Patiently Waiting

The open ocean was calm, there was not a cloud in the sky and it was hard not to ditch the mooring and find an adventure. It took a while to bail out my dinghy and the rails were a little close to the water line. I pondered buying some sort of pumping device but was content with a sawed off milk jug. A stray stone came a bit too close to Little G and I, while I was bailing her out. It came from some hooligans on the dock and I immediately yelled at them. It was nice to use my authoritative voice on some unsuspecting kids. It made me feel a little less grumpy. They were immediately apologetic and I almost felt bad after. The previous week I found several stones in Little G, most likely from the same kids.

Big G was a happy boat, sitting patiently on the mooring, ready to set sail at any moment. Her bilge was empty, batteries fully charged, cabin dry, and no mildew smell. I could hear kids hollering to each other across the bay and had an overwhelming urge to hose them with a gas powered water pump. Hopefully the manager of the marina will put the garden hose out on the dock soon. I hijacked a pop-tart from my cache and adjusted the mooring line before rowing back to the dock.

 

Cold, White Fog

Seeing as how it was the last weekend my girlfriend and I had off together, we decided to go on an outing to Baker Island. Before embarking from Winter Harbor, I had a chat with the new manager of the marina where Big G is moored. He gave up his life as a farmer to manage the Winter Harbor Marina and he told me all about his plans to make improvements. I had to hold back a little so as not to ruin his spirits. I told him the marina will not make money off yachtsmen because last year I only saw three transient boaters dock at the marina. The ‘Cruising Guide to Maine’ gives it zero stars due to the fact that the view is not that great, there are no amenities, and it is extremely exposed. Waves coming in are sometimes big enough to cause Big G to roll so much that I get tossed around while sleeping, or they capsize my dinghy, which I find mildly aggravating.  I recommended bathrooms, fuel pumps, and an ice machine. I also explained that it is called Winter Harbor because it is only calm in the winter when the winds shift to out of the north.

After picking up Stefanie from Bar Harbor, we slowly made our way to Baker Island with a respectable headwind. Upon arrival, we were hoping to find a mooring but almost all of them had been winterized and there was only a thin rope and buoy marking where they were located. I dropped anchor and paid out a respectable amount of line because we were fairly exposed. After the incident in Bar Harbor when my anchor dragged across the bay, we were a bit paranoid. After the boat shifted about 50 feet, I started the engine and moved to a mooring in rather shallow water that was frighteningly close to some rocks. The mooring said “150 pound mushroom, private”. It seemed a bit risky, but no more than an anchor I suppose, so I tied on to it.

It was a rolly night and, after a sleeping pill, I got a small amount of sleep. The following morning Stefanie was up at an unusually early hour before me, which is rare. She stated that all the anchor/mooring worrying had woken her up and she was unable to go to sleep and was excited to go hunt for sea glass. After lots of complaining and a cup of coffee, we were off on an adventure to find sea glass and explore the lighthouse. I tossed a baby wolf fish back into the ocean that I found in my dinghy. I believe it made its way into the dinghy when I was hauling on mooring lines covered in copious amounts of vegetation looking for something to tie my boat to the previous night.

The catch of the day was a nice purple chunk of sea glass, a small yellow piece, and several handfuls of green. We made our way back to the boat for our traditional Eggs Benedict breakfast, and began our journey back to Winter Harbor.

The sun was having a hard time penetrating the dense fog and anything facing the southeast was getting covered in a cold, white mist. When boredom creeps in, we get creative in ways to entertain ourselves. Most of our time was occupied by dodging buoys and large seaweed patches. The 20 gage shotgun was taken out to see if it still worked after the elements had turned a lot of small parts into rust. We needed something to shoot at. After our trip to Delaware during the winter I had taken all unnecessary, biodegradable objects that would be great for shooting off the boat. We decided on a container of Jiffy Pop that had been on the boat since last summer when some friends came to visit and left it. After looking at the container I deducted there was no plastic in it because it was designed to be put on the stove top. Perfect for skeet shooting. I would also like to state that we were beyond the three mile line, and I was using brass rounds to dispatch this container of Jiffy Pop. The gun was not chambering rounds so I had to manually put each one in the chamber and reloading was quite slow. I missed twice before the Jiffy Pop had drifted into the fog and I could no longer see it floating in the water.

