Silver River Cruise

Our pontoon boat has been prisoner to the marine shop for much of the summer. Letting it sit for six years was not kind to the engine, wiring and electric components. Lucky for us, we know how to roll with the punches a used boat can throw, so we have just been patient, while all the problems were sorted out and dealt with. We finally were able to take her home from the intensive care unit and get out and enjoy our new-to-us toy.
 One of our first cruises was a trip to the headwaters of the Silver River. Silver Springs is one mile from our home, and the boat basin, where we put in, is three and a half miles to the west of us. As it passes us, the river gets as close as 1/4mile from our home going upstream to the springs. Yes, this is as close as you can get to having this wonderful natural resource in our backyard. The seven mile area is all state owned property, so no houses or development is on the river, and once one leaves the boat basin, it is like going back to prehistoric times all the way to the Park (World Famous Silver Springs) at the spring head.
Over the next few days I will post some slide shows and vids of the trip. To get you started, here is one of the wild rhesus monkeys that make this river home.
Mostly, they stay in the river area. But once in a great while, they foray over to our neighborhood. Lots of wildlife abounds on the river, including birds, gators and turtles. But the monkeys are my favorite, making a sighting like this a special treat. 









Flirting with the dark side

I'm sure by now all our readers are wondering if we fell of the edge of the blog. As it happens, the foot surgery, while ultimately successful, had it's share of problems in the form of a bone infection. No, we never made it to the Bahamas. By the time I could be sure it was totally cleared up, getting to the islands would have been akin of paying full price to see the last 15 minutes of (insert your pick for all-time best movie EVER).

So we stayed in Fl. had fun locally, saw many friends and worked on some house projects. We also started thinking about how much we were missing on the water. We are surrounded by rivers and of course the Gulf of Mexico and all it's small Keys and shoreline is within an hour of us. "We need a small boat." I told Al. It only makes sense to have something we can explore the shallow areas and wilderness that can only be reached via water. Besides, I have a boat blog. No-one wants to start reading about how my gardening is coming along, or what color I painted the spare room. We need to be on the water for multiple reasons.

We settled on a pontoon boat. Comfy, large enough for a few friends, able to host a porta-potty (critical at our age as I don't see myself shlepping onto swampy wild shores to squat among the gators and skeeters.) Something we can trailer and putt-putt around Fl. on while maintaining a level of comfort.

I have a queer knack of deciding to get a boat, then stumbling across someone wanting to give away the same type of boat. My luck holds. All we had to do was remove the boat, hanging in straps, under a covered boathouse, over a dried-up lake. Of course the lake bottom was still soft and mushy. Of course the SUV had to remain up on the original shore, nearly sixty feet from where the boat lay. Of course half the boat had to be dismantled to get clearance under the boathouse. But six hours after we started, we were staring at a new to us boat in our backyard.

Then the cleanup began. Did you know that bats find an unused outboard compartment to be an excellent bat-house? Al found four inches of bat guano in the bottom of the cowling. Everything was in good shape, but stained to the color of creosoted fence posts. Out came the boat wash. The boat laughed at it. so the arsenal of outdoor bleach, acid wash, and comet cleanser took it on and won.

Al tore apart the 40hp outboard, and found three frozen carburetors. We should pick them up any day now. He didn't have the carb cleaner and tools to rebuild them himself, but has been working on the wiring, and cleaning the fuel tank, replacing the kinked fuel line, and everything else that needs to be checked out before launch.

So here she is. All 20 feet of her, cleaned and getting ready to take us (and you, via the blog) along on our summer of fun on the water.

I'm naming her "Summer Journey".




