Thursday, December 19, 2013

Peace

So there I was...snowshoeing through the forest yesterday morning following the tracks of a small herd of deer up a steep incline.  Halfway up the hill the melted indentations in the snow let me know that they bedded down here where they had protection from the wind and predators.  The quiet that the snow and location offered me was a reassuring reminder that in a world filled with all manners of stress inducing situations that are laid in our path, peace can still be found.  It's almost Christmas, celebrating the birth of Jesus.  The angels appeared to the shepherds in the fields to announce this birth and concluded with the words, "Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, goodwill toward men."  Peace is important, first between us and God, then between us and others.  Sometimes, between me and myself.  I pray the peace of God will touch you this season and it might feel like snowshoeing through a quiet snow enveloped forest.  Merry Christmas.

Thursday, December 12, 2013

Bad Hobie Cat

So there I was...watching from the porch of my brother's cottage as my Hobie Cat catamaran sailboat took off sailing across the lake without a person onboard.  It happened many years ago when I trailered the boat to the Berkshires to have some fun with family on this beautiful and often times windy lake.  After a bit of sailing, I tied the boat to a very heavy chunk of stainless steel used as a mooring just offshore in front of the cottage.  I left the sails up, but all of the lines loose, so the boat would point into the wind floating docile until my return from lunch.  Then the fast moving thunderstorm came over the western mountains that rim the lake.  It came on so quickly and with such ferocity, accompanied by bolts of lightning, that I couldn't get to the boat to drop the sails.  As the Hobie whipped around with the strong winds, the loose lines snagged around part of the rudder system allowing the sails to fill with air and the boat took off dragging the mooring behind it.  Once the mooring hit deeper water it no longer dragged but just hung on it's line.  Now the boat really took off.  It was heading for the dam at the other side of the lake and I was so relieved when it flipped over, effectively stopping it, about half way to it's destination with the lightning still keeping me pinned down in the cottage.  Shortly after the storm passed multiple people from around the lake, assuming that some fool had sailed out into the storm, got in their boats and sped to the overturned Hobie.  Not seeing anyone, they started diving around the boat looking for a body.  Then we heard the siren of the emergency vehicle responding to the call that there was a possible injury or drowning on a boat that went out in the middle of the storm.  I hustled to get out to this debacle in my brother's ski boat to ease everyones fears.  After eating much crow, we got the Hobie back to the cottage and dropped the sails immediately.  Never underestimate the power of the wind or an ill-behaved Hobie Cat.

Thursday, December 5, 2013

Cuttyhunk

So there I was...several years ago cruising into the very protected harbor of Cuttyhunk, a small island off the Massachusetts coast at the western entrance of Buzzards Bay.  Seeing other boats anchored in one section of the harbor I picked an open spot and told Kim to drop the anchor as I backed the boat.  Once the anchor was set a guy on a neighboring boat called over saying it may not be the best idea to have backed our boat beyond the buoy that was floating there.  Asking what the buoy was there for,  he pointed to a sea plane that was coming in for a landing and said that it marked where his water runway was located.  Needless to say, I yelled to Kim to pull the anchor line in, post haste, while I started the engine.  Great amounts of adrenaline were being expended on the part of myself, Kim and probably the pilot.  We just cleared the area as the pontoons touched the water.  Lesson learned.  The island is a quiet little paradise and one of our favorite things to do there is an early morning hike to the Cuttyhunk Fishing Club, a bed & breakfast/restaurant located high on a hill overlooking Vineyard Sound and the western shores of Martha's Vineyard.  There we've had wonderful breakfasts on the covered front porch with the most spectacular views.  These are the memories that come to mind on cold dark winter days.  Can't wait to sit on that porch, again.  Think I'll stay away from the buoy this time.

Thursday, November 21, 2013

Cold And Wet And Perfect

So there I was...pounding through the large waves and torrential rain on Eventide with Kim several years ago heading for Watch Hill, RI.  You know you should probably reevaluate your decision to go when there is absolutely nobody else on the water.  I replayed this scene in my head when my good friend John reminded me of that day while talking on the phone yesterday.  He and his wife Jan had sailed their boat over the day before, in much better conditions, to attend a party on shore then spent the night anchored off Watch Hill.  Thinking that no sane person would come over to meet them as planned in these conditions they were surprised to find us on our way.  After anchoring we donned our foul weather gear and boarded their dingy for the very cold wet trip into town where a breakfast place awaited with just out of the oven popovers, hot drinks and other warm-you-to-the-core edibles.  After thawing out we hiked out to the lighthouse having as much fun as a little kid splashing in a puddle as the rain continued to fall.  Heading back out to the boat Kim made hot soup and grilled cheese sandwiches for all of us.  Best I ever had.  We took a picture of John and Jan in their dingy as they were preparing to leave our boat that cold rainy day and they looked more than happy to be playing this game with us.  George Washington once wrote, "Friendship is a plant of slow growth and must undergo and withstand the shocks of adversity before it is entitled to the appellation."  We call each other friends.  We've earned it.

Thursday, November 14, 2013

Neighbors And Family

So there I was...walking through the backyard the other day working on one of the endless projects I had invented (Kim's words) when one of my neighbors called to me from her backyard.  As we stood talking at the fence another of my property-line neighbors joined us and our conversation about a variety of subjects went on for quite awhile.  Kim and I have had similar encounters with our other neighbors on each side of us. Neighbors down the street will often stop while driving by and chat if they see us out front.  In all the places I've lived the communal hospitality has never equaled what I've found here in Irondequoit.  As I was contemplating our good fortune in where we landed real-estate-wise it led me to think about my genetic neighbors, i.e. family.  Like most families, life has fed us many wonderful times and our fair share of trials and heartache.  We all have to walk that road but how we choose to react to those around us is what makes all the difference.  I have watched siblings tear their histories to shreds over trivial or monetary considerations loosing years of precious memories in the process.  One sided agendas ruling the day instead of humility and wanting the best for those we should love the most.  It is sad and it is commonplace.  I feel blessed to have a family and extended family that loves and cares for each other not just in word but in action.  Through some very difficult times we have stayed close and leaned on each other heavily with an attitude of giving more than we get.  During this Thanksgiving holiday, when we spend time with family more than usual, I hope we can fully appreciate each member and the unique characteristics God has given them.  Neighbors, too.

Thursday, November 7, 2013

Change

So there I was...watching the 60 mph wind gusts bend the trees and put the leaves to flight last Friday from the front window of my home.  Walking to the kitchen to look at the backyard something seemed amiss.  A huge tree that sat at the intersection of the backyard corner of four houses, one of them being mine, had fallen into the neighbor's yard directly behind me narrowly missing his garage.  Not knowing for sure who owned the tree we decided whoever's yard it fell into was the owner.  Why I'm telling you this story is because I really loved having that tree there.  It created a great backdrop to our yard and Kim and I just got that corner all cleaned up to where it finally had a nice finished look.  Things in life are rarely perfect and if they are they're not usually for long.  When on the boat this doesn't effect me much as constant change is inevitable out there so I expect it.  On land I count on things being a bit more stable but life is not a stable venue.  We need to stay flexible and ready to bend to the winds of change.  While doing that, we need to grow our roots deep through God, family and friends so we can weather the storms and changes.  Finally, we need to lighten up and laugh more.  There are times for serious introspection and sorrow but after giving it due consideration let the smile return, realizing with change comes growth.  This life really is quite an adventure.

Monday, October 28, 2013

Boat Freedom

So there I was...motoring up to Bluff Island in the Thousand Island chain this past August in the dingy.  I had heard that there was this amazing boutique and curiosity shop in a quaint building on the small island and it did not disappoint.  I knew Kim would love this place so we took the dingy one morning from where Eventide was anchored in the cove of a neighboring island.  What made this business, called Boateak, extra special was that it could only be reached by boat.  When arriving you didn't look for a parking space but rather a place at their dock to tie up.  Same thing was true when Kim and I visited Heart Island, from an earlier blog, a day or two later.  Coming to the dock in our own vessel to tour this wonder was a big part of the experience.  This way of doing things started for me when I was just a young boy growing up on a lake in southern Massachusetts.  My family had a little aluminum boat with a 5 1/2 hp Evinrude motor on it and this was my floating freedom.  The general store on the other side of the lake could be reached by boat and my parents were always sending me there to buy milk or bread.  We had a place called The Nook with it's own dock for pizza pickup and a marina that I was always navigating to because it sold my favorite candy.  Visiting my friends meant jumping in the boat and motoring to their cottages in various locations around the lake.  It was like the feeling a teenager gets when they earn their driver's license and with it the realm of possibilities.  On the lake, this was happening for me at 10 years old.  It is no wonder I feel so free when I'm on the water.  It has been ingrained in me from an early age.  If I could have gone to work everyday by boat I may not have retired.

