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On Adventure Travel

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Adventures come in all shapes and sizes. I really am on one now.

Catching you up…

If you’re not aware that I’m on a year+ long, mostly solo journey in a 2019 Ranger Tug R-29 CB along America’s Great Loop, you might not know what I’m talking about in this post. This 6000+ mile trip to circumnavigate the eastern US by boat has taken me the better part of fourteen months (so far) with stops in 13 states. Because I took last summer off and then backtracked from Annapolis to Key West, I’m only about halfway finished. You can read more about it in the blog where I’m supposed to be telling related stories, My Great Loop Adventure.

Lately, as I meet people along my Great Loop travels, I’ve been told repeatedly that they admire me or what I’m doing or both. They seem to think that traveling mostly solo in a well-equipped, small but comfortable trawler along well-established waterways in the United States is some sort of special feat or adventure.

(I suspect their comments are rooted in old stereotypes about women and how we’re considered adventurous for doing any travel alone. After all, would they be making the same comments to a man in my place? And they definitely don’t say anything like this to me when I’m traveling with a companion. But I digress.)

That got me thinking a little bit differently about the trip. I do have to admit that it is quite an adventure.

What Makes This Trip an Adventure

There are lots of things that make this trip an adventure.

First of all, I’m piloting a boat that was brand new to me when I started back in October 2022. Not only did I need to learn about all of its systems and how to keep them in working order, but I had to build skills so I could safely dock, anchor, and use locks — sometimes with challenging currents, winds, or both. Although I had a companion on board for the first 44 days of the trip, I went solo for months after that so I needed to be able to do everything by myself. I made some mistakes — or should say I had enhanced learning experiences? — along the way, although (fortunately) none were catastrophic. Over time, I got a real feel for how the boat would move in most situations and just how powerful (or wimpy) my bow and stern thrusters could be when I needed them.

(I love the look on the faces of dockhands when I pull into a slip so slowly and smoothly that I can hand a line out my window to them on the dock and then get the boat to a stop before they even fasten that line. While it’s true that not every docking is perfect like that, more and more of them are. If my arms were longer, I’d be patting myself on the back every time.)

Then there’s the sheer length of the trip. The route I’m on is more than 6,000 nautical miles — that’s 6,900 statute miles for average Americans and about 11,000 kilometers for the rest of the world — much of which is on waterways I’ve never been on: Lake Michigan, the Inland Waterways, the Gulf Intracoastal Waterway, the Gulf of Mexico, the Okeechobee Canal and its lake, and most of the Atlantic Intracoastal Waterway. Later, I’ll do the NY Canal System and part of the Erie Canal to visit Lake Champlain and eventually the Trent-Severn Waterway in Canada. My only preparation for the Great Loop trip was a total of 10 weeks traveling with two other captains in their boats — covering a total of about 1500 nautical miles of the route — a bunch of reading, and a handful of webinars which were mostly narrated PowerPoint presentations, few of which had much useful information.

Although the route is pretty much well established, it does have variations and side trips are possible. So there’s no single set of directions I could follow — and I probably wouldn’t want to follow someone else’s directions anyway. I had to learn how to consult nautical charts, facilities information, and reliable weather information to plan each day’s journey. In all honesty, I had a lot of experience doing that from the many very long cross-country helicopter trips I did over a 20+ year period starting way back in 2000. But although planning was similar for these trips, it was just different enough to be a challenge. Instead of just worrying about where to get fuel or spend the night along the way, I now have to worry about fuel, water, pumpout, groceries, maintenance, and where I can tie up or anchor out, sometimes to wait out a storm. I’m not spending a day or two making a long trip; I’m now spending months on a trip.

The Captain’s course I took in April 2023 fell quite short of the kind of real-life information and experience a person needs to do a trip like this. It seemed more concerned with knowing lights and day signals on other boats than actual boat operation. For a week, I sat in a classroom to fulfill US Coast Guard training requirements and although I passed all four tests, I seriously doubt I’ll ever use more than half the information presented there — and most of that is either common sense or stuff I already knew from a lifetime of casual boat operations. Still, combined with my boating experience, CPR/first aid training, and medical exam, I became a certificated OUPV boat Captain in October 2023, supposedly qualified to be paid to teach skills to other boaters, move other people’s boats, and take up to six passengers on cruises.

Dealing with the Unexpected

But I think the thing that really makes a trip like this an adventure is when something unexpected happens that makes me change my plans radically. Such a thing happened on Friday.

I’m early on my northward travels — early when compared to the other folks traveling along the Great Loop. Most of them tend to linger in Florida as long as they can, soaking up the sun before rushing through the “boring” parts of Georgia and the Carolinas. I’m ahead of the pack because I have a deadline: I need to be at Colton’s Point just off the Potomac River by around April 4. That’s where my boat will be pulled out of the water to get its bottom cleaned, inspected, and possibly painted while I head west to see the solar eclipse and then spend a few weeks at home prepping my house for the summer. The eclipse takes all flexibility out of my travel plans. So I left Florida early, lingered in the places I liked, and hurried through the places I’d already seen and did not want to visit again. (Remember, I started in Annapolis, MD after taking the summer off for my last season of work and I headed south for the winter — all the way down to Key West. I’m now northbound again with a whole new crop of Loopers.)

That’s how I found myself getting ready to enter and cross several large bodies of water on the Atlantic ICW in North Carolina: the Neuse River, The Pamlico River, and the Albemarle Sound.

Trashed Cabin
Securing ALL loose items before getting into rough water can prevent a mess like this.

The Neuse River really kicked my ass last year. With an outgoing tide and incoming wind, the 1-2 foot forecasted waves manifested themselves as 2-5 foot waves. I couldn’t speed through them because they were right on my bow and the crashing down after each peak was unnerving, to say the least. So I had to do the 12 miles or so from Oriental at about 5 knots. Each of my dogs puked twice and I got close once. When it came time to make the 90° turn into the Bay River, I couldn’t do it — doing so would have put those big waves on my beam and there was a real risk of filling my aft cockpit with water. So I had to “tack” my way into the turn like a sailboat riding against the wind, zig-zagging until I was far enough into the river to shelter me from those big waves. The whole ordeal took more than 3 hours and I still had to get across the Pamlico River and up the Pungo River to Belhaven. At the marina, I spent an hour picking up everything that had been tossed on the floor of my boat’s cabin and cleaning up dog puke.