Casting Bubba's



Now we've seen some weird stuff over the years on the water. Heck, we've even done some weird stuff. But this was leading the pack so far for this trip south. There we were, in south Georgia, in the middle of NOWHERE, nothing around for miles and miles. I kept seeing this bunch of dots off on the distance. First I thought they might be stumps, but as we got closer, it became obvious that it was a rather large gathering of Bubba's.
They were generally two to a boat, and not anchored, just bobbing around. Every now and again two boats would bump, and one arm would reach out and push off. No engines could be heard, I was getting a mite nervous as we approached. There were a lot of them, they were right in our path, what were they doing there?
I had been using the binocs to get a better glimpse of the non-action ahead. I could see no fishing rods being used. But then I didn't see any rifles or shotguns either, so that was a good sign. Every now and again, it looked like one would stand up for a minute. Were they watching us as we approached? The Dueling Banjo's theme thrummed in my head.
Finally we got close enough to start threading our way through them. And saw what the Bubba's were up to. Cast-netting! Each Bubba had a cast net between his legs. In turn, one would stand and cast, retrieve, and sit. Then the other boat occupant would stand and take his turn. I'll bet there was over 600 years of cast-netting skill and knowledge in that grouping, and I was sorry that I didn't have the opportunity to stop and learn what I could from them. Funny how I had cast those Bubba's differently from a distance.

Home on the Ranges

Today we went through 12 ranges on our way south down the Intercoastal Waterway. I spoke a bit about ranges on Journey's facebook page, but for our non-sailor friends, a picture is worth a bunch of nonsensical words, so....
 Now, in this first picture you see what looks like a orange sign, with a white stripe running right down the middle, top to bottom. In the second photo, you notice there are actually two signs, and they are not directly over one another because Journey has already begun her turn, and left the range.
The trick is to line the sign posts up so that when you are seeing them like the first pisture or risk running aground. There may be lots of open water around, but it's all shallow outside of the range. Now how do you do this, when some of these ranges are over a mile long and the signs are that far away when you start? Simple: look at the lower photo again. The bottom sign is off to the right. Move the boat to the right until the signs line up again. (you would never want to get this far off of the proper alignment in a real range, you'd be aground.) Al and I are partying on Miss Ruby tonight here in our anchorage, along with Partner Ship, so I will leave you with this navigational "lesson of the day". We are just above Jekyll Creek in Ga. for the night.

Lonely Days and Lonely Nights

12/9/11
I've definitely noticed a trend on this migration south. We are all alone. In marinas, at anchorages, there are really no other cruisers out here. Last time south, we traveled in a pack, lots of us grouped together each day, headed towards warmth. The anchorages were full, as we all jockeyed for our little piece of bottom grabbing.

We are very late this year and it shows. We see a few crabbers and small fishing skiffs out doing what they do, but outside of one or two big power cruisers headed fast towards the sun, we are really bringing up the rear this time around. So as we head south, we are turning out all the lights. We are the last ones in the ICW.

We made it to Southport Marina today around noon. Our batteries are overcharging, and Al has it isolated (we hope) to the internal regulator on the alternator. I figured it would be a lot easier on him to change to our spare alternator in a marina, plus if it turns out we are wrong, we can get parts since we are in town. He changed it out and says it is working fine so far. Here's hoping!

We must be invisible. I say that because the other day we had the kite boarding guy zig-zagging in our path like we weren't there and today it was fishermen. Now here we were, headed down a distinct channel, shallow water to each side. A small john boat type skiff can be seen ahead, far in the distance, barreling towards us. No problem, there is plenty of room to pass us on each side in a small boat like that.

But wait, the guy pulls short a few hundred yards in front of us and his partner tosses out a bouy. They proceed across the channel in front of us (one side of the channel to the other) laying a freaking fishing net! What the Heck?? Then they proceed to signal us that they have a net in the water. Oh yeah, get it deep buddy, 'cause I'm about to go right over your several hundred dollar investment. No way I'm running out of the channel, or coming to a dead stop because you were too lazy or stupid to go 100 yards further and lay it behind me. It's not like there another boat out here for 50 miles. So over it we go, with them mouthing off at me like there's no tomorrow. I play as deaf as they played at being blind. 

