We’ve received several responses to Mike’s last post, referencing his comment about us laughing more.  It’s true, we are a couple of laughing fools lately!  We’ve been finding that laughing is like a tonic.  We feel better, our outlook is more positive, and we share those “you had to be there” understandings.  So, what’s so funny?  Anything and everything, it seems.  But here are a few things that have sent us over the edge:

-There are these birds, you see, whose antics reduce us to hysterics every time.  They are the humble Guillemot, part of the Auk family.   Auk, Auk!  Funny right off the bat, as is our butchered pronunciation of Guillemot.  They are a spiffy looking bird, mostly black with some white on the wing.  They are a bit duck-like in that they have appeared floating behind our boat in nearly every remote location we’ve visited.  What makes them funny is their rather undignified feet.  They are bright red, webbed, and very functional, I’m sure.  These guys can fly ok, usually just inches above the water.  Perhaps the reason for low flight is that they seem to be still perfecting the art of landing.  Here’s their method:  From a full flight, pull up, flap wings wildly, put red feet out in front and turn them this way and that, bracing for impact.  “Wham!  I’m down!”  Now you just can’t watch that without laughing.  The cares of life pale in comparison.

 

-After our recent restocking stop in Friday Harbor, we felt ready to expand our horizons.  We thought we’d head over to Canada for a few days.  Just before we left, I thought I’d check online to see if we were carrying any restricted items.  Here is an imaginary conversation with the Customs Agent:

“Welcome to Canada!  What items do you have to declare, eh?”

“Oh, nothing.  We just have basic food and supplies for our own use.”

“I see.  So, no eggs or poultry, eh?”

“Uh, two dozen eggs.  But the chicken is frozen.  About 2 pounds of it.”

“Not allowed.  Got potatoes on board, eh?”

“Just a few.  Some of those nice little mini potatoes, and some frozen hash browns.”

“Not allowed.  Got any dairy:  Milk, cheese, butter, eh?”

Silence.

“Well?  Eh?  EH?”

“Um, some of each, but more cheese than anything.  You know, cheese for crackers, string cheese for hiking, cheese for fondue, cheese for…”

“Not allowed!  Any alcohol on board, eh?”

“Well, our friends sent us off with bottles of wine and champagne.  We have about 6 bottles.”

“NOT ALLOWED!!!  Go back to America, and plan to buy your groceries here next time, eh?”

We will try Canada again later.

 

-Mike loves cycling.  Those of you who know him are familiar with the beautiful burgundy road bike he refurbished and loves to ride.  And yes, he brought the thing along.  Many times, I’ve given it the term “Albatross” as we move it from place to place on the boat, because face it, it’s a large item.  Our boat actually came equipped with bicycles.  They fold up for storage, and they offer us one more form of entertainment and transportation when we are on land.  Mike of course, prefers his big red bike.  But one day it had a flat tire, so we decided to both ride the fold-ups.  These bikes have 14-inch tires.  They have to go around lots of times to get very far down the road.  Even though the tires are small, we are average sized people, so we extend the seat and handle bars up to a height that is comfortable.  The overall look is a little silly.  I can’t help but hum the Winged Monkeys theme from the Wizard of Oz as my legs pedal their little hearts out to take me one block down the road.  We’ve had some fun on these bikes, but the best fun is laughing at each other.  We showed pictures of our bikes to our daughter-in-law and her comment was, “Have you guys joined the circus?”  What do you think?  Do we have a future under the big top?

-We have reached the age where our hearing isn’t what it used to be.  We have had lots of rip-roaring laughs over, “I thought you said…”  I would share some of those funny things, but unfortunately, we’ve also reached the age of short term memory misplacement.  It’s not lost forever, just temporarily unavailable.

-What do you think of this spit wad plant?  There was a whole field of them, ripe for the harvest.  You know all those wads on the ceiling at your grammar school?  We can confirm that they originated in the great Pacific Northwest.  We’ve seen it with our own eyes, and we believe it.