When we got close to Schoodic Peninsula it was like someone flipped a switch and the fog was gone like a wall of white behind us. We killed the engine and lightly sailed down-wind the last couple of miles into the harbor. We caught the mooring without any issues and made our way back to Stefanie’s place before the rain started.

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Picture of Cadillac Mountain with a respectable sized fog bank in front of Mount Desert Island.

The Anchor That Wasn’t

Choosing an anchor is a rather difficult task. It’s like going to the grocery store and making an attempt to find a pasta sauce that meets your cooking needs. What sauce goes well with bow tie pasta, elbow macaroni, fettuccine or whatever? Reviews will say one thing but my cooking needs will say otherwise.  Fortunately, there are only three primary anchor types. However, there are many different bottom types and all anchors have strengths and weaknesses, depending on the bottom.

To review, my previous anchor was swallowed by the Delaware Bay, along with probably a thousand other anchors dating back to the first settlers. Unfortunately, I could not afford any new anchors from the marine store. My options were whatever used anchors Mike had on sale in his garage. I was hoping for a scoop anchor, which I believe is a smarter choice, but there were none of those to be found.

Aside from your engine, and maybe your life raft, the anchor is the single most important tool on a boat and should not be taken lightly.  What I wanted was an oversized anchor and 100 feet of chain. That way, there is no possible chance of dragging, lines snapping, or hauling it up out of the mud by hand. Mike, who is a cautious man, advised against this and sold me a properly sized plow anchor and 5 feet of chain. Since this was about my only option, I took it. I did order 20 feet of chain, which I never saw, except on my yard bill. I have heard that the plow anchor will do just that, it will plow the bottom. I have also heard that plow anchors are better for Maine bottom types.

Upon arriving in Bar Harbor, I was excited for a shower and a hot meal. I tossed the anchor over and paid out what looked like an appropriate amount of rope and rowed ashore to see my girlfriend. The former anchor, which is resting in the Delaware Bay, was a Danforth and I could just throw it over and the boat would pull it into the mud as it drifted around.

A couple of hours later, before going to the movie theater, we checked on the boat to make sure she was safe at anchor. After a moment, I spotted it about a half mile away from where I left it. Big G was very close to Sheep Porcupine Island. I sprung to action and hopped into Little G and began to row as fast as I could. After about 50 yards, I was quite winded and still had a long way to go. I flagged down a lobster fisherman in a skiff and he was kind enough to give me a ride over to my boat. Lobster fishermen may be a little rough around the edges and have a bad reputation, but I have had nothing but good experiences with them and I have not heard of any fishermen ignoring someone in need of assistance.

Upon arrival to Big G, the lobster fisherman waited until I had my engine going before he went back to his mooring. I began hauling my anchor in and it felt about 100 pounds heavier than usual. My anchor had not held on the bottom but it did manage to snag a set of lobster traps. Between the traps and the anchor, Big G had slowed down enough for me to get to her before she hit the rocks that were about 100 feet away. Fortunately, there was no buoy on this set of traps so it did not look like I was hauling up someone’s traps. I untangled the rope attached to the lobster traps, and tied an empty jug to the end so the owner could possibly recover them. It was only fair that I saved the lobster traps since they saved my boat.

I motored to the other side of Bar Island, where it was more protected, and set my anchor for a second time. I was not in much of a hurry this time, seeing as how we had missed our movie. I paid out a 7:1 ratio (7 feet of rope for every 1 foot of depth) , and put Big G in reverse to pull the anchor into the bottom to make sure I was not going to drag again. I was lucky Big G did not hit the rocks or another boat, I am not going to test my luck again. Time for a new anchor, again.

The Marathon, Part II

The greater Deer Isle area is my favorite place to sail. It seems as though there are many islands to explore and it is more protected than average. It was still raining off and on when I departed Stonington after the pit stop for an oil change and a shower. The winds were fair and I was able to shut the engine down and cruise right into Bass Harbor. I fixed my auto pilot, and by fixed I mean I figured out that it has to be in an upright position for it to function properly. I still have no idea how this 80’s auto pilot is still working, it sounds like a maraca when I shake it.

Bass Harbor was a pleasant little cove. I parked Big G right in front of a rather impressive mansion, making their view slightly less impressive. It was tempting to keep on going past Bass Harbor with the fair winds, however it was past happy hour and the cove looked quite inviting.