Neuse River Route
Here’s a general look at the route I had to take to get down the Neuse River and then into the Bay River.

(I need to mention here that it’s always a good idea to have a boat that can handle rougher conditions than you can. My boat is literally sea worthy — it is built to handle ocean conditions. It had no problem dealing with the Neuse River.)

I picked a better day this year. It was rough with 1-3 foot waves, but the wind and current were behind me. I was able to keep my speed up and get through it all, without making a zigzag turn, in a little over an hour. The Pamlico and Pungo were both kind to me, too.

From Belhaven, I have to go into the Alligator River-Pungo River Canal. I can then stop at the Alligator River Marina at the mouth of that river about 40 nautical miles away from Belhaven or continue on across the Albemarle Sound, which is the biggest body of water before I get to Chesapeake Bay, north of Norfolk.

There are two ways to get from the mouth of Alligator River across Albemarle Sound to the Norfolk area of Virginia:

  • The Virginia Cut is favored by larger, faster boats, as well as boats with deep drafts and/or tall masts. It’s a combination of natural waterways and canal cuts that go through Coinjock and Great Bridge. There’s even a lock at Great Bridge. That’s the way I came south in October, mostly because I wanted to try the prime rib at Coinjock, which everyone raves about. (I was not impressed.)

  • Great Dismal Swamp
    The Great Dismal Swamp is great but not really dismal.

    The Great Dismal Swamp Canal is favored by slow cruisers, including most Loopers, I think. It’s a slow route that runs from Elizabeth City through the Great Dismal Swamp’s canal and two locks. There’s a 5 mph speed limit in the main canal, which is also very narrow and shallow at some points. That’s how I came north last April and I absolutely loved it.

Two Routes
Here are the two different routes from Alligator River to Norfolk: green is the Virginia Cut and red is the Great Dismal Swamp.

I had already decided to go through the swamp. I loved it so much last year, I couldn’t wait to do it again. In fact, it was going to be the highlight of my trip north. With weather moving in on Saturday and apparently no other Loopers nearby to compete for the limited dock space at the rest area in the middle of the swamp, I felt pretty confident I could get a second day in its peace and quiet, hanging out on my boat until the rain passed through and I could continue north on Sunday.

So I left Belhaven on Thursday and did the 70+ nautical mile trip up the Pungo River, through the Alligator-Pungo Canal, down the Alligator River, and across Albemarle Sound. The two rivers were choppy, the canal was nearly dead calm, and the sound was a bit rough, with 1 to 3 foot waves. It wasn’t much worse than the Neuse had been the day before, but I could not go directly across the Sound to the Pasquotank River because I’d have to put those waves on my beam. So I kept a more northerly direction, putting the waves about 10° to 20° off my starboard bow. When I got about halfway across, the swells eased up — they were wind generated from the north, after all and I was getting closer to land. At that point, I was able to make my turn, go up the River, and stop at one of Elizabeth City’s three free docks for the night.

Thursday's Trip
I covered more than 70 nautical miles on Thursday to get across Albemarle Sound before weather moved in on Friday.

This was perfect — or so I thought at the time. The weather for the next five days would get progressively worse with peak winds at gale force speeds on Sunday on Albemarle Sound. One of the weather models was predicting 10 foot waves. If I hadn’t crossed the sound when I did, I’d be stuck at Alligator River Marina for five days. And trust me: that’s one place you don’t want to get stuck at. But I was sitting pretty at Elizabeth City with the nice calm waters of the swamp ahead of me and an easy path to Norfolk. I even made reservations at the Hampton Town Docks for two nights starting Monday.

The locks on the Great Dismal Swamp Canal only open four times a day on a specific schedule. I was in no hurry, so I decided to shoot for the 11 AM opening. It would be a 2 to 3 hour cruise, depending on my speed. I wound up getting off a little later than I planned — almost 9 AM — so I had to do the trip at about 8 knots to get there on time. I used Aqua Map for trip planning and it told me exactly what time I’d arrive every time I changed my speed.

It was a pleasant cruise on the river which eventually shut down to a straight canal called Turners Cut. There were a lot of downed trees, but none of them blocked my path. I slowed down for the few houses along the narrowest part of the canal.

I called the lock 3 miles out. No response. Too far. I called again a mile later. This time there was some static as someone tried to respond. I kept going. When I called again about a half mile out, the voice came through clearly: “The lock is closed until April 1.”

What?

I looked at Aqua Map, which always shows Waterway Guide navigation alerts. The woman at the lock — or at least listening to the lock frequency — said there was a Notice to Mariners about it back in December. Maintenance. But I could not find any notice about it on Aqua Map or Waterway Guide.

At least not at first. As I instructed my boat’s autopilot to follow our track in back out, i combed through the Waterway Guide website. Sure enough, if I set the Explorer feature to display alerts (not locks or bridges or marinas), it was there. Literally, the last place I looked — and not a place I’d normally look. After all, navigation alerts normally appear right in Aqua Map. This one did not.

It was March 22. I was not going to wait 8 days for the lock to open. I couldn’t wait. I had a deadline. I had to get to Colton Point by April 4. I needed extra time in case weather on Chesapeake Bay delayed me. I couldn’t use up all my spare time waiting to get through the swamp.

Dealing with the unexpected.

It looked like I’d have to go back down to Albemarle Sound and take the Virginia Cut. But I couldn’t do it that day. And I couldn’t do it until the weather cleared out. In the meantime, I had to find someplace to wait out the weather, starting with the big rainstorm expected overnight and into Saturday.

I worked Aqua Map and found Lamb’s Marina. I remember someone telling me about staying there and how it was pretty good. (I later discovered that it had been Kim on Pony last year.) I called. Did they have room for me for at least 5 days? Larry, who I suspect is the owner, said to come on in.

And that’s how I found myself staying at a combination marina/trailer park in Camden, NC, waiting out the weather, enjoying amazing hot showers, and hopefully getting stuff done. Like this blog post.

