Tom, sun and cloud NE 5-10
Sunday, 22 November 2009, Belhaven, NC

What a relief to be back home again. The delivery trip to the BVI was exciting and boring and fun and arduous, sunny and rainy, cold, cloudy, hot, blue, windy and calm. The Virgins were beautiful and expensive as I remembered them. We left after a day or so to come back to Virginia, wet and cold. We just missed the onslaught of rain that left the docks where Emma was staying 2 feet under water at high tide, as well as the wind that turned her old flag to ribbons and sheared a stainless steel pin in the wind vane. We got a new flag, an autopilot for motoring that I have yet to install and, after failing to acquire a new pair of house batteries to see us through the next few years, we got out of the wi-fi-less bastion of million dollar sport-fishing boats known as Bluewater and left the industrial wasteland of Hampton Roads behind. 7 hours of chugging steadily along brought us to Deep Creek lock, home of Robert the lockmaster. We were welcomed with a helping hand with the lines, and an offer to tie up on his dock for the night with the promise of coffee and breakfast in the morning. We gratefully accepted as the current coming down the canal made motoring against it a slow ungainly process and made some new friends on the other boats that tied up there as well. The water is curiously brown, clean and not muddy, but brown. The Great Dismal Swamp is beautiful and the navigation fairly straightforward, completely straight in fact but for one turn. We locked down into the River and made Elizabeth City by dark. The next day found us reaching across Albermarle in 15 knots of East wind and then back to the motor when it deserted us at the mouth of the Alligator River. The Pungo River is only 2 days north of Beaufort so with over a week until my family show up there, we decided to spend a little time in Belhaven. We were invited to a wine tasting at the hardware store, ate several of the best meals we've ever had at the Back Bay Café and restocked the wine locker at the same place from one of the best selections of wines I've ever seen as well as getting some new books for the library. Don and Nancy gave us a ride home with our wine and then took us out to the grocery store and over to their home to check out Don's boats and Nancy's watercolors. Contrary to predictions, today has dawned bright and sunny, cool and a little bit of breeze. We hope it will stay this way as we head south after one last meal at the Back Bay Café. Oriental tomorrow then on to Beaufort and Thanksgiving. We've used more fuel in the last week than we have all summer, an entire tank! (16 gal) We will likely burn another before we get off shore. I have mixed feelings about being off shore. Not really looking forward to the nausea, sunburn, boredom, lack of sleep, or pain of moving around a little boat that seems intent on making any movement bruise inducing. So why are we heading out there again? I can't help it. The desire to sail on the ocean just seems to trump all the discomfort and pain. The ditch is fun and easy and safe, the people are great and the towns are delightful, it's just not enough. The very indescribability of the sensation of being in a small boat on a big ocean is likely what has led so many people to write about it. And some of us, once we experience it, can't seem to shake the urge to go. Wherever, as long as it's salty and wet.

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Tom, clear skies, NW wind 20-25 gusting 40
Wednesday, 07 October 2009, bert jabin's yacht yard

Most people who know me know i like to work, and this picture shows exactly why. There is no better way that i know of to get to know people than to work with them. And these folks are so great to know. Clay just joined us a few weeks ago. He's an amazing carpenter, and a sweet person. No way in hell the boat would be ready without his 70+ hour weeks. Alex is 17 and didn't know shit about building stuff a couple months ago, but there's nothing like working on a gutted out boat 12 hours every day to get an education. He did all of the cabinetry in his room, sweet. Kim has been too busy getting rid of a house full of stuff to spend much time with us, but the days she has spent are always fun, especially when she brings their son Rayne. Annie i already knew, and it was no surprise to see the beautiful, strong and thoughtful canvas work that she built while taking care of our home and feeding the entire crew delicious Charlie sandwiches every day with fruits and deserts, all home made. Brian Duff and i had something in common that we could tell from the first time we met and i'm so glad he thought of me when he needed someone to devote themselves entirely to a complete overhaul of a sweet old boat. I's what i do, can't help it. I love to be completely overwhelmed by a job, submersed in the details and driven by a vision for what Taya should be, a vision i shared with Brian. He has more damn energy than anyone i've ever met. Compulsive builder, rigger, fixer. We all learned so much from each other, and from One World, Taya's new name. She was the one calling the shots, setting the pace, and demanding our attention. There are so many details to take care of on a complex piece of machinery like this. Today we are heading down to the South River where we took One World yesterday. We couldn't sail her, no sails on board, but all the equipment worked that we had a chance to test, from the completely rewired engine and electronics to the through hulls and new exhaust. The deck needs some holes sealed, the throttle and shift lever are still backwards, the hole in the bow needs paint, as does hundreds of square feet of the deck and interior. We'll get her done though. Anyone who saw her 3 weeks ago will agree with that. Looks like a beautiful day for a sail around Thomas Point. On second thought, maybe it's a better day to keep anchor watch. The wind filled in to 25 knots gusting through 40, Emma's holding well but i'm not so sure about the Bennetau to windward.