Day 4 of sailing was a perfect day, the sun was shining and the winds were light. I was about to be back in sweet Bar Harbor by happy hour. There was a bit of a head wind between the Cranberry Isles and Mount Desert Island and I was steaming along at a whopping two knots. I noticed a Coast Guard vessel making its way towards me at about mach 3. This is the moment when I pondered which way to go. Even if one has the right of way it is best to just move aside and not take any chances of getting in the way. I am not a racing vessel and there is enough room out on the ocean for everyone. Lobster fishermen can be difficult at times because they zigzag all over the place and it is hard to predict where they are going and I usually end up getting in their way. The Coast Guard vessel turned towards me and I was unsure which way to go, so I maintained my course and speed. With their duel 250 horsepower engines to my single 14 horsepower engine I was not too concerned about their maneuverability and the channel was quite large. I got more concerned as they approached Big G and slowed down. There was a moment when I thought they were just being courteous so as not to throw a monstrous wake but then their blue lights came on and it was clear they had the intention of boarding Big G.

It was a beautiful day and if I worked in the Coast Guard I would be out during the first day of sunshine in weeks as well. It was the beginning of the season and I imagine they were a little more ambitious than usual. They pulled up along side and asked if I have ever had a safety inspection before and I replied no and two officers climbed aboard for the inspection. It was nice to have the autopilot working so no one had to be at the wheel and they did not even make me stop the boat.  I imagine it was difficult for their vessel for travel at such slow speeds. My girlfriend is to thank for my passing grade on the safety inspection. There was a time when I did not particularly care about safety equipment on the boat because it was just me. After the girlfriend came on board we took an interest in getting the boat up to Coast Guard standards and even a few extras. There are a few things on the boat I need to be conscientious about. My overboard discharge system was not closed and sealed off, and my bilge had some oil in it due to the fact that I just did an oil change and spilled about a tablespoon. I could not find my registration either, which did not seem to bother them, probably because I had the 2017 sticker on the bow. No citations were issued and finally we came to the subject of my 20 gauge shotgun. The officers tone of voice during the inspection was very friendly and their body language quite the opposite. One officer was filling out paperwork while the other was talking to me and conducting the inspection.

The ocean is a very bad environment for firearms due to the fact that the damp salt air rusts them at an alarming rate. I handed the rusty shotgun to the lead officer and he began to check model number and unload the rounds from the chamber. The gun was so rusty it would not even chamber a round. The officer said “Well, I know you are not going to shoot me because I can not even chamber a round”. He began fiddling with it, shaking it upside down attempting to unload the gun. About ten minutes later he had it unloaded and gave some advice on fixing it and told me not to bring it to Canada. His partner was keeping a close eye on me with his left had on the clipboard and the right hand resting on the bail of his side arm holster. After the inspection I managed to locate my registration. It bothered me that I wasn’t able to find it while they were there.

The rest of the day was pretty mellow, I went about enjoying the sunshine and organizing things as I breezed along and made my way to Bar Harbor. The closer I got to my destination the happier I was feeling. It had been a long winter and I was relieved and amazed to be back home again with Big G in one piece.

The Marathon, Part I

The weather was better than the previous week, but not by much. The forecasted winds looked a little too good with west-southwest at 15 to 20 knots and lots of rain. Monday was a late start as usual due to a long drive and my lack of ambition due to the pouring rain. After socializing with the yard folk and trying to find the anchor chain I had ordered weeks ago, I gave up and got under way.

Big G and I made it about four miles to New Harbor in about four hours. It was painfully slow going with head winds and extremely choppy seas out past Pemiquid Point. These are the moments I regret ever buying a boat.  When I pulled into the harbor I found a cozy little cove to tuck myself into for the night and even found a mooring to use. After catching the first mooring and letting my grapple go straight to the bottom of the cove, a fisherman yelled out to me to move to the third one down with the dinghy on it. Usually you don’t take a mooring with a dinghy because it means big bear will be back soon. It was late in the day and I was happy to have direction so as not to upset the locals.  I didn’t even bother attempting to retrieve my lost grapple with my spare grapple and moved on. Catching a mooring alone is no easy task and losing gaffs and grapples is pretty common, at least for me anyway. The fisherman was kind, and I could hardly understand a word he said due to his thick Downeast accent.

Later that night I awoke to the sound of nothing and it was terrifying. Perfectly silent. This has never happened before. There is always something making noise. The boat must be on bottom, I thought, and I got up to take a look around and found nothing out of the ordinary. I suppose it is possible to have a perfectly still boat, but definitely not very likely.

