Oops! Subscriber Feed Accidentally Turned Off

I accidentally turn off the subscription feature, halting the notifications about new posts.

I should have known I’d done this because I also did it on my Great Loop blog. I turned off a plug in back in April and that inadvertently turned off the blog subscription feature — except, apparently, for WordPress.com account holders. I’ve since fixed the problem. If you’re a blog subscriber who used the form in the sidebar to sign up, here are the posts you may have missed:

There aren’t many of them because, frankly, I’ve been enjoying life too much to stop and write about it. (Have I mentioned anywhere how awesome retirement is? I should blog about that.) What I do write these days has been mostly in my Great Loop blog.

Winding Down My Travels

As I near the end of my Great Loop trip, I contemplate bringing my boat back to Washington (and elsewhere) and possibly spending some time at home.

Why So Long?

If you’re wondering why I’ve got so many miles on the Loop when most places put the mileage count at about 6,000, blame it on my side trips. I boomeranged from the Annapolis Area to Key West and back this past winter and also made round trip cruises up the St. Johns River in Florida and up to Lake Champlain in New York and Vermont.

If you’re wondering why it has taken me so long to do the trip when most folks can do it in a year, it’s because I had to come home last summer to work — I wasn’t retired yet — and I also took a few other short trips home. The northern portion of the loop can only be done in the summer and I’d been working every summer since 1998.

It’s July 18, 2024 and I’m less than a month away from the completion of my Great Loop cruise. (If you don’t know anything about this trip, you can read about it in my Great Loop blog (which is painfully out of date).) So far, since mid October 2022, I’ve spent a total of 438 days/nights on my 2019 Ranger Tug R-29 CB Do It Now, covering 7,724 nautical miles (or 8.889 statute miles or 14,305 kilometers) in 17 states, one province, and two countries. I’m currently at a very pleasant anchorage in the Georgian Bay of Lake Huron, on the Canadian side of the border. I plan to cross back into the US at month end and then get to Chicago, where I cross my wake, on August 10 or so.

Do It Now at Statue of Liberty
I stopped for a selfie at the Statue of Liberty when I went through New York Harbor in May.

If you did the math, you’ve probably realized that I’ve been away from home an awful lot — but not a full year and a half. Although I started my travels on October 13, 2022, I came home for three weeks in December 2022, five months for the spring and summer of 2023, and then a few weeks in April 2024. But other than that, I’ve been living on the boat.

Some thoughts on Cruising

My boat is not large, but it’s certainly large enough for one person and two small dogs, especially when they’re accustomed to spending months at a time living in a slide-in truck camper every winter. My boat is bigger than my camper and more comfortable, with waterfront views everywhere I go. It’s also slower and burns more fuel, but that’s a topic for another discussion. Having a second person on board works with varying results, mostly depending on the expectations of that second person.

With 240 more days of active cruising experience than I had when I started this Great Loop adventure, I’ve learned a shit-ton about boats and boating. I’ve also gotten in tune with my boat, much as I had with my helicopters: I can pretty much predict how it will respond to nearly every situation. (You know it when you have that kind of relationship with a vehicle; it’s a rare and wonderful thing.) Simply said, I know how to drive my boat.

At Go Home Bay
Here’s Do It Now at a recent anchorage called Go Home Bay. Maybe that’s what got me thinking about home?

People see me cruising alone and think they need to rush out to help me with docking or locking. Usually not so. I recently brought my boat to a complete stop beside a man at a dock who had rushed over to help me with my lines. I looked at him standing there idly just two feet away from my window and said, “This ain’t my first rodeo,” before stepping off the boat with a line to cleat up. “I see that,” he replied. More recently, at Lock 37 of the Trent-Severn Waterway, a fellow boater offered to climb on board to help me lock through. I looked him in the eye and said, “I’ve done 35 of these solo so far; I think I’ve got the hang of it.” (There is no Lock 33 and I wasn’t counting the dozens of other locks on canals I’d traveled on.)

Bruce and LeaAnne at Waterfall
Here are Bruce and LeaAnne on New Bearings. We anchored about 3 miles from this waterfall and dinghied up to it with our boats. It wasn’t quite hot enough to get me in the water with them.

But I haven’t actually been alone the entire trip. I had friends on board for a total of 102 days: Janet, Alyse, Jason, and Cheri. And I’ve been “buddy boating” with others since getting on the Erie Canal and continuing north and west. I play leapfrog with many boats. Today, I’m trying to plan a meetup with some sailing friends at a place called Bad River where we can get our dinghies out and explore the waterfall there.

What’s Next?

