New Year's Resolutions

Hey Everyone!
As you consider making New Year's Resolutions,
take 20 minutes to watch The Story of Stuff
What do you suppose an alpaca's new year's resolution is?
If you have an idea, leave it as a comment, we'll see how many we can come up with and I'll forward them to the alpaca farm here on the Vineyard and see if they happen in 2008.

Haulout 2007

What started as a long Thanksgiving weekend project turned into a 3 week project, due to weather, fume-induced sickness, added tasks such as reefing out old seams and putting in new cotton and seam compound, and attempts at perfection, which are near impossible on an old wooden boat.

Rick twirls the cotton to be pounded into the seams.

Some of High Country's seams had very little cotton left and seam compound that flaked away with a touch. That would explain the excessive leaking when on port tack last summer. Here, Rick uses a caulking mallet to pound in new cotton, to be followed with a soaking of red lead paint, then some seam compound.

Notice the very clear, blue-green water, almost Caribbean-like.

A nice day on the sunny side of the boat finds us having a quick lunch of jalapeno, chicken, potato soup before putting the first coat of bottom paint over the thin coat of red lead paint.

We like to use different colors for each coat of bottom paint for two reasons. The first reason is that then you are less likely to have "holidays" as you're painting and the second reason is then you can see when each coat has worn away and it's time to repaint.

We finished just in time. It snowed a beautiful snow the next day.

View of Vineyard Haven Harbor.


No pictures of High Country "splashing" because I was subbing in school when she slid back down the railway. She'll sit at a town mooring for the rest of winter, along with the rest of the wooden fleet, of which there are many here.
Next project: wooding the masts.

How I spent my Thanksgiving Vacation

High Country awaits her first haulout on a marine railway. With the last nor'easter, sand got washed over part of the railway, making it impossible to haul her until the tide came in a bit more.

Her bottom was the dirtiest it's ever been (sorry, no pictures, I'd gone home by then). We made the mistake of using cheap paint last year (I knew as soon as I picked up a can of the stuff that it would never do, very light) and we've been paying for it ever since with bi-weekly scrubbings while in these cold northern waters. Of course, since about September, we sort of let it go, figuring we weren't going anywhere for awhile. We'd been planning to wood the bottom in the spring, but Nat suggested the fall, since the yard and railway get busy in the spring. With the approaching holiday weekend, we realized it would be a great time to do the work, hopefully while everyone was away so we didn't have to fumigate everyone.


High Country finally gets hauled, not without mishap. With only two guys doing the hauling, there wasn't enough communication and HC's bowsprit got very intimate with Ayuthia's mizzen boom gallow.


Keeping the bum and toes warm. We just heard that it's been unseasonably cold for the Vineyard at this time of year. Figures.


In between burning the paint off the bottom, Rick repaired the damage to Ayuthia, whose owner was expected to arrive back on Thanksgiving weekend (00ps). Rick had talked about using a torch to burn the paint off the bottom, but I hadn't pictured putting actual flame to a wooden boat?! Everyone assured me that this is how it worked and looked, but I was still nervous as hell, what with flaming bits of toxic paint still burning once they hit the ground and my boat occasionally on fire (splinters). We melted through 1 plastic tarp and scorched holes in 4 bed sheets and burned into a 2x4. After getting sick from the fumes, I took a day off and was only allowed a heat gun thereafter. Rick got sick too, but managed to pull himself together for another 1/2 day of burning to finish the job (guys are tough). We'd originally intended to get ourselves a fresh air supply for this job, but it all happened so quickly, we never did. Anyone out there inspired to burn off your bottom paint, get yourself a fresh air supply rig!

























Rick worked Thanksgiving morning, but I managed to drag him away for an afternoon of feasting at the MacGinnis's house, thank you Hugh and Deb!


Some post-turkey reclining.