The fog was thick the next morning when we got an early start. My goal was to make it to Isle au Haut (pronounced “i-la-HO”), about 40 miles away, which would be easy with a west-southwest wind at 15 to 20 knots. I was unable to locate these fair winds and alleged small craft advisory. I did however find a northeast head wind at 5 to 10 knots for the majority of the day. The wind shifted out of the west about the time I pulled into Duck Harbor at Isle au Haut, twelve hours later. The worst part was my auto pilot was down and I had to stay at the wheel the whole time. I was so bored staring at fog for twelve painfully soggy hours. Some pretty gold and red finches stopped in to rest. One flew into my cabin and pooped on my jacket, which was a little bothersome. It was comforting to see the moon and stars come out that night as the west winds finally picked up and stomped out the fog. Duck Harbor is unfortunately exposed to west and it got a bit rolly.

Isle au Haut is one of may favorite places in Maine. I went ashore the next morning to stretch my legs. The place reminded of my happier days working as a General Ranger on the remote island. There were no horrible supervisors, just me, a few daily visitors, and five camp sites. Just walking around my old stomping grounds seemed to take the weight of the world off my shoulders for a short period of time.

A leisurely day was in order after the first leg of my marathon trip to Bar Harbor. After my nostalgic moment on Isle au Haut, I made my way up to Stonington for a shower at my friend’s house and a much needed oil change for Humphrey.

 

Fishing For Car Keys

It is safe to assume that if someone owns a boat, they most likely have more patience than the average person. I have been patiently waiting for my boat to go in the water for some time now and was excited to see it on the mooring when I pulled into the boat yard. I arrived later in the day because I was not expecting the boat to be in the water. Mike was kind enough to call his friend to put my boat in because his hydraulic boat trailer has been in pieces for a while. I felt bad he had to call his friend for a favor, but at the same time I am paying him a lot of money and he has one job to do and that is to put my boat in the water.

By the time Tom and I finished rigging Big G it was happy hour so I bailed on sailing anywhere and we enjoyed some hard ciders and wine. The following morning I was up at 6am to start my first day of sailing for the season. The first order of business was to get a dead battery off my boat and into my car. I placed the battery on the rail of Big G and climbed down into my dinghy. The battery, combined with my weight, made the bow of my dinghy go straight under water and I immediately realized I made a terrible decision. It was too late to heave the 150 pound battery back onto Big G so I let it go. The battery and Little G went straight towards the bottom. Fortunately Little G rolled over, dumping the battery, and popped back up. I swam over to the dinghy and grabbed the bow line and tethered it onto Big G before pulling myself out of the water.

It is rather difficult pulling yourself up onto a boat when you are tired and weighed down with wet clothes and boots. One pull-up sounds easy but it can be quite difficult even with a ladder alongside the boat. I pulled Little G out of the water and bailed her out. She sustained some damage to the bow where the battery cleaned out a chunk of the rail when it dumped. In retrospect, this was a terrible idea and I cursed myself as I took my soaking wet clothing off and placed them on the rails of the boat. After placing my pants on the rail, I heard the clink of car keys and a plop into the water. Choice words were then said. I had lost my car key, two post office box keys, and my old man’s house keys.

Things were not looking good for my first sailing day of the season. After some amount of time I managed to grapple the battery by the rope handle and painstakingly lifted it off the muddy bottom, scratching the side of my boat and covering it in mud. A small price to pay for not thinking things through properly. After dropping the battery off and accepting the loss of my keys, I got under way in hopes of getting 10 miles or so before the small craft advisory at 2pm. I sailed out of the bay to Pemaquid Point, a couple of miles out, and was greeted with at 10-15 MPH head wind and respectable swells. I turned right around and went straight back to the mooring. I was not feeling lucky that day.

Seeing as how I now had some time on my hands, I went to see if Tom had a magnet I could use to fish for my car keys. I was not all that disappointed to be back on the mooring, I still had a few things to work on. After acquiring the magnet I began trolling it around the bottom in hopes of catching some keys. At some point it occurred to me that my keys may not be attracted to the magnet because they are stainless or brass. I tested this theory on Tom’s keychain and I was correct. Although the key ring did stick, so there was a chance.