 

I could go on, and keep you in stitches, I’m sure.  But I am aware that these things lose some of their whimsy in the telling.  You really do have to be there to appreciate that these things are just really funny.

Today is my Dad’s birthday.  He was a witty man, and he had a saying about people who didn’t appreciate his jokes.  He said, “They just have no sense of the ridiculous.”  I guess we’re developing a sense of the ridiculous.  Life in the workaday world, it seems, had become pretty serious for us.  In getting away, we are learning to be more child-like, enjoying simple things and enjoying each other.  And you know what?  It’s fun to laugh!  A joyful heart is good medicine, but a broken spirit dries up the bones.  Proverbs 17:22

The other day, Mike called to me from somewhere on the boat.  “What?” I called back. “Oh, just your basic eagle flying around.”  Now that’s funny…

-Beth

 

–

Last week we found ourselves in need of restocking the boat.  Getting groceries, filling the water tanks, emptying the waste tanks and the trash, all these housekeeping tasks need to be done every week or 10 days.  We hadn’t ventured far from Friday Harbor, and we knew that the marina had all the services we were needing, so we returned for a two night stay.  Why two nights?  Because we had heard that the Fourth of July parade in Friday Harbor ranks among the top ten on someone’s list of small town parades.  We decided that we should enter in to the local celebration while we were there.

Sleeping peacefully in the Marina on the morning of the 4th, we were awoken at 6:00 am by cannon shots.  Nearby.  The Veterans of Foreign Wars building overlooks the marina, and their tradition is to start the day right by firing off a few.  I can tell you, it made us come to attention!

Having done our homework, we knew the parade didn’t start until 10:30 am, so we headed out to our favorite bakery to grab a pastry and coffee.  On the way, we shook our heads as we saw people setting up chairs along the parade route to stake out their spots.  After all, this wasn’t the Rose Parade.  There was plenty of time to have a leisurely pastry and go back to the boat to put on shorts and get our sunscreen on.  As we left the bakery at about 9:00, it became clear that going back to the boat was out of the question.  The borders of the streets were filled with chairs and people.  We were very fortunate to find someone who shared her bench with us, and we stayed put, making conversation and wishing we had on sunscreen and shorts as the sun had come out.  A marimba band played across the street, which made the waiting pleasant.  The atmosphere was celebratory, and I think we were the only ones not fully decked out in the colors of the flag.  (Except for our red, sweaty faces and our long, heavy blue jeans).

The parade began with the singing of the National Anthem.  As the singer began, a hush fell.  I could feel the air of anticipation and respect that was present.  Children and adults stood with hands on hearts.  A cheer erupted afterward, and the parade began.

First down the street were the Veterans, bearing flags.  Behind them came other Veterans, followed by a couple who were unable to walk the whole distance, but participated by being driven.  This was the most moving moment of the parade for me.  Parade goers were yelling at these Vets.  They were yelling, “Thank you!”  This was no polite handshake and solemn “Thank you for your service.”  This was a heartfelt and yelled with gusto, “Thank you!”  I still tear up remembering it, because it was so very appropriate.

The rest of the parade was filled with variety.  Some highlights were:  A group of dogs dressed in orca costumes, named the Dog Pod; a pirate float which apparently is a regular entry, and which gets further embellishments each year (this year there were 3  bubble blowing machines attached, which blew masses of bubbles into the street); a womens’ boxing class boxing, punching and growling their way fiercely down the street.  It was a slice of American pie, and we enjoyed it immensely.

The parade was followed by the Pig War Picnic, put on by the Historical Society.  No that’s not a typo: Pig War.  America and England very nearly went to war over a pig.  I won’t go into it now, but if you’re interested, look it up.  It’s a fascinating bit of history.  The picnic commemorates the meal shared by British and American troops after the dispute was finally settled.  There was live music and games for kids and adults, such as a cake walk, egg toss and “pennies in the hay.”

