"A
Tale of Two Tims and Four Cats"
So
let's get right into the juicy details. We are so excited to announce
that we have TWO new crew members joining us on the trip!
Many
of you have already heard that my sister, Kristin, will be joining us
for a segment of the trip beginning in Buffalo, NY. (Hopefully you
caught our update video on the indiegogo page or the goofy outtake
posted on Facebook!) We're thrilled because this means that the
family will all be together to retrace our wake from the original
trip through the canal! It's sure to bring back a lot of memories!
Speaking
of memories, apparently mine is faulty. Somehow I mis-remembered that
we travel through the St. Lawrence Seaway. We don't. Not even close.
Instead, we will be going through the New York Barge Canal (sometimes
commonly referred to as the Erie Canal). My parents pointed this out
to me after I'd already told the world we were going through the St.
Lawrence. Oops! Haha! Aren't you so glad you signed up for these
exclusive updates??!! You're the very first to know about my goof!
Ok,
so I did say two new crew members. It is with so much pleasure that I
announce our new full-time, not getting off the boat until
Jacksonville or we drive him bonkers, crew member Tim Holzer! Not
only did Tim work with my dad at Rosemount/Emerson Electric for many
years, but he and his dear late wife Barb were close friends with
both my parents and often spent fun weekends together. This will be
Tim's first ever sail and we've warned him that it's going to be a
doozy! But he assures us that he is ready for "the adventure of
a lifetime!" We'll check back in with him after a few weeks of
putting up with us to see how he feels then ;)
For
those of you paying attention, it has occurred to us that my dad's
name is also Tim, my mom's name is Catherine, my full name is
Catherine, and we have two cats. In other words the crew of Heart's
Desire is made up of two Tims and four Cats. That's gotta be a good
sign, right? In order to keep the two Tim's straight, we've been
trying out nicknames for Tim Holzer, everything from "Holzer"
to "Tim2" to "Tiny Tim." We're open to
suggestions!
We're
setting sail from Ashland, Wisconsin today and we're so excited! It's
been a lot of work getting ready for the trip.
Tim
Fog, our fearless leader, has been handling all the major jobs,
including fixing things around the boat, teaching Tim2 the basics of
sailing, and making sure everything is ready for the big trip!
Because
Catherine is having issues with her arms and can't help much with the
more physical aspects of the journey, her main jobs on board will be
to prepare the meals and bottle washing. She is on top of it! We're
definitely not going to starve. Holzer said his biggest fear about
the trip is that he's going to gain 20 pounds. I told him not to
worry, I'll be teaching aerobics on the deck every morning and Zumba
in the afternoons.
Speaking
of me, I have been relentless in my pursuit of capturing these
reserved Midwesterners on film. They are tolerating it, and have been
very accommodating, but I don't think they quite like it yet. Just
wait, in a few weeks they'll all be primadonnas, demanding their own
trailer and harassing me for more lines.
Unlike
Holzer, who has been nothing but super helpful as we prepare for our
journey, the cats have been obnoxious loafs. They only get up to beg
for food, while the rest of us do all the work. The one brightspot is
that Scarlett and Neko, who have yet to get along after four years of
living together, have somehow managed to relax their ten foot rule
and will sleep near each other on my parents' bed when they think no
one is looking. I think this trip is going to bring us all closer
together!
As
I mentioned, we set sail today. Our plan as of now is to basically
sail straight through the Great Lakes (all except Lake Michigan and
Lake Ontario) as long as we can, breaking up into different watch
shifts. But of course it will all depend on the weather. Holzer
experienced his first squall yesterday and was surprised by how
quickly a storm can roll in. Within minutes, the beautiful sunny day
clouded over and winds gusted, bringing rain and rough seas. Luckily,
we were still tied up at the marina and enjoyed a beautiful rainbow
at the end. We're taking it as sign of smooth sailing ahead!
“A
lock named Sault” or “Riders on the Storm” (depending on your
musical preference)
Hello
friends!
I’m
writing to you from Harbor Beach, MI, about 450 miles from our
starting point of Ashland, WI.
It’s
been an eventful first 10 days! If I was ever worried that this was
going to be a boring trip, I can’t seem to remember now.
We
left Ashland, WI in the midafternoon, full of high hopes for our
first overnight sail. The sun was shining and a lovely tailwind
pushed us along. About two hours after a dramatic red sunset we were
hit by a sudden squall. It lasted only a half hour, but left the seas
churned up and confused hours afterward. The disorganized waves
tossed us around pretty severely in the pitch black night. This was
Tim2’s introduction to sailing. At one point, he asked me if it was
hailing because the sound of the deck getting pounded by the lines in
the wind sounded like ice pellets hitting the boat. Dishes crashed to
the floor (plastic, don’t worry!), boxes slid off of shelves, and
our small fridge bounced out of its cubby, opened its door, and
dumped the majority of its contents on the floor.