Aerial View of Lamb's Marina
I sent my drone up after the rain stopped on Saturday. My boat is on the left side about 1/3 to the end of the fairway.

On Adventure Travel

Well, this story went on a little bit longer than I expected and I’ll probably plagiarize it for My Great Loop Adventure blog. I wanted to use it as an example of how unexpected and unplanned problems can make a trip more of an adventure and challenge.

I love challenges — I think part of me lives for them. But I won’t say I’m glad this happened. I really did want to go through the Swamp and visit the museum in there again. And maybe do a dinghy trip up one of the intersecting canals.

But this snafu reminded me that things don’t always go as planned and I need to be flexible to move on from setbacks. Although there’s a slight chance I can get back on the river and maybe into the Sound tomorrow, Wednesday looks a lot more likely. There are definitely worse places to be stuck — ask me one day about the Alligator River Marina or Rosamond, CA.

These unexpected challenges is what reminds me that I really am on an adventure. Maybe next time someone tells me that they admire me for what I’m doing, I’ll remember the real challenges, take the compliment, and thank them.

Cruising with a Companion (Again)

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I welcome a friend on board as a cruising companion (and more) and am glad I did.

If you’ve been reading my Great Loop blog (which is behind yet again), you know that I spent some time buddy boating with my friend Jason in the big Ocean Yachts boat he lives aboard in Washington DC.

Jason and I met on Mastodon — my replacement for what I now call “The Dead Bird Site” (Twitter) — earlier this year. We have lots of mutual interests and seem to be on the same page about so many things. I think we might have been equally excited to actually meet up in person. We did that in October when I cruised down Chesapeake Bay from the Annapolis area (where I picked up my boat after its summer vacation) and he took his boat down to the mouth of the Potomac River. We cruised back up the river together, in our separate boats, with many stops along the way. It was a great week of getting to know each other, as was the subsequent days I spent at the marina where he lives.

Rafting
My boat (the red one) rafted to Jason’s boat at an anchorage during our Potomac River cruise. If he does start cruising full time, he’d likely downsize. His boat is very comfortable, but its size makes it impractical for a cruising lifestyle.

It seemed like a good idea for him to try joining me for a while on my much smaller boat while I continued cruising down to Florida for the winter. He works from home — his boat — and can work from pretty much anywhere, as long as he has an Internet connection. Since I’m cruising down the Intracoastal Waterway (ICW) and am usually pretty close to various coastal communities and cities, Internet access is nearly always available via cell phone. He’s been thinking about casting off from the Wharf and starting a cruising lifestyle and I would give him the opportunity to see if it was feasible. Meanwhile, I’d get an experienced boater to share my travel costs and give me companionship while I explore places along the way.

It was a win-win proposition.

On Command Bridge
Cocktail hour selfie with Jason and my girls up on the command bridge of my boat as we explored the Potomac.

I left his marina after just five nights — mostly because it’s crazy expensive, even after I got four free nights courtesy of Jason and a liveaboard neighbor. (Thanks again, Chris!) I made my way back down the Potomac and Chesapeake Bay and started south along the ICW. Jason had a conference to attend in Miami and other things to take care of before leaving his boat for what might be months.

We made arrangements to meet at Washington, NC, a town at the source end of the Pamlico River that I’d been wanting to check out anyway. I parked at the excellent town dock and spent two days cleaning and prepping my boat for company. Jason arrived on November 4 — already nine days ago! — and moved on board.

JasonAndPups
Jason texted me this selfie while he was driving the boat from upstairs on the command bridge on Friday. My pups really like him, too.

Without boring you with details, I’ll just say that so far it’s been great. We get along remarkably well — he seems to bring out the best in me and keep me in good spirits. What’s crazy (to me) is that his presence seems to calm me even when I feel as if I’m losing my patience over something dumb. We share all the chores: cooking, cleaning up, and even taking my pups to shore for their potty visits. We go on hikes, try to fish and crab, and wander farther afield with me on my electric bike and him on his Onewheel. On most weekdays, he works at the table in my main cabin while I drive the boat to our next destination, sometimes from the command bridge and sometimes from the bench seat only a few feet away. If he has off from work on a cruising day — like he did on Friday — he drives the boat and I try to keep busy doing other things.

And yes, there’s more to our relationship than what I’m including here, but a girl has to have a few secrets, doesn’t she?

In any case, it looks like Jason will be on board until around mid December. That should take us all the way into Florida, including a stop at my Dad’s house in Fort Pierce on my way to the Keys. Then he’ll go spend the Christmas holidays with his family in Michigan and I’ll continue my travels.

Will he be back? Well, the best way to find out is to read that pesky Great Loop blog of mine. With luck, I’ll start updating it again more regularly.

Call Me Captain, 2023 Edition

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I am approved for my Operator of Uninspector Passenger Vessel (OUPV) “Six Pack” captain’s license by the US Coast Guard.

I’m going to keep this short — or try to — because I’ve been working hard on getting my Great Loop blog up to date and need to spend more time doing that. I just wanted to share the news that the boat experience time, training, testing, and tedious application filing has all paid off: the US Coast Guard has approved my application for an OUPV Captain’s license. I should get the paperwork in the mail any day now and will (hopefully) have it forwarded by my house sitter before month-end.

What does this mean? It means that it’s now legal for me to take up to six passengers for hire on board my boat for tours, charters, or educational cruises. This is something I’d like to do to help me cover the cost of cruising for the next year or so along the Great Loop.

DO IT NOW Belmont Bay
Here’s my boat, Do It Now, anchored in Belmont Bay, not far from the Potomac River.