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Tom, SW 3knots, sun and cloud
Sunday, 02 August 2009, Back Creek, Annapolis

Summer on the Bay. We had other plans, but they changed. The steel schooner that i'm working on is coming along well. It's battleship gray primer at the moment, on the outside and the interior is coming together fast. Todd Duff, the owner of One World, is in town this week and seems excited about his new boat. I just came back from racing Sage down to St. Mary's in the Governor's Cup. Michael Hulme took me down to race with him a couple months ago and i've had the best time, meeting new people and learning new techniques. I've learned about sailing from people who know how to massage the shape of their sails to catch every ounce of thrust from the wind. I learn something new every week from Terri and Rob and the rest of the crew. In light air or heavy, it's always a new experience, a new mistake to overcome, a new situation to deal with. There's no other boat i want to sail around or live on then Emma, but Sage, a J30, is all about instant response to wind and the abilities of her crew, as opposed to Emma, who is all about keeping Annie and i safe and dry no matter what stupid shit we end up doing.
Annie has the contract for the canvas work on the schooner. She's starting to worry that there is insufficient time to finish all the stuff that she has to build. No doubt. There is an entire interior to create out and i've barely begun. If this project goes well, i will have a great reference since Todd and his son Brian have contacts throughout the Caribbean. If not... it'll go well. I can feel her soul on my hands every day after work, can sense her excitement. Maybe i'm off my rocker altogether, but the most satisfying thing about working on boats is the snse that i'm not working on just a box, a house, but i'm involved in a life, putting my hands and my mind to the task of making life better for a boat, a sailboat, with a soul and a history. Giving her an opportunity to do the work she was meant to do. To be the boat she was meant to be. Yeah, that sounds idiotic. I can't really give a sense of the experience, but it's more like bringing to life, or back to life, a friend. A being with spirit and soul. Nothing i've ever felt while working on a box on land.
In the mean time, we eat delicious fresh veggies from the farmer's market in town, lounge in the cockpit, enjoying the soft warm summer breezes and race Sage, usually with all of our competitors bows in view.
So what happened to sailing the oceans of the world? Where are the posts from our latest exotic port of call? That's not the point is it. This isn't a vacation. If you read my previous posts, you already know that sailing is scary and difficult for me. I love it, but it's more work than i want to do on a regular basis. This ain't no vacation, it's living. On a boat. In a home that we make through constant work, but a home that is so much more enjoyable than any i've known before. Full of opportunity, full of adventure. Even sitting still, in Back Creek, it's every day. New work, new friends, new weather, new wind. Who knew that just letting go of the things that you dislike about your life give only opportunity to enjoy the things you love, the people you love. I've gotta get back to my lover now, make dinner, watch the sun set over Back Creek, home for a while.

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Posted by Annie
Monday, 13 July 2009, Annapolis

We took Tom's mom Barb out for a sail - 2 knot winds on a sunny day - and Marti took photos. Thank you Marti! Her drifter is beautiful. Tom sailing her on a beam reach trying to keep that sail filled. We had her new sails up -- new main, staysail, and yankee, amazing work done by sail maker Glenn Housely -- but there was not enough wind to keep them filled. We'll try another day.

We haven't updated our blog in quite a long time... we've just been living life. I spent a week in Peoria visiting family and friends while Tom started his first week on The Schooner, ripping out the insides so as to give her a fresh start in life. More on The Schooner later.... we'll post some photos.

More photos of Emma under sail

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Tom, sun and stars, rain, wind and calm
Tuesday, 16 June 2009, Stutts Creek, VA

Sailing at night is just unreasonably beautiful. In some ways easier, with the location of lighted buoys showing up so clearly. The floating hotels coming in and out of Baltimore light up the sky and obscure the stars. Sleep, the kind we get at anchor, doesn't really exist. The constant noise and movement keep me in a semi-sleeping state, sometimes falling down deeper but always swimming back to consciousness when we tack or the wind or seas change. We are in Mathews again, cute town. The librarian has informed us in no uncertain terms that we are to sign in every time we come in here, where to put our bikes, not to hack... she runs a pretty tight ship. Dave and Em, our neighbors from Ohio come through on Friday and then it's back to Annapolis to start working. Brian, my rigger, offered me a job installing a new interior in a steel hulled schooner that his dad just bought. It's a unique and exciting boat and i'm looking forward to the design of the, i don't know, ambiance of the interior i guess. It's rough and poorly done at the moment. The whole boat is finished more like a commercial vessel than a yacht and i love that about it. I have spent hours musing about what sort of materials and details to use to maintain a continuity of feeling throughout the boat. I haven't come up with much yet but it's what i've done for years and can't be rushed. It feels good to be anticipating work again, i've missed it in the last few months. Annie is already planning the details for the delivery voyage down to Tortula.

