6/25/2010
Plattsburgh NY, Lake Champlain USA
Goal: Malletts Bay, VT.
11:00 hours. Sunny, 85 degrees. SE winds 0-5
Arrived at the marina and loaded the boat for an overnight trip. The Champlain cruising guide recommends Mallets bay's variety of coves as a spectacular area of the lake for a trip.
Had the usual trouble starting the engine. Since I'd reviewed the owners manual and the shop maintenance manual, I had an idea how the linkages for the prop pitch adjustment and the throttle worked now. By removing the engine cover in the cockpit and in the cabin I gained access to the engine. I located the throttle on the engine block and found that there was enough play in it to allow me to move it 1/8" with my fingers. Starting the engine I used this 1/8" of play to help coax the engine to life. It gave just enough throttle for me to get the beast to a good idle rpm. I'll have to make a "permanent" adjustment to the linkage later, now that I know where it is and how to adjust it.
After letting the engine warm up a bit, we cast off and headed out into Cumberland bay. The sun was beating down relentlessly, and we were glad to finally be on the water. Wind was light to non-existent, so we motored out a ways. I assisted the prop pitch adjustment of the combi lever by standing in the engine compartment in the cockpit and getting my hand directly on the prop adjustment lever on the rear of the engine block. Then with this lever in one hand and the combi lever in the other, I coaxed a bit more aggressive pitch out of the prop for the current rpm. We started flying! At least it felt like we were tearing across the lake after our last time out averaging 2 to 3 knots with the combi lever full forward!
Man the MD6A puts out one hellish amount of smoke when it's cruising or near full throttle! It's a nebulous cloud of noxious dark grey swirling scariness that comes out of the exhaust pipe! Makes me think about putting a 90 degree bend on the exhaust pipe to exhaust it beneath the water line. Also makes me think that I should put some gasket sealing oil additive in the engine.
Nothing like moving along at a good clip to lift your spirits. We took off our shirts and changed into shorts to soak up some of the glorious sun. Rose the sails, killed the motor, and proceeded to go nowhere fast. It was a long sluggish boring battle in the beating sun to windward. 150% genoa and main fully deployed. Both trimmed for light wind, and both of us on the leeward bench, and we got nowhere but sunburned and bored. The wind shifted occasionally, and we went through enough stagnance that we powered up the Volvo and motor sailed out past Cumberland point. There must have been a dozen sailboats out there that we could see, and once we cleared the point we learned why. They had clean air.
How refreshing it was after a bake in the doldrums oven! We were on a broad reach headed for a gap between a peninsula and an island. It's the Vega's fastest point of sail and we rejoiced in the delicious refreshing breeze over our faces. I remembered to feather the now still prop, and we it gave us another sweet little kick in the pants. Not exactly fast, this wee vessel heavy with lead and pulling a 200 pound dinghy, but exhilarating finally!
Passing through the gap, the sky started becoming overcast, and our skin sang songs of thanks. The winds became steady from the North/Northwest and we raced along for the 100 foot gap in the causeway that serves as the sole entrance and exit for all vessels traveling to Mallets Bay. Arriving under sail and flogged by heavy motor yachts, we were insulted by the fat arrogant mega motor boat bastard that had to squeeze his way through the causeway going the same direction as us at the very time when we were passing through. What a jerk! Wish the Police had been monitoring it and cited him for recklessness. One boat in each direction at a time please! This guy's wake sent us tumbling closer to the rocks that comfortable.
We finished our broad reach through the outer bay and passed through a small gap into the inner bay. Two hours until dusk, we explored the northern coves. They are an intricate complex of tiny and fabulous coves. The shoreline is a convoluted squiggly line when viewed from above. Rock cliffs thrust their way straight out of the water and are crowned by cypress, birch, and cadar. The air was rich and moist. Blue herons took off as we entered their territory.
Some of the northern coves' shores turned out to belong to private residences, so we continued to explore rather than to drop anchor and play "scenery" for the residents. We wanted something more natural, untouched, and secluded. It would be my wife and my first night on a boat at anchor alone. We were looking forward to some sweet love in the vee-berth that night. I'd bought and brought a memory foam mattress topper to cut and place in the vee berth to make it a deluxe accommodation for us. The old standard foam of the existing cushions is 36 years old and just not cushy enough for us to really sleep well and wake up rested.
