August 28, 2007

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Full Moon Overnight    

 

Our first overnight sail on KLOOSH. Thanks to Pete & Stephanie on s/v Brilliant for the idea of doing it during a night with a full moon. We left < namespace="" prefix="st1" ns="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" xml="true">Portland Harbor about 3 PM and headed for the horizon to the south. Eventually we turned around at about 3 AM and returned to our slip safe and sound.

 

But…. In the meantime we had a few moments we will remember ( and bore our grandchildren with – stand by Jake!).

 

Due to tide we needed to leave on an ebb but at least 2 hours before low so we could make the shallow channel from the marina to the harbor. Once in Portland’s harbor we dodged traffic and quickly escaped to the open ocean.

 

I gotta tell you that if ever the sailing gods smiled on us this was the night. We had about 10 knots of wind with smooth seas. In the ‘about as good as it gets’ column the first listing is for when you experience light airs ( light winds – less than 10 mph) and flat seas on a sailboat all at the same time. Ghosting along virtually silent under a full moon is a spiritual experience on a par of seeing beautiful art and listening to moving music.

 

Adding to that, just as the full moon rose what we first thought was a giant log across our course turned out to be a pod of whales. We are not sure which species, but whales they were.

 

Immediately after my breathless shout of “WHALES” Cheryl spotted the spouts from them blowing. It was a total Moby Dick experience! I say this because as we excitedly watched for the next sign of the leviathans across our bow in the next moment we found ourselves clutching each other in awe with just a taste of fear. The whales were close, very close, to us.

 

The first sign was spotted by Cheryl – two large slicks on the sea close on our port quarter, less than 25 feet away. Thoughts of whales unsuccessfully trying to mate with sailboats flitter across our minds seemingly at the same instant. Wasn’t it the Robertsons whose sailboat was sunk by cousins of these all powerful giants slowly swimming along beside us?  We found ourselves whispering for an hour afterwards!

 

Well, we survived that and eventually calmed down. Since this whole thing was my idea I decided to take the first watch and sent Cheryl below for some much needed rest. Of course it was virtually silent at that point so sleep should be easy.  Humph!

 

I’m being quiet- very quiet- standing my watch like a good sailor, listening to the fish jump and watching the birds. Remember its very light out with the full moon, you can see everything once your eyes get adjusted. I’m hoping for the whales to return, watching for some sign that they have arrived, and thinking, and watching this big bird circling the boat. Pretty soon I realize that that big bird wants to land and take a load off.

 

Big Bird makes a try for the masthead which makes me grab for my wallet as I thought of the stuff he could break up there. I guess our new, expensive, very bright tricolor navigation light is giving him problems with his night vision because he veers off and circles around again and then makes a try for the top spreader (cross arm thingies on the mast for you landlubbers  -  they make great perches for birds).  Of course there are all kinds of wires up there holding up the mast that are really hard to see when your night vision has been compromised by bright mast head navigation  lights.  

 

A loud twang is closely follow by, ‘What was that?” from the forecastle.  I whisper at just below a shout, “ Cheryl, come up here...quick!”

 

Of course she probably thinks I’ve just t-boned a tanker putting us and all our families at risk of litigation from some country that has oil and lots of money.  She rushes on deck, not even a little bit breathless.  In fact, from the fire in her eye I suspect she might harbor some resentment at being awakened during her off watch period.

 

In defense, I shrug, show my palms, and point to the enormous, shadowy, kamikaze-like shape coming around for the next attempted assault on our good ship.

 

We have a small hoist for our outboard that makes a fine perch about 4 feet from where Cheryl and I are attempting to open our eyes as wide as they have ever been in 50+ years. Have you ever been about 2 feet from an Osprey?  We both needed a muscle relaxer shortly thereafter.  These guys have very long talons and a mean looking hooked beak, all the better for ripping live flesh from their writhing victims!

 

You guessed it. He lands on the hoist, you could actually hear the clicking of his talons on the stainless steel.  We both checked our life vests…  I’m not saying we were ready to jump ship quite yet. but….

