The alarm had been set for each of the last 5 days; however, neither of us had slept until the alarm sounded. We had always been awake and anxious to get moving. This morning, we were awake before the alarm, but neither of us seemed anxious to climb out of bed. With the wind whistling through the rigging, the conversation went something like this...

Doug: "You know, I am beginning to feel the fatigue of these long days settling in. How about you?"

Sheryl: "It is supposed to be pretty windy today, and jockeying the boat around waiting for bridges to open in the wind might be a little bit challenging. It is supposed to lay down a bit tomorrow."

Doug: "We could use a day in the slip to tighten that stuffing box, and check it under load while tied in the slip."

Sheryl: "They have plenty of room at the marina, I am sure we could stay in the slip for another day."

Doug: "After last evening, I wasn't looking forward to maneuvering out of the slip and around boats again so soon."

Sheryl: "I really do need to get some bread."

And the decision was made. We were staying put for the day and tending to some boat chores and personal rest. It felt as though a weight had been lifted off of my shoulders. I was ready to get out of bed and start creating a list of boat chores while water heated for coffee.

Although there were many smaller tasks, the primary chore was to determine the status of the stuffing box and stop the huge leak into the pan beneath engine. I cleaned out the cockpit locker and climbed below to watch as Sheryl put the engine under load. There was a fair amount of water about; however, I could not see dripping occurring directly from the stuffing box (the rate should be one to a few drips per minute). It is really hard to stare at one spot that long without blinking and wondering if you missed the drip.

Unable to make any determination, I climbed out and gave the flashlight to Sheryl. She took a look below and found a leak which was unrelated to the stuffing box. A section of the exhaust hose which connects to the engine block was leaking just above the hose clamps. My mind began to work backwards to the diagnosis by the surveyor. He looked down on the drive train, saw lots of sprayed water while underway, and assumed that the source was the stuffing box. Since the exhaust leak was dripping on the spinning drive shaft, it was a natural assumption to make.

I debated about how to go about fixing the exhaust hose. I could loosen the clamps and try to snug it up on the connection pipe; however, I was afraid that I might make matters worse and we would have to go in search of a new hose. Instead, I went for a temporary fix by binding the leaking connection point with duct tape. I will replace the hose when I get the boat home.

Now I was wondering if the stuffing box had been snugged too tight. As mentioned before, with so much water about, it was difficult to discern subtle dripping, so I felt the stuffing box after running under load for about 15 minutes and it felt cool to the touch. We decided to monitor the situation as we headed south and see if we needed to take the effort to make adjustments to the stuffing box fittings at the next stop.

Several other chores were completed, including checking the transmission fluid, measuring the height of our mast, and topping off the water tanks. It was time for lunch. We went below and just as we were settling down to eat, Sheryl went up to the cockpit to grab a bottle of water. She came back below and said, "I think we should go topside, there is another boat coming in."

I don't know what the protocol is for 'guarding' one's boat (without overtly questioning the skill of the incoming boat operator), but I had to resist the temptation to run up to the bow to be prepared to fend off the incoming boat. I should not have resisted that urge. A 42' Hunter turned so that the wind hit it perpendicular to the beam (just as it had done to me the evening before), and they were on their way to us, sideways and fast. I ran up to the bow and got a foot over the bow pulpit, just before impact. Through a strength borne of a true love for our new boat, I managed to stop the Hunter, just as my two anchors touched his clean, white toe rail. Sheryl was quickly at my side, helping to fend off the boat, when I noted a stream of water churn from below our feet. I whispered to Sheryl, "He has bow thrusters." Eventually, between his bow thrusters and two dock hands, they managed to slip him in next to the motor cat. I felt a little less embarrassed about my less-than-graceful entry to my own slip the previous night.

After lunch, it was time to go for a walk and search for a loaf of bread. We walked to a convenience store, which had ample food supplies, but only one loaf of cinnamon raisin bread on some very empty shelves. We inquired about the bread and he indicated that he was waiting for the truck. He suggested that we try a store around the corner. That store did not have any bread, so I asked if there was a bagel shop or bakery nearby, and he suggested that there was a bagel shop in the mall. We walked several blocks down to the mall, and there was no bagel shop on the directory. Discouraged, we walked back towards the boat and found a sub shop. Sheryl inquired about just buying some bread from them and they said they could only sell sandwiches. They suggested that we try the same convenience stores we had already visited. Certain that there was no bread to be found anywhere in walking distance of our marina in downtown Norfolk, we stumbled across a gourmet catering service. We stepped inside and asked if they would sell us some bread. The girl behind the counter was tickled at the question, and asked what kind of bread we wanted. Sheryl responded, "What have you got?" When the reply came that they had some fresh-made baguettes, Sheryl said, "I'll take six." They boxed them up for us and for a mere $8.00 (yes that is US currency), we had our bread. I just hope that these are the best PB&J sandwiches ever.

We returned to the boat and relaxed the remainder of the evening away with a leisurely Chart Talk and a few cocktails. Unlike this morning, we were getting anxious to move on. The day of rest had been perfectly timed.