Friday, October 18, 2013

Be Aware

So there I was...laying in bed this morning listening to the wind increasing outside.  I wondered if it had changed direction in the night and if that had swung the boat around putting it dangerously close to the nearby rocks just south of me or the nearby anchored boat just to the north of me.  Either could cause major damage so I needed to force myself from under the covers to check the situation.  As I gathered my wits about me I realized that I was in my house, not my boat, and it really didn't matter which way the wind was blowing.  Relieved and disappointed all at the same time I got up to look out the window for no particular reason.  No rocks.  No boats.  Just squirrels running around the back yard.  Well, that was a waste of adrenaline.  Don't get me wrong, it's nice to feel safe but try as I may I don't remember all the safe times in my life.  On the other hand, the heart pumping, goose bumping, throat lumping, nerve jumping times are etched in my memory.  When living on the boat I anchored almost everywhere I stopped for the night so the winds, bad weather, tides, rocks and other boats were a constant concern.  Vigilance was a necessity.  It may not sound like something you'd wish for but it connected me to my surroundings creating  a sensitivity to the subtle nuances of my environment.  It made me aware.  When you're aware, you not only notice but also appreciate the little things in life that make every day special.  I hope I don't lose that sensitivity now that I'm off the water.  Today, whatever it brings, is too important to miss.

Thursday, October 10, 2013

Best Part Of The Trip

So there I was...touching base with several of my friends and family back in Connecticut and Massachusetts making for a very busy few days before I returned to New York.  The one thing that almost everyone asked was what my favorite part of the trip was.  There were so many amazing places and events I got to experience that it was very hard to zero in on one.  Since I've been off the water I've given this more consideration and I think I've come up with an answer.  My favorite thing was waking up in the morning to the easy lapping of waves against the hull of the boat and looking out the windows to calm waters often as the sun was rising in the east.  Making a pot of coffee I would sit and read the Bible for a bit and put myself in God's hands for the day.  Then I would decide what I would like to do that day.  Sometimes I would read for hours.  Sometimes I would dingy into shore and hike to some destination.  Sometimes I would swim multiple times during the day.  Sometimes I would decide it was time to raise anchor and get under way to the next port.  The point is, after so many years of rigid schedules and obligations that I did my best to comply with, I was able to create my own schedule without having to satisfy anyone else's agenda.  There are times when a person can get away with that for a day or two but this summer offered me many weeks of this lifestyle.  I had never ever felt the freedom that was afforded me during this trip.  It had the effect of catching ones breath and hopefully has helped me to see life with more clarity.  Places and events make for great memories and stories but the things that effect your heart and soul are the best part of the trip.

Thursday, October 3, 2013

Back Where I Started

So there I was...pulling into Hamburg Cove on the Connecticut River one of the most beautiful coves in the area with high hills all around that creates a feeling of serenity while producing calm waters most of the time.  I went to pirate a mooring(to use someones mooring while they're not using it).  Leaving the helm I quickly moved to the bow with my boat hook as the boat drifted forward in neutral but the mooring pick up ball floated under the boat and snagged itself on the propeller and shaft area.  I hadn't planned on taking a swim that day but when on the water things like this happen all the time and being prepared is what it's all about.  Five minutes later I was drying off and putting snorkle mask and underwater flashlight away with everything hooked up as it should be.  A day later my friends John and Jan brought a very tasty dinner out to the boat and we sat in the cockpit watching the night fall on this harbor as we had done together so many times before in previous years.  It was good to be back with old friends.  Early Monday morning I slipped the mooring and headed up the Connecticut River into a thick fog that didn't lift until I was almost to my destination in Portland, CT so I never saw anything along the way but there was an erie stillness about it all that made the trip eventful nontheless.  Arriving at the boatyard, Eventide was pulled from the water and now sits on dry land.  A sad day.  Got to visit with so many friends since I got in and it's made me realize how much I missed them all since Kim and I left Connecticut.  True friendships are not found, they're built with years of shared experiences, some easy and some hard.  If you build them well, they'll last for a lifetime.  I'm looking forward to seeing my best friend in a couple days.  See you then, Kim.  

Thursday, September 26, 2013

New Friends, Old Friends And The Weather

So there I was...anchored at this sweet little harbor in Mattituck on the north shore of Long Island.  I was curious about the make of a small trawler anchored not too far from me so I went over to inquire about it from the owners.  Little did I know that Bob and Liz would invite me aboard their Cape Dory trawler for drinks and dinner and watermelon and great animated conversation for several hours.  What nice people they were and it sure beat the ramen noodles I had planned for dinner that evening.  The next day, on the way to shore, some friends that I met in Mattituck the previous year called me over and we caught up over drinks in the cockpit of Eventide later that evening.  Funny how I can go for days and never talk to a soul while living on the water and all of a sudden the social calendar fills right up.  I found all these people far more interesting to talk to than talking to myself.  
Pulled anchor the next day and headed across Long Island Sound for the Connecticut shore, specifically North Cove in the Connecticut River.  "The marine forecast got it wrong" would be an understatement.  The waves that hit me as I entered the sound wreaked havoc on the interior of my boat where things were thrown everywhere.  For about an hour and a half it did its worst until I got closer to the Connecticut shore and in the lee of the land being that the wind was coming from the northwest.  Another hour and a half and I was in North Cove where I tied to a free three day mooring in quiet waters where I attempted to rinse off some of the salt that covered every inch of the exterior of Eventide from that little adventure.  A dingy dock that gave me access to the wonderful town of Old Saybrook with it's many coffee shops and store fronts to explore improved my outlook.  We'll see what tomorrow brings.

Wednesday, September 18, 2013

Boating By The Numbers

So there I was...going ashore in the dingy after anchoring in the east end of Oyster Bay found on the north shore of Long Island.  I loved the picturesque beauty of this bay from the first time I anchored here several years ago and the smell of the saltwater, after a year in it's absence, made it feel like something of a homecoming.  Walking into the quaint town I passed a sailing center, a place that seeks to raise sailors and sailing to a competitive level, where who walks out the door but Dawn Riley.  She is one of the premier women sailors in the world.  I remember watching her years ago when she was the first woman to captain and manage an America's Cup sailing team.  She went on to race on four Amerca's Cup teams in all.  Thinking I must be mistaken, I did a little research and found my sighting to be true.
  As I'm getting close to the end of my journey on the water for this season I began to tally a few things.  Since my retirement, a year ago in August, I have navigated Eventide well over 1,300 miles, through 4 different canal systems and 62 locks the largest of them in the St. Lawrence Seaway that empties 24 million gallons of water in 7-10 minutes to drop my little boat down to the next level.  When I arrived in Waterford a week and a half ago it completed a very large circle that took me up the Erie Canal (lots of locks) into the Oswego Canal (fewer locks) and through Lake Ontario (huge lake that gets nasty in a storm) into the St. Lawrence River (Thousand Islands, beautiful) and eventually by Montreal (practice your French) and then through the Richelieu River (beautiful homes on it's shoreline) to the Chambley Canal (makes you think you're in Europe) again back into the Richelieu River that eventually spits me out on the northern end of Lake Champlain (water is so clean and vistas are stunning) that exits on the southern end into the Champlain Canal (more locks) where at it's end you find yourself again in Waterford.  A few more miles and I get to stop and rest for awhile.  Then Kim puts me to work.   

Thursday, September 12, 2013

Blessed

So there I was...coming up to the free docks in Waterford, NY after exiting the Champlain Canal and its 11 locks.  I was looking forward to spending my allotted 48 hours here where activity and stories abound as cruisers stop to reprovision at the confluence of the Champlain Canal, Erie Canal and Hudson River.  What I failed to remember from the last time I was through here was that this particular weekend was the Tugboat Roundup.  Though said to be an exciting time where tugboats from multiple states converge on this little town, they also completely take over the 1000 feet of floating docks and 600 feet of cement pier.  This left yours truly with no place to stay for the night.  After begging a spot to tie up long enough to get some groceries I went up to talk to Chris the Lockmaster at the first of the Erie Canal Locks.  He said, "We're gonna take care of you.  You get your boat and we'll lift you up through the lock and you can tie against the side wall up here by wrapping your lines around the trees on shore.  There's even electricity nearby so we'll hook you up to power and if you need to get to the Walmart 6 miles away here are the keys to my truck."  Talk about falling into cotton candy.  As I took his keys I told him driving his truck should be interesting since I hadn't driven in 3 months getting the reaction I hoped for.  The Tugboat Roundup was a blast and I got on so many boats.  Early Saturday morning I was having my coffee next to my boat when a guy approached me and asked if I could help him move his 85 foot 100 year old Norwegian cargo ship up through Lock 3 on the Erie Canal.  Of course I said yes.  I toured the inside of this behemoth admiring the beautifully redone spacious interior.  Controlling something that big through the lock was quite exciting.   Saturday night there was a big fireworks display and Chris's wife was engineer on the tug designated as the committee boat so he told me to come along with him to get front row seats to the event.  One of the best fireworks displays I've ever witnessed.  I was treated so well thanks to these wonderful people.  On Sunday afternoon I untied Eventide and went back down the lock leaving Waterford and my new friends.  After going through yet another lock almost immediately on the upper Hudson I traveled a couple hours south to a marina where the previous owner of Eventide wanted to buy me a seafood dinner at this very nice restaurant.  Three days later I was rounding Manhattan on 9/11.  As I entered the East River I looked up at the newly built Freedom Tower from the bridge of my boat and then over at the Statue of Liberty.  Indeed, we are blessed.