Heart’s
Desire looked like someone had picked it up and shaken it thoroughly
(incidentally only a slight exaggeration.) After the long night, the
entire crew was exhausted, especially Captain Tim who stayed awake
almost the entire 24 hours until we found a place to tie up for the
night in the Keweenaw Bay. It was an intense beginning to our long
journey.
We
decided to stay another day in Keweenaw to avoid more reports of bad
weather. Captain Tim spent most of his time dealing with a broken
bilge pump, which he managed to build a new gasket for and get
running again, while the rest of us relaxed.
The
next leg of our trip was beautiful and we were able to show Tim2 how
magical sailing can be. I got a little fancy and mounted one of the
GoPros on a long pole in order to catch some nice sailing shots. That
night we passed Whitefish Bay, near where the Edmund Fitzgerald lies
and admired the beautiful, starry sky. It was a lovely way to say
farewell to Lake Superior, which has been our sailing home for almost
thirty years and is the backdrop to some of my favorite childhood
memories.
The
first lock of the trip was located in Sault Sainte Marie. It’s
pronounced (soo), which I knew, but not spelled "Sioux",
which I did not know. (Guys, I'm learning so much!) There are two
sides to the canal, Canadian and American. Usually, non-commercial
boats are sent to the Canadian side, which we attempted to access.
After searching for the entrance while navigating the confusing
channel, another boat told us the Canadian lock was closed for
repairs and we would have to use the American side. So we made our
way all the way back to the American side and into the 1,000+ foot
long lock. It was exciting and a little stressful having not
navigated the intricacies of a lock in 22 years (it was Tim2’s very
first time!), but we made it without damaging the boat or throwing
each other overboard!
We
spent the night at the lovely George Kemp Marina and took full
advantage of the wifi and hot showers. The next morning Capt. Tim and
I biked four miles UPHILL (emphasis mine) to Walmart to pick up
groceries and other supplies needed for the trip, including extra
hard drives to store all the beautiful photos and film footage.
Before this experience I had never even heard of a terabyte. Now, I
have about 12 terabytes of storage tucked away in my bunk. We’ll
see if that proves to be enough.
That
day we shared the narrow St. Mary’s River with a dozen or so Lakers
(1,000 foot ships made for transporting cargo around the Great Lakes.
The ships are so long we even spied one guy riding a bicycle on deck
to get from end to end. It’s a pretty awe-inspiring feeling to
travel alongside such massive boats. Technically, we have right
of way, but didn’t rely too heavily on that fact and made sure to
give them a wide berth.
Unfortunately,
we were not able to travel as far as we’d hoped. More severe
weather reports convinced us to play it safe and spend the night tied
up at Lime Island, part of Michigan’s state park system. Some
friendly rangers came to greet us, along with about a hundred
seagulls and Canada Geese. I snapped some nice photos of the island’s
“buoy graveyard” (the coast guard’s unused giant navigational
buoys) while trying to avoid all the bird poop on the ground.
We
left at dawn the next morning, sailing out of the St. Mary’s River
and into Lake Huron. A gale warning was issued for the following day
by the national weather service so we pulled into Presque Isle, MI
(pressk—eel) and anchored. We enjoyed a lovely dinner in the
cockpit and a beautiful view of the full moon.
The
next day was rainy and cold, so we made the most of it indoors,
playing games and catching up on chores. Around 11pm the gusting
winds hit us. At 11:30 Captain Tim got up to check the anchor and
discovered that we had dragged nearly 500 feet in the mucky bottom
and were about five feet from hitting an unoccupied, moored sailboat.
I took the helm and Captain hauled up the anchor, the commotion
finally bringing T2 and Catherine into the cockpit. We tried
unsuccessfully for about an hour and a half to hook up to one of the
empty moorings in the harbor, knowing that re-anchoring would be
useless. But the gusting 40 knot winds made it impossible to hook a
mooring, and our only option was to motor in circles around the
anchorage until the winds died or it became light enough for us to
navigate our way into the marina. Unfortunately, the winds only grew
stronger and Captain and Catherine spent seven hours in the cockpit
in 40 degree weather, retracing their path around the
anchorage.
Finally,
it grew light enough to see the unlit buoys in front of the narrow
marina entrance and we made it safely to the fuel dock. Later,
Catherine and I spoke to another boater about the experience. He told
us we were smart to wait until light to make the entrance. He had
attempted to find his way in without the buoys once, after having
been to the marina several times, and ended up running aground,
causing $1000 worth of damage to his boat.