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Posted by Annie. Weather today... sunny and warm and then a squall!
Tuesday, 09 June 2009, Annapolis, MD

Another step forward... closed on the sale (sail) of my house today! I owe a HUGE thank you to my mom & dad Micky & Joe, my sister Jeannette & her husband Rob, also sailors, my brothers Joe & Mark, my son Adam and my friend Kathy and my attorney Steve for handling so many of the loose ends... if I can call them that! They were actually pretty heavy lifting to tie up. This is a home that I had a wonderfully creative time remodeling - the kitchen especially - and then decided to quit my job and sell it all and move onto 27 foot sailboat with Tom, into small spaces.

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Posted by Annie
Saturday, 06 June 2009, Annapolis

We circumnavigated the Delmarva Peninsula as we await our new sails to be made. We took a month doing so, taking our time, anchoring near several small towns, being tourists, relaxing at anchor, sailing, doing projects... and learning something new every day. Someone asked us the other day what are the highlights of the trip, highlights of our first month as cruisers. Learning the technical aspects of sailing, like sail combinations given wind conditions, fixing a position, reading the charts and piloting, these things were all important and fun and challenging to learn but highlights? No, not for me.
Being on night watch and watching the red crescent moon rise, feeling the vastness of the universe, watching the sun rise. Feeling my body move in sweet harmony with Emma as I'm standing on the bow dousing the genoa and hanking on the yankee because it's blowin' hard; she's rising and falling over the crests of the waves and I'm moving with her, safe and connected. Watching birds, bugs, dolphins and jellyfish, sunrises, sunsets and rainbows... and being aware of the interconnectedness of all life on this planet. Moving through this life slowly. Anchoring just as the sun is setting. Experiencing the balance of adventure and stability - doing something different every day while also having set routines every day. Falling into natural roles aboard, each of us what we like and what we're good at and realizing just how well these roles intersect. Understanding that it's okay for me to not be the technical sailor; believing in and trusting and feeling safe with Tom's decision-making and being in awe at his sense of responsibility as the captain.
These things are highlights.
Photo Gallery

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Tom, ESE 5-10, sunshine
Monday, 01 June 2009, Back Creek

It was 0100 and everything I had eaten or drank in the past 20 hours, I'd given back to the sea. We were hove to, about 6 miles to windward of Chincoteague inlet and I felt pretty comfortable that on our present tack, we would weather Assateague Island if the wind came back up any harder. I went back below and told Annie that I needed a break. All I could see of the 6 foot swell rolling in on the starboard bow was overlaid with colorful hallucinations that reminded me of the cheap, dirty acid I used to buy at Dead shows. She dressed while I sent my last few drinks of water down the head and then I laid down in bed, in the only position that gave any relief from the nausea, flat on my back, hands on my chest like a corpse. If only it gave some relief to my fatigue, but sleep is hard to come by in the incessant noise of the wind and the waves and the pitch and roll of a small boat on a big ocean. I lay awake, wishing for sleep, wishing I had the strength to stay alert and monitor our position with a lee shore so close. She woke me at 0530 with the first hint of dawn coming through the portlights and we sailed toward the inlet, the only chance of an anchorage before the cold front came in from the north. When the south wind eased off to the west and died, we motored, only a mile or so out of the channel and followed the unfamiliar and uncharted entrance buoys into the town. No sailboats out here, just us and the trawlers. We anchored on the side of the channel in 15 feet and I had no sooner started to cover the main than the north wind hit blowing 35 knots. The anchor held, I made a sturdy breakfast and lay down in my lovers arms for the first time in 3 days. I wondered as I drifted off to sleep with the wind slapping the halyards if I had made such a wise decision to pursue this life when the one I left behind was so good.
We came up on Salem Nuclear Power Plant where the Delaware Bay turns into a river. Not a river like I've ever known, but one governed by the whims of the tide. It was the beginning of the ebb and the wind was building against the current. Our course was constrained by the need to stay out of the shipping channel and off of the shoals. I was shifting the sails from wing on wing one side to the other to maintain a heading of 335 and the brown water rose higher up the stern with each passing hour. The current made the steering especially tedious as any deviation in our course was magnified by the weight of water coming down the river against us. We finally rounded the corner and came up to wind only to find that the wind was too unsteady to provide the wind vane with a chance to steer an accurate course. I stayed on the tiller and an hour later was running wing on wing again, across the channel towards some water that looked like a possible anchorage. I dropped the hook in 40 ft., let out another 60 but all it did was scrape across rock so I hauled it all back in and we headed for some 10 foot water off Pea Island.
Baltimore had citrus. The harbor cop was friendly and helpful. There is no question where the pollution in the Bay originates though. The inner harbor is lousy with dead fish and floating plastic trash, and the smell is ungodly. We were too late to leave today with a cold front rolling down on us and visibility getting worse by the minute. Tomorrow morning though. I just can't stand the stench much longer. Time to get back to Annapolis and check on the sails and check on Michael, see if he needs some rum. Time to spend a day or two washing the slime off the gudgeon, the mud off the fore deck and cutting our old sails up to make into bags which we hope to sell to rich tourists for preposterous amounts of money. It's been a very educational month. We didn't really see any tough weather, but we have a pretty good idea of what does work (heaving to) and what doesn't (tacking the genoa), which things still leak (the useless chimney) and what an amazing home we have. Once the new sails are on board, we're thinking about Kitty Hawk, Newport, Cape Cod, Martha's Vineyard, and Vinalhaven over the summer. Or wherever the wind decides to blow us.