At the 2022 Ranger Rendezvous
Here’s Do It Now at the 2022 Ranger Rendezvous. I had just picked it up the day before in Olympia and made the two-day cruise to the event with very little experience. Since then, I’ve added a bimini top, a screen enclosure for the aft cockpit, and a new dinghy davit.

As I plan these last days of a very long trip, I’m thinking about what I’m going to do next. I know that I’m going to trailer my boat back to Washington state, where I’ll have it launched in Tacoma or Anacortes for the month of September. I know I’ll spend a good portion of that month cruising Puget Sound, fishing for salmon, and taking my Washington friends for day trips. And, of course, I’ll attend the 2024 Ranger/Cutwater Rendezvous, where I hope to do a presentation about why Ranger Tugs are the perfect Great Loop boat.

But what about after that?

Well, I don’t want to cruise Puget Sound in Washington state in the winter — that’s for damn sure.

I had toyed with the idea of bringing Do It Now south and launching it in Lake Powell for the month of October. I already talked to the folks at the marina in Page, AZ and they can provide the launch/retrieve assistance I need, truck and trailer parking, and even a marina slip if I want it. But whether I go there depends a lot on the water level; it’s about 6 feet higher than I need it to be now, but in October? And I don’t want to spend the winter there, either.

Lake Powell
I can’t tell you how many hours I spent flying my helicopter over Lake Powell with charter or photography clients on board. I have at least a half dozen people interested in joining me there on my boat.

If I have it at Lake Powell, it isn’t much farther to go to Lake Havasu for the winter. But I have a sneaking suspicion that they don’t sell diesel on that lake. And I think it might get boring if the Colorado River is drawn down for the winter and I can’t leave the lake. I could take it to Lake Mead instead, but I think it’ll be a lot colder there. But maybe not. And my boat does have a heater. A good heater.

Homesick

Of course, the main feeling I’m tackling right now is the simple fact that I miss my home. While “homesick” might be too strong a word, I definitely miss the comfort of my own (considerably larger) space. I miss having a dishwasher and a washer and dryer just steps away from my bedroom door. I miss my jewelry studio. I miss my incredible views and my garden and my deck. I miss being able to take my Jeep or truck or Honda anywhere I need to go, anytime I want to go, without having to rely on a taxi.

Home
My home has kickass views and a very large garage.

The closer I get to my trip’s end, the more I realize that I just want to spend some time at home.

But I don’t want to spend the winter there either.

Don’t get me wrong. I love my home. I had it built to my specifications and it’s just about everything I want or need in a home. It’s very comfortable. But I don’t like the winters in Washington state. There isn’t enough light. I’m usually okay until they change the clocks and then I’m miserable, with the sun setting at 4 PM — or so it seems — and my body wanting to sleep at 6 PM. And the Shadow Time.

Although I’ve never been diagnosed with SAD, I’m pretty sure I get it. It starts when we change the clocks and ends sometime in late February. In recent years, I’ve tried to stay home but invariably headed south.

Maybe this year can be different?

Giving the Boat a Rest

Either way, I suspect I’ll be giving Do It Now a rest on its trailer. The good news is that it can fit inside my garage. (You know I have an enormous garage, right?) Although that space isn’t heated, I’m hoping to get away with a minimal winterization, even if it means having to put heaters in and under the boat for the cold season.

But never fear! I have spring and summer plans for Do It Now. I’ll likely launch it sometime in April or early May and spend the spring cruising around the San Juan Islands. But the big plans are taking it north into the Inside Passage, possibly as far as to Alaska. I’m working on getting other Ranger Tug owners in the Pacific Northwest to buddy boat with me for all or part of a trip. Another summer away from home, another summer on my boat. I’m looking forward to it.

And if the bug to buy a bigger boat doesn’t stop nibbling on my brain, there’s a pretty good chance I’ll upsize for 2026. That’s when I’ll start taking paying passengers on 1- and 2-week cruises along the Great Loop.

But all that depends on whether I’m sick of cruising by then. At this point, I’m not sick of it. I just want to enjoy my dirt home for a while.

My First Encounter with an AI

Finding a saved then forgotten file in my Dropbox reminds me of my first interaction with an AI system a little over a year ago.

Back in March 2023, I started getting emails from Google inviting me to try their new AI system, Bard. I was curious so after receiving too many (in my opinion) invitations, I gave it a try.

March, 2023

I wanted to see what it would tell me about a topic I knew a little about: Haiku. Here’s my annotated exchange, which I saved in a text file on March 26, 2023:

Me: What can you tell me about haiku?