After
the long, cold night, we were thankful to find another hot shower.
The next morning we set out bright and early for Port Huron, our next
planned stop, just outside of Lake Huron in the St. Clair River.
The
weather was cold (we all wore two pairs of pants and several layers
of shirts and jackets), but not too windy or rough and we traveled at
a comfortable 8 knots. Encouraged by the uneventful weather report,
we hoped to reach Port Huron, late the next afternoon. Unfortunately,
the weather report was bunk. The winds shifted and gusted so we
decided to stop about 10 hours early to spend the night in Harbor
Beach (1am). The harbor, not-so-coincidentally called Refuge Bay,
wasn’t ideal. The bottom was mucky, full of weeds and the shallow
water and rolly seas made it difficult to find a comfortable spot. We
finally anchored “good enough”. Not wanting a repeat of Presque
Isle, Catherine and I stayed up on anchor watch while the two Tims
got some needed sleep. At about 5:30a.m. we had to wake Capt. T up to
tell him we were dragging, albeit slowly. We decided to hold off
moving until daylight and he took over watch so Catherine and I could
get some rest and snuggle with the cats.
Three
hours later the Coast Guard stopped by to let us know we were
dragging (thanks) and we decided to move to the nearby marina we’d
avoided. The small Coast Guard boat kept an eye on us as we fought
the 40 knot gusts, rain, and rough seas (waves crashing over the
dodger) to get to the marina entrance. Once inside we promptly ran
aground in the shallow entrance, the main reason we’d avoided the
marina in the first place. We gunned the engine and levied the
gusting wind to help us off the low spot and finally crashed into
arrived at the fuel dock. Another boater told us that the marina
had a problem with sailboats running aground in front of them and had
dredged earlier in the year. We’d just missed the dredged spot by a
few feet.
So
it’s another unscheduled stop, for us, which is frustrating, but
not all bad. We’re plugged into electricity which means I currently
have a space heater aimed right at me, and we all got another round
of hot showers.
Unfortunately,
due to all the bad weather we’ve had we are approximately six days
behind schedule, making it uncertain if Kristin will be able to meet
up with us in Buffalo after all. It’s a fact of sailing life:
everything depends on the weather.
Tomorrow
looks good (for now) so we plan to leave early and make it to Port
Huron before dark. We’ll spend the night there, and go through the
St. Clair River, the busiest shipping waterway in the world, during
daylight. Unless we’re pummeled by bad weather again, it will
probably take another three days to get across Lake Erie and to
Buffalo, NY. For now we remain hopeful that we’ll still be able to
manage our family reunion!
Despite
the tumultuous seas, only one of the crew had a bout of seasickness;
Neko cat threw up the first (very rough) night. I found her in the
aft berth, cleaned her up, and cuddled with her until she seemed less
scared and woozy. Since then, I’m happy to report that Neko is
working toward becoming a real boat cat and loves riding up in the
cockpit with the rest of the crew. The elusive Miss Scarlett still
prefers to hide in shadowy corners and cupboards below.
Tim2
has thankfully experienced no wooziness, and continues to prove his
seaworthiness, learning new skills every day, including tying off
cleats.
"The
Week Late Edition"
Hey
there friends!
It’s
been two weeks since my last update because frankly I lost track of
time. I thought tomorrow was yesterday and today was last week.
That’s a side-effect of living on a boat. The days blend together.
Another side-effect is that Jimmy Buffet has been drilling a hole in
my head for almost two weeks. Seriously, send help. I can’t find my
lost shaker of salt…ugh.
Anyway,
we’ve been busy! I have so much to tell you!
It
is day 24 of the voyage. Of the 2500 (nautical) miles, we have
traveled 1175. We are a little behind schedule because we lost about
four days in the Great Lakes due to bad weather. It’s unlikely that
we will be able to make up the time, but hopefully the bad weather is
behind us.
When
last I wrote, we were headed to Port Huron, MI. Believe me, no one
shed a single tear as we crossed out of Lake Huron, the Great Lake
that had treated us the most cruelly. We crossed into the St. Clair
River with a cheer.
Despite
its reputation as the busiest shipping area in the world it didn’t
seem that much busier than the St. Mary’s river. Maybe we just
caught it on a slow day. The St. Clair River blends into the Detroit
River and we cruised right under the bridge that separates Detroit
and Windsor, Canada and past a lot of alien space farms a.k.a.
taconite plants. They look crazy, unless you’ve seen them before,
then they probably look normal. I’ll show you the pictures later.
With
the help of a very strong (luckily in our favor) current, we hit our
highest speed of the trip so far at 9.5 knots as we zipped out of the
Detroit River and into Lake Erie. We planned to stay for the night to
avoid a coming storm. Seemed simple enough.