By choice, Rick and I have no automobile. We bike, walk, or take the bus (or beg and borrow) and like it, most of the time. But the other day, I was starting to wonder if I have a masochistic streak in me. It was time to make a wine run and what any sensible person who is in possession of an annual bus pass (that's me minus the sensible part) would have done would of course be to take the bus to the liquor store (Vineyard Haven is a dry town) to stock up for the month. But no, I looked outside, saw the sun shining (it was still only in the 40's though), and decided to make the wine run via bicycle. After all, I have a milk crate attached to my rear rack which will perfectly accommodate two boxes of wine plus a few miscellaneous bottles. In retrospect, the liquor store in Oak Bluffs would have been a better choice (closer), but I had two other errands to do on the way to Edgartown, so E-town it was. Edgartown is about 7 miles away and our winter rental adds about another 1 mile , so, let's see, that makes for a round trip total of 16 miles, which ordinarily I wouldn't think would be such a big deal. However, I only recently began bicycling after a 10 year hiatus (too dangerous on St. John, VI) and this trip came as a big surprise to my legs. Not to mention (OK, I will), the trip home was into a bracing NW wind and my rear was laden down with about 20 lbs of wine (I'm guessing wine is comparable to water in weight). To make matters worse, as I was placing these items in my crate, I noticed that one of four screws holding on that rear rack was missing, making the whole assembly very suspect and wobbly. Had I known this before making my purchases, I would have forgone the assorted bottles because the last thing a teacher-wanna-be needs is to have her crate crash down and wine bottles splatter all over the sidewalk as children are returning home from school. I made it to Vineyard Haven with no mishaps and just in time to catch the bus for the last mile home. It was only one more mile to go, but I didn't have it in me. Fortunately, the buses on the Vineyard are all equipped to carry bicycles (and they allow dogs and big bags of laundry - very progressive).
All of this being said, I will now reveal that I feel sort of rebellious by not having a car. I've been thinking that this is silly to feel this way, but it turns out that there are others out there who feel the same way (it may still be silly). In fact, someone even wrote an entire dissertation on this subject. It's called “PUT THE FUN BETWEEN YOUR LEGS!”: THE POLITICS AND COUNTERCULTURE OF THE BICYCLE.
(For those of you new to the web, or blogging, you can click on that title and it'll take you to the website where the dissertation is found).

My first Nor'easter

Thanks to a photographer for the Martha's Vineyard Times, I do have one picture of this event. Click here and scroll to the bottom of the page. The last photo on the page, the couple in yellow and red walking into the storm, is me and Rick. Around 3:30 pm, our curiosity and concern overtook us. We donned full foul weather gear and waited by the side of the road for the bus to come. Before it did, a kind couple took pity on us and gave us a ride to town. Walking down the hill at Owen Park, we could pick out High Country from the forest of masts because she's the only one with a radar reflector on the triatic stay. "Phew, at least she's still on her mooring," I thought. Boats were jumping around quite a bit and waves were already crashing over the breakwater. It wasn't even high tide yet. Down at the dock, while I took cover behind the lifeguard tower, Rick made his way to the end of the dock without being blown over. High Country was too far out to see much and we certainly didn't want to launch the dinghy, which we'd drug ashore the day before. We just hoped that our full day's preparation was enough. We had spent the previous day taking down sails, halyards, and booms, attaching two 1" lines to the mooring plus a length of chain, all of which had hose on for chafing and were made off on the sampson posts and then backed up around the main mast. Folks would dinghy past, eye up our preparations, and make comments that led us to think maybe we were overdoing it. But that's our style, a play well-rehearsed from many hurricane preps in the Caribbean. This time was similar, albeit much colder and no swimming down to the bottom to set anchors and run anchor rodes amongst the spider web we used to weave in Borck Creek, St. John.

Feeling reasonably assured that High Country would successfully ride out the storm, we bought our groceries and took the bus home. I prepared a chef salad with the remaining daylight, since by then the power had gone out. I love occasions like this when your normal activities (computer stuff, reading, anything involving electricity) are halted. You get to eat by candlelight and lie in bed in the darkness, drink rum, listen to Prairie Home Companion on the battery-powered radio, and slowly drift off to a blissful sleep......