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Tom, SE 3-5 knots, overcast, drizzle
Monday, 11 May 2009, Piankatank River

We sailed north yesterday because that's the way the wind was blowing. The next few days are forecast to have North and East winds, which are not the ones we want for going outside and up the Delaware Bay, so we are back on the Piankatank River for the moment. We are planning on going into Deltaville, one of our favorite towns around here. Last time we were here, Nauti Nel's consignment shop provided us with NOAA 12210, the one I was missing from the charts we need to complete our sailing around the peninsula.

Friday night found us on anchor, surrounded by crab pots (we fouled one of them but the guys came out before I pulled up anchor the next morning and dealt with it and were really friendly) just off the Severn River Marina. I rowed in for ice. We could use some water and fuel, but just like the fuel dock at the last marina we tried to go to, it was all the way inside, shallow and too much backing up to be worth the trouble. Saturday morning brought sunshine and loads of SW wind. I had to sit down and think about the situation over another cigarette before I got the courage to leave the anchorage. I don't know if it's different for people who are just sailing their toy, but the weight of responsibility for taking your home, lover and everything you own out in 20 knots of wind makes the experience not fun. It's exhilarating, exciting, addictive like cocaine, but not really fun. Maybe as I become more comfortable handling the sails and the charts I will be able to relax and just enjoy it. But I doubt it. Oliver, the helmsman was overwhelmed three times yesterday in gusts and had his steering oar pulled out of position. I had to climb out on the transom and force it back down into the water and reconnect his trim tab actuator. I don't know if he is getting loose or if it is the usual response of asking too much of him. Coming out of Mobjack Bay, broad reaching on the starboard tack at about 6 knots, Annie mentions that there is water on the cabin sole. I opened the engine access and sure enough, full bilge. I pump it dry and head back down to see if I can see the cause. I've been suspicious of the stern seals and the prop was turning like crazy in all the water, but then I noticed the water pouring in from the starboard locker, and I knew it was the propane drain. Sure enough, I got in there and the following waves were pouring in through the overboard drain. Now how in the world can that be fixed without compromising the overboard drain? (Note to self, stbd tack, following sea, pump every 15 minutes.)

Last night we set the anchor under power because we had just come through the swing bridge at Gwynne Island. Cocktails were good, dinner was mediocre. (The captain is having some trouble with a stew that just won't go away and isn't getting any better the longer it sits around, still edible though, maybe it will become fish food today.) A squall came through just after sundown blowing like hell, air and water became one and the boat anchored off our stern drug their hook about 40 feet before it grabbed something solid. After the thunder and lightning and wind had blasted their way through, the NW wind came up blowing 15-20 and kept it up all night. I got up a couple times to check the wind direction and our position. No worries though. On the hook, Emma doesn't seem to mind what kind of wind gets up, as long as we have room to swing, mud to bury the CQR, and a little protection from the waves. Life is easy, slow, quiet, never boring as we always have projects to do. But as soon as we pull the hook out of the mud, everything changes. Where are we, what's going on around us, wind speed and direction, course, sail trim, danger bearings on atons, check the aton to make sure it's the one you think it is, position, speed, leeway. It's absorbing, intense, and profoundly satisfying to drop the hook after a day on the Bay, in the creek that you intended, but again, it's not what I'd describe as fun.