Despite
how it might appear 99.9% of the time we do plan ahead. We made
reservations (via phone) at the Humbug Marina because what’s in a
name anyway? Also, it was the only option available for miles and
miles. When we came into range we attempted to hail them on the radio
to find their exact location. We were promptly informed by an
eavesdropping tugboat that Humbug doesn’t monitor the radio. Silly
us! Then the tug tried to give us directions into the marina, which
turned out to be as helpful as a broom in the desert. As we motored
up and down the channel, searching for the alleged buoy 45 that the
tug claimed would lead us to Humbug (buoy 45 doesn’t exist) the
Border Patrol appeared. They’d heard our exchange with the tug on
the radio and decided to come to our rescue. Using forward sonar they
painstakingly guided us through the shallows for two hours to the
marina. (Lucky for us it was a slow day patrolling the US/Canadian
border.) We thanked them profusely. Without their help we wouldn’t
have made it before dark, if at all.
They
politely shrugged it off, gave us further instructions to avoid some
rocks, and sped away. Was it my imagination or did I detect a hint of
concern on their faces as they left us moments before sundown in
front of Humbug Marina? I’ll never know. What I do know is that
“Humbug” couldn’t have been a more accurate name for that
marina. To be honest, it looked more like a boat junkyard or the
setting of a horror movie than a marina.
Not
only does Humbug Marina not monitor the maritime radio like all other
marinas on planet Earth, or give a heads up to boaters making
reservations that they rival Brigadoon in their hard-to-find-ness,
but they also don’t tell you that it is very, VERY shallow in and
around their marina. Our keel draws a modest 5’6” and it was so
shallow that we could not get to the fuel dock where the marina rep
told us to go. We couldn’t even get close. It was also too shallow
to make it into a slip, despite what a very friendly, but
life-ravaged woman yelled to us from her dilapidated sailboat. Her
keel was clearly resting on the bottom. Later she mentioned that she
hadn’t left the dock in six years and was probably aground. (No
kidding.)
That
left us no choice but to tie up at the end of the dock next to what
appeared to be a mobile home with faux log exterior atop a barge
replete with Direct-TV dish and a menacing sign that read “Keep
out!” The whiskey-voiced woman (never caught her name) hobbled over
to help us with lines, yelling, “Todd! Are you home?”
Immediately, Todd emerged from his floating palace to insist that we
move. We mustered all of our Midwestern passive aggression and
ignored him while we tied up. He demanded to know how long we were
staying. Just the night, thanks!
We
ate spaghetti for supper while Capt. Tim searched for a path through
the shallows that we could take the next morning. He didn’t find a
clear cut solution.
The
marina was already closed by the time we got there, and still closed
by the time we left at sunrise, which was fine with us. We never
heard another peep from Todd. Without the aid of forward sonar, we
cautiously wove our way out of the marina, through the hidden rocks,
toward the buoy-lined channel. I spotted a couple abandoned boats
half sunken in the shallows behind us. Not an encouraging sign.
There
was a strong current behind us and the fear was that if we picked up
too much speed and hit a shallow spot our keel would sink in and we’d
be stuck. And the border patrol was probably busy that day.
Captain
Tim directed us slowly, white-knuckling his way back to the open
lake. We hit bottom no fewer than four times, but wiggled our way off
each time. Clearly that part of Michigan hadn’t seen a boat like
Heart’s Desire in a long time. We cheered and slapped C.T. on the
back when we made it out of the shallow channel.
The
next 39 hours crossing Lake Erie to Buffalo, N.Y. were relatively
peaceful, though we picked up a few hitchhikers; a cloud of weird
little flies and a small bird desperately trying to eat all the weird
little flies.
We
spent a couple days in Buffalo picking up supplies, taking down the
mast, and picking up Kristin. The guys at the marina who took down
our mast were hilarious characters. They let me film the whole thing
and assured me they had Hollywood experience, having been in several
commercials and a movie. Unstepping the mast was fascinating. Captain
Tim’s preparation combined with the marina guys’ experience made
it fast and reasonably painless. But of course, a couple things got
broken :(
Kristin
found the rest of us exhausted from the trip through the Great Lakes
and immediately took up the slack, helping out through the locks and
even cooking us gourmet meals! Seriously. The first morning for
breakfast she made a frittata with a balsamic reduction.
We
made it through the Erie Canal in 6.5 days, much faster than we’d
anticipated! We met many friendly people along the way, including an
adorable British/Canadian couple. They followed us for several miles
until we were about to enter lock 22. I commented to Captain Tim that
they’d stopped moving, a minute later the gentleman hailed us on
the radio. Luckily, we were able to decipher his thick British accent
to understand that they’d run aground and needed our help.