Changes

Changes to the blog. How do you like the new template? Easier to read? I tried to read my blog with the black background and found it very difficult. Sorry to torment you for so long, but I liked how the pictures looked against the black background. And have you checked out the new links? Gonna raise money and vote for Kucinich?

Changes to life. High Country has been lonely this last week. We moved ashore last weekend into our winter rental and are adjusting to the landlubber’s life.

The first of 8 trips ashore. Who would think we could have all this stuff on such a small boat?!

Our living space increased dramatically from under 200 sq ft to just about 400 sq ft plus bathroom, closet, pantry, laundry area, and front hallway. We are spoiled with such luxuries as refrigeration, hot running water, and a washer and dryer (no more hauling sail bags full of laundry onto the bus). There is ample space to lay out the yoga mat and if we had more patience, we could watch cable TV (having a hard time with commercials). My appliances in the kitchen tripled. In addition to the usual coffee grinder and mini-food processor, I now have a microwave, convection oven, toaster oven, and coffee/espresso maker. We are 1 minute from the beach, 3 minutes from a pine and oak forest with wonderful trails to run on, 25 minutes to town (walking) or 10 minutes biking, and for those rainy days we are on the bus route. I can watch the morning sky change color over Nantucket Sound as I prepare breakfast and we can hear the fog horns on those foggy mornings. Nice to know that we're not so far away from the sea.

Off to school. Before I found the locker room (and shower!) I tried to keep my bicycling to school at a slow pace so as not to sweat too much.

When I’m not spending my days trying to create order in the classroom as a sub, I am out on the boat doing a major cleaning. It IS good to get off the boat once in awhile, if only to give her a good going through and cleaning. Yuck! Mildew of 10 years in some places and enough accumulated dust, grime, and hair balls to clog up every limber hole and bilge pump a 100 times over. And that’s even without a dog!

Settling south for the winter: Martha's Vineyard

Well, the Vineyard is south of Maine, so technically we did head south for the winter.

I was supposed to be the one to get a job for the winter and Rick was going to take care of the boat and home life. But by early September, nothing had worked out yet, so when an email arrived offering Rick a job at Gannon and Benjamin Railway ( www.gannonandbenjamin.com) in Martha's Vineyard, we made our preparations to leave ME and sail south. It has been a fantasy of his for awhile to work here and when we came through in early July, we checked the place out and introduced ourselves.

I was anxious to get to the Vineyard in order to make sure we got things organized while we still had time to flee even farther south if it didn't work out. Hence, sailing in conditions we don't normally as described in the previous post. We also wanted to arrive for the launching of s/v Charlotte, Nat Benjamin's new boat. The launching was one of the neatest events I've ever had the privilege to attend. I also learned that there are a lot of good cooks on the island.

Forty hour work weeks are rather an adjustment and not just for Rick! Also, having lives scheduled according to weeks and weekends is unusual for us, but I like to think that we're adapting rather well.


Rick is currently building a 15' launch, but took some time away from that project to help rip off the deck of this launch.


Old dinghies serve many purposes. This one has a duel purpose: a tub for soaking frames by day and a beer tub by night and weekend.


Wire tying the steam-bent frames on.


Guess I'd better get used to foggy days.

From a month ago...

(I include this only because such days are so rare for us)

It was one of those days where not only did the deck get washed, the cabin top rinsed, but you got to pee in the cockpit because a) the cockpit was getting rinsed regularly b) you couldn’t get to the head because of all the stuff that had fallen from stowed positions and c) it was too dangerous to hang your butt over the side. And, as such days are apt to be, it was a day of many sail changes. We left the Isle of Shoals at dawn with a reefed main and mizzen, staysail, and jib – the flying jib and topsail stowed. As we left the protected waters, it became clear that we needed more sail to drive through the waves. Out came the reef in the mainsail as we drifted ever closer to the Anderson Ledge. Sheeted back in, we safely passed the ledge and continued to drive hard into the waves. The waves weren’t terribly big, but close enough together and steep enough to knock us back and keep us from going in the direction we wanted to go. Half an hour later, the reef had to be put back in and half an hour after that, another reef went into the main. Under the double reefed main, the boat and us were still taking a beating and we both silently considered turning around and retreating, but neither voiced that thought and High Country continued to bash her way on, with me shuddering every time her bow slammed into a wave.