The next cove to the east was the choice spot of the whole bay. It turned out to be state park land. Niquette Cove State Park was the name on the sign. We pulled in along a long cliff face that had an intricate web of small caves and overhangs. Nooks and crannies beckoned you to jump into the water and swim over for a gander. Trees' roots demonstrated astonishing feats as they clung magically to the rugged rock angles. Further in we found a quiet, peaceful, deep, and ethereal realm. It reminded me of Chinese Bonsai tree landscapes. Moss was everywhere, and people were elsewhere.
Having freed up the combi a bit by exercising it and working bot the cockpit lever and the lever on the rear of the engine, we were actually able to shift to neutral and then into reverse. We actually set the anchor and didn't drift into any other boats this time! No hair raising close calls, no pounding heart, no tense irritability! How accomplished we felt when we realized we could now start then engine at will and use it effectively in both directions without it dying at the worst moment!
We pulled the dinghy alongside to go ashore, and as I stepped over the stern rail to step aboard, I slipped and fell halfway into the lake. Soaked my pants and shorts and shirt and had a good laugh in the process. Decided to just go for a swim. I was hot anyway. Pulled out the swim ladder and draped it over the side of the Vega. Dove off the bow into the dark abyss that it Lake Champlain. Visibility is about one foot. That's 12 inches in front of your face. Nada. Niente. Nilch. Basically you could just close your eyes and see as well as looking out from behind goggles or a mask. So much for opening a dive shop in Burlington!
Pulled myself into the dinghy and Lala rowed us ashore to explore the park. I dried off and pulled up the dinghy and raised it vertical to drain any water out of it. This think is new, and it still must have had 10 gallons of water beneath the floorboards! How the heck does the stuff get in there?
The grounds were reminiscent of the scene in Lord of the Rings when Frodo & his gang are fighting the orks near the waterfall after disembarking from their elvish canoes for a rest stop. Great rocks rise out of the earth and are covered with leaves and moss and ferns and trees. Walking through the area, you inhabit the lowest level of a vast matrix of layers of life. You can walk through passes created when great rocks broke apart, and you can feel the footsteps of hundreds of generations have walked through the very same split before you. We found the point out on the tip of the peninsula and climbed out onto a crag to sit and enjoy the panorama. What a breathtaking place to pause and enjoy solid ground it was!
Back on the boat, hungry and ready to get ready for nightfall, I laid out the memory foam topper on the foredeck to air out and offgas. Lala started dinner. We used the dual burner alcohol stove for the first time. I'd scrubbed the thing clean with steel wool and loaded the two burner wick cartridges with alcohol, it turned out to be surprisingly simple and effective to use. We made pasta and hot dogs in a pot of boiling water on one burner while simmering garlic and greens and olive oil in a skillet on the second. What a luxury it was to be able to boil and stir fry at the same time, as compared to all of our camping outings when we have just a one burner backpack camp stove. Combine the alcohol stove with the built in sink with raw water foot pump faucet and we were really living it up here! The garlic beat back the resident mildew odor that had long ago taken hold in the vega and permeated the entire cabin. If only we'd thought ahead enough to bring wine!
Sure some people wouldn't know what the hell to do without a deep two pan sink with flexible hand held spray nozzle, four burner stove, microwave oven and dishwasher, but they sure don't have the view and scenery and solitude that we had for that simple meal. Cliffs off the starboard bow, beach astern, and a plump juicy peach of a full solstice moon rose over the water before us. The reflection off the water was captivating and we found ourselves holding our breath as we watched itparalyzed and entranced as the damselflies zoomed around us.
Then the mosquitoes came out as if they had planned an ambush and executed it perfectly. One minute there were no mosquitoes, and the next minute they were literally swarming in a buzzing tornado. It was the kind of swarm that could drive a person mad or at least make them panic and lose their senses in the frantic swatting and hysteric avoidance of bites. I had brought some mosquito netting fabric that I'd planned to use to cover the hatches, and I cut it frantically and duct taped it to the deck to hold it in position. Far from elegant, but it was at least effective. We only found and killed 10 mosquitoes in the Vega that night. We counted three times that sitting on the outside of the netting pouting about not being able to get in and drink us. Welcome to Niquette Cove!
We slept beautifully cradled in our thick velvety memory foam love nest that night. Clean fresh air streamed over our faces through the hatch overhead, and no little buzzing blood suckers made it past my cobb-job force field to bother us. In the morning one met her maker between the palm of my lover's hand and the Vega's interior wall. A little drop of blood marked her demise. Only one got us!