To better increase my chances, I acquired a bigger magnet from Mike and strung them both together, along with a treble hook for good measure. After a couple of hours I just tied the rope to the rail and left it to drag along the bottom as my boat drifted with the tide.

After studying the weather and reflecting on my poor decision making skills, I decided to bail on sailing for the week. Lots of rain and East winds would make for very slow progress, and I wanted to be in Bar Harbor for the weekend so I could be with Stefanie. It was nice to finish a few projects on my boat and to spend a day helping Tom with his boat, so my week was not a complete loss.

Living in the Boat Yard

Living in a boat yard has its charms. It’s nice to be able to walk through the work shop past employees painting, or varnishing, in a towel to use the shower and no one finds this strange at all. I found a bar of soap on my boat from Utches Marina, in New Jersey. It kinda smelled like some sort of solvent mixed with strict USDA regulations and a hint of peppermint. Didn’t particularly care for it all that much. I could tell the shower had not been used in a while due to the pile of cleaning supplies inside as well as a respectable layer of dust.

Tom and I have been keeping each other company while staying at the yard. Each night we have a happy hour and drink whatever alcohol is stored in the bilge, usually a bottle of home made wine or cider. We help each other with various projects and share tools. Tom helped me wire a flood light to the stay spreaders on the mast. Most boats have a steaming light about two thirds up the mast with a 12 watt halogen light for motoring at night. My girlfriend did not think this was bright enough for other boaters to see so she bought two 50 watt, LED flood lights to mount on the spreaders (she was contemplating a bigger one and decided the 50 watt was best). I only mounted one and I am pretty sure if I turn it on at night the boat will be seen for miles and could very well be a navigational hazard. I bolted it on and used wire ties and mousing wire to ensure it would not come down. Stefanie was excited after I completed the project and this made me happy. Mike however, just about slapped me upside the head when he saw my floodlight upgrade. “If the sails luff, it may rip a hole in the jib if it catches on the wire ties”. I told him I will pay attention when tacking or whatever. Unfortunately he is usually right and my jib will probably be swiss cheese by the end of the summer. I think it will be fine though.

I put another coat of wax on the hull and called it good enough. With any luck I will have the boat in the water on Monday the 24th. I am waiting on Mike to get his hydraulic trailer back together. It did not look too promising when I last looked at it. I have spent thousands on my boat in the last few months and want to do more sailing and less waxing.

Wax and Pain

I spent the last two whole days working on my rig, and would even go as far as to say I made some progress. Fortunately my friend Tom, who I had purchased the boat from last year, was also working on his new boat. Tom is an electrician and he gave me some much needed pointers. My girlfriend bought some rather large LED flood lights to mount to the mast spreader in order to light up the deck (so drunk boaters won’t run into us in the middle of the night while we’re at anchor). I was not entirely sure how to wire them in so I went to the owner of the yard, Mike, for advice. He gave me a complicated, long winded answer and after about 30 seconds all I heard coming out of his mouth was white noise.

Tom and I looked at my mast, which was set on a couple of saw-horses, and came up with a simple solution that seemed solid. Fortunately there were already holes in the mast from the former spreader light that was torn out so it did not take too long to snake in new wires and put on connectors.  I still have yet to find a way to mount it. I do not want it falling off the mast and cracking a hole in my boat or my head. I also need to place it in a location where it faces down and does not get caught in the sails.

Tom and I enjoyed happy hour together later that evening when I pulled out a bottle of home-made white wine from my bilge. It is nice to have a friend to talk to when staying at a boatyard. I later put a coat of wax on his already shiny boat to pay for his advice.

After feeling a little jealous about how shiny Tom’s boat looked, I decided to help myself to his cheap power buffer to see if it could tackle years of oxidation and carbon buildup from my engine. About four hours later, I had one side finished and my arms were pulp. The clean shine really brought out all the scratches and dings in the gel coat. It did look better though, much better. I was actually very proud of myself and happy I made my boat look less sad.

Mike seems to like me enough to tease me here and there. I think he went a little overboard when he saw my paint job on the dinghy. I think it looked fine, the only slight issue was that I painted the whole thing with bottom paint. “Hey Tom…Benton painted his whole dinghy with bottom paint!” “What! Awwww!” I specifically remember thinking, who cares what I paint my two hundred dollar dinghy with? It was good enough to cover up my heinous fiberglassing job, and it looked better than before. Who really cares?

