Category Archives: Travels with Maria

Blogging from the road.

Status Report: My First Winter at Home in 10+ Years

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I summarize how it started and how it’s going for my first winter at home in more than 10 years.

It’s December 18, 2024 and I’m typing this at home while sitting at my desk at a desktop computer. Outside is approximately 8 inches of snow that has fallen in the past three days. My driveway is plowed, my vehicles are tucked into the garage. My house is warm. The sun is out, trying to break through the low clouds between my perch about 800 feet above the Columbia River and city of Wenatchee. It is a gorgeous day and is likely to become even nicer as the sun continues to rise — although for me, it’ll never clear the 500+ foot ridge just south of my home.

I’m chomping at the bit, ready to turn my 2-3 week planned trip to Arizona into a 5 week camping adventure. After all, I do still have my truck camper. I may as well use it.

On Being Home

Don’t get me wrong. I absolutely love my home. I love its simple comfort, privacy, quiet, spacious garage, and, above all, its views. (I’ve always been fond of a good view and I don’t think I’ll get a better one anywhere else.) I have everything here that I want and need — or almost (more in a moment) — and after spending 17 of the past 24 months traveling, it’s great to be settled in somewhere.

At least I think it is. I’m so used to being on my boat that it actually feels weird to have luxuries like a washer/dryer, dishwasher, enormous (well, okay, just normal sized) refrigerator, and soaking tub where I can immerse 90% of my body in hot water for as long as I like.

One of the things I admit that I am struggling with is the sameness of every day. My pups and I have revised our routine for our surroundings and that’s fine, but what’s weird is that we wake up in the same place every day. When I’m traveling, every day doesn’t just have the potential to be different. It is different. Here, I have to work on adding variety to my days. And I’ll admit that sometimes I just don’t bother.

The Plan: A Winter at Home

The original plan was to spend the whole winter at home. Period.

I have lots to do. Not only did I have to clean the boat and prep it for a season as a charter boat in the San Juan Islands, but I had a lot of catching up to do on my Great Loop blog and the video channel I’m trying to build. I could spend eight hours every day working on these things and still not catch up by the end of February.

Not only that, but I’m exploring more creative options. In addition to getting back into my jewelry shop to build inventory for the upcoming season, I’ve begun dabbling in paper arts, including bookbinding and the production of decorative papers. I find these things challenging while being a good creative outlet.

So that was the plan: work on the things I need and want to get done.

But the Gray! And the Snow!

Right around the time we changed the clocks, I remembered why I go usually south every winter. It gets dark early here. When it gets dark, my brain tells my body that it’s time for bed. It’s increasingly difficult to stay up until at least 9 PM.

And then there’s the gray. The Wenatchee Valley has inversions in the winter time that fill the valley with clouds. Sometimes I’m above the clouds, sometimes I’m below the clouds, and sometimes I’m in the clouds. So I look out the windows and I see a lot of gray. I’d estimate 4-5 days out of every 7.

This is very difficult for someone who lived in Arizona for 15 years where the sun shines so often that you wish for a gray day.

Of course, on other days here you get a day like today, when the sun is shining, the sky is blue, and the world looks like a winter wonderland. On days like this, I feel like sitting in a window seat with a book and a cup of hot cocoa, glancing up at the amazing, ever-changing vista every time I turn a page.

Gorgeous Day
How’s this for a gorgeous day and amazing view? Come join me for a cup of hot cocoa looking out the windows.

Dave Shovels
With 8 inches of snow in about 48 hours, “shoveling” requires some heavy equipment. Here, my neighbor Dave is digging a pathway for my Jeep to get in and out of the garage.

And the snow is definitely a thing.

I like snow. I think it’s pretty. But the problem is that it makes it difficult to do anything or go anywhere outside. The problem is only made worse by the fact that the snow slides off my roof to block my garage doors, thus trapping my vehicles inside until I — or someone else — breaks them free.

A Year Ago Today
There’s a nice private beach a short drive from where my dad lived.

Last year on this date, I was walking on a beach near my dad’s house in Florida, feeling the sand between my toes while my pups chased each other near the surf. Only a few days later, I’d be heading south a in my boat to New Year’s Eve with a friend at Key West. The year before, I was heading east on the Gulf ICW to spend Christmas week at Orange Beach, Alabama. The year before that, I was camped out in the desert in Arizona, hiking, exploring, and enjoying star-filled skies every night. Ditto for most of the years before that.

Lately, I’m constantly trying to remind myself why I’m here this year.

The New Plan

The new plan is to load up my truck camper and head south sometime around Christmas Day. I’m going to visit a bunch of friends in Wickenburg, Quartzsite, Phoenix, Tucson, and Sierra Vista. I’ll hit the big Pow Wow rock show to replenish my supply of certain stones I use in jewelry making. And I’m going to start my search for a new winter home in the Tucson area. — more on that in another post.