Thursday, September 5, 2013

Sliding Through The Muck

So there I was...attempting to enter a small cove on the very southern end of Lake Champlain before you get to the locks in an area called The Narrows.  It is a very desolate area with no cell phone reception and you rarely see another person.  It was getting toward evening and though none of the cruisers had ever attempted this cove for anchoring, it's 75 ft high rock wall on one side and grassy marsh on the other side toward the main channel drew me in with it's beauty and secluded atmosphere.  The entrance was going to be tight but there was 8 feet of water once you got in.  My 17,000 pound boat requires a bit over 3 ft of water and it concerned me when I read 2 ft on the depth finder.  As I slid through the muck holding my breath the thought was going through my head that even if I got in, would I be able to get back out in the morning?  After succeeding and dropping my anchor I heard an airboat, the kind they use in the everglades, come flying through the marsh and into where I was with a look on the occupants faces that said, "How did you get that boat in here?"  It was a fantastic anchorage and after a narrow escape in the morning I made my way into the Champlain Canal and now sit at a dock in Mechanicville, NY, just south of Lock 3, where tie-up, water, and electricity hook-up are all free.  They like boaters.  Last night the previous owner of Eventide, who lives not too far from here, came to see his old boat at my invitation.  We talked and told boating stories until 11pm and one of the stories was how he had run Eventide onto the rocks at Colchester Shoals in Lake Champlain (see previous post) after leaving Fourth of July fireworks festivities in Burlington after dark.  Fortunately, very little damage was found after the Coast Guard pulled him off but what a coincidence that I just wrote about that shoal.  Checked out a museum in Shelburn, VT, aptly named Shelburn Museum, that has an incredible collection of Americana spread out over many acres.  It's worth a road trip and you can take in nearby Burlington while you're there.  Lots to do in that town and a great waterfront.  I'll finish up the Champlain Canal and locks tomorrow morning, then it's onto the Hudson River heading toward New York City.

Thursday, August 29, 2013

Back In The U.S.A.

So there I was...coming across Lake Champlain from an incredibly beautiful anchorage with crystal clear water on the New York side heading for Burlington, VT  at about 10 am this morning.  I had charted a course on my GPS and paper charts before I left the anchorage to make sure I gave a wide berth to a clump of submerged rocks about two miles off the Vermont shore called Colchester Shoal.  As I passed the shoal in 332 feet of water I watched as a dive team, with the State Police and Coast Guard assisting, attempt to free a 40+ ft very expensive looking "go fast" boat as it sat atop Colchester Shoal.  The damage looked substantial.  Their efforts must have been in vain as I noticed a barge, with a crane on it, heading for the boat from Burlington.  Gotta be careful out here.
Kim joined me in Canada last weekend to help me go through the 9 locks on the Chambly Canal.  We met some wonderful Americans while we were all tied to the canal wall at lock 3 and had an impromptu cocktail party that evening then went through locks 4-9 together as a group the next day.  As much as I enjoyed the Canadian hospitality, it was nice to converse with those you have so much in common with.  The canal and locks looked like a picture you might take in Europe and were so clean and well run.  Kim thoroughly enjoyed the experience and after clearing lock 9 with me rode her bicycle, that we carried on the boat, the 19 km (about 12 miles) back to lock 1 on a bike path that paralleled the canal to where her car was parked.  I passed through U.S. customs, at a dock set up for that purpose near the border, the next day and it felt good to be on American soil again, albeit the soil was under a lot of water.
As I write this, I'm anchored near the town of Burlington VT and the view across Lake Champlain of the 1000 ft high mountains on the New York side is stunning.  I've heard good things about this college town and am looking forward to checking it out.  So I need to quit writing and start exploring.

Thursday, August 22, 2013

French Quebec

So there I was...pulling Eventide out of the harbor in Montreal after dropping Kim off at the train station and stopping by our favorite breakfast place for a cafe au lait and croissant.  The current outside the breakwall was moving the St. Lawrence Seaway along at almost 6 knots, fortunately in the direction I was going, toward Quebec City.  I was playing hopscotch with freighters all afternoon that were over 700 feet long as they passed me going the same direction or squeezed me to the side of the channel coming toward me.  My boat never felt so small.  Half way to Quebec City I anchored for the night behind a beautiful island and early the next morning turned south, for the first time in over a year, as I left the St. Lawrence River to enter the Richelieu River.  There would be over 75 miles of this river to navigate and 10 locks to go through before I drop my anchor in American mud again at the northern end of Lake Champlain.  As I write this, I am anchored in Chambly Basin in the town of, you guessed it, Chambly, Quebec.  When you get away from the bigger cities in these regions nobody speaks English.  So I've been walking around more confused than usual.  My French is for introduction only and on occasion to order pasteries.  The people here are kind and patient with me so we finally succeed in exchanging information.  In the U.S. I can be perplexed in a grocery store but the one I went to here left me dazed and confused.  Everything is written in French.  It makes for a great adventure when you're a bit lost and through it all I'm having a blast.  Till next time, au revoir.

Friday, August 16, 2013

The Heart of Montreal

So there I was...pulling Eventide into the dock at Heart Island found not far from the shores of Alexandria Bay, NY in the Thousand Islands.  I wanted to take Kim here because she has this thing about hearts, being the romantic that she is.  The story goes that George Boldt, one of the movers and shakers in the New York City hotel business in the late 1800's, blasted the island into the shape of a heart then with 300 workers took four years to build a castle patterned after 16th century European architecture as a testimony of the love he had for his wife.  He was going to present it to her on Valentines Day in 1904 but Mrs. Boldt died in January of that same year.  A telegram was sent and the 300 workers dropped their tools and left the island never to return.  Such a tragic love story.  The 127 room castle and grounds are amazing but three hours later we got under way to head for Brockville, Ontario to check our vessel into Canada with customs.  After three nights anchoring behind islands and as many days going through seven locks we pulled into a beautiful marina in Montreal right in the middle of Vieux Montreal (Old Montreal).  There is so much here to see and the people are wonderful.  Our French is slowly improving and when we leave, it will be too soon.  I will miss the crepes most of all.

Friday, August 9, 2013

Tortuga

So there I was...scrambling to get the boat clean and in some kind of order before Princess, I mean Kim, came on board for vacation.  The place was beginning to look more like a man cave with nobody around to create any kind of decorum conscience in me.  In my haste I knocked Tortuga on the floor.  Who or what is Tortuga?  Let me tell you.  For those who know Spanish, you know that it is the word for turtle and he is indeed a turtle though only a soft plastic one.  He was brought back from Florida by Kim on a business trip where she stayed in a Ritz-Carlton Hotel and he lived on the bathtub with the little bottles of shampoo and conditioner.  His new home was on our boat until our good friends John and Jan kidnapped him without our knowledge and whisked him off to Martha's Vineyard on their sailboat for vacation.  We received a treasure map with instructions of how we might find our beloved pet from the devious abductors since they knew we were vacationing on the Vineyard a week later.  It was quite detailed and after following it with fear in our hearts we found Tortuga shaken but alive in the hollowed out section of a tree just off the path that snaked through a woods in a harbor on the Vineyard called Lake Tashmoo.  After that harrowing experience Tortuga stayed with us and he was in all kinds of pictures with Kim and I as we traveled through the islands.  In restaurants waitresses would take pictures of Kim, Tortuga and I dining together and there were shots of him having hor'derves in the cockpit of the boat at sunset as well as laying out at the beach.  All of these were sent to John and Jan to show them how happy he was to be back with us.  Eventually, John took him on the high seas with him for a multi-day blue water adventure when he helped to sail a boat to Bermuda.  Yes, this little turtle has had an exciting life and shows no signs of slowing down.  He, again, sits above the helm station on Eventide looking for the next harbor.       

Friday, August 2, 2013

The Daggett House Mug

So there I was...sitting in this beautiful harbor amongst the Thousand Islands this morning having my coffee as I listened to the call of the loons drift over the still glassy water.  Today I'd chosen the coffee mug that had "The Daggett House" scribed across it with a picture of what the house looked like on the back.  Fond memories came to the forefront of my mind of the day I bought this mug from the establishment that is no longer a bed & breakfast/restaurant  but now a private residence.  Several of my closest friends were anchored on their boats near Kim and I in Edgartown Harbor on Martha's Vineyard a few years ago.  We all dingied in to have breakfast at The Daggett House one morning having heard so many good things about it.  Though there was a wait to be seated they provided coffee out on the veranda and beautiful gardens to stroll through making the wait almost not seem long enough.  When we eventually sat at our assigned seating and ordered our food the playful banter and back and forth good humor was all that you could hope for from friendships that had been forged years ago.  Once the food arrived the conversation continued until all at once everyone got very quiet and started staring at Kim.  Tears were flowing down her cheeks and of course they all looked to blame me.  What had really happened is that Kim and I had gone on this diet months before where carbohydrates were strictly prohibited and this was the first time we were allowed to break that rule.  As Kim bit into the incredibly tender biscuit smothered with melted butter and jam her tear ducts took over and you would have thought she'd lost a loved one.  The group, after being stunned, went crazy over what they were watching and for the first time I think they realized how deeply Kim feels about things.  Even biscuits.  She was trying to have a private moment but they would have none of it.  This particular display of emotion is mentioned to this day by our friends and warms my heart while producing a chuckle every time I take my coffee in The Daggett House mug.   

