Monthly Archives

September 2015

in Alembic, Family

Provisioning

September 25, 2015
final paint before setting the hatch back down

final paint before setting the hatch back down

Getting ready to set the hatch back down

Getting ready to set the hatch back down

Lindsay and Bill building a deck. One of the last projects on this total remodel of a 115 year old wreck

Lindsay and Bill building a deck. One of the last projects on this total remodel of a 115 year old wreck

Messy cabinProvisioning is stocking up, getting stuff, accumulating until you feel ready. There is a different readiness scale for every person. Some never get to the point where he or she feels ready. We refer to this as the “gotta build another spice rack” syndrome. Well, Alembic has a spice rack, a small plastic one behind the sliding door in my galley. So we should be ready.

Bill and I spent the summer provisioning in the wee hours that remained after we spent our days rebuilding an old house. I felt the need to bring aboard enough food to keep us well fed for ten months. I look forward to catching fish, finding local fruits and veggies, and learning about local culinary delights, but what if I don’t catch a fish? What if the fruits and veggies are not available?… So I stocked up. I also anticipate plenty of fabric repair and creations. Sails, sail covers, awnings, cushions, lee cloths (so you don’t fall out of your berth at sea), pockets to hold every little thing all need to be created, mended, or improved. I am ready for every eventuality with fabrics and all of the grommets, buckles, strapping, ropes, and gear needed. Bill has taken care of stocking up on all electronic, plumbing, engine, rigging, and fiberglass repairs. He also repaired a hatch that sprung a leak the week before departure, and performed every technical maintenance task he could envision. So we are ready! No we are not.

Saying good bye is the hardest part of leaving. I must have called or visited my parents more this summer than I had in the previous 25 years all together, because I was/am suffering from departure guilt. Leaving our children was a bit easier, because they are so busy with their exciting lives as young adults and they are terrific at online communications. Leaving York Maine was accomplished a year ago, when we sold our family home, so that pain is subsiding somewhat. And how do I say goodbye to all of my esteemed colleagues and dear students of Casco Bay High School? Well, I didn’t. I simply said to them, and convinced myself, that I would be back to see them all soon. Bill and I have very close relationships with all of our many siblings, their spouses and children, and will be missing them all terribly. And weighing heavily on my mind is how I will manage without my dear friends, the Winn Dixies. They threw us a party the night before departure, serenading us with a delightful skit, choreographed to “Come Sail Away” that still plays continuously in my mind. Their hugs and Rose Quartz will fill my heart’s holes.

So, goodbyes have been said, leaky hatch has been repaired, provisions have been stowed, water and fuel tanks have been topped off, cars have been ditched, and dock lines have been untied. We are off.

in Alembic, Ship Log

Our First Bump of the Journey

September 25, 2015
Bill fixing hole

Bill is preparing to apply the first small oval of fiberglass. Eight layers of consecutively larger pieces followed.

keel damage

Pretty bad gash. No water got in the boat. This is one tough vessel.

keel fixed

Look at that finished product. Bill has a new career now.

Many of you have heard about our bump. The one which resulted in a hole in the boat as big as your head. It was bad. We had just been talking about the fact that we have never gone aground in Alembic. We regularly went aground on Wings, our Westsail 32. Sometimes we kedged off. Sometimes we slept aboard at an angle until the next tide lifted us off the mud. Other times we just powered through it or backed off and went on our way. Never was it a big deal. These full keel, sturdy vessels don’t mind a bit of mud. The prop is far enough up, the bottom is flat and wide for a good eight feet. We even considered standing these boats against a pier, letting the tide run out, and painting the bottom. But this was no mud grounding. This was a front end cracking bump.

Tafts Cruising guide was in my hands, as I read the exact instructions for entering Mud Hole. The wheel was in Bill’s hands, as he carefully followed what I read. We both stared at the depth sounder, which was reading 13 feet or more. Seeing the 40 foot Hinckley further in the tiny cove gave us that false sense of security that “if he could get in there, so could we”. Then Bang. My tea spilled, we bounced off something hard. I dashed below, certain that I’d see water spurting from somewhere. But no. Nothing. We backed off, turned out of the cove entrance, and dropped anchor quickly so Bill could dive in with a snorkel for inspections. He came up pale. “There’s a big hole”. Ugh. We had hit a rock that came up like a building, right on the centerline of the boat, a foot up from the bottom of the keel.

The next thirty minutes was a blur, but we decided that we were not going to sink, so we might as well dinghy into the cove and begin our hike around Great Wass Island. This was our intention in the first place. The four mile hike did wonders for our frazzled brains, and we returned to Alembic with a renewed understanding of the cove depths. Taft recommended coming in at low tide, when you could best see the bottom contours, but I think he should have been more clear that this exploration should be done by dinghy. Coming back at high tide, as the Hinkley had done, would be easy, when the staggering rocks were covered by another 13 feet of water.