I told Al: next time we pull the boat, I am installing one of those line cutter thingies. Nets under the boat, crab pots in the channel, with the line cutter, they will all be fair game.

Finally going the right way

We got away from SailCraft Boatyard this morning at 8:00. At 8:04, I was aground. I was still in the channel, just not where enough water was. We draw 5ft., not 4'7", and that's what the depth meter read. I backed Journey off, and took her real wide, and we were finally underway.
We stopped at SeaGate Marina for fuel and water, great place with nice folks. I had a few reservations about the small turning area and my big hulking boat, but I was able to get in and out with no problems.
We didn't really consider ourselves headed south until we passed the turning basin at Beaufort. Until then, it's all home cruising grounds to us. So as we headed into Bogue Sound, we truly felt the trip had begun.
Down near the south end of the sound, there was a kite surfer cutting back and forth across the channel. Now Bogue Sound is huge, and this guy needs like, what? six inches of water under him? But here he was, as we approached,  weaving back and forth in front of us like an idjit. We decided if he got his kite caught in our rigging, we would drag him until we couldn't hear his pleas for help anymore, then cut the mess loose. We had him pass less than fifty feet in front of us, in a pretty good headwind, then he weaved a scant thirty feet behind the boat. For him: fun-100%, brains-2%. After all, he can ride a kite board, so that's worth something.
Next we kept an eye on the cold front as it bore down on us. Winds kept building during the afternoon, and the dark line of clouds were heading our way from the mainland. It looked as though a good soaking was imminent, but it never materialized. The sun finally peeked out around four PM, and felt good on our wind blown bodies.
Cherry Point had their Harriers out in force. They were landing as we passed, and I swear they all planned their descent path to pass right overhead. What noise! They would come over, slow down, hover and land. Mega decibels for the duration.  I still can't hear right.
As the afternoon waned, we started thinking about an anchorage. Swansboro was the first place within the barest reach of daylight arrival, and that was going to be iffy. We had been running against the current for most of the day. Al read the report on the anchorage: "strong changing currents, two anchors required".
We called Casper's Marina. Yes they could take us. Wait... after dark? No we can't dock boats after dark, it's too dangerous! Shoot Lady, if I can bring it in after dark, the least you can do is help tie me up!
So we called Dudley's. Yes Yes Yes, come on we are here for you! And we are almost half the price of stuffy Casper's. Well alright, I said that, not them, but it's true!
So I am warm, Al is watching TV, and I have power for the computer! Dudley's even delivered us to a local restaurant, where we had a wonderful dinner, and the restaurant brought us back to the marina. Great Day indeed!

We start, we stop.

Well, this morning saw Journey leaving the creek and getting underway. We are finally headed south on our cruise to the Bahamas. Once we reached the Pungo river, we fooled around for an hour and a half setting up the autopilot, Wolley. (That's it's name, thanks Bill) Boy is that one sweet piece of equipment! It (he, because he's like a third crewmember) did most of the steering for the day, and never asked for a thing. Well, except for power, and that was easily given, because we couldn't sail.
Yep, right after we started out, I went to unfurl the genoa (front sail that unrolls) and it was stuck. Al and I managed to unfurl it by hand, roll it back up with much difficulty, and then we decided to see what the problem could be. Al thinks one of the bushings looks worn, broken, and past usefulness. As soon as I could get a cell signal, I made a call to our favorite yard, Sailcraft, in Oriental. We are now sitting in the spillway, waiting for Monday morning.
We counted our blessings all the way to the boatyard, this could have happened down the way, where we didn't know the yards, further down the way, where there are no yards, or worst case scenario.... it could have happened "out there'. Offshore, with no way to furl the sail back up, could have been a real mess! For those of you who are keeping up with the ongoing rib saga, it is now DAY 4, and even with the boat rolling side to side all day, I came through in relative comfort. I had a couple of small pains, and hardly any discomfort today.
For those of you who have no idea what I am talking about, last Tuesday evening, I broke a rib in a nasty mash-up with a shopping cart at WalMart. On reflection, I should have just maced it. Since I was already at WalMart when this happened, I swung by the Lady's undies dept. and bought one of those waist cincher things... you know a "make you two jeans sizes smaller!" girdle affair. It is something that anyone can use to imobilize a broken rib; much more user friendly and comfortable than ace bandages, so laugh if you will, but I'm mending better for it.
So as we sit tonight, not heading south anymore, but waiting for Monday morning so we can spend $$$ fixing the boat, we are happy, pain free (mostly) and about to be well fed. That is, if I can ride a bike with a bum rib. We are headed to The Silos. Everyone in the Oriental area should come by and see us tomorrow. You know where we are!