Because it was so rough, I did not permit myself to go down below for fear of getting seasick and then being no help at all. So, amongst the morning’s sail changes, Rick managed to put out a bowl of oatmeal, cold by the time we got around to eating it, but a delicious distraction from worries of sailing an old wooden boat so hard. The oatmeal turned cold because before we could eat it, Rick was elected for the scary job of going out on the bowsprit to tie up the flying jib that kept losing its sail ties as waves and wind battered it. I had seen this happening but was hesitant to say anything (even though I know the situation would only get worse) because it always fills me with dread to see Rick go out there when it’s this rough. But, as always, it’s not as scary as my mind imagines. We heave to or turn downwind and the boat’s motion steadies and she doesn’t heel over much. The only downside to heaving to was that that put us on the other tack, which, for whatever reason, made the boat leak A LOT more. Hmm, something to look into. Probably that hole behind a chain plate that we didn’t feel like dealing with last spring and put some shmooey in, but could be something else.

Just as Rick was leaving the cabin for another bout of sail handling, I heard a loud crash from down below. I didn’t find out what it was ‘til the next day when I opened up my pressure cooker full of beans and the inside looked like someone had left it on high burner. I initially accused Rick of having splattered beans all over and up the steam vent (he got to make lunch too), but when asked, he said it had taken a dive, which I later confirmed when I saw a chip of wood and varnish missing from a cabinet opposite the galley.

Other exciting mishaps of the day were the fuel jugs that refused to stay lashed up-right and leaked out gas, the overhead hatch which, even after being latched down, still leaked water over our bunks and Rick’s clothing net, and the portlight over the computer, which has had lot’s of attention this past year (completely rebedded) yet still insisted on leaking down on computer, wires, etc. And what was I doing while Rick was doing all the scary, hard stuff? Holding on for dear life. My job was to not get sick and to steer. We tried the autopilot for a bit, but it couldn’t head up fast enough after a wave. The next day revealed the evidence of how hard my body was holding on – a right bicep painfully sore and a left buttock so tight I had a hard time moving between sitting and standing.

We stayed hard on the wind, thinking we might want to bail out and head into Gloucester, but by the time we reached Cape Ann, the wind had shifted a bit more to the West and we decided to make the run for P-town. For several hours, we had an exhilarating ride. With the wind on the beam and the waves no longer in front of us, we struggled to keep the speed under 7 knots, any more than that and the boat works too much.

Much to our surprise and dismay, we finished the day by motoring the last two hours into Provincetown. All afternoon, the wind kept decreasing and before we knew it, we’d shaken out all our reefs and put up all 6 sails. I suppose we could have floundered out there for a few hours and made it in around midnight, but after a morning like that, I was very much looking forward to being anchored before dark, rinsing all the salt off of me, having a glass of wine and going to sleep in my soggy bunk.

We're Back!

Since leaving NYC, we’ve been busy sailing, catching up with friends and family, and gulp, looking for jobs. Sorry not to have fun postings from Long Island, Block Island, Martha’s Vineyard, Woods Hole, Cape Cod, Gloucester, and Isle of Shoals, but such is the life of a lazy vagabond with intermittent Internet connection. Thanks to everyone who took us in, fed us, showered us, loaned us cars or drove us to grocery stores, or otherwise wiled away a few hours with us.

Greenport, Long Island, NY. Met up with friend Domi and her little dog Finn too. Finn first came aboard High Country in the Bahamas, where he was on his first sea voyage from the Virgin Islands to his home port in Greenport.

Very aggressive birds in Greenport.


