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......