Would you like fries with that? Never mind, I forgot the cooking oil...






People write a lot about provisioning a ship, that is of course, the purchasing of edible items that one pre-purchases before a cruise. For all of you readers who haven't had the pleasure of cruising on your own boat, allow me to enlighten you just a bit.

In our case, we cruise to the Bahamas. In the area we sail there, there aren't a lot of grocery stores to be found. Not like the ones we are accustomed to here in the states, at least. Many of the outer islands have no store at all. Others look like a seedy convenience store a week after the aliens have landed and wiped out 7/8ths of the panicked population. There is no way to easily acquire fresh produce, although most of these small stores will have onions, potatoes, and apples in stock on the day the mail boat brings supplies. There are a few staples on the shelves, but not enough to plan on buying all our food in the islands What to do then, about eating?

It's simple really, we bring the store with us. Food in the Bahamas is upwards of double and triple the price of what we can purchase stateside, so it saves us money as well. Now before my cruiser friends disagree, think about what you take for six months in the Bahamas. (It's OK now folks, that alone will keep them busy for a few hours)
In fact, I never thought of it in those terms myself, until this month, when I started provisioning for this years cruise. Last time we went to the Bahamas, we stayed three months. Double the time, triple the food. Well, alright, admit-ably there were a few snack items we really missed, but this year I think I have all the junk food-groups covered.

So we bring lots of food, you say. What's the big deal about that? Keep in mind, dear friends, we are not talking about a mega trip to the grocery, and then lugging loads of grocery bags onto the boat. Oh no, this is a full scale food procurement assault. Each step is planned, like a barrage, and it must flow smoothly or one might find themselves eating meals of green beans, pintos and chick peas for the last two weeks of May. Or worse... nothing. That's right, this is a one shot deal, bring it, or do without, no tap-backs, do-overs or second chances here.

First one needs to decide what to bring. If you want roasted peppers in your spaghetti sauce, you will do without unless you put it on the master list. I plan to make a lot of hummus this year for potlucks and sundowner treats. But it would be a plain, hum-drum hummus indeed if I forget things like pine nuts, hearts of palm, minced garlic or pimentos. So everything, and I mean everything that we will need in the way of food needs to get on the list.


Next comes quantities. Just how many tea bags does one need for six months of sailing? Well, if we figure a gallon of tea per day, x's 180 days; four bags per gallon, 48 bags to the box, it's a hell of a lot of tea bags! I must do this kind of math for everything that goes on the boat, so I don't end up with too much (no place to put it, and wasteful of money )or too little (OMG! We are out of Ruffles!)

We also need to think about how we will store a grocery store full of food on our boat. Many items are packed with "air", Splenda is a perfect example. Open the bag it comes in, pour the Splenda into a food saver bag and re-seal, removing the air during the vacuum process. Now there is a fairly flat, hard plastic pouch, easy to stow, impervious to bugs, moisture and decay. I'll need a lot of food-saver bags for nine bags of Splenda, eight bags of nuts, all that tea, and just about everything else that originally comes not-in-a-vacuum-sealed-bag. Anything that comes in a box is given similar treatment. A box around a small pouch of rice is wasted space. The boxes are all removed.  The food inside might get the food-saver do-over, or as in the case of pouches, the cooking instructions are written on each pouch, and then they all go into a plastic freezer bag.