 

I've got to give it to Cheryl.  Right after I got behind her, to point out exactly where the stowaway was located, she stared him down. Evidently he blinked first, because when I next took a breath and opened my eyes, he was gone.

 

‘Whish, whish, whish,'  here he comes again. I tell Cheryl,  “Get the flare gun, I’m about to repel boarders, procure breakfast, and cook it...all in one shot.”  Instead, she handed me the camera .  So I guess we’ll have to wait for Flash Fried Osprey Omelets... probably taste fishy anyway.

 

The night passed quietly after that.  We ate hot chicken soup to ward off the chill of the night air.  We both got some sleep, though not as much as we usually do.  I guess we were both a bit too excited.

 

The wind died completely about 2 AM, so we lowered the sails to keep them from flopping as the boat slowly rocked in the gentle swells.

 

About 5 AM Cheryl used the old 'Lunar Eclipse' excuse to get me up and on watch. This time it was true, we could see the earth's dark shadow sliding down from the top of the moon, making it look as though the Man On The Moon was sporting a new top hat.

 

Very difficult to take pictures for a boat at night. Something about holding the camera steady for a second or longer that I just haven't gotten the hang of yet. Here is my best shot of the eclipse.

 

 

 As we headed back for shore and stresses of everyday life on a yacht, we were reminded of the beauty of being at sea with a gorgeous sunrise.

 

 

 

August 22, 2007

 

Marina Communities!   We’ve had such fun talking, learning, socializing with our boating neighbors at Southport Marine the last 2 months, but the Dock Party tops the list.

 

Even though the marina sports a lawn with shaded barbecues and tables a few organizers decided to have a party on the dock itself.  The word went out that a party would happen at Dock C on Wednesday night…BYOB and hors d’œuvres.

 

Wednesday mid-afternoon brought the sounds of rattling cook ware and clanking utensils from the boat galleys.  Soon tantalizing aromas started wafting through galley hatches filling the marina with hints of the night’s menu.  What a delight for the resident dogs of the marina as they occasionally lifted their heads, noses twitching, during their dockside naps.  One might guess they had dreams of after-party clean up duty.

 

Six o’clock arrived and so did the first wave of people with food.   Several long banquet tables filled with plates of hot crab cakes, cheese and chili mini-quiches, hot chicken wings, trays of cheeses and crackers, dips and chips, bowls of fruit and vegetable salads, pots of steaming cowders and stews,  and for dessert, fresh baked cookies, brownies, and crème filled pastry puffs.  Some specialty items, no doubt from exotic ports, such as pickled walnuts, completed the epicurian experience.  By 8:00 P.M. the tide turned and people and food finally stopped arriving.   But the party reigned on.

 

The narrow, floating and, at times, listing dock, became an exercise in navigational skills in getting through the small groupings of people to the food laden tables and then to a safe harbor to munch down.  Add to this the flowing wine, and other drinkables, and it really did become an accomplishment that there were no man (or woman) overboard drills.  Navigating ones way around the crowded docks, people elbowing their way to the goodies, tacking and gybing for treats, would have made a great new chapter for Docking for Dummies.

 

 

 

August 15, 2007

 

 

 

Opps!  Nearly 4 weeks have gone by since we last blogged.  Where has the time gone and what have we been doing?  Since we last wrote we have replaced the microwave that went south (way before we did).  What sounded like a simple installation turned into a more contorted ordeal (see photo) than we had imagined.  John decided to move the electrical outlet so that we could fit the slightly larger, new microwave into the space.  First the locker had to be unloaded of all it’s stores to make room for John to slip into the locker.  By the way, this is the same locker that previous owner Andrew had trouble with once before.  The story goes that Andrew went head first into the locker to work on some tanks under the floor…the problem was that he could not get out.  Remembering this bit of history John decided to descend into the locker.  And was able to get out on his own, without the aid of the fire department.   Thanks to Andrew for the heads up.

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John flew to < namespace="" prefix="st1" ns="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" xml="true">Colorado Springs for a few days on business leaving Cheryl boat alone.  Things went fairly well for Cheryl in John’s absence as the dock neighbors (Barb and Stu, Janet and Barry, Judy and David) are all friendly and helpful and invited her to a cockpit party as she forlornly waited for John’s return.  Meanwhile both of John’s outgoing and return flights were delayed to the tune of 3 and 3 1/2 hours respectively.  Lesson learned…don’t fly with John.  He has the worst luck.