Things that come to mind now to do:
Construct easily deployed and easily opened and closed mosquito netting for both hatches
Make cover for the memory foam cover in the vee berth
Get LED light bulbs for the cabin lights to replace the incandescent ones currently installed
6/26/2010
Niquette Cove, Malletts Bay, Lake Champlain, VT, USA
09:00 hours. Zero wind. Zero waves. Zero traffic.
Goal: Plattsburgh NY. Distance ~13 statute miles to the NW.
Woke to find overcast skies. No sun anywhere. A little chilly. Wanted to get underway quickly to get my lover back to Plattsburgh by 13:30 hours to catch a train (damn schedules). Boat was rocking and rolling more than you'd expect for it being zero wind. Something had been banging against the hull and making sleep unrestful since about 04:00 hours. Found out we'd left the swim ladder and bumpers down the night before in the mosquito attack. Gotta secure everything before we got to sleep in the future otherwise we don't sleep through the night with the clamor.
Tried to make coffee on the newly refurbished 1970's alcohol stove. Found the coffee maker (Italian espresso steam type) to be to small in diameter to sit on the steel grate of the stove. First try yielded about 1tablespoon of coffee. Yuck! We needed more flame height underneath the coffee maker. Lala gave up in frustration. I got the engine running after about ten tries. Got the vega into forward and Lala and I pulled the anchor together on the bow. Roared out of that sweet quiet cove like a Harley on the highway. Seriously, the Volvo growls like a cat. Or is it a purr?
Out in the open bay we found almost no wind. Here we are on a schedule and we have no wind. Why did we bother to accept a time frame for our outing? If we hadn't have agreed to be back to Plattsburgh by 13:30 hours, we wouldn't have been able to go out at all. I suppose we could have chosen a different destination or gotten up earlier, but hey, we're human, and we're in love. What do you want!
An hour out into the Bay we found wind and cut the Harley and let our eardrums recover. I donned my rain gear because my shorts and t-shirt just weren't cutting it. Good thing I did because soon I'd really need it. Found some sailboats in the distance in the south end of the bay. It looked like they were racing around buoys. Later they came out into the Bay flying Spinnakers to meet us at the north end. Then they engulfed us. Their goal: Valcour island and back. The first of the race met us on a broad reach racing for the break in the causeway that lets ships pass to open water on Lake Champlain. Suddenly we felt like we were in the race along with the rest of the sloops. We were checking out competitors to see what they were doing and how it was working giv en the shift conditions and trying to keep ahead of the gaining boats behind us.
How fun it was to feel part of a flock of vessels just released from the nest and playing a game. How awesome to feel like we know enough about what we are doing to be able to participate! We were slow and heavy. The Vega is no racer. She's a blue water pocket cruiser, not a 500 pound knife in the water! It was disappointing not bo be able to keep up with the race boats, but it was fun to be in the swarm with themfighting upwind to the break in the causeway.
Eventually we gave up. Too many tacks in lightening winds were grounds to coax the ol girl back to life. We motor-sailed through the causeway and out to the open lake. It began to rain and the water became still and hushed. Visibility deteriorated to one to two miles, and we dropped our sails. They weren't doing any good at all and might have been acting as drag. Two to three hours more on cruise to get to Plattsburgh drove Lala out of the cabin and into the wet rain in the cockpit. It's no that it was cold. It was just wet. Thankfully our first introduction to sailing in the rain wasn't in a huge blow. It was sweet and calm and gentle. It was a beautiful study of greys and monochromatics.
We remarked to each other how unhurried we felthow at peace and simple everything seemed and how we felt like life on land was such a hectic and "other" world. It made us feel like we could in fact live-aboard and cruise. To heck with the rat race. Who needs all that Chinese junk anyway! Out here on this wet lake, resplendent with infinite interference patterns caused by a billion raindrops over a million million gallons of lake water, one can be simply with one's self, the world, and the Divine.
We pulled into the boat basin. I tied off the tiller and put out the bumpers and dock lines. I'm getting more confident and capable at single-handing skills each time we go out! Pulled into the marina, did a u-turn, and gently slipped into our slip like warm butter onto hot toast. It was graceful. We feel so accomplished and proud of ourselves developing these new skills by "doing" and by believing that we can. We aren't spending $3,000 to take a week long bareboat charter cruising course from the ASA. We're taking that money and buying a sweet little pocket cruiser and learning to sail on her. Sure, she'd long in the tooth, but she's ours, and the potential and the dreams that come with owning her are priceless!