We
turned directly around, despite not having a plan for how to assist.
Kristin
and Tim2 stood at the ready on deck, while Catherine and Capt. T
co-manned the helm. We didn’t want to get sucked into the shoals
with them, but we had to get close enough to catch a line. Once we
had hold of them the goal was to pull them off the shoal without
slamming them into our stern all while navigating the narrow, shallow
canal. Needless to say it was a tense situation. As for how it all
turned out, you’re just going to have to watch the film. But I will
say that the Canadian couple has excellent taste in wine and we waved
goodbye to them this morning as they headed to the Hudson River.
Speaking
of the Hudson River, that’s where we are! Catherine says there are
a lot of “yohos” speeding by us as we head to Castleton to step
the mast. It’s a do-it-yourself job and I’ve already called dibs
on operating the crane. Should be interesting.
So
ends another part of our journey. Not to overstate it, but I think
we’re a different crew coming out of the Erie Canal than the one
that went in. You’ll see it in the film. The first few locks were a
mess of nervous confusion, while the last few were calm routine. Now
we’re headed toward a new challenge. Kristin leaves us in NYC and
we venture back into the ocean after 22 years away. It’ll be a
couple days’ sail to Norfolk, then we’ll enter the intracoastal
waterway and our last leg to Jacksonville.
The
“Co-written By Capt. Tim and Cate” Edition
October
7, 2014
Hi
All,
The
last you heard from us we were in the Hudson, dodging “yohos,”
a.k.a. discourteous boaters who kick up wake despite a bajillion
clearly posted NO WAKE signs. It’s a dangerous problem when there
are two very heavy, metal poles balancing precariously overhead in a
wooden cradle. Too much wake could dislodge one or both. The best
case scenario is that the masts fall into the water and we’d have
to buy new ones. Worst case would be that they crushed and injured
one of the crew. My parents assure me that I’m “irreplaceable.”
Several
yohos sped by us, one dangerously so, causing our mast cradle to
wobble and shake violently as if we’d been hit by 5.0 earthquake.
Kristin, at the helm, quickly turned the boat into the yoho’s wake,
trying to minimize roll while Captain T and Tim2 tried to
steady the masts. I struggled to hold the main cradle support in
place below deck until things finally calmed down. But we were not
happy, especially Captain who angrily got on the radio and said,
“Thanks for the wake!” Although he may not swear like a sailor,
Captain Tim absolutely does not take kindly to any threats to his
crew or ship.
After
a few tense miles we finally arrived at the Castleton Boat Club in NY
where we used their self-service crane to step the masts. Yep, that’s
right, self-service. As in we picked up the two
masts (56 and 40 ft respectively) with a crane and put the boat back
together by ourselves. I find assembling IKEA furniture
challenging enough. Did I mention that we were on the water and there
was a lot of wake?
Stepping
a mast in rolling waves is kind of like threading a needle on a
tilt-a-whirl, except the mast weighs hundreds of pounds and the
narrow hole you’re aiming for is on a boat that costs a lot of
money. It was a teensy bit nerve-wracking. But we did it! And in a
swift 7 hours. Seriously, though, you should be impressed. I still
am.
Successfully
putting the boat back together was a great exercise in teamwork,
though honestly Captain T, Tim2, and Kristin did most of the heavy
lifting. Catherine and I took turns filming and operating the crane,
which was decidedly less exciting than I’d anticipated. There was
no cool orange hard hat, no driver’s cage. Just a big turn crank
and a button for UP and a button for DOWN. Yawn. I should have called
dibs on getting hoisted to the top of the mast! Instead, Captain Tim
took that job in order to reattch the radar thingy that I can never
remember the name of. It starts with a "t".
Anyway,
after we put Humpty
Dumpty Heart’s Desire
back together again, we continued down the Hudson, navigating
through dense fog a few mornings until the rising sun burned it off.
The Hudson is beautiful this time of year, the leaves fiery shades of
orange and red. We cruised past several mansions, including the
Vanderbilt estate, FDR’s home, and Sing Sing.
Twenty-two
years ago Heart’s Desire sailed into the majestic NY Harbor greeted
by fireworks (it was Earth Day, not necessarily a holiday one
associates with colorful, smokey explosions, but we still enjoyed
it). This time our “Welcome to NYC” was a tug boat radio call to
the Coast Guard that a body was floating near the Manhattan Cruise
Terminal. Yikes!
Nevertheless,
we enjoyed our time in NYC. We anchored just off Liberty Park with
breathtaking views of the Statue of Liberty and the Manhattan skyline
punctuated by the Freedom Tower, a reminder of how much time has
passed since last we visited.