Bard:
A haiku is a Japanese poetic form consisting of three unrhymed lines of 5, 7, and 5 syllables, respectively. Haiku often contain imagery and focus on nature or the seasons. The first line of a haiku introduces the subject, the second line develops the subject, and the third line provides a conclusion or resolution.

Haiku are thought to have originated in Japan in the 17th century. The earliest known haiku was written by Matsuo Bashō, a Japanese poet who is considered to be one of the greatest haiku masters. Bashō’s haiku often focused on the beauty of nature and the fleeting nature of life.

Haiku have become increasingly popular in the West in recent years. Many people enjoy the challenge of writing a haiku that is both concise and meaningful. Haiku can also be used as a form of meditation, as they can help us to focus on the present moment and to appreciate the simple things in life.

Here is an example of a haiku:

A single frog
Jumps into the ancient pond—
The sound of water.

This haiku by Bashō is a classic example of the form. It introduces the subject (a frog) in the first line, develops the subject in the second line (by describing the frog’s jump into the pond), and provides a conclusion or resolution in the third line (by describing the sound of the water).

Haiku can be a beautiful and meaningful way to express ourselves. If you are interested in learning more about haiku, there are many resources available online and in libraries.

I liked the definition of haiku that Bard provided, although I wasn’t sure about the phrase “Haiku have become.” Is haiku singular or plural? Bard used the singular form — “a haiku” — in the next paragraph. I don’t know and it isn’t what I focused on.

Instead, I focused in on the syllable count, which I was taught was important in a well-formed haiku. 5-7-5.

Me: Your example does not have five syllables in the first line.

Bard:
I apologize for the error in my previous response. Here is an example of a 5-syllable haiku:

Snow falls in silence.
The world is transformed into
A winter wonderland.

What bard could have pointed out was that it was a translation from Japanese to English, which I assume it was. Instead, it provided a new example with a problem in the last line.

Me.: Your new example does not have five syllables in the third line.

Bard:
You’re right, it doesn’t. I’m still under development, and I’m always learning. Thank you for your patience as I continue to improve.

I let it go.

June, 2024

Today, after finding that file on my computer, I decided to blog about it. After writing and formatting the first half of this post, I went back to Bard, which is now Gemini, and tried the same prompts. Note the differences, which I think are important.

Me: What can you tell me about haiku?

Gemini:
Haiku are a traditional Japanese form of short poetry. Here’s a quick rundown:

  • Structure: Haiku consist of three lines, traditionally with 17 syllables. The first line has 5 syllables, the second line 7 syllables, and the third line 5 syllables again (5-7-5).
  • Origin: They originated in Japan and are rooted in older forms of Japanese poetry.
  • Focus: Haiku typically focus on nature and capturing a fleeting moment or image.
  • Modern haiku: While the 5-7-5 syllable structure is a common guideline, modern haiku in English sometimes stray from this to focus more on capturing the essence of the haiku tradition.

Well, this was a better description that took into consideration many people’s belief that syllable count doesn’t matter. But it (cowardly) did not provide an example. So I asked for one.

Me: Can you give me an example of haiku?

Gemini:
Absolutely! Here’s a famous haiku by Matsuo Basho, a renowned haiku poet:

Old pond / A frog jumps in
The sound of water (5-7-5)

How interesting! It gave me a different translation of the same haiku? And it specifically indicated the syllable count.

Me: Your example does not have five syllables in the first line or seven syllables in the second line.

Gemini:
You’re absolutely right, I apologize for the mistake. Here’s a different haiku example that adheres to the 5-7-5 syllable structure:

Summer sun warms skin,
Cicadas sing their loud song,
Daylight fades too soon. (5-7-5)

I had no problem with this haiku written in the traditional style. In fact, I actually liked it.

Me: Very good. Thank you.

Gemini:
I’m glad I could help! Is there anything else you’d like to know about haiku, or would you like me to try writing one for you?

It apparently didn’t realize that it just did that. [insert eyeroll emoji here]

Me: No, thank you.

Gemini:
You’re welcome!
If you ever have any other questions, feel free to ask.

Is AI Worth It?

Despite this second encounter, I still believe using AI to teach and assist us in writing tasks is a big mistake. Not only is it prone to errors — even today! — but it consumes huge amounts of electrical power in a world already suffering from the effects of power generation on climate and air quality.

I could waste spend the rest of the day coming up with examples that showcase AI’s shortcomings, but so many people already have. I don’t understand why anyone would want to rely on a system that is clearly not ready for prime time and can do more harm than good.

I don’t want to live in a world where “intelligent” systems are telling us to put glue on pizza or eat rocks for their mineral content. Do you?