K
Plattsburgh NY, Lake Champlain USA
Goal: Malletts Bay, VT.
11:00 hours. Sunny, 85 degrees. SE winds 0-5
Arrived at the marina and loaded the boat for an overnight trip. The Champlain cruising guide recommends Mallets bay's variety of coves as a spectacular area of the lake for a trip.
Had the usual trouble starting the engine. Since I'd reviewed the owners manual and the shop maintenance manual, I had an idea how the linkages for the prop pitch adjustment and the throttle worked now. By removing the engine cover in the cockpit and in the cabin I gained access to the engine. I located the throttle on the engine block and found that there was enough play in it to allow me to move it 1/8" with my fingers. Starting the engine I used this 1/8" of play to help coax the engine to life. It gave just enough throttle for me to get the beast to a good idle rpm. I'll have to make a "permanent" adjustment to the linkage later, now that I know where it is and how to adjust it.
After letting the engine warm up a bit, we cast off and headed out into Cumberland bay. The sun was beating down relentlessly, and we were glad to finally be on the water. Wind was light to non-existent, so we motored out a ways. I assisted the prop pitch adjustment of the combi lever by standing in the engine compartment in the cockpit and getting my hand directly on the prop adjustment lever on the rear of the engine block. Then with this lever in one hand and the combi lever in the other, I coaxed a bit more aggressive pitch out of the prop for the current rpm. We started flying! At least it felt like we were tearing across the lake after our last time out averaging 2 to 3 knots with the combi lever full forward!
Man the MD6A puts out one hellish amount of smoke when it's cruising or near full throttle! It's a nebulous cloud of noxious dark grey swirling scariness that comes out of the exhaust pipe! Makes me think about putting a 90 degree bend on the exhaust pipe to exhaust it beneath the water line. Also makes me think that I should put some gasket sealing oil additive in the engine.
Nothing like moving along at a good clip to lift your spirits. We took off our shirts and changed into shorts to soak up some of the glorious sun. Rose the sails, killed the motor, and proceeded to go nowhere fast. It was a long sluggish boring battle in the beating sun to windward. 150% genoa and main fully deployed. Both trimmed for light wind, and both of us on the leeward bench, and we got nowhere but sunburned and bored. The wind shifted occasionally, and we went through enough stagnance that we powered up the Volvo and motor sailed out past Cumberland point. There must have been a dozen sailboats out there that we could see, and once we cleared the point we learned why. They had clean air.
How refreshing it was after a bake in the doldrums oven! We were on a broad reach headed for a gap between a peninsula and an island. It's the Vega's fastest point of sail and we rejoiced in the delicious refreshing breeze over our faces. I remembered to feather the now still prop, and we it gave us another sweet little kick in the pants. Not exactly fast, this wee vessel heavy with lead and pulling a 200 pound dinghy, but exhilarating finally!
Passing through the gap, the sky started becoming overcast, and our skin sang songs of thanks. The winds became steady from the North/Northwest and we raced along for the 100 foot gap in the causeway that serves as the sole entrance and exit for all vessels traveling to Mallets Bay. Arriving under sail and flogged by heavy motor yachts, we were insulted by the fat arrogant mega motor boat bastard that had to squeeze his way through the causeway going the same direction as us at the very time when we were passing through. What a jerk! Wish the Police had been monitoring it and cited him for recklessness. One boat in each direction at a time please! This guy's wake sent us tumbling closer to the rocks that comfortable.
We finished our broad reach through the outer bay and passed through a small gap into the inner bay. Two hours until dusk, we explored the northern coves. They are an intricate complex of tiny and fabulous coves. The shoreline is a convoluted squiggly line when viewed from above. Rock cliffs thrust their way straight out of the water and are crowned by cypress, birch, and cadar. The air was rich and moist. Blue herons took off as we entered their territory.
Some of the northern coves' shores turned out to belong to private residences, so we continued to explore rather than to drop anchor and play "scenery" for the residents. We wanted something more natural, untouched, and secluded. It would be my wife and my first night on a boat at anchor alone. We were looking forward to some sweet love in the vee-berth that night. I'd bought and brought a memory foam mattress topper to cut and place in the vee berth to make it a deluxe accommodation for us. The old standard foam of the existing cushions is 36 years old and just not cushy enough for us to really sleep well and wake up rested.
