After my first Dahon sunk to a briney death last fall in Charleston, I forced myself to suffer through a bikeless winter in Miami to help reinforce the error of my dinghy over-loading ways. But being bikeless on the Vineyard this summer was out of the question. My 2007 Dahon MuXl was such a great bike, that I decided to replace it with the same – the 2010 MuXl.  Mostly the same bike, but with an improved main hinge system and without the dyno hub and chain guard. There are so many great rides, bike paths and destinations on the Vineyard; I plan to enjoy them all this summer as I try to shed this nagging belly flap that hangs over my shorts now. I can feel the metabolism slowing…

The new Dahon MuXl in Oak Bluffs and at the infamous Jaws Bridge.

I’m leaving my love for a week to sail aboard my other love, the Lewis R French. Elizabeth’s stuffing box has been leaking an uncomfortable amount, and her auto bilge pump wiring and operation isn’t what it should be. So it is time to tackle the dreaded in-the-water shaft packing renewal procedure.

I imagined a gushing fire hydrant, both electric bilge pumps screaming to stay above water and someone stationed at the manual bilge pump ready to pump into the night to save our sinking girl. Madly rushing to remove the old packing, get the new packing cut, greased and installed, all the while fumbling with tools, dropping them into the ever deepening bilge water, and eventually losing complete control as the engine began to get its feet wet. However, the removal of the packing nut proved a major let down. A small steady stream of sea water fell into the bilge, barely enough to brush ones teeth with.

I used a combination of flax and drip-less moldable packing. I followed the instructions and tips found here, and found the job to take about as long, and to be as easy as changing the oil. One thing I did learn after a few failed attempts of scratching at it, is that the packing removal tool works like a cork screw. You screw it into the old packing, then pull back on the T handle, and the entire strip of packing comes out very easily. The aroma of the old packing reminded me of a vintage merlot from Bourgandy I once drank. I fashioned some simple packing-pushers out of a small bit of PVC pipe I had. It worked well enough. It’s a messy job with the grease, and latex gloves would’ve been a good idea.

Right now there is no drip, and the gland nut is slightly hand tight. I’ll keep you posted on how it goes after a few more hours on the engine underway.

Here are two common conversation scenarios I experienced while out on this short stint cruising:

1.
“What kind of boat is that?”
“It’s a Bristol Channel Cutter.”
“Oh a Bristol, I’ve heard of those, nice.”

2.
“Where are you from?”
“Uh… ya mean where did I come from yesterday?”
“No, where do you call home?”
“Hmmm, good question… well, this boat is my home, so I’m from right here, I guess.”
“No, I mean, where did you leave from on your trip?”

So I guess I’m officially home now, because I’ve managed to find my way back to where I started. The epoxy coated breadcrumbs were a good idea after all. I sailed approximately 3030 nautical miles on this little jaunt -  maybe I should’ve titled this post “After 3000 Miles”.

What have I learned? That the Bristol Channel Cutter is just pure pleasure to sail. My all time favorite thing that just gets me giddy inside everytime I do it, is reefing the main… 30 seconds is all it takes. No climbing on cabin tops, no stretching over the side for snagged lines, no cursing the flogging sail – just simple, quick, efficient sail reduction, like Neptune intended.

What’s broken, been replaced, or worn out? Max Amp Alternator died, Yanmar Starter fried, All 4 West Marine AGM Group 31  batteries were useless and replaced, Isotherm ASU and holding plate died and was swapped with an Alder Barbour Cold Machine and large evaporator plate, Simrad TP32 Tiller Pilot groans like a pig and can’t steer a straight course, the Raytheon ST60 Wind Indicator never worked, the Stuffing Box Shaft Packing runs like a faucet, and the Fatty Knees Dinghy took some major abuse, but still rows like a dream. Plenty of others, but this is the big stuff.

As the sun rose over Cuttyhunk and Vineyard Sound this morning I realized: I may have arrived “home”, but the voyaging is just beginning. This is a temporary layover to make some money, catch up with loved ones, and of course do some work on the old girl.

I like to keep a running list of projects taped to my cabin side wall. I like to be able to add to it with ease as soon as something crosses my mind, or breaks, lest I forget. Better yet, I like to immediately cross something off the list as soon as it’s complete. But for those tasks I only get half way through in one session, I like to cross them out, only half way. The list is usually about two pages, sometimes less, often more. There is no hierarchy to the list, no priority or order. No sections or subsections.

I like to stand at the chart table, eat my morning orange and scan the list for a project I might be able to fit in between designing an email blast for a special on wee wee pads or right after I finish uploading a round of new pieces to an art gallery site. It’s a slow process crossing things off the list this way, but I love my list.  I carefully cut the electrical tape with a scissor, I take the time to cut off the spiral bound ruffles on the paper and I try to neatly attach the list to the wall, space the pages evenly and make sure they’re level. I know I’ll be looking at them for a long time, and well groomed lists are more appealing to study. Neat lists also provoke more intense contemplation and thoughtful inner debates about technique, execution and method.

My current list has been hanging for about four weeks now. It’s in good condition for it’s age. It’s been offshore from The Bahamas to North Carolina. It’s seen a few waterspouts and shared many an early morning orange with me. It’s a rewrite of an older list with a few additions, and some recent fresh cross-offs. But some of these items have been on the list for nearly a year. There always seems to be something more urgent that gets rushed onto the list, only to be crossed out a day or two later. Like patients at the sanitarium, some of these list items get forgotten about, even though they are seen every day.