Kristin,
who was a tremendous help in getting us through the Erie Canal and
putting HD back together, flew home to Chicago. After coming up with
what some might call a brilliant idea to have groceries delivered to
the parking lot next to our anchorage (instead of biking miles and
hauling them back ourselves), I took a day off and headed to Brooklyn
to see friends and use coffeshop WiFi to attend my online
screenwriting class. I don’t know what Tim, Tim2, and Catherine did
on HD that day, but I spent time with an adorable toddler, used flush
toilets, and ate a homemade pop tart. It was amazing.
Bad
weather forced us-yet again-to stay another day anchored in the
harbor twiddling our thumbs.
Excited
to get HD back in the Atlantic after 22 years away, we finally
departed NYC with high hopes of making it to Norfolk in three days of
continuous sailing. Five Days later, we’re only as far as Cape May,
NJ (120 miles north of Norfolk) doing our favorite thing – waiting
out bad weather. (The wind howls as I type this.)
Unfortunately
our bad luck with weather has followed us into the ocean. We were
forced to make unscheduled stops in Barnegat Light and Atlantic City.
In
Barnegat the wind gusted all night, causing the boat to creak and
groan so loudly we had to sleep with earplugs, which only helped
marginally. It literally sounded like a sea monster emerging from its
crypt as long as you think “literally” means “figuratively”.
I recorded the sounds in case any of you plan to make a scary radio
play one day.
Atlantic
City, a.k.a. the Monopoly City, was a much more pleasant experience.
We slept peacefully, restocked our stores, washed our stinky laundry,
and took the most glorious and desperately needed showers of all
time. I mean, there was water pressure like you wouldn’t believe!
And free shampoo, conditioner, and even mountain spring scented body
gel!! (It had been a very, very long time since last we’d bathed.)
Tim2
treated us to a lovely dinner ashore. Atlantic City is an interesting
mix of the haves and the have nots side by side. But everyone we met
was exceptionally friendly, including the guys who took care of us at
Kammerman’s Marina. Not only did they give Cap’n and Catherine a
ride to the grocery store, but they gave me an amazing bulk rate on
postcards. So I’m shouting their praise from the mountain top!
We
bypassed the casinos, instead deciding to try our luck with the
weather. We didn’t hit the jackpot. Yesterday’s trip from
Atlantic City to Cape May was only 40 miles, but took 11 hours. I
think that might be the actual speed of frustration. We literally
could have walked here faster. And that is the proper use of the word
literally. Unfortunately, we were headed SW, which was the exact
direction the wind was coming from. The 15 knot wind gusted to 20
with a 4ft sea and regular 8ft breakers. In other words, we got
severely pummeled. In fact you could call us Rocky Balboa and the
Atlantic Ocean Apollo Creed (from the first ROCKY movie).
Tim-2
got his first taste of hard ocean sailing yesterday when a wave broke
over the boat and doused him with salt water. He has proven to be a
real sailor with an iron stomach. Neko and Scarlett had a tough day.
At various times both stumbled out to their water dish but it was so
rough they couldn’t stand up long enough to get a drink and
scuttled back to their beds in the aft cabin. They were very happy
kitties when we finally reached the smooth water inside the harbor.
I
have to say that even though it was exhausting and a little scary, I
couldn’t help but think of all the money I was saving on amusement
park rides.
Fortunately,
the crew and boat came through in great shape and we live to fight
another day (just like Rocky). But not today. Today we sat in the
Cape May anchorage surrounded by so many Canadian boats we thought we
might have taken a wrong turn somewhere. But it did inspire us to dig
out our spare American flag. (Remember how we lost our first one back
in Presque Isle, MI the night we motored around the anchorage for 7
hours in a storm? Oh, the good ol’ days!)
So
far on this trip, we’ve spent 10 days waiting for weather
conditions to improve. Despite our frustration, we’ve had many
reminders that we are very fortunate to be safe and very wise to be
cautious. We passed a beached sailboat on Sandy Hook Island
helplessly waiting rescue, and have heard several radio calls from
stranded, sinking, and capsized boats. We’ll take sitting in the
anchorage over those options any day.
Despite
the wind and rain tonight, it looks like we may get a good weather
window starting tomorrow that will allow us to make an overnight trip
directly to Norfolk. It will be great to finally start the last leg
of our journey – the Intracoastal Waterway from Norfolk to
Jacksonville. The mid-Atlantic will not be missed!
Since
leaving Ashland, WI we have traveled 1440 nautical miles. Our latest
and more accurate estimate of the trip gives us about 800 left to go.