The next cove to the east was the choice spot of the whole bay. It turned out to be state park land. Niquette Cove State Park was the name on the sign. We pulled in along a long cliff face that had an intricate web of small caves and overhangs. Nooks and crannies beckoned you to jump into the water and swim over for a gander. Trees' roots demonstrated astonishing feats as they clung magically to the rugged rock angles. Further in we found a quiet, peaceful, deep, and ethereal realm. It reminded me of Chinese Bonsai tree landscapes. Moss was everywhere, and people were elsewhere.
Having freed up the combi a bit by exercising it and working bot the cockpit lever and the lever on the rear of the engine, we were actually able to shift to neutral and then into reverse. We actually set the anchor and didn't drift into any other boats this time! No hair raising close calls, no pounding heart, no tense irritability! How accomplished we felt when we realized we could now start then engine at will and use it effectively in both directions without it dying at the worst moment!
We pulled the dinghy alongside to go ashore, and as I stepped over the stern rail to step aboard, I slipped and fell halfway into the lake. Soaked my pants and shorts and shirt and had a good laugh in the process. Decided to just go for a swim. I was hot anyway. Pulled out the swim ladder and draped it over the side of the Vega. Dove off the bow into the dark abyss that it Lake Champlain. Visibility is about one foot. That's 12 inches in front of your face. Nada. Niente. Nilch. Basically you could just close your eyes and see as well as looking out from behind goggles or a mask. So much for opening a dive shop in Burlington!
Pulled myself into the dinghy and Lala rowed us ashore to explore the park. I dried off and pulled up the dinghy and raised it vertical to drain any water out of it. This think is new, and it still must have had 10 gallons of water beneath the floorboards! How the heck does the stuff get in there?
The grounds were reminiscent of the scene in Lord of the Rings when Frodo & his gang are fighting the orks near the waterfall after disembarking from their elvish canoes for a rest stop. Great rocks rise out of the earth and are covered with leaves and moss and ferns and trees. Walking through the area, you inhabit the lowest level of a vast matrix of layers of life. You can walk through passes created when great rocks broke apart, and you can feel the footsteps of hundreds of generations have walked through the very same split before you. We found the point out on the tip of the peninsula and climbed out onto a crag to sit and enjoy the panorama. What a breathtaking place to pause and enjoy solid ground it was!
Back on the boat, hungry and ready to get ready for nightfall, I laid out the memory foam topper on the foredeck to air out and offgas. Lala started dinner. We used the dual burner alcohol stove for the first time. I'd scrubbed the thing clean with steel wool and loaded the two burner wick cartridges with alcohol, it turned out to be surprisingly simple and effective to use. We made pasta and hot dogs in a pot of boiling water on one burner while simmering garlic and greens and olive oil in a skillet on the second. What a luxury it was to be able to boil and stir fry at the same time, as compared to all of our camping outings when we have just a one burner backpack camp stove. Combine the alcohol stove with the built in sink with raw water foot pump faucet and we were really living it up here! The garlic beat back the resident mildew odor that had long ago taken hold in the vega and permeated the entire cabin. If only we'd thought ahead enough to bring wine!
Sure some people wouldn't know what the hell to do without a deep two pan sink with flexible hand held spray nozzle, four burner stove, microwave oven and dishwasher, but they sure don't have the view and scenery and solitude that we had for that simple meal. Cliffs off the starboard bow, beach astern, and a plump juicy peach of a full solstice moon rose over the water before us. The reflection off the water was captivating and we found ourselves holding our breath as we watched itparalyzed and entranced as the damselflies zoomed around us.
Then the mosquitoes came out as if they had planned an ambush and executed it perfectly. One minute there were no mosquitoes, and the next minute they were literally swarming in a buzzing tornado. It was the kind of swarm that could drive a person mad or at least make them panic and lose their senses in the frantic swatting and hysteric avoidance of bites. I had brought some mosquito netting fabric that I'd planned to use to cover the hatches, and I cut it frantically and duct taped it to the deck to hold it in position. Far from elegant, but it was at least effective. We only found and killed 10 mosquitoes in the Vega that night. We counted three times that sitting on the outside of the netting pouting about not being able to get in and drink us. Welcome to Niquette Cove!
We slept beautifully cradled in our thick velvety memory foam love nest that night. Clean fresh air streamed over our faces through the hatch overhead, and no little buzzing blood suckers made it past my cobb-job force field to bother us. In the morning one met her maker between the palm of my lover's hand and the Vega's interior wall. A little drop of blood marked her demise. Only one got us!