I've never been happier in a home. There is always something to build or fix or clean or lubricate and plenty of time to cook and read, water to row on and a new town to cycle around. But as soon as the hook is set, another feeling accompanies the relief of finding a beautiful anchorage and getting there without running into (too much) stuff. I start feeling the need for wind in the sails, new horizons, new challenges. I guess that's how I ended up out here in the first place.

We're going to have some mail sent to us here in Deltaville and I'm going to head into West Marine for some pulleys and double braid to change the reef lines around so they are faster and easier to use. We are trying to come up with a better way to run the jib down-haul and get the flags to stay put in heavy winds, and I'm considering a little cover over the propane vent that would act something like one of those self-bailers on a little sailboat and create an eddy sort of thing where the through hull is when it is buried in the water. Any suggestions, ideas, or experiences of similar stuff are very welcome.

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Tom / Blue sky, light SSE breeze
Friday, 24 April 2009, San Domingo Creek

She sails so smooth.
That's not at all unexpected, but it is reassuring. She's easy. Oliver, the wind vane, takes care of the helm in any wind over 4 knots or so, Oscar, the solar stik, takes care of the batteries and doesn't even notice the 25 knot gusts. Sourdough Charley has recovered from his mysterious illness and provides lunch on the water. Tad, our dink, rides on the foredeck very comfortably and is a real asset to sail handling, providing a solid working platform with handholds. We have started leaving the flotation tubes inflated while he's on deck and they don't get in the way at all. He launches over the rail in about a minute with all gear inside except the mast and sails, which stow inside the chain plates on the side of the fore cabin.
Emma rides to her anchor as well as she sails, calmly, smoothly. We dropped the hook the other night in Crab Alley Bay, on our way to Oxford but without wind. It was wide open to the south, the western shore about half a mile away and the eastern about a quarter. We went about as far north as we could. Had some fun dousing the spinnaker when the wind piped up to five or six knots after we dropped the main in the dead calm. Anyway, cocktails were duly served up with peanuts and I started dinner. We sat in the cockpit watching the black bar that covered the entire eastern horizon slowly approach. I was glad the spinnaker was down as I put the snubber line on and let out another 25 ft of chain. It was pretty intense when it hit, 30 knots or so, 2 ft. waves with spray blown off the tops. One hour later, we were out in the cockpit again, with our wine, flat calm, like the squall was just a dream, and we talked about what we will have to do when we are under sail and a line squall comes through. The 35 pound CQR sets easily and is large enough to hold her, especially in the mud of the Bay, and small enough to handle with ease.
The wild variations in wind and weather on the Bay are a constant source of wonder to me. The day we left Crab Alley Bay, we started out in force 1 winds out of the SE, ghosting down the bay in light rain and fog. By the time we motored into Knapps Narrows, the little engine was hard pressed to make headway with 25 knot gusts and 3 foot waves right on the beam. Oliver steered us down Poplar Island Narrows with the wind and waves dead astern and increasing without the least bit of problem. The navigator was not so smooth, mistaking the line of sticks in the middle of the channel with some sort of survey lines for the new island and we ended up bumping the keel a few times before I got sorted out. Apparently Poplar Island Narrows is closed, such is the arrogance of the Army Corps that they think the own Bay. The bridge operator on Knapps Narrows was very obliging and opened the bridge without hesitation, good thing as we were being set down on it by the following wind. On the other side of the narrows, it was a different world. One foot waves and the wind shielded by the shore. The sun came out as we ran toward Choptank river light and by the time we rounded the point to reach up towards Oxford, the wind had all but deserted us.
Oliver, our tireless helmsman, is a joy to use. We are only just beginning to get to know each other, but the ease with which he keeps the boat at 40 degrees off the apparent wind has already won my respect. Yesterday we were close hauled on the 12 to 15 knot WNW breeze, double reefed main, staysail and yankee, back and forth across the Choptank river. Sunshine and spray coming across the deck. We were able to sail 60 degrees off the true wind, but with leeway, we sailed 15 miles with the rail just out of the water to get about 3 ½ miles to windward.
This morning I am going to finish the bracket that secures the kedge to the stern rail and start work on some teak blocks to protect the gunwales where Tad the dink comes on board. We are headed into St. Micheals after lunch to find the wine and food that they speak so highly of and celebrate my 39th year. Living on Emma, traveling with my lover is celebration indeed.

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