What do I have in mind? Well, I’m thinking of the following options:

  • Garmin Chartplotter and Autopilot classes. So many folks don’t understand how they can use the navigation equipment on their boats to reduce their workload and enhance safety. I’d like to show people how to use the features of this equipment while out on the water, actually crusing. I’m thinking a 4-hour course for up to two people at a time would be beneficial. I can do classes on my boat or on the student’s boat, provided the equipment is similar enough to mine.
  • Single-Handing a Small Trawler course. A lot of people seem really surprised when they realize that I’m doing the Great Loop mostly solo. They think it’s hard to single-hand a boat. The reality is that it isn’t hard at all if you know your boat and a handful of tricks to make the hard part — usually docking and anchoring — easier. I’d like to take just one person at a time on a 4 to 7 day cruise to show them what I do, let them try it for themselves, and then pretend I’m not on board while finishing up the trip.
  • Co-Captain course. Created primarily for a boat’s “first mate,” this course will cover everything the second in command needs to know to help the captain or take over for him (or her) in the event of an illness or accident. In today’s world, I expect this class to be of interest mostly to women cruising with their husbands. I’ve met too many couples on the Loop where the wife is in charge of cooking, cleaning, and tossing lines to dock hands and knows little or nothing else about operating the boat. My idea is to provide a ground up foundation of knowledge from boat operations, to trip planning, to handling emergencies. I think the second in command on any boat should be able to handle the boat when the captain needs help but the captain isn’t always the best teacher. I can be that teacher. 4 days on board should be enough to get started.

I’m also thinking about the possibility of offering 3-4 day mini cruises on the ICW to give folks a taste of what cruising is all about. Unfortunately, due to the relatively small size of my boat (and limited sleeping accommodations), it might not make for a comfortable journey folks are willing to pay for. This is something I need to explore more.

This is exactly the kind of thing I like to do: teach people something I know. I have an extensive background in training in classrooms and one-on-one, as well as charter work through my (recently sold) helicopter charter company. This should be easy for me. As usual, the hard part will be attracting potential clients. But I’m working on some ideas for that, too.

And you thought I was “retired”….

Wish me luck!

—

In case you’re wondering, the title of this post calls back to 2004 when I got my Captain’s bars to fly for Papillon at the Grand Canyon. You can read about that here.

Returning to Do It Now

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I finally make the long cross-country trip back to my boat.

I booked my flight back in June, using miles to get the best deal and best seats for the Wenatchee to Seattle to Washington DC (Dulles) trip. I got confirmation that yes, for the third time in a row, my pups would be able to fly together in their large kennel in the belly of the plane. They’re sisters and have never been separated and I’m not about to separate them on what would be a 9-hour ordeal through baggage claim.

It’s All Good — Until It Isn’t

My most excellent neighbors, Sandy and Gary, took me to the airport Friday afternoon. I had two medium carryons, one of which holds my entire jewelry inventory, and a little back pack with my laptop, iPad, cables, and snacks. To be checked was my enormous folding wheelie bag and the dog kennel.

The Alaska Air counter staff weighed in that big wheelie bag and I was thrilled to see it was only 49.8 pounds. (Over 50 pounds and they start charging even more than their already outrageous baggage fees.) That was one worrisome detail removed from the stack of them in my mind. I produced the dog health certificate, which I’d gotten (as required for checked dogs) a few days before. But counter staff didn’t touch it. They had a problem with two dogs going into one kennel.

Alaska Air Doesn’t Care

Alaska Air Chat
Here’s the chat with June confirming that my dogs were reserved on the flight, “one kennel with 2 dogs.”

Long story short, the Alaska Air ground crew didn’t care that I had confirmation on my phone in the form of a text message from their Customer Care folks. They didn’t care that I had done this three times before with departures from Seattle, St. Louis, and Dulles. They didn’t care that I only had one kennel and that the dogs had never been separated and that I had car reservations in Dulles for that night. Or that my house sitter had moved in and and I’d have no where to sleep that night. Frankly, they just didn’t care about how their interpretation of a rule was going to — forgive me — totally fuck up the travel plans I’d carefully made way back in June to avoid the kind of surprises they were throwing at me.

Well, that isn’t fair. Two of the women and one of the men working there did care. But the one that looked like a witch and was apparently in charge of saying NO didn’t give a damn at all. Gotta follow those rules. If they were puppies they could ride together in the kennel. But not adult dogs, no matter how much room they had to move around or how well they knew and behaved with each other.

But if I could get a carryon animal carrier and fit both of them in it, well then I could carry them on board with me.

Amazing that Alaska Air cares more about its idiotic and illogical rules than animal welfare.

Although the folks at the counter originally told me that they’d rebook my flight, the witch gave me a slip of paper and told me to call reservations myself. Did I also mention that she threatened to call the “deputy” if I didn’t leave the airport? Seriously. Alaska Air customer service at small airports is apparently run by small minded, power hungry people.

I called reservations and waited for someone to answer. It took a long time. I managed to get my flight booked. It cost me another 10,000 miles. I was assured that the dogs could ride together in the main cabin with me if they fit together in the same carryon.

But I’d also been assured that I could put them together in a larger kennel in the belly of the plane and that hadn’t gone so well.

The New Dog Tote

Fortunately, my neighbor was still in town. Her husband had driven down in their other car so they let me have the truck and told me they’d pick it up later at my house. They had errands to run.

I did, too. I had to go to Petco to see if they had a carryon that both of my dogs would fit into. The one I had at home and had used with Penny the Tiny Dog would definitely not be big enough for my two girls. I actually had doubts that I’d find one they did fit into.

In the end, I found a decent little Sherpa brand bag with enough floor space for the two of them to lie down side by side. The rules said nothing about the dogs being able to move around in their carryon, although my girls could move around a little. All it said was that they had to completely fit with no body parts or fur sticking out and they couldn’t be in obvious distress. They did and they kinda sorta weren’t. But they were definitely not happy about it.

I stopped at Mission Burger in Wenatchee — highly recommended! — and got the new Thai Style Wings — not so recommended, but good enough. (Pro tip: If a place has “burger” in the name, buy the burger.) I took it home. I texted my house sitter to make sure he was still coming that day. He was. That meant I was sleeping on the sofa in my jewelry studio. (Thank heaven for the garage bathroom!) I went home.

I had a late lunch upstairs in my kitchen, cleaned up after myself, and opened a few windows to air the place out — it still smelled from that morning’s deep cleaning. I got online and printed out the pet policy for Alaska Air so I’d have documentation for what their policy was if they tried to say I couldn’t bring the dogs on board. Then I retired downstairs with my pups for the evening.

