First Things First

Colleen drove all the way from Buford, Georgia to Charlotte, NC to help me get the boat on Chuck’s Truck for its journey to Duck Creek Marina near the coast, which it would have to take without me.  She also very graciously volunteered to drive me and the dog to meet the boat when it got there.  She arrived early on the 14^th at Antonio’s house where I had been staying while the boat was “on-the-hard”.  We drove to Lake Norman so I could snap a photo of the loading and settle my bill with Tim of All-Season’s Marina.  Spending more than I had originally planned on there, the first evidence of what would become the financial debacle peeked out.  Then we spent the day running around town taking care of the last few things I needed a car for in Charlotte.



Chuck the Shipper at Lake Norman

This was our trip to New Bern in Colleen's (borrowed) car

After a nice night of hanging out at Antonio’s and throwing back a few beers, we woke up really early on the 15^th and made our way halfway across the state to meet the boat in New Bern.  Turns out it was actually across the bridge from New Bern, an unremarkable town unremarkably named Bridgeton.  There we watched the boat unceremoniously slung around, although this time it was made a little more interesting because the people operating the sling were ancient oaks- literally almost a century old, yet the men scrambled around like spring chickens, hopping to and fro swinging their hooks wildly.  This was all before I had so much as had a conversation with them about what they were supposed to be doing.  Bob, Frank, and Jim definitely knew what they were doing and it was clear I’d need to own a boat, and work around them for a few decades before I had the right to “talk shop” with them.  I could not help but be reminded of the three-blind-mice of infamy watching them work their magic.

This is what Bridgeton looked like from my perspective on arrival:

...and the very nice view of New Bern from the Bridgeton bridge on the way there.

This is Bob, one of Duck Creek Marina's three blind mice

Once the boat was safely in the water again I settled up with Chuck and his Truck, and was wished well as he pulled away to continue the transient life of a shipper.  He outlined his next few days, which covered more miles than the average American travels in a decade.  Then he was gone.

The boat getting taken off Chuck's Truck, just prior to getting wet again

The boat, still mast-less, was in a watery concrete bunker of sorts, and Colleen and I retired after hitting up the grocery store for some essentials and a Chinese takeout as a treat.  The Chinese was pretty bad (even for a rustic town called Bridgeton [under the bridge]) but the company made up for it.  Morgan made friends with the local yard-dog, Fred, who liked carrying around rocks and digging in the black waters of the marsh, which was everywhere.  It was going to be a very long drive back to Georgia for Colleen the following day, so we tried to take it easy and went to bed nice and early.

After Colleen’s departure the next morning I set about preparing the mast to be raised and remounted on deck.  There were electrical concerns that needed to be fixed including getting my steaming light (halfway up the mast) working, but just organizing the rigging and ropes after the highway trip proved to be a real frustration.  Together with the three Ancients we got the mast back on-deck Friday and I set about getting things locked down where they were supposed to be.

The "Ride" I borrowed from the Ancients to get to the store

By this point I had leaned on the three Ancients quite a lot, borrowing their bike with no (real) brakes to get to the nearest store, their expertise in the electrical domain, and their patience…  but Antonio was arriving the next day and only had a week to travel with me, so I couldn’t slow down.  I was having to get used to asking favors wherever I could because I uncharacteristically didn’t have my own transportation, nor an extra set of hands (which is needed for almost everything having to do with boat prep).

Antonio arrived the following morning and we continued the process of readying the boat.  In a massive miscalculation I decided to replace the jib halyard, and used a rope of questionable tensile strength to do so.  I figured that once the jib was up it didn’t need too much strength to stay up… which I later learned was not quite accurate.  Not before climbing the mast to run this dubious new line, however.  Antonio used the one proper rope I had on the boat to hoist me with a winch to the top of the mast which was quite the experience (one which I will have to repeat in the relatively near future).

That same day we met a young guy named Ryan who was working on his boat getting it ready to be put in the water for his own adventure.  He was very helpful, giving us a ride to West Marine so I we could repair a small tear in the mainsail with the aptly named product “Sail Tape”.  He also offered us some outdated charts that would come in handy and we found a note in the rain outside the boat with some advice and more well-wishing.  It reads like this:

Yo Guys,

Here’s the missing page from your chart book that will get you out of here. 

Also, I’ve attached some sage that you should light and circle the boat with (which was missing).  The protocol is typically to have a Portuguese virgin piss in your bilge, but the sage will have to do.