Thursday, July 25, 2013

A Tern of Events

So there I was...coming out of the main cabin of the boat into the cockpit early one morning last week to get into the dingy and make my way to shore for a cup of coffee.  What I soon realized is there had been yet another hatching of a different bug on the previous evening so now I had hundreds and hundreds of these small white moths all over the boat.  What is it about the Thousand Islands and bugs?  Lots of bugs.  As soon as I moved across the cockpit heading for the dingy they all went air-bound flying in my face and landing all over me.  This attracted the birds, I think they were Terns, that started diving with incredible acrobatic skill to catch the moths in flight.  Problem was they were diving at me and the moths fluttering all over me coming inches from my head.  I was swinging my arms trying to get the moths off me and with head down sheilding my eyes from some tern that may have failed flight school, I stumbled with a tremendous lack of grace into the dingy.  I'm sure the locals enjoy watching these little shows.  Even there, the onslaugt didn't end while I got the motor going finally clearing the war zone and knocking the remaining hitch hikers off me.  A few days later the moths were mostly gone and the run for the dingy became unnecessary.  Until the next hatching.

Wednesday, July 17, 2013

Clayton, Wilburt, Picnic Point and Loons

So there I was...heading into French Bay in the town of Clayton, NY after a peaceful two hour trip.  Another boat-friendly harbor that goes above and beyond in making things convenient for travelers like myself.  Having the largest freshwater antique boat museum in the world piqued my interest and it did not disappoint as I spent hours drooling over the craftsmanship of the old wooden vessels of all kinds and of course the amazing collection of antique outboard motors.  My buddy John and I have always concluded that you can never have too many outboard engines.  Walking along the waterfront was magical where a bluegrass band played as boats from the islands and Canada came and went at the town docks.  Also near the town docks was Thousand Islands Inn which lays claim to being home of the original Thousand Islands dressing.  A nearby store front for Coyote Moon Vineyards had wine tastings.  A cheerful young lady said that I could try 3 of their wines for free or 16 of their wines for 3 dollars.  Lunch, for 3 dollars.  As I enjoyed the vineyards best efforts my host filled me in on the town and the Thousand Islands area.  The next day I go in search of Wilburt.  I have heard of this man and his ability to find boat parts that no one else can.  I have a Johnson 3HP outboard engine that I love using on the dingy.  Problem is, the gas cap has been leaking on it's built-in tank and being the engine is 60 years old, built in 1953, there are none to be found.  When I explain my dilemma to Wilburt, who eclipses my engines age by at least 25 years, he shifts his captains hat to one side and gets a twinkle in his eye.  We jump in his old Volvo and make a short drive to this huge warehouse filled with every old boat engine part you could imagine.  We climb several staircases and go through a maze of turns and doors.  In the back corner of a back room he rummages through a box and pulls out two of the exact gas cap I need, never used in it's original box.  I am amazed.  As nice as Clayton is, I'm ready for a quiet place where people aren't part of the ambience so a few days later I pull anchor and head over to a location on Grindstone Island.  This is one of 1800 islands in what is called Thousand Islands.  I anchor in a peaceful cove along Picnic Point State Park.   Some twenty years ago I heard a recording of the eerie and mesmerizing  cry of the loon, a beautiful aquatic bird, and thought to myself that someday I have to hear this sound firsthand in the wild.  As I settled into my new anchorage,  toward evening that sound came drifting over the water in the most surreal manner.  As I spotted the loon it privileged me with several more cries that brought a tear to my eye.  It was so worth the wait.

Wednesday, July 10, 2013

St. Lawrence Seaway

So there I was...coming into the St. Lawrence River after a 2 hour ride north from Sacket's Harbor where I had spent five days.  Sacket's Harbor was the center of American naval and military activity for the upper St. Lawrence Valley and Lake Ontario during the War of 1812.  It was also a major ship building port during this time and Lieutenant Ulysses S. Grant was stationed there in 1848, 49  and 51.   So there was a lot of history and battlefield sites to explore.  Kim joined me there for the Fourth of July weekend and we checked out the incredibly quaint village with it's abundance of flowers, eateries and old architecture.  But alas, I was raising anchor and heading into the St. Lawrence Seaway with Canada to my left and the U.S. to my right.  Anchoring behind a sea wall in the little town of Cape Vincent was my intention and it has turned out to be an excellent decision.  It is very boat friendly and as I look across the river into Canada there is a wind farm with 86 wind turbines each over 240 feet tall on Wolfe Island.  What an amazing site.  Again, it would be easy to stay but it's been three days so I'm off to the next harbor.

Wednesday, July 3, 2013

Ducking For Cover

So there I was...a couple miles out in Lake Ontario last Monday on the way to my next harbor that would take five hours to reach.  I knew the weather wasn't going to be great but the lake was proving to be more aggressive than had been predicted.  Waves were standing three to four feet high and unlike the long rolling ocean waves that I'm used to,  these were sharp and very close together.  I was taking a terrible pounding and items that I thought I'd secured were flying around the cabin as spray from the waves was washing over the deck and windshield to where I was having trouble seeing.  Problem is that it's my custom not to turn back once I've set my course for a destination.  This has created some wild trips over the years.  Then the duck spoke to me.  Kim had put this stuffed toy duck on the boat that resides on my desk in the main cabin.  When you plop the duck down firmly on a hard surface it starts to quack and quack and quack.  Said duck went flying across the cabin at one point and the quacking started.  In duck language, which I must know, he was saying, "Are you some kind of idiot.  What are we doing out here?  Forget that you're tearing your not so young body apart but this 35 year old boat can't take this kind of punishment any more.  Swallow your pride and turn this boat around."  I listened to the duck and it's a good thing I did because the weather continued to deteriorate.  So I made the trip today, two days later, and the seas were flat with no wind but there was fog most of the way limiting my sight to about a quarter mile.  I was about 25 miles offshore and driving from the upper helm station when the flies attacked.  Hundreds and hundreds of flies.  They were landing all over me and I had to retreat to the lower helm station in the main cabin.  It was like some horror movie as they were covering every screen and window trying to get in.  They were finding small openings and for the rest of the trip I was killing flies with the fly swatter.  Dead flies everywhere.  They don't put this stuff in the brochures at the boat shows and this time the duck never said a word.

Wednesday, June 26, 2013

Another Great Harbor

So there I was...sitting in the cockpit of Eventide last night in the quietest of harbors on my way to Thousand Islands and Montreal.  The fish were jumping all around the boat as Kamikaze moths dove into the large citronella candle I had burning.  The outline of the shore was quickly fading with the last remnants of light and I couldn't think of anywhere I'd rather be.  Earlier in the day I crossed the bay and tied the dingy at a dock a block away from this great out of the way bakery called the Fly By Night Cookie Company.  So much character to this place and the cookies (plural) were so good.  Chatting with the locals and a swim off the back of the boat was in order followed by dinner and aforementioned wildlife encounter.  Speaking of wildlife, I watched an eagle soaring near the anchorage today.  Sometimes it's difficult to leave when you find these gems but there are adventures waiting.  In the words of Captain Ron from the movie of the same title, "If it's gonna happen, it'll happen out there."  Time to pull anchor.

Thursday, June 20, 2013

Sodus Bay

So there I was...cruising across Lake Ontario yesterday on my way to Sodus Bay, NY.  The winds were coming out of Northeast Canada creating a wave pattern that bumped and twisted Eventide beyond uncomfortable.  Pair that with how tired I was from getting boat and house together for my departure and low and behold, I got sea sick.  Nothing worse than knowing you have hours of travel time left and you're the only one to run the boat when this dreaded infirmity jumps on your innards.  Using every known remedy that I've collected over years of playing this game, I barely made it to Sodus Bay without succumbing.  Once here, I anchored in a quiet harbor and all was right with the world and my stomach.  Sitting in the cockpit watching the sun go down I wondered if this scenario wasn't an analogy for life.  As bad as it sometimes gets and as long as the suffering sometimes lasts there is a quiet beautiful anchorage waiting that will make the journey worth all the trouble.  He promised.

Thursday, June 13, 2013

Thanks

So there I was...upside down in the bilge of Eventide struggling to loosen a nut that the manufacturer never intended to be reachable by a mans hand.  How am I ever going to get to this thing?  Enter Kim.  This scenario has played out so many times that I've lost count.  Her willingness and small hands have been invaluable and saved us thousands of dollars not having to turn jobs over to the boatyard experts.  We just finished a large and difficult fiberglassing job rebuilding half of the cockpit floor and Kim was with me every step of the way.  If I have had a full and exciting boating experience, my wife has to be credited with making it possible.  As often happens, too much time goes by without expressing our appreciation to the people closest to us for making our lives full and meaningful.  Thirty one years ago when the minister spoke the words, "and the two shall become one" I had no idea how true this would be.  Thanks Kim.  I couldn't do it without you, nor would I want to.