I needed a plan C. I booked a rental car for a one-way drive from Wenatchee to Chester, MD where my boat is. The price was remarkably good — cheaper than the plane ticket. But the drive would take four full days. I did not want to go there.

My neighbor texted and told me to keep the truck for the ride to the airport in the morning. I could pick her up along the way and she’d drive it home. At 4:15 AM for my 6 AM flight? I asked. Sure, she told me. I’m usually up by then. Wow.

Second Go

My housesitter moved in with the help of a friend. At about 7:30, he texted to invite me to dinner. I was already under the covers on the sofa so I turned him down. I watched some YouTube videos and drifted off to something resembling sleep.

I never realized how loud the cat door is until that night. I had already suspected that my cats liked to hunt at night. Now I knew they did.

I was up from around midnight to 2 AM. Then a little sleep until 3:30. I woke up, got dressed, did my bathroom thing, and fed my pups. I spent a lot of time taking the contents of one of my carryons and stuffing as much as I could into the other. The dogs were my second carryon. The one I’d be taking now weighed a ton and it did not have wheels.

We all went out together through my new back door. The motion sensor lights in front of my garage doors lit up one after the other as we walked past. My girls did their number 1s, but I didn’t have time to coax them to do more. It was already past 4:15. My neighbor’s lights were on. I loaded up and headed up to their house.

Sandy climbed into the passenger seat. I drove us to the airport, nearly giving us whiplash along the way with the brakes that seemed very touchy in the cold morning air. At the airport I walked the girls again, trying to get a number 2 out of each of them. Lily performed, Rosie did not. Rosie is the dog that has to sniff an area for 10 minutes to decide whether it’s worthy of receiving her poo. There was no time for that.

When I got back to the truck, I discovered that Sandy, who had taken my luggage out of the back, was wearing her slippers. She recommended that I put the dogs in the bag before going inside and I was with her on that. I backed the two dogs in. Lily immediately started scratching on the front screen, but I calmed her down. If she appeared to be “in distress” inside, we were sunk and I really didn’t want to drive 2650 miles in a rental car.

Inside, I had to sit on the floor next to the carryon to keep Lily calm while we waited on line. The witch was at the counter but disappeared, perhaps when she saw me. We both knew that the previous day’s fiasco was her fault; she could have just taken the dogs in their big kennel. No one would have gotten into trouble. But things were different now. I’d be making a complaint to DOT about Alaska Air’s policy shift and what it had cost me.

Instead, I stepped up to the counter where one of the helpful women was working. She weighed my bag and, for some reason, it was a pound lighter — I hadn’t changed a thing inside it. Then she confirmed that I had two dogs in the bag, told me they’d probably be better off on the plane with me, and took my credit card for the $100 dog carryon fee. This was a $50 savings over putting them in the belly of the plane. The savings got better since she apparently forgot to take my money for the checked bag.

Pups In A Bag
That’s Lily on the left and Rosie on the right. It sure is tight in there.

We walked to security and the girls had to come out of the bag so I could carry them through the x-ray machine. They examined the contents of my other carryon, which was a mess of jewelry and electronics. I was briefly worried that they’d confiscate the silver and copper sheet I’d textured and added to the bag the night before — it did have some sharp edges, after all — but they didn’t seem interested. I put the girls back into the bag and went into the waiting room to wait. I put them on the seat next to mine; Lily seemed calmer when she could see me.

Wenatchee to Seattle

About people traveling with dogs

Okay, so here’s a tip when you see people traveling with dogs: Leave them alone.

First, they’re probably stressed to the max. Traveling with a pet is crazy stressful. So much could go wrong.

Second, they don’t want to travel with their dog but they have to. Their dog has to be where they’re going and that’s why their dog is with them at the airport.

Third, they’ve got all kinds of worries on their mind. Is the dog handling its confinement okay? Has it done its business or will it stop and squat in the middle of the terminal? Do they have what they need to clean up such a mess? Is their other bag crazy heavy? And is the dog going to stop in its tracks and refuse to move (again) because it’s terrified of the big, clunking wheelie bags zipping by?

Chances are, these people just want to be sitting somewhere, preferably on the plane nearly to the destination. (Or, better yet, at the destination with a nice cold/strong drink in front of them.) They don’t want to stop so your kids can pet the dog. They don’t want to answer questions about the breed and how old the dog is. And they definitely don’t give a shit about your rescue animal or your husband’s cousin’s dog that looks just like yours.

Traveling with my dogs is one of the most difficult, stressful things I do. (Alaska Air sure knows how to make it more stressful.) I have to assume it’s similar or maybe even worse for others.

So when you see someone at the airport with a dog, just hold your tongue and give them space. I’m sure they’ll appreciate it. I know I do.

Wenatchee’s airline service is limited: just two flights a day now and both go to Seattle. We have a little jet; we used to have turboprops. But we also used to have four flights a day in the summertime. (Remember, Alaska Air doesn’t care.)

When we boarded, the flight attendant at the door greeted us warmly and peeked into the bag, making cooing noises. She was clearly expecting us.

Of course there was a woman in my seat when I got to 12D. She offered me her seat in 7D and if I hadn’t already put away my crazy heavy bag over row 10, I would have backtracked and taken it. But she moved and I slid in, sliding the carryon with my pups inside it under the seat in front of me. It fit nicely.

Dog Carryon
Lily and Rosie in their carryon bag under the seat in front of me.

The flight crew did its flight crew stuff. I noted the emergency exits. We taxied down to the end of the runway and took off toward what looked to me like a full moon.

The flight was uneventful, as every good flight is. We climbed to about 12,000 feet to cross the mountains and descended. The airplane made a sweeping turn to the north, giving me a good look at Mount Rainier poking up above a blanket of clouds. Then we descended through the clouds with the woman behind me fretting about how much she hated flying and groaning when the plane hit the runway harder than usual, bounced, and landed again. We were on the ground by 6:40 AM. Sure beats the 4-hour drive.

Mt Ranier at Dawn
When we turned to the north, I got a nice view of Mt. Rainier behind us.

My girls didn’t stir until the airplane started to taxi in and the passengers started getting restless. That’s when Lily started whining. This is a pretty new thing for her — maybe about a year now? She does it in the boat when I’m trying to dock. It’s very annoying.