My usual winter house-sitter, John, is thrilled. He loves it here in the winter. He thought he’d be stuck spending more time with family, but is already packing his truck in preparation for coming back here. I’m sure my barn cat, Rover, will be thrilled, too. I know John spoils the hell out of him when I’m gone. (Maybe this time he’ll take Rover with him when he leaves.)

But John won’t have too much time here. My goal is to be back by the end of January. I want to go to the Seattle Boat Show at month-end and I need to get my boat to the other side of the mountains for some maintenance work before it’s launched in March. There’s a lot to do.

There’s always a lot to do. And I like it that way.

Where am I?

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I’m off on another, shorter adventure, but I’ll be back to working on projects at home again soon.

I started writing a blog post two weeks ago about my third trip to the Ranger Tugs/Cutwater Rendezvous at Roche Harbor. I had to put it aside because I got busy doing other things, as I seem to do quite often these days. It’s sitting in the app I use to compose and publish my blog posts. Who knows? Maybe I’ll get to it later today. (Note: I finished it this morning after this post. I’m just waiting for someone to turn on their StarLink so I can post them both. Two posts in one day!)

What’s keeping me busy right now is cruising around the San Juan Islands and beyond. After the Rendezvous and a quick trip home to drop off my boat trailer, I returned to my boat, Do It Now, which was waiting for me at Anacortes. I provisioned up and fueled up and headed back out.

You see, my boat does not actually have a “home port” — a place where it lives when I’m not on it. It’s a wanderer, like I’ve become. So unless I wanted to pay a marina $50 to $100 per night for it to sit idle in the water, I needed to take it cruising. That’s what I did.

Where I’ve Been

I explored the San Juan Islands for more than a week, picking up friends for day trips along the way. I visited:

  • Dungeness Crabs
    I caught Dungeness crabs at Roche Harbor and Suchia Island. These are from Suchia.

    San Juan Island. That’s where the Rendezvous was held. I stayed at the wonderful Roche Harbor Resort, which I believe is one of the best-run marinas I’ve ever visited.

  • Stuart Island. I took my friend Liz and her dog Suki to Stuart from San Juan Island where she lives. We squeezed onto the dock in Reid Harbor, where I ran into other Ranger Tug owners, including Glen, who has given me tons of advice about my boat. (He has the same model.)
  • Lopez Island. I spent the night tied to a mooring ball at Spencer Spit, getting my first taste of the convenience of Washington State’s marine parks.
  • Fidalgo Island. That’s where Anacortes is. I spent one night there, then offloaded a bunch of stuff off the boat, got a one-way rental car to Des Moines (where my truck and trailer were parked), and went home for a few nights. By that time, my summer house-sitter had moved out, leaving the place remarkably clean, and it was a real pleasure to sleep under my own roof. I left just before my current house-sitter arrived and returned to the boat.
  • Suchia Island. I got a mooring ball in Echo Bay, which quickly filled up with other boats that Friday evening. I caught two Dungeness crabs in a trap I set from my boat’s swim platform.
  • Point Roberts. While not an island, it’s a weird little Washington State community that can only be reached by boat or by driving through Canada. I picked up a friend and his family there for a day trip to…

  • Patos Island
    Do It Now at the mooring ball at Patos Island.

    Patos Island. There was one mooring ball in Active Cove and we grabbed it. We went for a long hike on the island and my dogs got a good chance to run. My friend found a geocache, completing his goal of finding at least one geocache in every Washington State county. (San Juan County was the last.) I also cooked up and shared those Dungeness crabs I’d brought in that morning.

  • Matia Island. I managed to squeeze into the dock with three other boats at Rolfe Cove. Dogs are not allowed on the trails there, so we didn’t do any hiking. But it was a nice quiet place to spend the night.
  • James Island. I took another friend and his wife from Anacortes to James Island for a little day trip. More hiking and running for my pups. A great cheese and fresh bread — thanks, Greg! — lunch at a picnic table before a peek at Deception Pass. We saw dolphins or porpoises along the way. One of these days I’ll learn to identify all the marine life around here.

    James Island
    Looking back down at Do It Now from our hike on James Island.

  • Saddlebag Island. I tried anchoring at Saddlebag Island but didn’t like the conditions so I left.
  • Guemes Island. I also tried anchoring at Boat Harbor anchorage but again, didn’t like the conditions so I left. (This gave me a real appreciation for mooring balls out on the islands.)
  • Cypress Island. I picked up a mooring ball at Cypress Head. I went for a nice hike on the head with my pups and rested up from a busy weekend.

  • Blackberries
    I picked enough blackberries for three breakfasts.

    Orcas Island. I anchored at Eastsound one night and got a slip at Deer Harbor the next night. I really liked Eastsound and need to go back when I have a whole day to explore the town. The highlight of Deer Harbor was the friendly people, the barbecue place, and picking wild blackberries on a walk.