 

Charlie, Cheryl’s brother, arrived on July 29th for a five day visit.  Earlier we had scouted for some authentic pubs in Portland’s Old Port in anticipation of Charlie’s arrival.  Being the good sport that he is, even after a red-eye flight from coast to coast, Charlie joined us for a 3 hour mail boat run to five islands in Casco Bay.  Holding down the seats on the mail boat turned into thirsty work on such a hot day so we commenced our Irish Pub Crawl (Ri Ra, Bull Feeney’s, Gritty McDuff) as soon as we hit the dock.  We enjoyed the samplers of local brews at each establishment and overall think our pallets were amply educated during our crash course.

 

After acquainting Charlie with Portland we decided to set sail to a remote anchorage in Quahog Bay.  With no wind we had to motor sail the entire way and practiced coastal navigation through the narrow, rock strewn channels infested with lobster pots.  We successfully dodged all the pots and arrived at a truly idyllic bay complete with granite- based, pinetree-topped islands.  We had a restful two days and two nights exploring the area with multiple dinghy excursions and island explorations, contrasted with the exhilarating experience of being chased below the first evening by hordes of blood sucking vampirish mosquitoes.   After retreating to the cabin below we fended them off by installing porthole screens over every opening the little  #*^!&  could possibly squeeze through.  

 

Returning to Portland turned into a rousing close reach sail with winds averaging 10-15 knots on relatively flat seas.  What a joy.

 

On August 3rd, to cheer ourselves up after Charlie’s departure on the 2nd, we decided to attend the SSCA’s Maine GAM.  You may ask yourself what an SSCA GAM is.  SSCA stands for Seven Seas Cruising Association, a world-wide informational network of cruising boats with the motto of leaving a clean wake.  GAM stands for we don’t know what, but equated to a gathering of cruising boats, a pot-luck lunch, and guest speakers on Isleboro Island.  Sixty boats were represented at the gathering.  Though we couldn’t sail up on Kloosh due to time restrictions we drove to Camden and met up with Pam and Denis crew of Glide who transported us using their 23 ft. powerboat.  Along the way we also picked up Hans-Ruedi and Lilian crew of Shiva from Switzerland, who were moored in Camden Harbor.

 

The ride over to Isleboro was made in fog so thick we had mere yards to maybe a  ¼ mile visibility.   Pam kiddingly asked us how we liked the view of Maine.  Cheryl quipped back, “Oh, we’ve seen fog before…just never this much of it!”   With local knowledge Pam and Denis navigated by cutting the engine periodically to listen for the bell equipped buoys marking the channels.   It was an eerie experience.    

 

After the GAM we were invited to Neil and Helen’s s/v Milvinia, a 47 ft. aluminum sail boat.  Neil and Helen had a wealth of information on sailing.  They had bought the boat as a bare hull and finished the interior themselves.  We stayed for an impromptu dinner in the cockpit and listened to stories of Cuba as Neil and Helen and Reudi and Lilian had all sailed and visited there.   

 

After returning from the GAM we made a concerted effort to finish the boat projects on our list.  John made the improvement of installing a 900 amp hour battery bank, consisting of 8 golf cart batteries, instead of the 6 batteries that Kloosh came equipped with.  We also did a test run of the watermaker while Charlie was visiting, and have ordered a new membrane which should get the watermaker system fully operational.  Also we finally got the parts needed to get our interior heater, an Espar, repaired just in case cold weather catches us before we get to the warmer waters in the south.

 

Our slip-mates, Barb & Stu, are very good at getting their 47 ft Cheoy Lee in and out of the slip.  Stu graciously offered to go out with us and help us improve our docking skills.  Last Sunday turned out to be the day. With Stu positioned at the helm, Barb positioned at the rail Cheryl and John  were both able to dock Kloosh numerous times with no dramas.  We learned the secret to better docking is in the use of spring lines.

 

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