Hopefully, the best is yet to come!
"The
Final Countdown" Edition
October
21, 2014
Hello
friends!
Heart’s
Desire is only a few hours from finishing its epic journey to
Florida! We’re currently motoring through the Jekyll Sound near the
Georgia/Florida border. Luckily, no one’s turned into Mr. Hyde,
yet.
Ok,
I’ll hold off on the bad jokes.
So
last time I wrote we were preparing to leave Cape May, NJ for an
overnight ocean passage to Norfolk, VA. For once we had lovely
weather! Even seas, comfortable temperatures, and a gorgeous full
moon that rose out of the unblemished horizon. It couldn’t have
been a nicer trip.
Here’s
a fun tip if you ever feel like things are going too well: Tell
everyone you turned the running lights on (the red and green lights
that illuminate the boat in the dark), but instead don’t turn them
on. Then go to sleep, leaving someone else to take watch not knowing
that we’re invisible in the dark. Hijinks ensue.
Around
4:30 a.m. I jumped out of bed because I heard the engine slow
dramatically. This is not a normal thing to happen and when it does
it’s usually a sign that something is wrong. (I hadn’t heard
Catherine’s frantic screams moments before which are another way to
tell something is wrong.) I rushed to the cockpit to see a large
fishing trawler bearing down on us. They pulled out a giant spotlight
and inexplicably berated us with it for a few moments before finally
trudging away.
We
didn’t understand what had happened until Captain Tim discovered
that the running lights were off. Boy, did we have a good laugh then!
Nothing funnier than playing chicken with a much larger boat in the
dark! We’re all still laughing about it…ahem.
Everyone
makes mistakes, sometimes big ones, and this was mine. The switch for
the running lights is next to the switch for the strobe light, which
I’d accidentally turned on instead. I would have noticed
immediately except that unbeknownst to me the strobe light is broken
so there wasn’t the telltale flashing. The running lights, located
at the bow of the boat, are very difficult to see from the cockpit
which we generally don’t leave at night unless absolutely necessary
(it’s such a bother to have to go back for someone who’s fallen
overboard).
Incidentally,
no one else onboard noticed the lights weren’t on either. Needless
to say, we’ve since started double checking.
As
far as the trawler goes, it never tried to hail us on the radio or
even yell at us when we were only twenty-feet away. So either it saw
us on radar and came over to check out the “ghost boat”, or it
wasn’t paying attention to its radar and in that case also learned
a very valuable lesson: always use radar at night because someone who
easily confuses left and right might have thought she turned the
running lights on but didn’t. Anyway…
Aside
from that snafu, we arrived in Norfolk without any problems. We saw
so many ships it felt like the old days back in the St. Mary’s and
St. Clair rivers, except in addition to cargo ships Norfolk is home
to many naval vessels, including warships. One even called us to tell
us we were in their way. Sorry!
We
arrived in Norfolk early so we decided to keep on truckin’ boatin’
all the way into the Intracoastal Waterway (ICW), saying “smell ya
later” to the Atlantic. Hopefully, the next time Heart’s Desire
ventures into the ocean it’ll treat us a little better than it did
the majority of our trip.
At
sunset we found an idyllic, secluded spot to anchor in lovely VA.
It’s only drawback the constant overhead traffic of fighter jets. I
recorded it for my collection of anti-sleep sounds. So far I’ve got
the creepy creaking anchor, the booming fighter jets, and the Tims’
dueling snores.
The
next day we continued merrily, merrily down the stream. Life is but a
dream. Or something like that.
The
Intracoastal Waterway is a series of rivers, sounds, man-made canals,
etc. that form a water highway on the inside lip of the eastern coast
of the United States, much of it too narrow for us to sail so we just
chug along as fast as we can, sometimes fighting wind and current,
with our 62hp engine (re: slowly).
So
far the strict schedule of the various bridges, swing and bascule
mostly, (swing bridges move like turnstyles and bascule bridges open
vertically to make movie car chases more exciting) has been more an
impediment to our progress than the weather. “Be advised: if you
are even one minute late you will have to wait another hour for the
bridge to open” is a phrase we’ve heard more than once. Who says
things move more slowly in the South?
Besides
Southern landmarks like Fort Sumter and Bonaventure Cemetery, we’ve
mosied through the Pungo River, the Ashepoo Coosaw Cutoff, the
Socastee River, Buttermilk Sound etc. (I know these sound made up,
but they’re not. Do I dare tell you that we spent the night in
Thunderbolt, GA?)
Despite
the whimsical names the waterway is a little boring. Aside from a
couple exceptions, our schedule has been to pick up anchor at first
light, motor as far as we can, then drop anchor sometime before dark.