I got us and my super heavy bag off the plane. At the door, that same flight attendant told me how much better it was that my dogs could fly with me instead of in the cargo area. She’s been briefed on the troublemaker after all.

I had to take a ramp down to the tarmac and then follow a pathway with more ramps up to the terminal. It was a long walk and mostly outside. I put my pups down, zipped open their bag carefully, got them both on short leashes, and started the walk into the terminal.

They were excited to be out of the bag, walking as far ahead of me through the terminal as fast as their little legs could carry them and the short leashes allowed. We’d landed at Gate C10 and I knew there was a “Pet Relief Area” on the far side of Terminal C, so that’s where I headed.

We walked right by the man with the two Bengal kittens on a bench and stopped near a fake fire hydrant and a stinky patch of astro turf. My girls looked at me as if to say, “You expect us to go there? No freaking way.” Rosie looked absolutely forlorn. They thought I was taking them outside or maybe even home. Nope. We were in travel mode and the quicker they caught on, the better off we’d all be.

Without any success on my mission — to get a number 2 out of Rosie — we walked back to the food court. I dumped my crazy heavy bag and their dog carryon at a table near the coffee and bakery booth and got on line. A latte and an apple fritter. I took it back to the table. While I ate, I moved heavy stuff out of one carryon into the dog carryon, lightening it up for the walk to Gate D5.

Seattle to Dulles

I took them to the pet relief area again with no success. The man with the kittens was gone. I’d seen him in the food court wearing the kitten carryon on his chest.

We went to gate D5 to wait another hour for our flight. The girls jumped right up onto the seat next to mine and went to sleep. Or at least Rosie did. Lily is not likely to sleep in strange surroundings.

Dogs in Waiting Room Sleeping Rosie
The girls got comfortable on the chair next to mine. Rosie fell fast asleep.

They eventually started to board us. Of course, I had to offload everything I’d put into the dog carryon bag so I could get the dogs back in there. They seemed to accept the inevitability of the situation. I zipped them in and put the shoulder strap for their bag over my shoulder. One of them started shaking — probably Lily.

I was in boarding group E and I boarded with group C. I was prepared to tell them that I needed more time to seat myself, which was no lie at all. The middle seat person was there already and had to get up so I could get in. I wasted no time settling in. The girls were already relaxed in their bag. I was amazed at how well they’d taken to it — not that an 8-pound dog has much of a choice.

Another flight crew did its flight crew stuff. The plane taxied down to the south end of the runway. By this time — 9:55 AM — it was full daylight on a very cloudy day. We took off into the sky.

Once we’d climbed above the clouds, I enjoyed the breathtaking views of Mt. St. Helens, Mount Rainier, Mt. Adams, and Mt. Hood. Until the woman text to me asked me to lower my blinds because it was so bright and she’d had eye surgery. (Why couldn’t she get a window seat and control her own blinds?)

Mountains from Plane
From left to right: Mt. Adams, Mt. Hood (barely visible in the distance), Mt Rainier, and Mt. St Helens.

Progress
You can use the free limited Internet to track your plane’s position in flight.

The flight was long and boring. I’d forgotten to bring a pair of ear buds so I couldn’t watch a movie — which normally makes these flights go so much faster. I did write this whole blog post — up to here, at least. And I got a chance to stew about Alaska Air’s policies and how I felt kind of screwed over by this episode. Did I mention that I had pre-purchased lunch on the flight I couldn’t get on, thus throwing away another $10 on this fiasco? I had to buy a deli snack pack for this flight, which was high on carbs and salt and low on nutrition. A bloody Mary gave me the veggie serving I needed. And, between glimpses out the window that forced the woman in the seat beside me to shield her eyes, I napped.

We’re about an hour out now — I can follow our progress on the Alaska Air home page that appears with free limited internet. I can only text people with iPhones (via iMessage) and I’ve already bothered enough of them.

An hour left. If only I could stretch my legs out…

On Whiners

Well, I decided I wanted to spent the last half hour of the flight lookig out the window so I opened the shade. The woman next to me immediately started whining about how inconsiderate I was and how it was a medical problem and how I should just close the blinds. So I told her I’d been considerate the entire flight and I paid for a window seat and I wanted to look out the window and if it hurt her eyes, she should just close them. She she got up, bothering the woman on the aisle to do so, to ask the flight attendant if she could change seats. I tried to explain myself to the woman on the aisle but she didn’t care either way and didn’t want to hear it. But the woman behind me said I should have left my blind up for the whole flight because I’d paid for that seat and if I wanted to spend the flight looking out the window I should.

Well, the whiner came back to fetch her things and got a middle seat on the other side of the plane two rows closer to the front. I opened both of my window blinds — did I mention I had two of them? — and spent the remainder of the flight sucking the view through my eyes.

Later, in the terminal, as I was letting my pups out of their carryon, the whiner came up to me to tell me how inconsiderate I was. I told her she was an idiot and if she had eye problems she should have had dark glasses or a night shade and that because she was an idiot I didn’t want to talk to her about it. So she told me the flight attendant had my seat number — I guess we’re back in high school? I’m left thinking that I was seated next to a childish moron for the flight and that if I’d opened the shade earlier I could have gotten rid of her earlier. Lesson learned.

Finishing Up this Tale

I’m not on the plane anymore. Now I’m on my boat in Chester, MD after a long day of cleaning topped off with a martini — with ice I had to bum from a boat that just came in — on the command bridge for sunset. So I’ll make this short.

We found our way to the outdoors where neither of my pups would do their business on pavement — no grass around — but I did manage to find a free luggage cart so I didn’t have to carry that crazy heavy bag anymore. We went to baggage claim and waited. The moron with the surgery eyes was nowhere to be seen, but I was ready to tell her what an idiot she was again if she did show up again. My giant 49.8 pound bag was one of the last off. I put it on the cart and went outside in search of the rental car van.

Of course, the van driver made me put my pups back into their carryon.

I waited about 15 minutes to get my car. Enterprise had two guys at the desk and each time they finished checking someone in, they’d escort them outside to their car. At one point, no one was at the desk. It was idiotic to handle rental cars like this at an airport.