In the evening, there was a “Rock the Dock” street dance, followed by fireworks in the bay.  We sat on top of Voyager as the fireworks burst loud and colorful above us.  Cheering and ooooohs could be heard from people in the surrounding boats, and whenever there was a pause in the action, the boaters all honked their boat horns and emergency air horns.  There may or may not have even been a little noise coming from our boat – I’ll let you decide.

All in all, it was a wonderful day.  It served to restore my hope in the character and general good will of people.  It was a great antidote for the cloud of generally bad news that is regularly disseminated over the airwaves.  Yes, this 4th of July was a breath of fresh air.

Today is Saturday, and we are at the quaint town of East Sound on Orcas Island.  Earlier today, we took our dinghy to the dock and set out to explore the town and guess what?  They were having a Fourth of July parade!      -Beth

Here we are in Garrison Bay, Wa.

We had several days in Friday Harbor:

We had the great and unique opportunity to meet the prior owners of Voyager, our boat.  It has been based here and serendipity brought us to the engineering office that I had seen on some of the boat’s paperwork.  We went in and introduced ourselves.  John and Janet are great folks and helped us out with many answered questions.

Chain Biter (our affectionate name for the windlass –  the thing that lets chain out and brings it back when we put out the anchor – continues to demand attention with a new switch and a newly fabricated, stainless steel chain ‘shucker’ installed, so we are in control as opposed to the random starts that Beth described in her previous note.  Think Grrr  Grrr – very loud, middle of the night…  We are all set, right?  Probably not.  The computer that runs the navigation program crashed, the generator battery charger didn’t work so the generator wouldn’t start.  (I have a spare, so not to worry…) We were there for five days, but at some point, it is time to go…  Yes, we got these things working – sort of…

How could I be smiling when faced with this seemingly continual list of repairs and breakdowns?

I have a new idea that could at the very least, change my attitude and perhaps yours, regarding ‘success’.  Let me explain:  Why would two reasonable, relatively sane people leave a comfortable home, in a great neighborhood for an uncertain future on a 32-year-old boat?  We would be subject to the elements of weather, uncertain reliability of the boat, no routine, and ‘hardship’ in general.

Because we could…

We are having a great time even though there is always more stuff to fix.  It is never done or perfect.  We GET To be here, now.  We are laughing more.  I guess I am learning about contentment despite circumstance.

Here is the path we walked today…

I hope this note finds you healthy, content, laughing, thankful and surrounded by meaningful relationship. Here is an article that lists some things you can do if you feel in a rut:  https://www.theladders.com/career-advice/7-ways-to-turn-your-life-around-when-everything-falls-apart  It is a checklist of sorts…

Life is a gift and so are you!

Thankful for you,

mike

We were aware that as newcomers to boating, we would have many things to learn.  However, being reasonably intelligent people, we concluded that even novices can learn, and we committed ourselves to acquiring knowledge from books, advice from others, and…  from our mistakes.

The first time we anchored out, we pulled into beautiful Echo Bay at Sucia Island.  There were a fair number of boats already anchored there, but we found a spot which wasn’t too near the others, and not to near the coastline (boats at anchor pivot around the anchor as the wind changes directions, so you need to allow room for your boat and other boats to pivot).  We were getting all set up to drop the anchor, when we noticed that the man in the boat closest to ours was outside and yelling at us.  Finally, the word “reef” became clear to us.  We checked our chart and depth finder:  no rocks or reefs were noted.  But we decided to heed this man’s warning just in case.  Sure enough, at low tide a rock was exposed – just where we had planned to anchor.  It does pay to listen.

We dropped our anchor in another spot without incident.  Sucia Island has an abundance of trails through forest and along waterfront.  The views are beautiful, and the walks are not difficult.  We took our kayaks to the island, hiked for several hours and were headed back to the boat when we heard a loud grinding sound coming from our boat.  This was a sound we had become familiar with over the past week.  Allow me to introduce our windlass.