Glass gets some special treatment also. Glass that bangs together, breaks together and leaves a god-awful smelly, sometimes sticky mess. I use the foam sleeves that are sold at the truck rental places for packing glasses for a move. Each jar gets taped inside one of these, and is labeled so I don't stand there holding it in four months with a "DUH" look on my face.

Of course after I have completed all these tasks, I'm still not done. The food has to be packaged for transport to the boat. Now I'm in Fl. and the boat is in NC, so I won't even get to the fun of fresh meat, dairy and produce until I arrive, I will save that for another lively post. (Besides, the cruiser folks are starting to stir after their contemplation of their own provisioning; we need to hurry this along!) I get those cheap, plastic totes (with lids) from WallyWorld and line the bottom layer with cans. Then I try to distribute, weight-wise, all of the repackaged food until they are full. The bins are easy (-for you to say, says Al) to transport and get onto the boat, where I then begin the real fun: trying to fit 80cu. ft. of food into 40cu.ft. of space.

That, my friends, is an art.

An EPIC TAIL /or/ "How Journey got her groove back."

Please remember to turn the music player at the right "OFF" to watch the video. --->>>>>


Nasty Business #2

When last you left us, we had just bleached our way out of our wasteful failure. This morning, our new hose arrived and we proceeded to prep ourselves for putting it in. Lots of stretching exercises, since we had to reach impossible to reach areas and cram a rigid 15 ft. hose through holes that were one size too small. We could then blissfully fill our minds with the memory of what stretching felt like and soldier on.
We have been here before.
Back when we had little Journey, we had to re-invent the entire sanitation system on board. We chucked the 33 yr old bladder, I mean would you really want to trust your waste to an untested old plastic bag? We installed a new tank and ran all new hose.
This hose is stiff, thick-walled and I just know they make the inside of the hose about 1/16th of an inch smaller than the the fitting it has to go over. We followed the West Marine guys advice and bought the "hose lube" to make the job of fitting the hose end onto the barbed fitting easier. Well, let me tell you, that doesn't work. It only took us two frustrating hot hours to determine that. Then we used boiling water when we were told that we needed to apply heat and hot water would do the trick. The trick was on us. Two down and we were thinking we would never have a toilet that we could use. Enter another sailor who told us of the wonders of the heat gun. Not a blow dryer, they don't get hot enough, gotta have the big gun.
So as we prepared to install the two ends, I grabbed the heat gun out of the locker and set it on high. 1700 degrees of heat that would make the job possible. We have also found that putting a gob of liquid soap on the fitting will help when the hose is quickly crammed home.
There is one more vital item that we could not forget. Before the hose went on the fitting, we needed to place two hose clamps up on the hose, so we could tighten the hose to the fitting. Forget this, and we would have to start all over. I watched as Al placed the clamps on the first end of the hose.
I hate being the one to hold the heat gun, but I don't have the strength to jam the heated hose onto the fitting, so....
Heat guns are real tricky. I could burn the flesh off my sweetie by just rotating the darn thing the wrong way. Turn it too far in the other direction and I could set fire to the dirty laundry while melting the nylon mesh bag it was inside. Too far forward, and I would be singeing wood and removing varnish. Then there was the carpet on the floor. and yet, the gun needed to be rotated around the hose to heat it evenly.
 It was a tight space and if there was any room for error, it would be in favor of Al. After all, I needed that hose crammed on quick, and he was the only one with the strength to do it.
And when we finished with the first hose, we had to repeat it all over again at the pump out fitting. This was an acrobatic movement which involved both of us standing delicately on the lip of the toilet while hunched into the rear of the locker behind it. And of course, the heat gun had to fit in there too. And rotated around a hose that couldn't be moved. There were some touchy moments while we watched a bundle of wires smoking, before realizing that the smoking was coming from the hose and Al slammed the last hose on. That's when I asked Al if he had remembered to put the two hose clamps on the hose. Yes, he had.