The current list and a few of the recent cross-offs: SSB stand-offs and bowsprit netting.

And by exploration, I mean sea bottom exploration. Seems that Chart Sounding Confirmation Exercises have been common this year. (Elsa) Elizabeth is a stoutly constructed vessel with a long full keel – perfectly suited for such endeavors. Here are photos of three such explorations, which were conducted in either sand or soft mud. Chart data seems to be correct in all cases. If sailing pleasantly slows life down to where you can smell the roses, then going aground slows life down that much more, allowing one time to plant, water, prune, and weed the rose garden. It’s a nice way to live, and I’m sure Mom would approve.

Bahamas were cool enough, I guess. We got to the Berry’s and the Abacos… the northern Bahamas. We saw 14 waterspouts in the stream…anchored on the bank overnight…got bit by a fish…went snorkeling…ran aground…ate ice cream…worked on projects…and generally enjoyed a slower pace, the sunshine, clear waters and really friendly people.

We met up with our old pals on Anastasia, and enjoyed a few days together in the Abacos, while prepping for our offshore run back the States. Both Teresa and I took on crew for the trip home to help make the 5 day passage a little easier. Our crew arrived Sunday evening, and we jumped on the tail end of a weather window, leaving at dawn Monday. Winds were great the first two days, out of the SE at 15-20kts. We set our course for the Gulf Stream and enjoyed the sleigh ride, making 9.5 knots in the center of the stream. Soon the wind died with the approach of a weak front, and the Yanmar roared to life for about 28 hours.

It was surprising that throughout the 500 mile passage all 3 boats were able to stay withing VHF range the entire time. We enjoyed many a night watch just chatting on the radio amongst the boats, keeping tabs on location, course, speed, weather, boat traffic, etc. It was the most fun passage I’ve ever made. The 4th day out was calm and we really enjoyed the camaraderie of our 3 boat convoy. We all set our light air sails and ghosted Northeast past Frying Pan Shoals towards Beaufort. I baked cookies and tossed a bag to each boat. Anastasia loaned Daphne a jug of fuel, and they passed the jug between the boats on a tightline. We saw sea turtles and dolphins and doused ourselves with buckets of sea water for relief from the relentless sun.

There was a strong cold front approaching the coast, and we wanted to beat it. Winds were forecasted to be 25-30 with gusts to 40 kts, starting in the late morning. It was also important to time our arrival into Beaufort with a favorable current during daylight. We checked the tides and found high tide was mid morning, giving us plenty of time and light. With only 42 miles to go, we slowed the boats down to 3 knots and sat back to enjoy our last 14 hours or so of this fantastic passage. But at bout 2200, Anastasia radioed, and announced he had spoken with a friend that had local knowledge, who explained that high tide and slack water are at different times! Slack water was actually at 0630! We immediately set full sail and made best possible speed for Beaufort Inlet. The wind was building and the seas began piling up as we arrived at the channel, but we all made it in before the ebb began and dropped our hooks about half an hour before the wind started getting really nasty. It couldn’t have better timed.

We thought, how funny – our stay in Miami has been book-ended by all day downpours! Not so funny however, is just how wrong the wind forecast was.

The forecast was for Easterlies to veer around all night long eventually coming Northwest by 1700 the next day. A plenty doable window for the 40 mile crossing to Bimini. During dinner, the wind shifted to the Northeast. Hmm… that’s weird we thought! Must just be a local squall blowing through. But we went to bed with that wind still blowing from the North, dreaming it would come East as forecasted soon.

We awoke up at 0200 as planned, checked the wind, still North. Woke again at 0300. Wind still North. Up at 0400 for a final check. Wind still North. No Easterlies… instead, this Northerly blew all night long.

It’s still blowing North. Here’s the buoy report for Fowey Rocks at 0800 EDT.

I’m keeping a close eye on the weather these days. Looking for a weather window (treatment) for the hop across the Gulf Stream. So much to do, so little time. But it could be weeks before we see another window treatment like this. I have to be ready, and so the list gets edited, to the just the essential essentials.

The Gulf Stream runs about 3-4 knots through the Straits of Florida, and is the reason finding a decent weather window is so critical. Any northerly component to the wind, and the current against wind kicks up a steep and short wave in the stream. An Easterly wind is decent. It’ll be a close hauled port tack on a South Easterly course to make good a course of East, hopefully fetching Bimini, or Berries.

I’m pretty excited for this documentary to be released. Never met Nick Jaffe in person, but we’ve had some nice chats along the way, seems to be a great guy… telling it like it is. Check out more at BetweenHome.com or BigOceans.com.

Wow, pictures and videos just don’t do justice to the awesomeness of a shuttle launch. Even though I was 11 miles away, it was bright, loud, and just generally intense! My cousin, an airline pilot, came down for the event, one of the last few shuttle launches ever. We drove up at 9pm and camped out in Titusville along the Indian River, with a clear view of the launch pad. We arrived at 1am, the crowds were sprawling… RV’s everywhere, cars parked along the roadside, some walking around, others perched in their lawn chairs,  but most people sleeping behind clothing draped windows. This was the last dawn launch, and it was gorgeous. The International Space Station flew by 10 minutes before launch…another rare sight…still can’t believe it only takes only 90 minutes to orbit the earth!

A pic of my own, and a video of one of my favorite bands – Rush playing “Countdown” a song they wrote after being invited to view one of the early shuttle launches. This song has always been one of my favorites since its release in 1982, and it played on a continuous loop in my head as we sat their anticipating the blessed event.