Beachcombing (well, picking up deflated balloon's) on Martha's Vineyard.


Fishing boat in Menemsha Harbor, Martha's Vineyard.


Maine, land of spruce-clad islands and...


beautiful reflections.




Checking out our options to clean the bottom. The guy who owns this boat has been wintering over in Portland the last few winters, a possibility we'd actually been considering - yikes!


s/v Boundless, back from the first successful week of taking a group of kids sailing in Maine. Boundless normally does these trips in the Chesapeake in the summer and the Bahamas in the winter. This was her first summer in Maine and we were happily surprised to see them when we pulled into the anchorage by Peaks Island.
www.differentdrumsailing.com


Rick looking very much like a day charter captain aboard as he entertains the 2 Nancys. Meredith has heard it all already and can relax and smile for the camera. We all spent the day aboard s/v Margherita, which belongs to Nancy and her husband Jerry. How nice to go sailing on someone else's boat and not have to worry about a thing! No wonder people like to go on charters, it's very relaxing.


A junk moored off of Peaks Island.


Rick's brother Rod and nephew Nick drove all the way from Richmond, VT to Portland to hang out with us for the day. Not much wind, but got them to haul the sails up anyway and brought them over to Peaks Island for the day.


Occasionally, we got around to doing some boat work this summer. Here Rick is installing a horn, which we purchased after our trip aboard ssv Westward and we nearly ran over a small sailboat (High Country size) that hadn't been sounding a horn in the fog. While Rick hung out aloft, I recovered (warmed up) from having spent 15 minutes in the water scrubbing the bottom.


More family! This time from my side. This is Uncle Jim and Cousin Sam trying to catch us a mess of mackerel for dinner.


After cleaning 3 mackerel, Uncle Jim decided that he'd rather have lobster for his birthday dinner, rather than spend all day filleting these small fish. No one argued.


Aunt Julie hanging out on High Country.


The Eggemoggin reach Regatta, High Country observing, not racing - we always seem to break something when racing.

We invited former charter guests (and parents) to join us for the Eggemoggin Reach Regatta. The day started off foggy and it looked like we'd have to bag it, so we spent the morning eating Lemon Poppyseed Muffins and coffee and in a few hours, it cleared enough to take off. Afterwards, they took me for that Maine experience, picking wild blueberries.


Shadows of water bugs in a stream coming down Acadia Mountain, Mt. Desert Island. The shadows make it look like they've got huge pads on the end of their legs, but I could never see anything on the actual bug. Any entomologists out there?


View from the top of Acadia Mountain. Pretty, but not many blueberries up here.


s/v Simplicity hoping for more wind, but making nice reflections in the water. He escorted us into Rockland Harbor and gave us the use of his mooring, conveniently situated in front of the public landing.


Mussel madness! I was so excited to find this abundant source of free protein, that I got a bit ahead of myself and served us a batch of mussels before checking on the water quality from where I'd gotten them (Peaks Island). That locale had just been closed for a few weeks due to red tide and was in general closed due to pollution.

We later found suitable places to collect mussels, but had to give up eating them after Rick broke a tooth on a mussel pearl.


ssv Westward: Our first weekend in the Penobscot Bay, we left High Country to sail aboard the Westward, which is one of Ocean Classroom's sailboats that offers educational trips. We had been interested in working for them or similar organizations and after an interview, go invited to "deadhead" (no students) from Rockland to Boston.
The first day was completely in the fog, but during our night watch, the full moon rose above any lingering surface fog.


We got to participate in the workings of the ship, which meant standing watches (steering, lookouts, etc).

The lookouts as we enter Boston Harbor.


And as an added benefit, during our morning watch, 4 humpback whales showed up for a visit, along with dozens of Minke whales.

I learned that there is more than one way to furl a sail, and they all have names. The captain decides which furl to use, depending on circumstances (like if you're trying to show off or just want get the damn thing secured quickly).


I was particularly excited about this trip because Boston is one of the few big East Coast cities that we missed on our trip north.