Thursday, June 6, 2013

Bill

So there I was...enjoying a beautiful morning in Hamburg Cove having coffee with Bill on our boats that were tied together.  So there I was...spreading the ashes of a good friend from Bill's boat on an outgoing tide in Long Island Sound.  So there I was...scuba diving with Bill as we serviced our moorings that we owned near each other near Mystic, CT.  So there I was...laughing hysterically with friends as Bill did one of his many satirical impressions.  So there I was...etc.  I wasn't with Bill as he was hit head on by another car that will possibly alter the rest of his life.  This has been heavy on my mind this past week.  Bill is a survivor and I know he won't quit but it's what he's already done that inspires me most.  He has lived a full and exciting life with many friendships forged and stories to tell.  He has not shied away from change or the unknown and has shown himself to be giving and multi-talented.  Had he put off living the adventure for somewhere in the future and then had this happen to him, that would have been sad indeed.   Tomorrow has never been promised to us and the quality of a life will always trump quantity.  Let's take stock of what God has given us today and never let fear or procrastination rob us of having the adventure of a lifetime.  Things may have changed for Bill, but trust me, his adventure is not over.  He's wired that way.

Thursday, May 30, 2013

Honda to Honda

So there I was...talking to my neighbor last night about a Honda generator I own and we got talking about the other Honda products I've had.   I proceeded to tell him about riding my Honda Goldwing motorcycle home from work on a very hot evening one summer at about 9pm.  After stopping at Home Depot, to buy yet another necessity for the house, I just couldn't get myself to put my helmet back on with it being as hot as it was.  As I drove through the dark on Rt 2 in Glastonbury, CT I remember liking the fact that there were so few cars on this stretch of highway giving me the road all to myself.  The deer must have been thinking the same thing as he leaped in front of my bike that was traveling 65 mph.  I had only enough time to brace for the impact as the animal slammed against the fairing and flipped over and slightly to the side of me.  By the grace of God and some angels holding on tight the bike stayed up and I throttled down pulling over to the side of the highway with my head still intact.  I looked back for the deer but there were no lights in this area leaving me to wonder if it survived.  After looking at the cracked fairing and other damage done to my bike I expressed my opinion about what I thought its fate should be.  Though I'd had many close calls over a lifetime of biking this one seemed to rob me of the sense of freedom I'd always felt when riding now having to be overly vigilant for the next foraging furry jaywalker.  Hence, I sold the Goldwing and bought a Honda snowblower just before one of the snowiest winters in Connecticut.  It's all good.

Thursday, May 23, 2013

Unpredictable

So there I was...hunkered down in the cabin of my sailboat as Kim did battle with a  swarm of bees.  Things out on the water can be unpredictable at times.  Case in point.  Several years ago we were sailing about 5 miles off the coast of Rhode Island on a hazy day.  Poor visibility limited our view to about a mile giving the impression that we were all alone on this big ocean.  That is when we were invaded by butterflies, probably a hundred or more.  They came out of nowhere and were landing all over the boat.  It wasn't but a minute later that hundreds of flies showed up and started taking up residence along side the butterflies.  Feeling like we were in the middle of a biblical plague Kim and I were pondering this surreal moment when the bees arrived. So many bees.  Problem is that if I get stung by even one of these pollen toting winged wonders, I could die.  Amplify that dilemma with the time it would take me to get to a hospital from 5 miles offshore and the prudent move for me was to dive into the cabin and shut the doors after handing Kim the flyswatter.  Eventually she cleared the deck of all the uninvited guests and it was safe for the captain to show his face again.  She now holds it over me that she saved my life that day.  There must have been a stream of wind that collected all these critters off the shore and let them go miles out to sea.  Confused and disoriented they spy the only place to land, our boat.  Lucky us.

Thursday, May 16, 2013

Black Sunday (Part 2)

So there I was...thinking the next big wave was going to turtle the boat, turn it upside-down, as my mind was scrambling for a solution.  Normally a sailboat would try to right itself with the sheer weight of the 2,000 lb. iron keel attached to its underside but in this case the 42 mph wind was pushing the sail to the water.  We couldn't release the line attached to the sail because it jammed in the block (roller) when everything unfurled with such speed and fury.  The only answer was to cut the line but my knife was in the closed cabin.  I yelled for Kim to climb sideways into the cabin, since she was closer, and hand the knife out to me.  Being the she-cheetah that she is, it was in my hands in seconds.  I cut the line (always keep your knives sharp) with one quick move and the sail and line were soon flapping like a sheet on a clothesline in front of the boat releasing all of the wind it had captured.  The boat popped right-side-up and though we were still getting hit with the waves it was now controlled mayhem.  I went forward and rolled the sail around the furler by hand leaving only a 4'x4' section of sail exposed,  immediately giving us control of Crosswinds once again.  Kim returned to her place in the cockpit hanging on white knuckled and looking forward and me to the helm.  A short while later I saw what looked like a one gallon milk jug that someone must have lost off their boat but as we sailed quickly up along side it the milk jug looked up at me.  It was the head of a leatherback turtle and it's shell had to be 4' across, it was huge.  I yelled for Kim to look causing her to almost jump out of her skin being so intent on staying alive at the moment.  I guess wildlife sightings weren't on her priority list.  As we entered the Watch Hill gate buoys, a coast guard cutter came speeding toward us, probably called by a passing freighter that watched our knock-down earlier and expected our boat to go down.  We waved them off as the seas settled quite a bit once we entered Fishers Island Sound.  The wind and rain were still going nuts when we arrived at our mooring and attaching to it ended up in a bent boathook and more drama.  Once we were tied and secure Kim fell down on the deck and started crying.  She had held it together through it all but now was the time to let it all out...and she did.  The amazing part is she still wants to be on the boat...with me.

Thursday, May 9, 2013

Black Sunday

So there I was...sailing away from Newport, RI several years ago with Kim on Crosswinds, our 26' sailboat late one Sunday morning. The weather forecast was not favorable with 5' to 7' seas expected and 25 mph winds but we had to make it to our home port of Mystic, CT and our jobs the next morning.  We expected to get beat up a bit but we had no idea what was coming our way.  As we rounded Pt. Judith, RI, we evaluated the conditions as this was our last chance to ditch into the man-made harbor of refuge that was built for just these occasions but felt we could handle the present conditions.  Shortly after the point of no return the sky opened up dropping massive amounts of rain while the winds built to 42 mph and the seas, coming from behind us, grew to somewhere between 10 and 15 feet high.  We had an outboard motor on this boat which makes it impossible to drop sails and motor into the seas, and back to Pt. Judith,  because the hobby horsing of the boat pulls the propeller out of the water making it ineffectual at best and destroying the motor at worst.  So, we shortened our sails the best we could and ran for Mystic some 25 miles away with nowhere to hide from the storm.  As the seas grew, Crosswinds started to surf down the waves at speeds that were much too fast for this boat.  My fear was that she would dive her bow into the bottom of the wave prompting me to fight the helm over so we would ride the wave on an angle like a surfer would do.  The hard rains were coming sideways from behind us making it almost impossible to look back to time the oncoming waves and this scenario was going on and on with no signs of letting up.  We had a fore sail that was huge but only about half of it was out thanks to a device called a roller furler that rolls the sail around itself.  With the wind continuing to build I was loosing control of the boat and knew we had to roll that sail up some more.  I asked Kim to take the helm so I could pull the roller furler line, effectively shortening the sail, knowing it was going to be a real struggle with the wind pulling on it with such force.  She saw what I was going through at the helm and felt she couldn't handle it choosing to deal with the roller furler instead.  I warned her to not let go of that furler line once she committed but the force of it was overpowering and it was yanked from her grip.  The whole sail unfurled in a heartbeat and the wind spun the 7000 lb boat sideways and knocked it flat on it's side to where the top of the mast was now touching the water.  Kim and I scrambled to the high side of the cockpit and hung on as the next big wave was bearing down on us.  (To be continued...) 

Thursday, May 2, 2013

Impressed (x4)

So there I was...sitting in the cockpit of Eventide in Dutch Harbor, part of Jamestown Rhode Island, watching the sun set across Narragansett Bay.  I was single-handing the boat for a week and heading for Martha's Vineyard where Kim would meet me after the sea calmed me down a bit.   A beautiful wood sailboat was ghosting into the harbor barely leaving a wake and heading for her mooring.  Normally a vessel of this size will start the engine to assist picking up the mooring but this one was going to do it on sail alone, which impresses the heck out of me.  I grabbed my binoculars to watch the crew go through their paces and was even more impressed to see that it was four ladies.  Like a well oiled machine they moved with precision and landed the mooring about as perfect as could be done.  Impressed for the third time, I jumped in the dingy and motored over to this forty plus foot sailboat to commend them on a job well done.  With thanks for the compliment they asked if I'd like to come aboard for a drink.  Why, yes I would.  What a great bunch of gals they were and as drinks turned into a dinner of homemade chili we told sailing stories as the sun finished setting.  Then they told me the story of the captain of this vessel who was sitting across the cockpit from me, all 125 lbs of her.  Apparently she was a finish carpenter of sorts and over several years she built this boat with her own hands.  Then she sailed her off and circumnavigated the globe in three years.  She had returned a couple months earlier tired and out of money.  Now she was regrouping and putting together a plan that would allow her to get out there again.  A tour of the boat showed how talented a builder she was and the perfect mooring pickup showed how competent a sailor she was impressing me a fourth time.  I think that's some kind of record.  