They gave me a boxy little Kia. It’s cute and easy to park. I loaded everything on board, including my pups, and went in search of grass. I found some at the Atlantic Aviation building. Atlantic is an airport FBO — I used to park my helicopter at the one in Deer Valley north of Phoenix. They had lots of grass. I let the girls out and they did some number 1s for me. They we piled back into the little car, I set my phone up with the stereo, and told Google Maps to direct me to the marina where my boat was waiting. It told me the ride would be about an hour and a half.

At the Boat

It was longer because I hit traffic. We got to Chester around 8:30 PM. I stopped at the supermarket to get some food, but mostly milk for my morning coffee. And coffee in case I didn’t have any on the boat. I have priorities.

Then we went to the boat. I found it parked alongside the dock where they stage boats for the TravelLift. That’s the machine that pulls boats out of the water. My boat was probably the last one it had hauled.

Things at the boat didn’t go as smoothly as I thought they might. First of all, I quickly realized that I had no DC power. Most of the boat’s lights are DC and none would go on. The refrigerator is also DC so if I didn’t get the DC power working, my milk (and yogurt and salad, etc.) would go bad. I used the flashlight on the phone to look for a circuit breaker to check. My brain, after 14 straight hours of sometimes very stressful travel, had switched off. I texted a friend in Washington with the same boat. He called. I was just thinking about the thing he told me to check first when I answered. Of course, it was that: the master switch for the House and Engine battery banks had been turned off, probably by the crew who had installed my new Garmin stuff.

I chatted with my friend for a while as I fed my pups. By this time, it was well after 9 PM — of 6 PM Pacific Time. As I hung up, I looked around the now lighted boat. The place was an absolute mess. Had I left it that way? I remembered stowing a lot of stuff inside that had been outside but found it hard to believe I’d left it so bad.

I didn’t care. All I cared about was getting the bed made so I could go to sleep. I took my pups for a walk — finally getting the numbers I wanted out of them — and we all went back to the boat. They settled into their bed on my bed. I settled down with a cup of water and my iPad. I was asleep before 11 PM local time.

And I slept great.

My History with a 1995 Sea Ray SeaRayder F-16

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In my possession for 12 years before last week’s sale, it played a part in the theater of my crazy divorce.

Jet Boat For Sale
Here’s my little jet boat parked in front of Bob’s house on the corner. He also sold my Yamaha motorcycle for me. Now if only I can get him to take my truck camper…

Last week, I sold my little jet boat.

Or my friend Bob did. He lives on a main road and had a caller within 30 minutes of putting the For Sale sign on the boat where it was parked on the corner at his house. The next day, after a launch and engine run, he had cash in hand and the new owner was driving away.

About the Boat

The boat was 28 years old when I sold it. That is not a typo.

First Look
My friend Pete and the boat’s previous owner open the engine lid for a look inside. It was immaculate.

I bought it in late summer 2011 from the original owner, a couple who lived at Crescent Bar in Quincy, WA. I’m pretty sure my future wasband told me not to buy it — he didn’t like me buying anything anymore, even though I always bought with money I’d earned and not our joint funds.

It was a fun little boat. At the age of 16 years old — when I bought it — it was in amazing condition, having been stored indoors for most of its life. The one season the original owners had left it in the water on a mooring ball at Crescent Bar, the upholstery had taken a beating and they’d replaced it. It looked great. It started right up. It was easy to tow, easy to launch by myself, easy to drive, and easy to get back on the trailer by myself.

Because it was a jet boat, it seemed to steer from somewhere about 1/3 down the boat — instead of from the back. It was a weird sensation, especially at high speed. Virtually no body roll. It would just seemingly slide into a turn.

It had a 120 horsepower jet boat engine which, considering the boat’s diminutive size — it was only about 17 feet long — seems like a lot. But it didn’t have enough power to pull a skier — I was told that by the owner when I bought it. That was fine with me. All I wanted was a way to get out on the water and have some fun. The price of admission — just $1,500 — made it a no-brainer to buy.

Winter 2011/2012

Helicopter and Motorcycle
I had one of my two motorcycles shipped up to Washington because I was spending every summer there and wanted something to get around on other than my wasband’s truck. Here it is with my old helicopter parked at my friend Pete’s winery/orchard. Both of these are gone now; more life subchapters closed.

I couldn’t bring it home with me to where I was still living in Arizona because I had to drag home the fifth wheel I spent my summer working months in. Instead, I made arrangements to have it and my old Yamaha Seca II motorcycle, which I’d had shipped to Washington earlier that year, stored indoors for the winter.

I went home and had a miserable winter with my future wasband, trying to keep our marriage together by living with him during the week in his Phoenix condo and coming home with him on weekends. If anything, living in the cave-like condo he’d bought (for reasons I still don’t understand) made matters worse.

In the spring of 2012, I went back to Washington for my fifth consecutive season of cherry drying. I was growing my business there and had hired another pilot to help me during the busiest part of the season. I was also working on a Mac OS book revision — I was still writing computer books back then — and picking up flying work by taking people to wineries with the helicopter. It was summer 2012 and my flying business was really looking up.

When I wasn’t writing or flying and there wasn’t rain in the forecast, I was able to take my little jet boat out on the river from Crescent Bar and ride my motorcycle. My summer job was looking more and more like a paid summer vacation every year.

Parked Boat
Here’s the boat parked at the Colokum Ridge Golf Course campground, where I started each summer. You can see my old Montana fifth wheel and my wasband’s white Chevy truck in the background.

The Divorce Bullshit Begins

The idiot I was was dumb enough to marry called on my birthday to tell me he wanted a divorce. (Can you believe that shit?) A lot of weird stuff followed and if you look hard enough in this blog under early posts tagged divorce you should find plenty of that.

Meanwhile, I was stuck in Washington for work and I wasn’t sulking around. I was doing what I always did when I was there: hanging out with friends, flying for work and pleasure, writing, and doing fun things like day trips with the boat or my motorcycle or my wasband’s truck, which is what’d used to take that big fifth wheel up to Washington again.