Waxing the second half of my boat was not as easy. I bought a new buffing pad so I did not have to use Tom’s and that was a mistake. The new buffing pad seemed to take the cleaner stuff and smear it around and make a mess. After about four hours, I had a blotchy shine on the second half of the boat. I gave up when it started to rain, it did look better in a blotchy, shiny kind of way. Of course this is the side that people see when they drive by the boatyard, which is even better.

 

Firing The Toaster Oven

Summer 2016

I like my girlfriend, I like her so much I got her a toaster oven. Simply put, this statement sounds kinda silly seeing as how I don’t even have a toaster oven in my real life outside my boat. Getting a toaster oven to run on a boat off solar power and batteries in order for me to be able to bake a pineapple upside-down cake or whatever is no easy task.

1100 watts is a lot of juice to pull from a battery for more then 30 seconds and I found myself making a spreadsheet on electricity coming in from the solar panels and engine and what is going out to the toaster oven among other instruments. After doing lots of simple math I came to the conclusion that I needed a 100 amp inline bus fuse. These are quite hard to find in stores but I got one off Amazon and then realized a circuit breaker would be a better idea. I pondered the idea of a circuit breaker but soon realized I was getting in over my head. I blew two of my three fuses by accidentally letting the positive wire touch metal objects.

First order of business was getting an 1100 watt inverter to run straight off the battery. Found one on Amazon and installing it was a little frightening. Anyone can hook up red and black wires. The question is, can you do it with without catching things on fire or overheating the battery? It does not help that my battery bank is about 6 inches away from my diesel tank. A little research showed diesel fumes are not that explosive unless combined with chemicals from an exploding battery. When powering the inverter for the first time I was a little skittish and concerned something was going to spark or catch fire.

After installing and mounting the inverter I began plugging small things into it to see how many watts various items pull. My cellphone and all the LED christmas lights did not even register on the inverter. A small heater about half the size of a loaf of bread pulled a whopping 262 watts. Its enough to warm up my hands and I could run it for an hour before the batteries were low if the engine was not running.

The next question is, how long I can run my batteries before they are dead? (I later tripled the size of my battery bank to three marine D batteries). So we start the engine and run it at on a sunny day and get somewhere in the vicinity of 500 watts output. I somehow estimated this to be 30 minutes of toaster oven. I could make a small pizza, endless happiness. The cake requires 375 degrees for an hour or whatever and I then began doing some slightly more complicated math in an attempt to figure out at what temperature is the toaster oven most energy efficient for best cooking results. High temperature for short periods or lower temperature for longer?

To get that additional 30 minutes we have a few options. 1) I could buy a generator and be done with it. Not my first choice, kinda loud and bulky, although not any louder than my engine. 2) Double the size of my battery bank, which I eventually did and still could not run the toaster oven. Then I started asking myself where to draw the line on this toaster oven. I like my girlfriend and she likes my boat and I want to keep it that way. We also started talked about a small fridge at one point (300-ish watts).

I find it rather refreshing to think about to be honest. When I visit with family and friends it is the same old issues, we need a better job, a bigger house, a partner, a car, health insurance, and the list goes on. My biggest problem at this moment in time is powering a toaster oven so we can make a cake.

About a month after the request, I plugged the toaster oven in and it would shut the inverter off at about 300 watts. After talking with an electrician we came to the conclusion that the inrush current was too high and the wire connectors need to be soldered. I almost got a coffee maker to work, if it hit 500 watts I think it may have been fine.

Today the toaster oven sits in our apartment and we complain about it because it does not make toast fast enough.

Spring Repairs

It’s nice to feel Spring breaking free from the grips of Winter. Any time I see sunshine I move to the window and sit in the sunbeam to help ward off seasonal melancholy. Motivation is hard to come by these days, and I have relied on staring out over the bay on a calm, mildly warm day imagining how nice it would be to not worry about time and meander my way up the coast. It’s the small things in life.

There will be some nice weather next week and I think I will spend a couple days on my boat getting everything ready. It took skill to fit a vintage bicycle, the boat dodger, a sail and all the clothes I own into my car. A rather odd combination of things if one did not know I owned a boat.  My friend Tom will also be at the boat yard working on his rig and I may attempt to do a little labor bartering. I’m hoping I can help him turn some wrenches in exchange for his expertise on wiring some lights into my mast.  There will come a point where I will just put it in the water regardless and work on things while under way. If the boat floats, the sails and engine work, what else do you really need?