Thursday, April 25, 2013

Civilized

So there I was...walking the streets of Vineyard Haven on Martha's Vineyard several years ago with Kim and her cousin Melinda who had come a long way to spend a few days with us in paradise.  We were waiting for a particular establishment to open so we decided to hike up to West Chop Lighthouse to fill the time.  Having never visited this lighthouse, one of five found on the island, I didn't realise what a long uphill hike it would be and doing it in sandals just made it worse.  By the time we got there we were hot and exhausted but it was worth it as I have never visited a lighthouse I didn't like.  It was what we came to just beyond the lighthouse that has stuck with me all these years.  There were two little girls, about ten years old, that had a little lemonade stand set up in the perfect spot to serve those who had hiked to the lighthouse on this hot summer day with a beautiful view of Vineyard Sound behind them.  They both looked like they just stepped out of a Sears catalog with the perfect looks and dressed to perfection.  They were polite and well spoken to a fault but what came next was the coup de grâce.  When I asked for a lemonade one of the girls goes into a cooler next to her and pulls out a lemon.  She cuts it in half and as I watch in amazement she fresh squeezes it and combines the juice with the ice, sugar and water the second girl had prepared.  I am presented with this most elegant concoction with the sweetest of smiles and it was the very best glass of lemonade I have ever tasted.  Sometimes all of the pieces come together to produce the perfect experience.  How civilized.

Thursday, April 18, 2013

Down South

So there I was...startled awake at three in the morning as someone was pounding at my door with apparent intentions of knocking it down.  I had arrived here in Montgomery, Alabama late in the evening and found the $7 a night motel so I could get a shower and a good nights sleep.  After traveling and sleeping in my car for over a week I was beginning to reek despite my many attempts to freshen up in the rest stops along the interstate.  At 18 years old it wasn't uncommon for me to jump in my car and just take off with no particular destination and very little money in my pocket.  This was my first time heading south from Connecticut and I had almost no exposure to southerners to this point except for the old southern preacher I met in Georgia a couple days earlier.  After being warned about sleeping in a car with Connecticut plates in rural areas due to a bit of left over Civil War animosity, I pulled into this little country church and asked the pastor if I could stay in his parking lot for the night.  At 7 in the morning a knock comes on my car window with the old pastor bellowing in a heavy southern drawl, "C'mon, vittles is on."  His wife fed me grits, collard greens, biscuits and gravy and other foods I had never tasted in my life.  There is nothing like southern hospitality.  Back in Montgomery, I stumbled out of bed as the banging continued at my door with shouts of, "Let me in there...you let me in there." As I opened the door I saw an extremely large woman with her fist raised in the air and fire in her eyes.  She stared at me for a moment and then flatly said, "I got the wrong room."  I closed the door and headed back to bed.  A moment later, two doors down, I heard banging and a familiar voice yelling "Let me in there...you let me in there."  
Many years later I would live in the south and even marry a southern woman but that night in Montgomery I had mixed feelings about what felt like a whole different country.

Thursday, April 11, 2013

Still Crazy After All These Years

So there I was...standing in the middle of the woods with a tuxedo hanging from a tree branch and a fidgety horse by my side as my brother looked on in disbelief.  It was 31 years ago, yesterday, that I donned a white tux and after carefully crossing a stream, riding an all black horse, galloped up the long hill to become one with my bride.  We had met on a blind date six months earlier and now she was coming from the other direction with her father in a horse drawn surrey.  The mothers, bridesmaids and flower girl were already waiting at the outdoor pavilion dressed in period costume after arriving in a wagon pulled by two mules.  As Kim and her father got closer it was a race for me to arrive first.  Dismounting quickly, I handed the reins to one of my groomsman and took my place next to my brother, the best man.  All was going well and the guests were enjoying the show when Kim and her dad exited the surrey and started walking down the aisle.  What someone forgot to tell me was my father-in-law-to-be would be carrying a very large shotgun at his side while he approached.  My brother said something like, "We have to run, we have to run now."  I never found out if the gun was loaded or not but I didn't run and never will.  Our wedding night was spent at a remote hunting cabin in a little town called Romance, MO.  Isn't that just sick?  It started crazy and still is.  I wouldn't have it any other way.  

Thursday, April 4, 2013

Cave Crawling

So there I was...filthy from head to toe and wedged in a hole wondering if I was going to see the light of day again.  It all happened several years ago when some casual friends of mine said they did some caving and that I was welcome to come along.  Always ready to jump at the opportunity to try something new and risky, I met them at the break of dawn one Saturday morning.  They had all the equipment I would need and told me to wear clothes I wouldn't mind throwing away.  After donning helmet, gloves, multiple lights, headlamp, food and water we slipped into a small hole in the ground located in a wooded area where I immediately felt the temperature drop to about 55 degrees, down 25 degrees from the outside summer day.  As we made our way deeper into the earth there were narrow tunnels that required you to lay on your back and move yourself forward by walking with your shoulder blades through the mud and bat droppings while you studied the hanging bats just inches from your face at times.  There were small streams moving through parts of the cave and here is where I first saw a blind salamander.  Having no use for eyes in the pitch black environment its body had adapted and though you could see where the eyes used to be it was now just skinned over.  There was a circular room we came to that was about 8 feet across that was formed from some sort of whirlpool that had etched it away showing several layers of different colored rock.  It was here sitting on a ledge that we stopped for lunch and turned off our lights for the first time.  I have never seen blackness to that degree before.  Even after allowing time for your eyes to adjust you still could not see anything and I then realized why the necessity for redundancy  and variation of our many lights.  With so many turns, branches and levels of a cave, if you lost all light there is little chance of finding your way back out.  Speaking of levels, we were having to drop through a hole to enter another level of the cave when I, as the largest person there, got stuck and instead of stopping to think this through I impatiently pushed harder getting myself seriously stuck.  The other two cavers were already through the hole so there was nobody above me to pull me up.  It was decided that I would breath every bit of air out of my lungs, contracting my chest cavity, while the others would pull from the bottom.  With a great tug I popped through to the lower level like a cork.  We found another way back.  We emerged from the cave, six hours after entering, dirty, tired and happy to see the sun.

Thursday, March 28, 2013

Mentor

So there I was...hanging midway on a line against the side of a 100 ft cliff.  With a push from my legs away from the rock wall I zipped down the line in long bounds until I found myself at the base of the canyon watching for the Tarantula spiders as my feet touched ground.  By the way, just a warning, they can jump.  There was my friend and mentor, Mike Murphy, as thrilled as I was at my first rappelling experience.  Mike was a bit older than me and we first met when I started working at a printing plant some 32 years ago.  As I progressed through my five year apprenticeship he eventually became my direct supervisor.  The first day I worked for him he walked me over to his desk and asked me to read a sign prominently displayed that said, "NO EXCUSES".  If there was a problem I would be expected to own that problem and to create a solution to it.  This was the first of many lessons he would teach me over the coming years.  Mike and I had one thing in common from the beginning, other than our strong Christian faith, and that was our risk taking.  We loved the adrenaline rush though I think he had a more refined methodical approach.  Mike flew helicopters and would take Kim and I up for rides but I would be the one hanging out the door to increase the excitement level.  We rode dirt bikes together pushing the limits to where one wrong move could make for a very bad day.  Off road four wheeling with our trucks and parachuting were done in our quest for pushing the envelope.  On the lighter side, Mike would rent a fixed wing airplane and we would fly from Missouri, with our wives, to a four star restaurant  in Arkansas for brunch.  I was thrilled to take the controls while in the air and turned them back over to Mike as he landed us on a grass runway along side the restaurant.  It seemed there was nothing this man couldn't do and he was always willing to teach.  He had a profound influence on my life.  Though already a driven person, he helped me to refine and focus my energies to accomplish more in less time and for the right reasons.  Thank you, Mike, for all the lessons and the example.  I'll do my best to pass it on.       

Thursday, March 21, 2013

Sunset

So there I was...walking as fast as I could down a street on Block Island.  Arriving, with Kim, at the Block Island Boat Basin we headed straight for the public dock where our dingy was tied up in the company of a hundred other dingies whose owners had gone ashore to enjoy all the island had to offer.  It was tempting to stop in at The Oar, a popular restaurant and watering hole next to the dock, but there was no time.  I quickly got the engine started and headed for Eventide, our 34 foot trawler style boat, anchored half way across the bay.  Arriving at the boat, Kim moved like a she cheetah exiting the dingy onto the swim platform and entered the main cabin in seconds.  I secured the dingy's painter, the line attached to the bow of the dingy, with two quick cleat hitches on one of Eventide's stern cleats.  Working like a madman I started setting everything up in the cockpit and before long Kim emerged from the cabin with hands full.  As she set things out we sat down just as the sun was setting and it was a glorious sunset.  We toasted it's beauty and thanked God for allowing us this privilege.  We have rushed back to the boat many times to witness this free gift from our home on the water where sunsets seem to have a little something extra when the lapping of waves and the silhouettes of sailboat masts are thrown into the mix.  Many years ago Kim started this tradition where she required a kiss every time we shared a sunset and I have the chapped lips to prove it.  As we sat watching the last of the color leave the sky and the quiet of the night roll in a feeling of peace rolled with it.  These simple events are not to be missed.  Don't get me started on sunrises. 