Things that come to mind now to do:
Construct easily deployed and easily opened and closed mosquito netting for both hatches
Make cover for the memory foam cover in the vee berth
Get LED light bulbs for the cabin lights to replace the incandescent ones currently installed
6/26/2010
Niquette Cove, Malletts Bay, Lake Champlain, VT, USA
09:00 hours. Zero wind. Zero waves. Zero traffic.
Goal: Plattsburgh NY. Distance ~13 statute miles to the NW.
Woke to find overcast skies. No sun anywhere. A little chilly. Wanted to get underway quickly to get my lover back to Plattsburgh by 13:30 hours to catch a train (damn schedules). Boat was rocking and rolling more than you'd expect for it being zero wind. Something had been banging against the hull and making sleep unrestful since about 04:00 hours. Found out we'd left the swim ladder and bumpers down the night before in the mosquito attack. Gotta secure everything before we got to sleep in the future otherwise we don't sleep through the night with the clamor.
Tried to make coffee on the newly refurbished 1970's alcohol stove. Found the coffee maker (Italian espresso steam type) to be to small in diameter to sit on the steel grate of the stove. First try yielded about 1tablespoon of coffee. Yuck! We needed more flame height underneath the coffee maker. Lala gave up in frustration. I got the engine running after about ten tries. Got the vega into forward and Lala and I pulled the anchor together on the bow. Roared out of that sweet quiet cove like a Harley on the highway. Seriously, the Volvo growls like a cat. Or is it a purr?
Out in the open bay we found almost no wind. Here we are on a schedule and we have no wind. Why did we bother to accept a time frame for our outing? If we hadn't have agreed to be back to Plattsburgh by 13:30 hours, we wouldn't have been able to go out at all. I suppose we could have chosen a different destination or gotten up earlier, but hey, we're human, and we're in love. What do you want!
An hour out into the Bay we found wind and cut the Harley and let our eardrums recover. I donned my rain gear because my shorts and t-shirt just weren't cutting it. Good thing I did because soon I'd really need it. Found some sailboats in the distance in the south end of the bay. It looked like they were racing around buoys. Later they came out into the Bay flying Spinnakers to meet us at the north end. Then they engulfed us. Their goal: Valcour island and back. The first of the race met us on a broad reach racing for the break in the causeway that lets ships pass to open water on Lake Champlain. Suddenly we felt like we were in the race along with the rest of the sloops. We were checking out competitors to see what they were doing and how it was working giv en the shift conditions and trying to keep ahead of the gaining boats behind us.
How fun it was to feel part of a flock of vessels just released from the nest and playing a game. How awesome to feel like we know enough about what we are doing to be able to participate! We were slow and heavy. The Vega is no racer. She's a blue water pocket cruiser, not a 500 pound knife in the water! It was disappointing not bo be able to keep up with the race boats, but it was fun to be in the swarm with themfighting upwind to the break in the causeway.
Eventually we gave up. Too many tacks in lightening winds were grounds to coax the ol girl back to life. We motor-sailed through the causeway and out to the open lake. It began to rain and the water became still and hushed. Visibility deteriorated to one to two miles, and we dropped our sails. They weren't doing any good at all and might have been acting as drag. Two to three hours more on cruise to get to Plattsburgh drove Lala out of the cabin and into the wet rain in the cockpit. It's no that it was cold. It was just wet. Thankfully our first introduction to sailing in the rain wasn't in a huge blow. It was sweet and calm and gentle. It was a beautiful study of greys and monochromatics.
We remarked to each other how unhurried we felthow at peace and simple everything seemed and how we felt like life on land was such a hectic and "other" world. It made us feel like we could in fact live-aboard and cruise. To heck with the rat race. Who needs all that Chinese junk anyway! Out here on this wet lake, resplendent with infinite interference patterns caused by a billion raindrops over a million million gallons of lake water, one can be simply with one's self, the world, and the Divine.
We pulled into the boat basin. I tied off the tiller and put out the bumpers and dock lines. I'm getting more confident and capable at single-handing skills each time we go out! Pulled into the marina, did a u-turn, and gently slipped into our slip like warm butter onto hot toast. It was graceful. We feel so accomplished and proud of ourselves developing these new skills by "doing" and by believing that we can. We aren't spending $3,000 to take a week long bareboat charter cruising course from the ASA. We're taking that money and buying a sweet little pocket cruiser and learning to sail on her. Sure, she'd long in the tooth, but she's ours, and the potential and the dreams that come with owning her are priceless!
K