiting. Really? We’re talking kite-boarding. Some real bad ass stuff. If you’ve never heard of it, seen it or been introduced to this fine sport, this is what I’m talking about:

Kite-boarding. Here’s a video to give you a real flavor: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a3cGHmCslxs.

It’s kind of awesome. Phillip’s been doing it for years and (while I’m completely impartial and unbiased – Phillip who??), he’s pretty freaking amazing at it.

No, that is not photo-shopped. He’s just that good. Neither is this:

That is totally me. Big, long lesbian shorts and all. Okay, it’s not, but I hope it will be, soon (minus the WNBA outfit). Phillip’s been teaching me, and I’ve got about 4-5 lessons under my belt. Kiting is definitely not a hobby for the impatient. The learning curve is steep and it takes a while to get any good at it (if you ever get good at all). Plus, it’s hard to line up the weather, the wind and the opportunity to drop everything and run to the beach for a session. It’s a perfect past-time for total beach bums, and we’re just not quite there … yet.

But, let me tell you a little bit about it because you’re going to hear plenty about it on this blog and I don’t want you conjuring that Hallmark image again. As Phillip explained it to me, kiting is a lot like wake-boarding, except you’re both riding the board behind the boat and driving the boat at the same time. The kite is your power, which means flying the kite is the most important part. Even when you’re getting smacked in the face with waves, you’re being dragged across the ground, you’ve lost your board, your shades, your dignity and all hope, you must still, at all times, fly the kite. And cursing the kite for not doing what you want it to do is also a futile endeavor. It is always operator error. YOU are in control of the kite.

So, harnessing the wind. The kite is flown in what is called the “wind window”:

Think of it as a big bowl over your head, cut in half. The wind is to your back, and the top of the bowl, right above your head is “noon” with the edges of the wind window to your left (9 o’clock) and your right (3 o’clock). These are the areas where the wind essentially blows across the kite and it doesn’t have any real power. But, once you fly the kite down into the bowl the kite’s going to have enough power to pull you to Cuba. This is known as the “power zone”:

Once you’ve mastered the art of flying, you can then hop in the water, strap a board to your feet (while the kite’s at noon) and then fly it into the power zone (preferably around 10:00 or 2:00) to pull yourself up onto a plane and take off. Sounds simple, right? Trust me, it’s not. The “water start” (getting up on the board) is usually the hardest part to learn and takes many lessons to master. But, then that’s just cruising along the water. There’s a whole world of hops, jumps, tricks and flips to master after that. For a preview, here’s the one-and-only Jeremie Tronet showing us all what we will never be able to do on a kite-board:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c03DUkKXJuE. And yes, ladies, he’s a total French hottie – Google him and enjoy.

But, Phillip (in particular) and I are definitely avid kiters and love to get out any time the wind blows. We certainly won’t be getting any kite endorsements soon, but we can hold our own:

Some rudimentary footage of Phillip surfing right into shore: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1bjxHCABD1M&feature=youtu.be

And me – now having mastered the water start (hooray!): http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yVrKza2r–k&feature=youtu.be

Kiting most definitely rocks. And, it at least gave us a nice distraction from our sailing withdrawals while the boat sat in a watery grave four hours east of us in Carrabelle. The mechanic (Eric, not Bailey) was still in the process of taking the engine apart and diagnosing the failure. We had no idea what he was going to find or how big of a problem it was going to be. We braced ourselves for the possibility of having to replace the whole engine. *gulp* In the meantime, we strapped on some kites and caught some air (while we still had enough money to take the time off from work).