Thursday, March 14, 2013

Friends

So there I was...sitting in my kitchen this morning with a cup of coffee in hand watching the snow fall outside the window.  I started to think of the times spent with friends at a state forest in the Berkshires of Massachusetts.  For several years in a row, every January,  several couples would meet at rented log cabins built during the 1930's in a secluded setting overlooking a frozen pond.  There was usually a fair amount of snow on the ground and the temperatures close to the single digits were not unusual.  That made sitting around the wood stove, our only source of heat, a favorite pass time.  We had four cabins in all but would meet at the only one with electricity for our meals during our Friday to Sunday adventure.  There were years when the snow was too deep to get the vehicles close to the tiny cabins and we'd have to toboggan in the provisions and wood for the weekend.  The one and only unheated porta-potty, that you had to hike to, was always a favorite topic of discussion.  Sounds like something everyone would want to experience.  But it was here that we would snowshoe to the top of a mountain where the ice crystals on the trees and the view of the valley below would leave all of us speechless.  Where laughter and camaraderie came easy and often.  Where warm delicious meals were shared after a hard days hike as we gathered around a thick pine table next to the wood stove and told of past adventures and future challenges.  Then we would all hike out to a field in the dark and look at the myriad of stars and howl at the moon if there was one.  It was here where friendships were forged and reinforced.  Kim and I missed the winter gathering this year since we've moved to NY.  We speak often of our friends and how we miss what took so long to build.  Dr. Seuss once wrote, "Don't cry because it's over, smile because it happened." Thank you, my friends, that it happened with you.

Thursday, March 7, 2013

Machine Guns And Boats

So there I was...fixated on a manned M240 machine gun on the bow of a Coast Guard Defender Class vessel coming at high speed straight for me as I was cruising up the Thames River from the upper helm of my 34 foot Mainship trawler.  Good friends of ours, Rich and Gail, had joined us for a day of cruising our home waters around Mystic, CT.  We decided to head a bit west along the coast and up the Thames River to view the New London and Groton shorelines where lie points of interest like Electric Boat where they build submarines and the Coast Guard Academy.  As we moved our way up the Groton side of the river, the before mentioned imposing Coast Guard vessel was coming right for me at very high speed and I couldn't imagine what I had done wrong to bring this wrath upon me.  I called for Kim to be at the ready and prepare to be boarded as they came to a quick halt off my port bow.  One of the Coast Guard members pointed to a spot closer to shore and said, "Move your vessel, there."  When an official with that much authority and fire power tells you what to do it is always wise to do it without question.  I immediately moved to where he said and we floated there wondering what was going on as he sped off to the middle of the river.  A couple minutes later we saw a Navy submarine coming down the river as it passed under the New London Bridge and then by us as we gave it a wide berth thanks to our Coast Guard friends.  We continued up the river and passed the submarine museum where the Nautilus submarine sits in the water at a dock where visitors can tour the inside.  The Nautilus was the first nuclear submarine and the first to travel under the ice at the North Pole.  Further upstream was the Navy sub base where several nuclear submarines are housed between missions under very tight security and many of the machine guns and Coast Guard vessels like the one I encountered earlier.  Further upstream was the quiet anchoring spot I had been in search of where we dropped anchor, had a wonderful lunch and enjoyed the peace and quiet with friends.  That peace and quiet is only there because the military men and women that I briefly met earlier do such an exceptional job.

Thursday, February 28, 2013

Dragging Anchor In Watch Hill

So there I was...several years ago anchored off Napatree Point in Watch Hill, RI on a very windy Labor Day.  The forecast was warm and sunny so the place had filled with hundreds of boats and the atmosphere was festive.  I had been at the beach with Kim but walked over the small sand dunes to where the dingy was left and motored out to where Eventide was anchored.  After taking care of some business I dropped over to a friends boat who was anchored nearby. As I stood in the dingy talking to Bill Turner and his wife we started hearing a series of horn blasts and soon realized that a raft-up of two very large boats, weighing over 30,000 lbs together,  were dragging their anchor in the 25mph winds and gaining speed as it headed for a five boat raft-up anchored in its path.  The horns were having no effect in getting the attention of the owners of the drifting boats because they were at the beach, oblivious to the thousands of dollars in damage and possible injury of adults and children that their boats were about to inflict.  Encouraging Bill to hop into the dingy I sped toward the moving boats and quickly dropped him off on the swim platform of one of them then headed for the anchor line hanging limp at the bow.  As Bill worked to get the unused anchor ready to deploy I followed the line in the water to its end and pulled up an undersized anchor for the task fowled with a huge clump of seaweed.  Clearing the weeds I quickly dropped the anchor and when the line went taut the boats came to a halt about 25 yards from the big raft-up generating a sigh of relief from its intended victims.  Bill fed me the second anchor and I motored it out a fair distance before dropping it. He gave it a tug or two and we felt the boats were safe to leave.  After spending  some time at the beach with our wives, Bill and I made a run out to our boats again to take care of some business and were waved over by the drifting boats owners who had since returned.  The five boat raft-up had filled them in on the drama of the day and they invited us aboard to thank us with the best of frosty adult beverages they had to offer.  After more than an hour of liquid thanks and many stories told we left our hosts with bottles of wine in hand and a promise from them to purchase a more substantial anchor that very week.  As has happened many times, our wives were wondering why it was taking so long for us to return.  That's life on the water.

Thursday, February 21, 2013

Old Guy Wisdom

So there I was...kicking back at the anchorage in Newport Harbor several years ago on a sailboat named Crosswinds.  She had taken us to many wonderful harbors in the years we had owned her and now she was swinging at anchor in one of the most famous and celebrated among them.  I watched as a very old sailing vessel wandered in and anchored near us with an even older couple of guys.  I felt that they had set their hook a bit too close so I dingied over to them to get acquainted in case we bumped in the night when the boats would swing with the changes of tide and wind direction.  As I approached, their heavy British accent was unmistakable and I led with, "I'll bet you two guys have some great stories to tell."  A big smile came over their faces and they invited me aboard pulling out a bottle of wine at the same time.  They were about 75 years young with grey wind blown hair and weather worn tanned skin.  Growing up in England as childhood friends one of them was now transplanted to the U.S. and they got together for this last hurrah with a trip up the coast to Maine and back before the one sold the boat and moved to Arizona with his wife.  Somewhere in the middle of the second bottle of wine I had an "Aha" moment.  They were saying how Americans don't fully understand the concept of holiday (vacation) and they were right concerning me.  Though given several weeks off from my employer, I had never taken more than one week off in a stretch.  Then they continued to say how we will use our hard earned vacation to work on our houses.  This was insanity to them.   We discussed the days it takes to decompress when starting a vacation and to gear up for going back to work.  By the third bottle of wine it was all making sense to me.  We laughed and told stories as a couple hours went by until Kim called over from our boat asking if I was ever coming back.  That night, about 2 in the morning,  a storm came through powerful enough to knock all the lights out on the massive Newport Bridge and sure enough my new friends boat came up against Crosswinds in the middle of it.  I told them that we would ride it out together but fearing it might injure our boat they pulled anchor, motored off into the dark and I never saw them again.  The following year I took a two week vacation and three weeks the year after that.  Thanks guys, wherever you are, for the great advice and for sharing your wine and wisdom.

Thursday, February 14, 2013

Missouri Snowstorm

So there I was... hiking through a snow covered field with a stranger while my wife and two month old child were back in the pickup truck half on its side in the ditch.  It all started one night, some 25 years ago, at Kims parents house in Missouri.  We had visited for the day and were about to head home late in the evening.  A snow storm was now in full swing and my in-laws tried to talk us into spending the night since we lived quite a ways outside of town, in the country.  Coming from New England and being comfortable driving in snow I declined the offer and off we went.  At around midnight, a few miles from home, we were traveling along a stretch of flat rural highway between huge fields that allowed the wind whipped snow to drift across the road.  Eventually the depth of the snow brought our sedan to a halt.  As we were trying to figure out our next move, since there were no such things as cell phones in those days, a young man stopped his pickup truck and asked if he could help.  At this hour we felt fortunate that someone would be out in this storm in the middle of nowhere and we climbed into the cab of the truck.  By this time the snow was drifting across the road to the extent that the five foot deep storm culverts on either side were full of the white stuff and you couldn't tell where the fields started and the road ended.  About a mile later, and no fault of our would be rescuer,  we found ourselves leaving the road and falling into one of the culverts in what felt like slow motion thanks to the fluff of the deep snow.  With the pickup half on its side the guy and I climbed out the high end and treked across a field to a farmers house while Kim kept herself and the baby warm in the truck.  We were glad when the farmer, first, did not shoot us when we knocked on his door that time of night (morning) and, second, let us in to use his phone.  The young man called his father, who had an even bigger pickup truck, and in a short time we were all crammed in his cab.  They got us home about two in the morning with many thanks from us for their kindness.  
I hope I've been able to pay that kindness forward over the years.  And Kim, you're such a good sport.

Thursday, February 7, 2013

Why Did The Trailer Cross The Road?