We haven’t seen any water moccasins or alligators (not even in the
deceptively named Alligator River). And maybe I’m the only one
disappointed by this, but we didn’t encounter any homicidal maniacs
in the Cape Fear River either. (I mean, there are two movies about
it!)
We’ve
done our best to keep entertained with Sudoku puzzles, trashy novels,
and dolphin spotting. (I don’t care how cynical you are, dolphins
are magical creatures! Demonstrated by their tendency to disappear as
soon as I pull out my camera.) But sometimes the monotony gets to be
a little much.
Don’t
get me wrong, after all the rough weather and the work of getting
through the Erie Canal, taking the boat apart and putting it back
together the calm ICW has been a welcome respite. But two weeks of
cruising by marsh fields has tested my mental endurance. It’s like
ending an exciting road trip driving through the endless cornfields
of Iowa. No offense, Iowa.
The
ICW isn’t completely barren. Much of it is expensive real estate.
Mansions, ornate doll houses on stilts, sit back on firmer ground.
Their quarter-mile-long docks like tentacles reaching lazily into the
waterway.
The
“exciting” parts of the trip are more tedious than dangerous.
We’ve run aground at least half a dozen times, which in the Great
Lakes would’ve been a major problem. Running aground in the ICW is
pretty common because it opens to the ocean in many areas. Therefore
the changing tides and currents cause silt to pile up in the channel,
unseen and often uncharted. Though I’d like to point out that we’ve
only run aground while Captain Tim or Catherine have been at the
helm. Maybe it’s because Timbuk2 (Tim 2’s evolving nickname) and
I have a preternatural sense of where the hidden shoals lie. Or
maybe, as some have suggested, it’s because Cap’n and Catherine
sit at the helm most often. We’ll never know. The point is, it’s
not a big deal as long as it happens at low tide. If we can’t
unwedge ourselves from the mud with our motor we just drop an anchor,
make dinner, and wait for the water to rise so we can float on.
Unfortunately,
we haven’t been able to make up any of the time we lost previously.
Today is the 49th day of what we thought would be a
35-day-42-at-the-most long trip. Appointments and trips had to be
canceled or postponed. Though it’s been hard not to feel a little
disappointed and frustrated at times we take solace in the fact that
we’ve had an epic journey! As of tonight we will have made it to
Tiger Point, FL!
Wait,
what?
Yeah,
I know we’ve been saying Jacksonville this whole time, and Heart’s
Desire will eventually reside in Jacksonville, FL which is only about
30 miles away. However, Captain Tim and Catherine have to return to
MN for a few months to take care of some final details (like selling
their house) before they move permanently. Until then Heart’s
Desire needs some work and Tiger Point Marina is the best place for
everything to get done, mostly because it was the first place to
return our phone call.
The
next few days are going to be a rush of activity for crew and ship.
Tonight we pull into the marina. Tomorrow we rent a car and begin the
list of chores and errands that need to be completed before we all
depart to our respective homes. Sunday Catherine, Captain Tim, and
the cats fly back to MN and I back to Los Angeles. We decided to
thank Tim2 for all his hard work and loyal service by releasing him
from duty early on Thursday.
After
such a long trip we are all very excited to return to our friends,
comfy beds, and regular routines. But not without a pause to
appreciate how far we’ve come.
A
brief recap of our trip:
We’ve
traveled through 14 states; MN, WI, MI, OH, PA, NY, NJ, DE, MD, VA,
NC, SC, GA, FL. (We count all the states we passed through regardless
of if it was land or water. Minnesota counts because even though the
boat left WI, Minnesota is where we left as a crew.)
Heart’s
Desire has logged about 2585 statute miles! Now, I know what you’re
thinking; last time I said we had gone 1440 miles with 800 left. But
that was 2240 nautical miles. If you divide 2585 by 1.151 (the number
of statute miles in a nautical mile) you get roughly 2246 nautical
miles. That’s the same ratio to convert miles per hour to knots per
hour. So that explains that. But why is it “knots” and not
“nauts”? And why are we switching between statute miles and
nautical miles anyway? I don’t know. I don’t have all the
answers. All I know is that we’ve come a heck of a long way!
We
are so very grateful that the entire crew, including the cats, and
the boat made the journey safely. In fact, the only casualty was the
lens cap to my camera, which bounced overboard somewhere back in
North Carolina. I wasn’t thrilled about the loss, but if that’s
the cost of having an epic adventure I’ll gladly pay it!
Anyway,
I’m sorry to end this update because there’s so much more to say,
but you’ll have to stay tuned for the next installment. There’s
still a little bit left of our trip and I’m going above to enjoy
it! We’re passing an island with wild horses!