We carried on with our Maine cruise, knowing that we would haul out in South Portland to repair this damage. The photo shows the nasty gash. Bill ground down the fiberglass, applied eight layers of fiberglass, sanded it smooth, and it was better than new. We had to haul to scrub and paint the whole bottom with antifouling anyway, so this “little project” was not much more work. Our devotion to the Whitby has risen a few notches.

in Alembic

Maine Explorations

September 24, 2015
Sailing around Vinalhaven on a sweet calm day

Sailing around Vinalhaven on a sweet calm day with Cay and George

This is the type of house I want to live in if I ever come back to land

This is the type of house I want to live in if I ever come back to land.  Donna built this many years ago near Eastern Harbor

One tranquil community on Roque Island

One tranquil community on Roque Island

in Family

Cutting the Tap Root

September 24, 2015

We finally did it!  We cut the tap root.  You know, the huge root that keeps the tree standing tall, drinking the ground water.  You can cut a lot of roots around a tree, by mistake or on purpose, and the tree still stands strong, growing more roots as fast as you cut the old ones.  But that tap root is so thick, so difficult to sever.  We were deeply rooted in Maine.  We raised our kids, built careers and solid friendships in this gorgeous setting.  But the drive to explore our earth, and to challenge our minds, was overwhelming the drive to stay.

Roots cut earlier:  Kenny, Lindsay, and Erica left our home, but not our hearts, to spread their wings in college and beyond; we sold our home in York and dispersed of 25 years of accumulations; and we left our jobs that had fulfilled us for so many years.  Of course each of these cuts was not so permanent.  The kids are in touch every day, following our GPS tracking while we follow their updates of progress into adulthood.  We still have our Mt Abram camp which holds way too much clutter, yet to be permanently dispersed.  And we still are connected to the people and projects of our careers, looking forward to working again in some capacity.

When a tree gets transplanted after the tap root is cut, it struggles to regain it’s strength.  More nutrients, water, and support lines are needed in order for it to grow again.  We are in this phase.  We are struggling with goodbyes and challenged by the systems of Alembic.  But every day brings new experiences that solidify our decision to go on this journey.  We look forward to spreading our branches and growing in ways that humans were supposed to grow.

in Alembic, Family, Ship Log

Shake Down Cruise

September 14, 2015

You know when you shake your jeans or a tote bag upside down to see if anything falls out?  You always hope to find money, but you usually find bills, trash, or other unpleasant things.  Well, that’s what a shake down cruise is all about.  You hope to find that you, your partner, and your boat are chock-full of magical ideas, strengths, and unexpected delights, but you always brace yourself for the disappointments.  And you welcome anything that comes up, because it is all part of the learning process, and it’s all preparing you for the Big Day.

So, our shake down cruise started off dismally.  Actually, only the sky was dismal; we were ecstatic and Alembic was performing flawlessly.  We wanted to try out all of the systems that hadn’t been tried as a live aboard dockside.  Would our refrigeration hold up without 110 power? Could our batteries be capable or taking and holding a full charge?  How are we going to shower?  How do I use this new pressure cooker, and would we like the food that came out of it?  Were our anchors adequate?  Was all of our gear appropriately stowed?  Would that tiny oil drip coming from the engine become a problem?  How do we use the new whisker pole?  Could we come about with the newly installed inner jib?  Would our tattered main sail hold up until we made it to the Chesapeake to pick up the new one?

After 3 weeks, we found out that we were all set; all systems were more than adequate.  But what we discovered was that new issues would pop up that we hadn’t even wondered about.  We would experience joys and frustrations that we hadn’t prepared for.  The people and the sights along the way were far above our expectations, and our blunders were also far above our plans.  Blunders happen in life, and we should all expect this.  No amount of planning can prepare you for them.

So, blunders?  Yes.  First, we hit a rock on day two that put a hole in our boat the size of your head!  I dashed below, waiting to see the gushing water and hear the bilge pumps come to life.  Silence.  Weird.  Bill quickly donned the mask and snorkel and checked it out.  Yes, it was big.  No, we would not sink.  More about this later…  Several days later, while stowing our dinghy on deck to prepare for more sailing (a daily routine), we heard hissing.  Not good.  The dinghy, our only method of getting ashore, soon collapsed into a limp, useless piece of plastic.  A hose clamp on a stanchion was sharper than we thought.  More on this later…  Then, our third problem was lack of internet.  We hadn’t anticipated needing internet, or considered what life would be like without it.  Erica totaled her car in Colorado (yes, everyone was fine) and we had to conduct ridiculous feats just to communicate with her, the auto shop, and our insurance company.  Luckily State Farms was wonderful, and Erica took control.  She bought a new car, registered it in CO, got new parking stickers, and was off and rolling without much assistance.

Learning experiences are what we are out here for, and this shakedown cruise delivered!  There is only so much preparation for life; you have to roll with the unexpected.  We are looking forward to many more new experiences, hopefully with a little less damage.

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