When he didn’t actually file for divorce and swore that there was no other woman, a friend of mine told me that he wasn’t serious about the divorce and was probably just blowing steam. I emailed him to tell him I’d be home in September with the boat so we could use it on Lake Pleasant. But then I found out about the old woman he was already shacking up with and my plans changed.

At the end of cherry season, I stored the boat and the fifth wheel and went home. More weirdness followed. Then the nitty gritty of divorce bullshit. He dragged that out for months, certain for some reason that I was in a hurry to get back to Washington and would give him anything he wanted to finish things up quickly.

For a man who’d lived with me for 29 years, he certainly didn’t know me very well. I had no reason to go back to Washington before cherry season and I only had one home. So other than taking a few trips to visit friends and family members, I just stayed home and packed. I’d already decided that when the divorce dust settled, I’d buy 10 acres of land in Malaga that some friends were selling and build a new home on it.

The boat never crossed my mind, although, in hindsight, it would have been a lot of fun on Lake Pleasant and the Salt River lakes while I waited for him to get a clue.

The Boat as a Divorce Pawn

The boat was included in my list of personal property. Because I had purchased it while we were married, it was technically part of our community property, despite the fact that only my name was on the title. I don’t remember if I listed it for its purchase price of $1500 or something a little lower, perhaps $1200. I was honest about the value — which is more than I can say for the way he tried to undervalue his Mercedes by neglecting to mention its AMG upgrade. Although we tried mediation to split the personal property and other things before our court date in May 2013, the old woman he’d replaced me with — who was apparently managing the divorce for him — told him not to agree to anything. So that’s how the boat wound up in court.

Skinny Me
I lost 45 pounds while I was away in Washington during the summer of 2012. I’m surprissed my future wasband didn’t have a heart attack when he first saw me on my return. I looked and felt like the new woman I was about to become.

And this is where the farce began. I think it was our second day in court. Before things got started, his lawyer told my lawyer that my future wasband wanted the boat and was willing to pay half its value. He offered me $1000 for my share.

Now this was, in no way I knew of, half the boat’s value. The boat, in my mind, wasn’t worth a penny more than I’d paid nearly two years before: $1500. For some reason, he was claiming it was worth $2000.

But I knew what was really going on. They — my future wasband and his “advisor” (or mommy; call her what you will) — thought the boat was worth a lot more. Remember, he’d never actually seen more than photos. They figured that if they lowballed me and I refused, they’d somehow be able to prove it was worth more than I said. (For what purpose at this very late stage in the game, who knows?)

But I knew what the boat was worth: $1500 max. So he was offering me $250 more than half the value.

I’m not a complete idiot. I took the offer.

While all this was going on, my future wasband was squirming in his seat. It was pretty clear to me — after all, I’d lived with him for 29 years, too, and I’d been actually paying attention — that he didn’t want the damn boat. This was a ploy his mommy and lawyer had agreed to play in court as the judge was settling into his seat for the day and I don’t think he was happy about it. When I mentioned that the boat was in Washington and I would not be storing it for him, he started to see the reality of the situation: having to not only pay for a boat he didn’t want, but drive 1200 miles to Quincy, WA to retrieve it and another 1200 miles to bring it home. I relished the thought of him doing that for an 18-year-old boat he’d overpaid for.

So he told his lawyer he didn’t want it and it went back into the property pool.

Oddly enough, when the judge made his decision, he let me keep everything I’d bought over the years, even if I’d bought it since we were married. That included the fifth wheel, a hangar in Page, AZ (which was actually an exchange for like property purchased before we married), and the boat.

So I got to keep the boat and didn’t have to pay him a dime for it.

The Boat in My New Life

Janet Fishing
My friend Janet spent a week with me in late summer 2013. We took the boat out and she did some fishing. A typical trip would be to drive at full throttle up to the nearest dam, kill the engine, and drift back downriver, listening to music, snacking, and talking with whoever had come along for the ride.

When I moved up to Washington “full-time” to reboot my life closer to work, the boat became part of that life. My garage was big enough to store it and although I didn’t use it as much as I wanted to, it was great to be able to just hook it up to my Jeep and drag it down to the Columbia River on a hot summer day with friends. I even dragged it to Arizona behind my truck camper years later, long after that fifth wheel had been sold so I could go boating on the Colorado River, Lake Havasu, and Lake Pleasant.

Boat Dogs
Although I didn’t use the boat as much as I liked when I took it back to Arizona, it was good for a few outings on the Colorado River, Lake Pleasant, and Lake Havasu. Here’s my old dog Penny with Janet’s dog Dually on the bow when we headed out to the Colorado River late one afternoon.

But time marches on. I wanted to do more serious boating. Cruising in something I can live aboard while covering long distances. Like maybe the 6,000 mile Great Loop. After a series of unexpected positive events, I wound up buying the 2019 Ranger Tug R29 CB I named Do It Now. I’ve spent a total of 179 days on board since September 5, 2022 and I’ll be going back for more at the end of this September.

I didn’t need that little jet boat any more. I knew that, despite the fact that I really liked it and how easy it was to just go out on the river for a day of fun. It was taking up space in the garage, space I’d hoped to store other stuff in. Like maybe a trailer for that bigger boat.

Selling the Boat

So after a lot of soul searching, I put it up for sale last week.

I suspected, at this point, that it was worth more than I’d paid. Everything these days is worth more. (My truck camper is worth at least $7K more than I’d paid for it 6 years ago.) So I originally priced it at $2200, hoping to settle on $2,000.

Last Day
Here’s the boat on the last day I owned it. I’d taken it down to the river for one last ride with the neighbors who were interested in buying it. I almost changed my mind — as I almost had on my last motorcycle ride — but stayed firm.

The neighbors who wanted to buy it — well, she did and he didn’t and he won — said it was worth more. So when I dropped it off at Bob’s house where it would get a lot more exposure, I suggested $2500. He thought that was high, but it was worth a try.

It sold in less than 24 hours for the full asking price of $2500. I paid Bob a commission and pocketed $2250.

Did I lie about the boat’s value back in 2013? No. I think inflation and the fact that the 28 year old boat was in mint condition — due to being garaged for its entire life — worked in my favor.

And thus ends another subchapter of my life: my small boating days.