A windlass is the heavy-duty motor that winds up the heavy chain attached to the anchor.  It is not uncommon to let out 200+ feet of chain when anchoring, so this motor has to be up to the task.  We have affectionately named this vital piece of machinery Chain Biter, due to the growly-chewing noise it makes while operating.  Our windlass had been enthusiastically jumping to attention, even when we had no need for it.   Midday or middle of the night made no difference to our trusty Chain Biter.  We could even imagine the mad motor chuckling as we ran to turn off the breaker switch to stop the horrible noise, and secondarily, any undue wear and tear to the motor.  Imagine the speed of our kayak sprint, then, as we heard the ghastly rhar! rhar! rhar! echoing across the bay after our hike.  We may have set an Olympic record getting back to the boat!

New switches have been ordered for Chain Biter.  We’ll do our best to prevent her from overworking herself.

Ahhh…  What a lovely day kayaking, hiking and ending with a sunset dinghy ride to explore the rest of the bay.  We arrived back at Voyager pleasantly tired, leaving the kayaks and dinghy tethered to the swim step at the back of boat.  Ahem, that’s the stern.  We watched a movie and then tucked into bed for pleasant dreams – NOT!

Seasoned sailors know to check the winds before going to bed.  We’re working on that seasoning business.  Shortly after retiring, the wind picked up, and picked up some more.  We were bobbing forward and aft, port to starboard, up and down.  It was an E ticket ride!  In addition, the kayaks and dinghy were BANG! BANGING into the stern and making a terrible racket.  We lashed them as securely as we could (the seas were too rough for us to get up top and winch them up).  The winds and waves kept growing, and there was no way we could sleep.  We wondered if our anchor would hold.  Would the other boats’ anchors hold?  It was time to institute the night watch.  I could have sworn that the lights of the other boats were coming closer, or we were drifting toward them.  But our GPS showed that we had not moved, nor had the other boats.  It’s hard to judge distances at night.  And did I mention that everything in the cupboards was sliding and slamming?  BANG!  BANG!  Turns out that’s what throw pillows are for.  Stuff them in the cupboards to keep the peace.

These have been some of our bigger lessons.  Smaller lessons, of equal importance, have come our way daily.  Such as:

– When casting a rope while docking, be sure to stand on the end of the rope (line), so that you can draw it back in after lassoing the cleat.

– That Roman Numeral I on the chart (map) is really the letter I, as in Island.  As in James Island, not James the 1^st.

-When docking, be sure your fenders (big air-filled buffer tubes) hang down low enough to reach the dock.  They belong between the boat and the dock for protection.  Not gaily swinging in the breeze above dock level, pretty though they are.

 

Adventures and misadventures.  Learning from mistakes.  Living to try again.  Hopefully a little bit wiser.

Mike here.  I have been noticeably absent from the updates.  I can’t remember a time that has been busier.  Retirement is normally framed with the easy chair and some boredom.  Nothing could be further from the truth.  We spent two weeks as Beth noted, getting ready to go.  From sun up to a very late sun down, there were details to get in place.  There are some that just won’t be finished, but it is time to get going.   I am learning that the journey toward the goal is in fact the goal.  Isn’t life like that?

A good example of this is the ‘neighbor’ that was parked next to us in the boat yard.  He is a genuine, kind person named Rick.  He plays a mean guitar, offers all variety of assistance to those around him –  especially those who, like us don’t have a clue which end of the screwdriver to use.  We might be there to get a boat ready, but the rich, meaningful part has been the people we’ve encountered.  Here is a picture of Rick and Beth drinking just a bit of great champagne.  She is launched! (The boat -not Beth!  See the water in the background?)  And by the way, there is a tradition of pouring a bit of libation overboard for the sea gods.  We didn’t change Voyagers name, so just a few drops went over the side…

We had a great learning day getting out of la Conner.  The channel is narrow with current and tide dictating when a prudent departure should occur.  We calculated and voila – success.  (For those of you that are counting; we did put a little scratch in the side of boat with our first docking attempt.  I’ll learn about fixing fiberglass at some point.  Perhaps we will accumulate a couple of dings so I can do them all at once – ha, ha. I will scrub the bright yellow paint off that gives us away at first glance.)  Our first night at anchor will be at a Washington State marine park called Spencer Spit.  It is very quiet, peaceful and we have just started.  Here is the view through the window as I write…

Thanks for following along.  Pray for us.  The good Lord is looking out for us, and for you too.  Leave us a note so we know you are reading.

