Sailing with Nine of Cups
| Vessel Name: | Nine of Cups |
| Vessel Make/Model: | Liberty 458 |
| Hailing Port: | Denver, Colorado, USA |
| Crew: | Marcie & David |
| About: | We've lived aboard Nine of Cups since 2000 and have managed to accumulate 86,000+ nm under the keel since that time. We completed a circumnavigation in April 2015 and managed to sail around the five great southern capes. Come along with us for the ride! |
| Extra: |
07 July 2016 | Us: East Walpole, MA / Cups: Chesapeake, VA
Taking a breather ...
Since we'll be off the boat during July and August, we plan to post only three times per week. The Captain will continue writing a practical Blue View post each week, we'll keep you up to date on what's happening with us and then throw in some cruising nuggets as well.
06 July 2016 | East Walpole, MA
Keeping fit
We’ve written before about keeping fit on the boat. David is so much better at a regimented exercise program than I am. I have all the best intentions, but I can always think of something better to do than sit-ups, push-ups, leg lifts and running in place. It doesn’t take much to distract me. Walking, [...]
04 July 2016 | East Walpole, MA
Happy 240th Birthday, America
Growing up in New England, I took for granted just how lovely a summer’s morning can be in Massachusetts. It’s comfortably cool and everything smells clean and fresh. Spider webs glisten with morning dew and it’s just great to be alive and breathe in the new day. Being back at Lin’s house conjures up wonderful childhood memories of summer mornings past. And this is not just any morning … it’s the 4th of July, the best holiday of the summertime in the USA.
02 July 2016 | East Walpole, MA
Leaving Cups and a Road Trip
Leaving Nine of Cups is never easy. We know she’ll pout while we’re gone and so we do our best to make sure she’s as comfortable as possible before we leave. We were whirling dervishes trying to get everything ready.
01 July 2016 | Virginia Beach, Virginia
Hunting & Gathering - Virginia Beach
We had lots to do before leaving Cups. David was intent on getting as many chores done in advance of our departure as possible so that once we return in September, we can spend time sailing in the Chesapeake rather than doing repairs and maintenance. Much of what we needed in the way of parts and supplies, [...]
St. Helena to French Guiana - Day 26
We motored a good portion of yesterday and through the night, but we're bucking a current again which has made even the motoring slow. There is no wind to be found now and there is none in the forecast. The sun rises fiery orange and soon becomes a searing globe of white hot brilliance. It burns and glares all through the day, reflecting so brightly off the mill pond smooth sea that just a quick look is blinding, leaving an after image of black spots. A gentle southerly swell is the only movement of the water and it's so subtle, it hardly causes a ripple. Even our wake is quickly gobbled up, leaving no trace of our transit.
The shadow of the daytime moon is barely visible. The sky is a washed-out blue, bleached by an unrelenting tropical sun. The humidity is palpable, a hazy veil that hangs heavily on the day. Man, it's hot!
The sea has changed color. Instead of a crisp, steel blue, it's become a muted grey green. The ocean depths have become more shallow...now hundreds of feet, not thousands. According to the chart plotter, we've entered France's territorial waters.
Even with the ports and hatches open and the fans going, it's like an oven down below, but the sun is so intense in the cockpit, it's intolerable to sit there for long. Short exposures and we're sizzling like ants under a magnifying glass. It's important to stay covered, when all we really want to do is shed more and more clothing. We sit and sweat and wish for the short-lived mean between the extremes of last month's cold and today's heat. Then the sun sets in a red blaze of color and the blessed cool of night slowly descends.
I dragged a sleeping mat up to the cockpit, but the benches are too narrow for comfortable sleep. After an hour, I was lame and sore and retreated down below, all clammy and sweaty despite a shower less than an hour ago. No sleeping tonight.
We took down the whisker pole today. It has done its duty, even in its handicapped state. It can be stowed now for awhile. We're almost to the end of this passage, and despite the heat, we're glad to be here. We should be anchored off Ile St. Joseph in Les Iles du Salut sometime late tonight.
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