I ended up on September 20 at Bellingham, where I got a slip courtesy of the folks at San Juan Sailing. That’s where I would begin the cruise I’m on now.

I should point out that most of my stops along the way were at marine parks that were either free or just $15 for the night. Cruising in the San Juans is very affordable if you don’t need a marina. Even then, the marinas I stayed at — notably Cap Sante (in Anacortes) and Deer Harbor (at Orcas) — were reasonably priced.

My Current Adventure

On September 21, I set out as part of a flotilla of six boats cruising from Bellingham to Desolation Sound in British Columbia and back. I’m typing this from an anchorage called Melanie Cove off the BC mainland. So far, we’ve been to:

  • South Pender Island. We stayed at the Poet’s Cove Marina in Bedwell Harbor, which is where we checked into Canada. There’s a nice resort there with hot springs and hiking trails.
  • Nanaimo. We stayed at the port there, mostly so we could provision at the supermarket. (Canada limits what you can bring in as far as fresh foods are concerned.) I spent some time visiting shops in town before hitting the supermarket.
  • Hospital Bay. After an unpleasant crossing of the Strait of Georgia, we spent a night at the wonderfully sheltered John Henry’s Marina.
  • Cortes Island. Our longest cruise took us up Malaspina Strait (in dense fog) and then up the Strait of Georgia (in much more favorable conditions) to Gorge Harbor in Whaletown. Along the way, we saw colonies of harbor seals and humpback whales.

    Cruising in the Fog
    Two of the flotilla’s boats, both American Tugs, cruising in the fog.

  • Octopus Islands
    Here we are, rafted at the Octopus Islands. My boat is the smallest one (as usual) but I have no trouble keeping up. (In fact, I’m faster than all of them.)

    Octopus Islands. We anchored and rafted a small bay in the Octopus Islands off Quadra Island. We spent two nights there with a very rainy day between them. Highlights included catching some red rock crabs and visiting the “art cabin,” which was full of boat souvenirs and other artwork.

  • Quadra Island. We spent one night at Taku Resort in Drew Harbor. I’d been there at an anchorage years before with the folks on the David B, but I didn’t remember seeing any marinas. I got some sad news while I was there, which I’ll address in another post, but also bought some provisions and picked some wild blackberries while walking with my dogs and two other boaters.
  • Prideaux Haven. That’s where we are now, at Melanie Cove, anchored and rafted again. We went for a group hike into the mountains yesterday on what became a picture-perfect day.

    Melanie Cove
    I flew my drone to capture a few images of a picture-perfect day at Melanie Cove. Our boats are rafted in the lower right corner of the image.

But we’re not done yet! Destinations lie ahead:

  • Texada Island. We’ll stay at at Sturt Bay.
  • Gabriola Island. We’ll stay at a resort marina at Silva Bay.
  • Saltspring Island. We’ll stay at a marina at Ganges Harbor.
  • Lummi Island. Back in the US, we’ll spend a last night at anchor at Inati Bay.

The trip ends on October 4 at Bellingham, where we started. By that time, I should have a long year of cruising out of my system and be ready for a rest.

And That’s My Excuse

This cruising schedule is my excuse for not blogging as much as I’d really like to. I don’t write as quickly as I used to — I’m so easily distracted these days. (Who isn’t?) I want to spend more of my time enjoying the things I do instead of writing about them.

But I have a lot of writing and video production ahead of me — did I mention that I’ve been recording video footage nearly every cruising day? I’ve decided to spend this winter at home for the first time since moving to Washington — sorry, John*! — and to fill my days catching up on content creation, making new jewelry inventory, and exploring new craft hobbies, including paper making, paper marbling, and bookbinding.

And, of course, prepping Do It Now for another season of cruising in the Pacific Northwest. April is only six months away.

PostScript

I finished this blog post shortly after 5 AM this morning. (I wake up very early.) It was still dark outside so I went up to Do It Now‘s command bridge. One of the great things about these remote anchorages out in the islands is how dark they are. Other than the anchor lights of boats, there are no ground lights to foul the sky. I sat for a few moments, waiting for my eyes to adjust. I saw the bright stars right away; the brightest thing in the sky right now is Jupiter which was almost straight up. Then I saw the dimmer stars and familiar constellations such as Orion. I saw the Milky Way, which I hadn’t seen well in over a month. And I saw satellites and a shooting star.

I love my home, but the nearby glow of Wenatchee makes it unsuitable for serious star gazing. It’s nice to get out and away from all those lights. When I’m done with my boat travels, I’m going to settle down back in the desert, away from city lights, and look up at the stars any time I can.

—
* John is my ever-faithful winter house-sitter who has been watching over my place for most winters since around 2016. He’s at my place now and I don’t think he’s happy about hitting the road in about a week.

Winding Down My Travels

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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.