 Last, if you’re gonna leave the boat moored in Fl, hang some CDs on deck, otherwise you’ll come back to bird shit all over the place-

Ryan

A few more long trips by foot and bike to the grocery store (which was the closest building to Duck Creek Marina) and some drinking later and Antonio and I were ready (maybe) for our departure the next morning from New Bern

Shameless

Here is a schedule of how things went down over a week and a half, the embarkation of the adventure.  So much happened (much of it spilling from one day into the next) that it’s hard to keep it all straight.  Even now, two weeks later it seems like a few days since the boat got loaded onto the truck at the lake instead of a few weeks.  So many of these days could be characterized in one word “Stress”, but the truth of the matter is that it was also a lot of fun.  It’s hard to forget all the pacing and worrying I did, but it’s easy to remember how much fun it was to hang out with my friends and how helpful they were in bouncing my troubles around with me and helping figure out how to proceed.  There was a lot of laughing at the situation, even as it got quite serious.  There was an element of cosmic humor as I floundered about, trying to make up for being ill-prepared.

Tuesday the 14^th – The boat goes on a big trailer

Wednesday the 15^th – Colleen and I drive from Charlotte to New Bern

Friday the 17^th – The mast gets back in place

Saturday the 18^th – Antonio arrives in New Bern

Monday the 20^th – We set out from New Bern

Tuesday the 21^st – We tackle the first section of the ICW

Wednesday the 22^nd – We attack the ocean

Thursday the 23^rd – We return defeated, and head for a mechanic

Friday the 24^th – We almost get arrested

Saturday the 25^th – Antonio returns to Charlotte

Monday the 27^th – I set out in the ICW alone

That brings me to now, even though filling in the gaps will take much longer to accomplish than glossing over with this (very) loose outline.  This doesn’t even scratch the surface.

But before we get to the good stuff in subsequent posts... this horrible thing:

I'm going to come right out and say it- I'm broke.

So broke this adventure is in risk of coming to an end before its time.  I will do everything in my power to stop that from happening- which is why I have to ask for any assistance anybody is willing to give.

My engine is broken down which, as it turns out, is a big deal for a sailboat.

The Intracoastal Waterway (ICW) is really more like a watery country road.  It's narrow, and shallow, and is poorly maintained.  Instead of pot holes, there are sandbanks, instead of traffic jams there is low tide, instead of road rage, there's bird shit.
When the wind dies or isn't in your favor there's not much to do but float aimlessly into a sandbank...  There's no room for tacking, or catching the wind, or for real sailing.

Even when the engine is fixed, it is clear that I will have far too many things left to pay for- the current list of items I'll probably list from time to time so you know what your donation will be going towards.
Right now the list reads something like this and will only include the most essential requirements:

Mechanic
Dinghy
Outboard motor
2nd Anchor
Backup bilge pump

The way you can help is to either click on the ads you see on this page, or to donate directly to my PayPal account.  I believe I get a fraction of a cent per ad click, so if you don't want to donate real money then that is the option I recommend.  Otherwise, real donations are likely to be what I actually see, because honestly I don't think I'm popular enough to support advertising revenue. 

Donations or not I guarantee I will do everything I can to keep this misguided adventure going- even as my loved ones forget me, nature tries to destroy me, and the law tries to snare me!  Viva la aventura! 

High and Dry

Well, a big week for the Big Venture!
The boat is in unfamiliar waters, which is to say, it's not in water...

Pulling the boat out of the water was the first step in getting it ready for the highway ride to the coast.  I'll be putting in at a boat yard in New Bern NC. on Wednesday the 15th.

It was a very eerie feeling watching my home get lifted out and hovering a few feet above where it belongs, but the doubt of seeing that way was quickly sideswiped by the knowledge that once it gets wet again, it will really be home in the open waters del mar.

The "MobileCrane" was pretty impressive lifting the 10,600 pounds out like it was picking up the dog.

A photo for scale here with the car pulled right up to the dry berth.  Boats look much bigger out of the water, and having to climb up a ladder to board is a strange twist as well.  The hull is in much better shape than I expected, with the paint being even and without too many blisters.  Since the money to repaint the hull is non-existent, it's great news that there aren't cracks and blisters all over the place. 

This was a somewhat nerve racking experience as a crane lifted the mast off the deck to lay it beside the boat, where I immediately got to work running new lines and figuring out how to pull it apart.

A short video that shows the delicate process of stepping a mast.  Had to help for the last bit...

And here she is, all disfigured and embarrassed, showing too much skin to be a real lady.


Next you'll see photos of the boat going on the trailer and then into the water at the coast (if all goes well!).
Til' next time,
Cheers!