Nasty Business

There are two words that strike dread in the pit of every sailor's stomach. Sanitation Failure. That is to say, finding out part or parts of your toilet/holding tank have stopped doing what they are designed to do. We are feeling dread.
The last couple of days, I have noticed a slight odour de waste emanating from our rear cabin. Our head (bathroom) is adjacent to the cabin, and the holding tank resides below the bunk. The odor was faint, and it has been warm, so I didn't pay too much mind to it. This morning, Al and I removed the mattress, and cover-board to access the steering quadrant and install the rudder indicator there.
The smell was, shall I say rich?  We quickly checked the connection at the holding tank, tight and holding. We started to visually follow the hose back to the pump-out fitting and found a large suspicious bulge. Then we noticed, to put it politely, the ooze flowing forth of a certain brown shade.
Our hose was shot, ruined, kaput! Boys and Girls, can you spell retch?
Al and I locked eyes and uttered the only appropriate curse in unison.
There was only one thing to do and after setting fans up in what seemed like helpful places, we began the fix. First we had to let the tank drain, because the outlet connection is located (naturally) at the bottom of the tank. This involved a disposable container, a disposable wood plug, some smoke and mirrors (ok, not the last two) and teamwork.
Once the tank was drained, we had to cut the hose into pieces to easily get it out of the maze through which the builders decided would be fun to remove 22 years later, when said hose was as stiff as iron.
We measured it, then went to find replacement sanitation hose.
Now you would think that in a village which boasts over 2600 sailboats, that finding 1 1/2 inch waste hose would be a piece of cake. We needed a 15foot continuous run, so we are now waiting on new hose that should be delivered in the morning. We could have installed new hose today, if we had been willing to use high tech, nuclear meltdown proof, guaranteed to never leak, smell or bend to fit back into the boat hose. It was only $15.00 per foot. Ha. Ha-ha. Ha-ha-ha. We went with hose that costs $4.35 per foot. Our Sh8t don't stink. Or at least it won't after tomorrow, for a very long time.

Part Six The aftermath

After the storm there were those who were not so fortunate.


Music player at right>>>>>>>>>>> turn it off first>>>>>>>>>>>>


Part Five Slap my face, the backside is here

The last part of the hurricane is said to the worst. Strong winds that come on right after the calm of the eye. I found it to be the most tiring. And then it was over, and the boats began to leave early the next morning.

Don't forget to turn off the music player at right>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>



Part Four The eye of the storm

The eye of a hurricane is supposed to be when one recharges their internal batteries
to do battle with the second part of the storm. In the boatyard we were all saving beloved boats.

Turn of the music player>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>at right>>>>>>



Part Three A different perspective

Still in the front part of the hurricane, we are now nearing eye time. We decided to check out the neighborhood around the boatyard a little bit.


Turn off the music player>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>



Part Two Before the eye

Still Friday morning, before the arrival of the eye. The water just keeps on coming in.

Turn off the music player>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Part One. Irene is here, time to get to work.

Irene has arrived, and we tumble off the boat early Saturday morning to greet her. Just like a woman guest to make more work for us (oops, did I type that out loud?)
I always say it, mostly for the first time visitors to the page: Don't forget to turn off the music player to the right>>>>


Hurricane Irene waiting for the storm

Friday night, waiting on Irene's arrival
Don't forget to turn off the music player at right.
First in a continuing series of Hurricane Irene.
We are hauled out at SailCraft Boatyard in Oriental NC, and last we hear before losing power is that the eye will pass overhead mid day Saturday as a Cat1 hurricane.