Mike

We have a sneaking suspicion that all our friends back home are envisioning us out on the water, adventuring and having the time of our lives.  Sorry to say, it just ain’t so, except for the having the time of our lives part.  The reality of owning a boat is somewhat different than the romantic notion of arriving dockside, hopping aboard and sailing off into the sunset.  The reality is that preparations are needed.  The definition of preparation is:  Hard work!

Will it all fit?

After driving 18 hours in one day to get to our destination, we fell into bed with relief.   We awoke with exhaustion but excitement the next morning.  We just had to see our boat!  We drove the 25 minutes or so to the boat yard, to find Voyager propped on blocks and looking a bit forlorn.  Our truck was filled with the supplies, tools and parts we had gathered, so getting those things onto the boat became our first challenge.

Carrying each box, we carefully threaded our way through the poles propping up our boat (they probably have a name, but we haven’t learned it yet).  A kind fellow boat-owner named Rick offered us a sturdy ladder, and we began the task of hauling each box up the ladder and stacking it on the cockpit, or back deck, of the vessel.  How in the world did we pack so much stuff, and where were we going to put it all?  Somehow, we found places for everything.  With each box we unpacked, we rejoiced at taking the empty box to the recycling area.  It took a couple of days, but finally we were done.  High fives and smiles abounded!

Hotel living becomes expensive in a hurry, so we were anxious to start living on board.  Rick gave us tips about living aboard in the boat yard.  In short, the yard master will turn a blind eye, if we are low impact tenants who don’t make it look as though we are living aboard.  Just here to work, sir!  We having been living aboard for a week now, and with each new system Mike gets in working order, our living becomes more comfortable.

Some of the systems are:  electrical (shore power, battery power, generator, inverter); water (fresh water, heated water, waste water storage); computer navigational system; the anchor system and more…  Even though the boat is in great shape generally, it has been sitting unused for a year.  As each system was checked out, Mike found something that needed repair.

The first urgent need was the battery bank.  There are 11 batteries that power the lights, washer and dryer, and other appliances on board.  The batteries recharge when the engine is in use, but alas, the engine hadn’t been used for a very long time.  No water had been added to the batteries and they would not dependably hold a charge.  First task:  Remove the old batteries.  Easy, right?  Well, maybe not quite as easy as changing your car battery.  Marine batteries are very heavy.  After disconnecting each one, Mike would have to lift it overhead out of the engine room.  Then he would lug it down the ladder, and to the truck.  Times 11.  It took all day, and it wore him right out.  The next day, we were off to Costco to buy new ones.  Then each one got carried up the ladder and lowered into the engine compartment.  He configured new connecting wires and cleaned up all the old battery residue as he went. That took another two days.  It’s looking pretty nifty in the engine room these days.  Mike is becoming increasingly nimble at maneuvering in tight spaces.

 

That’s the kind of thing we run into as we prepare the boat.  A seemingly simple task can turn into a big project, and it usually does.  Are we complaining?  No!  We are working together and checking things off the to-do list.  We now have lights, water both hot and cold, and can even use the head (or toilet) sparingly.  There are public restrooms, showers and a laundromat not too far away, so we have everything we need.   Voyager has been scrubbed and polished, inside and out, including the rugs and upholstery.  She’s starting to feel like home.   We even baked chocolate chip cookies last night, to test the oven.  It worked, and our first boat cookies were the best ever!  Well all right, the only ever, but you get the picture.

At our current rate of progress, we are projecting a launch date of June 13 or 14.  The 14^th is our anniversary, so we’re hoping to be out of the boat yard and anchored someplace very special by then.  We’ll let you know!

-Beth