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. --->>>>>