So there I was...sitting in my kitchen listening to all the banging on the roof as the workers tore off the old and put a new layer of shingles on my house yesterday.  It brought back memories of having the roof shingled at the first house Kim and I owned in Missouri.  It was our responsibility to take the old shingles full of nails to the dump.  Kim's dad had a heavy duty trailer made from the bed of an old pickup truck that we worked hard to fill with the very heavy material.  I called Kim from work the next day and said I would be late getting home so we would miss getting to the dump on time.  She said she could hook the trailer up herself and meet me there.  I remember asking if she was sure she could do this but she sounded quite confident.  What she did not notice was the trailer had a two inch receiver and there was a one and seven eighths ball on the hitch.  As she drove for the dump all was well until she hit the bump at the top of a hill.  There was a noise at the back of the vehicle and then she watched as the trailer passed by her on the passenger side as it sped down the hill.  Fortunately, it headed for a culvert and flipped throwing it's cargo all over someones back yard.  Many hours were spent combing the grass for nails and the trailer now had a shape that was a bit more aerodynamic.  
Lesson learned...check the details.
As for me...I'm just happy she's willing to try.

Friday, February 1, 2013

Diving For Treasure

So there I was...gasping for air as I broke the surface of the water with treasure in hand.  The day started with Spencer, a boating friend of mine, asking if Kim and I would go out on his boat with him and his girlfriend to help them hone some of their sailing skills.  The day was beautiful in Noank CT and the sailing lively.  As we returned to the mooring, some hours later,  Spencer prepared to drop sails and turn the engine on for our approach.  I suggested we pick  up the mooring under sail alone as it's good practice for that time when your engine won't start.  I worked with Spencer at the helm and Kim went forward to help said girlfriend grab the mooring line with a boat hook.  As she worked her way around a stay, a metal cable holding the mast up, Kim's bracelet got caught on the stay and popped off her wrist and into the 10 ft deep murky water.  I had bought this bracelet for her in Block Island several years earlier.  The three thin bands of sterling silver made to look like waves with three dolphins riding them would gather compliments whenever she wore it, and she wore it a lot.  The look of horror on her face came from a knowledge that few things that fall overboard are ever found again.  I borrowed a snorkel and dive mask from Spencer and began diving to the bottom over and over again but the poor visibility and constant motion of the boat made it almost impossible to pinpoint where the bracelet would be.  As I got to the end of my energy level I made one more dive and there it was.  It was in the claw of a large Blue Crab and he was running off with it.  I was out of air but knew if I surfaced and came back down, there would be no chance of finding this jewel thief again.  I reached for the bracelet and the crab went into fight mode not wanting to relinquish this shiny object.  Avoiding the free claw I grabbed the bracelet and headed for what my lungs wanted most with the crab holding on until just below the surface of the water where he finally gave up.  Kim started crying when she saw the treasure in my hand and I was what I want to be most of all, her hero.
Later that day we got together with several more friends on another boat for cocktails and as the evening progressed so did the story.  By the time we left that night the crab was 6 ft wide, weighed over 100 lbs and I nearly lost a limb as we did battle for Kim's treasure.

Thursday, January 24, 2013

Canoe Tales (Part 3)

So there I was...canoeing the North Fork River with Kim in the bow and me in the stern.  It was a chilly March day and the water temperature was numbingly cold.  We were coming to the end of our trip at a location called Dawt Mill.  This mill, now more like a general store, was established in 1866 and serviced farmers who came from far and wide to get their grain ground and their cotton ginned.  To create the water power needed to do this, there was a dam built across the river.  Over the years a small section on the top of the dam had deteriorated and a few brave souls would attempt to go over the dam with their canoes dropping the 6-8 feet in to the bubbling water below.  It was called, "Shooting the Dawt Mill Dam".  As we approached the area to pull the canoe out a sudden shot of testosterone entered my blood stream and the call of the Dawt Mill Dam was overpowering.  I changed course and picked up speed generating a serious look of concern from Kim but she knew it was inevitable so she started paddling faster.  Approaching the deteriorated section, I aimed for the center and Kim was soon suspended in mid air as my section of the canoe was about to clear the top of the dam.  Then it happened.  We came to an abrupt halt when the skeg of the canoe went hard aground on the cement dam and in slow motion started to tip over due to the force of the rushing water.  Our bodies and all of the gear we had in the canoe were dumped together at the base of the dam like laundry in a wash tub.  The water was shockingly cold and I saw Kim floating downstream unhurt so I started to swim for the canoe and all our belongings.  After getting everything to shore, I went looking for Kim and found her wearing some guys shirt who plucked her out of the river sitting next to a potbelly stove in the Dawt Mill store, still shivering.  I went back outside and pulled the canoe above the dam to try it again by myself this time.  Same thing happened.  Darned testosterone.

Thursday, January 17, 2013

Canoe Tales (Part 2)

So there I was...canoeing down the North Fork River in southwest Missouri many years ago with a bunch of guys I worked with.  I was in the stern or back of the canoe and my buddy, Terry King, was in the front.  We were navigating some large boulders in the river and got wedged against one near the shore.  Terry started pushing us backward to free the canoe but unbeknownst to him he was pushing me into overhanging bushes on the side of the river.  Things live in such bushes so I calmly said, "Terry".  No response as he continued to push back.  A little louder, "Terry".  Again no response.  Then I came eye to eye with the large snake hanging on one of the limbs no more than 12 inches from me.  "TERRY",  I shouted and dove face first into the stream forgetting that it was only 6 inches deep.  As I'm flopping around like a beached whale my buddy, that term used loosely, is laughing hysterically from his place of safety.
     Then there was the time Kim and I were canoeing Bryant Creek, also in southwest Missouri.  Again, I was in the stern and as the creek narrowed we passed under the low hanging limb of a tree.  Kim, without saying a word, jumps from the canoe into the foot deep water and runs for the shore.  Bewildered at loosing my canoe buddy, that term used loosely, I look up to see the snake inches from my head.  She left me to be eaten.  Fortunately the snake wasn't interested.

Saturday, January 12, 2013

Canoe Tales

So there I was...looking through some old files when I came across a booklet put together by Kim of paragraphed memories written about me by friends for my 40th birthday.  One friend, Terry King, had told of our adventures in canoes before we moved to bigger boats.  When I married Kim she came with a dowry, a seventeen foot aluminum canoe.  Terry and I would go fishing on nearby lakes in it using a cement block as an anchor.  Our wives eventually joined us on canoe trips, called float trips in the Ozarks, going down streams and camping overnight on gravel bars at night.  On one of these trips I was having to change outside behind the dome tent because it was too small inside for my 6' 2" frame.  Kim told me to give her the clothes I was changing out of and she would hand me the new clothes.  Then she reneged on the deal and walked away leaving me naked behind the tent.  I could hear other canoers coming down the river and they would be getting an appalling view as they rounded the bend.  Terry and his wife were standing on the other side of the tent enjoying my predicament.  They especially liked it when I picked up the tent and using it as a shield chased Kim all over the gravel bar until she finally dropped my clothes.  
I should have asked for a larger dowry.

Friday, January 4, 2013

Beware The Days After Christmas

So there I was...sitting in my car the day after Christmas in the middle of a snow storm in the middle of the Berkshires trying to figure out my next move.  The day had started with a hike around a reservoir with my longtime friend, John Chapin after he and his wife Jan were nice enough to put me up for the night in their home.  After much talk and enough exercise I headed to a previous place of employment to touch base with past coworkers since I was in the area.  At about 4pm I was off to the Berkshires, a two hour drive and one of my favorite small restaurants, Bob's Country Kitchen.  As I exited this establishment with a full belly and ready to relax I noticed the snowstorm was hitting its stride with winds whipping and visibility dropping.  I would stay the night at my brother's cottage on a lake close by with minimal heating but plenty of blankets and protection from the storm.  That is until I discovered that the key I had used for the last 20 years didn't work as someone had changed the lock.  Ever the adventurer, meaning I'm nuts, I set off into the storm headed for Rochester.  After several adrenalin rushes I arrived to 14" of snow and a snow plowed mound blocking the driveway at 4:30 in the morning.  Scared Kim half to death coming in the house since I was supposed to be in the Berkshires.  Two hours of sleep and I'm up clearing the driveway so Kim can get to work.
Several years ago, two days after Christmas, my buddy Garret calls in the evening asking if he could pick me up in a few hours to help him bring his new 43'  sailboat from New Hampshire to Connecticut.  Ever the adventurer, meaning I'm nuts, I agree and we drive through the night to arrive just before dawn to the boatyard.  We row out to his boat in the freezing water with a small dingy and slip our way into the ice covered boat.  Off we go using the small diesel engine into 10' rolling seas in the Atlantic Ocean.  There is nothing in the outside cockpit and helm station to protect us from the wind and sea water as it breaks over the bow of the boat.  We have rain gear covering layers of down clothing but the cold always wins.  When Garret would take the helm I would go down into the unheated cabin and hang my feet over the running diesel engine to thaw my toes.  It took three days to make it to Connecticut with one day lost because the fog was so thick coming through the Cape Cod Canal that we had to anchor and wait it out.  When I called my boss telling her I couldn't make it to work because I was caught in the fog she thought that was quite original and would work once.  Arriving home, a hot shower never felt so good.  
So after all these years, ever the adventurer, ever the nut.