Tag Archives: boats

My Boat Maintenance Saga

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I try to try a new (to me) boat yard recommended by a friend and wind up right where I was last year.

As some readers might know, I’ve been planning to take most of the month of April off from boating. I’ll be driving with my friend Jason to Texas to see the eclipse (if the weather cooperates; it’s not looking good as I write this) and then on to my home in Washington state. We’re driving mostly because I need to get a bunch of stuff I don’t need off the boat, including my Honda portable generator, which I’ve never used on the boat.

The idea was to bring the boat to a yard where they could haul it out of the water, power wash the bottom, and evaluate it for painting. In general, a boat’s bottom needs to be painted every two or so years; the previous owner did it in April 2022 and it has spent 3/4 of the time since then in the water. I like the boat to be pulled at least once a year to check for damage to the hull, prop, rudder, trim tabs, and anything else under the waterline. I’m not expecting to find any damage, but who knows?

Last Year's Haulout
Here’s a photo of last year’s haul out. I really love to watch them do this. The boat lift is an amazing piece of equipment.

Plan A

Since Jason was going to join me, it made sense to have the work done someplace near where he lives (in Washington DC) so it would be convenient for him to pick me up. So he recommended the yard he uses, which I won’t name here. In early February, I contacted the owner by email and told him about the work I wanted done which included that haul out and a possible upgrade to my solar power setup to bring my panel wattage from the 160 watts that came standard on the boat to 400 watts. I also mentioned regular Volvo maintenance other than an oil change, which I’ve been doing on my own.

My contact there — we’ll call him John — seemed very friendly and assured me they’d get the work done. He asked me for photos of my current solar setup so he could get his electrical guy to work up a proposal. I waited about a month to send them — there really wasn’t any hurry — and I included more specifics about what I wanted.

I got no response.

I waited a whole week and sent them again. Still no response.

Now the clock was ticking. I’d be arriving in a little less than two weeks. I wanted to make sure he’d gotten the photos. So I called his office on Monday morning. He wasn’t in that day. I left a message with the woman who answered the phone. I didn’t get a callback.

I called again on Thursday morning. Now it was about a week until my arrival. He was out for the morning but would be back in the afternoon. I left my name and number.

John called back at a bad time. I was dealing with an unexpected bad weather situation near the mouth of the Elizabeth River on my way to Hampton. The seas were so bad that I’d decided to turn around and was hunting for a place to duck into for the night. I answered the phone but told him I’d have to call back.

I called back around 5 PM when I was settled into a marina in much calmer water. Had he gotten the photos? He said he had. He said his electrician would be in the next day — Friday — and they’d go over them. I told him that I’d planned to arrive the following week, on Tuesday or Wednesday. I told him I needed the boat hauled out before Friday when I had to leave.

And that’s when the trouble began.

“Well, you know it’s our busy season now,” John told me. “Summer’s coming and everyone wants their boat back in the water. And we probably don’t have room to put yours up on the hard now anyway. So we can put you in a covered slip and get you out of the water when we have an opening in the lift schedule and a place to put you. But I can’t guarantee that it’ll be before Friday.”

I told him that I needed to see the bottom after it was cleaned.

“Well, I’ll send you pictures,” he said. “And then we can get it painted and get the other stuff done.”

He seemed to think that I was going to approve a bottom painting without actually seeing the boat bottom with my own eyes.

I should add something here. I don’t know what kind of paint the previous owner used on the boat bottom. There are some very good paints out there that can last up to 5 years. The boat bottom looked great when we pulled it out last April and it looked just as good when they put it back in the water in October. There’s probably a 50% chance that it won’t need to be painted at all. Could I trust this guy to give me an accurate evaluation of the boat bottom instead of just painting it and charging me for that work?

As a friend of mine used to say, “I was born at night, but it wasn’t last night.”

I was walking a fine line here and I knew it. I didn’t want to piss him off by being “a pushy woman from New York.” And at that point, he was my only option. So I said, “I really thought we’d be able to get the boat hauled out while I was there. I got in touch with you about dates back in February so you knew I was coming next week. Jason speaks very highly of your organization.”

And then he said, with a little laugh, what I suspect he thought was funny: “Well, we have a lot of people fooled. Our yard has 200 boats belonging to people who use our services.”

“I can see that you’re very busy then,” I said, not knowing what else to say.

“Why don’t you call me when you know exactly what date you’ll arrive?” he suggested. “I’ll see what we can do. But at this point, I can’t guarantee the boat will be hauled before you leave.”

We ended the conversation there. I put down my phone and started working on Plan B.

Plan B

Map
By the time my plans were set, I’d traveled nearly the entire length of Chesapeake Bay, from the mouth of the Elizabeth River near Hampton and Norfolk, VA to Kent Island near Annapolis, MD. In three days.

I had to go through Deltaville, VA on my way north. My friends Kenny and Rhonda had their boat hauled out at a yard in Deltaville back in October. In fact, I’d been in Deltaville when they were there, staying at a marina nearby. I’d stopped by to visit them. Their enormous Katy Krogan was sitting on blocks in the yard with Kenny bustling around under it to prepare for a bottom painting.

Kenny and Rhonda are full-timers who live on their boat. They spend the winter at a marina they like in Jacksonville — I visited with them there in February — and spend the rest of the year cruising. I met them in autumn 2022 when I started the Loop; they were Looping that year. Last summer, they cruised to Canada and back through the Champlain Canal and down the Atlantic coast and ICW.

They love that boat yard in Deltaville and that’s where they always bring their boat when it needs work. So I texted them and asked them about it. I got the marina name and called on Friday, the day after I spoke to John.

I spoke to a woman named Stephanie who was very helpful but not sure they could meet my time constraints. Maybe on Thursday or Friday, but she wasn’t sure. She’d have to talk to the guy who ran the shop, but he was out at the moment. She’d get back to me.

She didn’t call back that day.

The next day was Saturday. I called in the morning, after 9 AM, and wasn’t surprised that it went to voicemail. Most of these boatyards are closed on weekends. I left a message.

I was in Hampton, VA that day. I had a good weather window the next day, Sunday, to start my trip up Chesapeake Bay. I made reservations at that same Deltaville marina I’d stopped at in October. I arrived midday on Easter Sunday.

I couldn’t do anything, of course. The clock was ticking. By midday Friday, I needed to be in Jason’s truck heading to Texas. That gave me less than 5 days to make arrangements with the yard, get the things I wanted off the boat packed, clean the boat, get it hauled out, get the bottom cleaned, and get a knowledgeable person to look at the bottom paint and condition with me. I was running out of time.

And that’s when I started thinking about Plan C.

Plan C

Plan C was radical. It meant taking my boat all the way up to Kent Island near Annapolis, which is where I’d had it hauled out last April. It was 100 nautical miles from Deltaville. On Chesapeake Bay. Last year, it had taken me three days to get there from Deltaville. Could I do it in just two?

And could they satisfy my time constraints?

At 8 AM on Monday morning, I was on the phone with another Stephanie, this time at Seven Seas Yachting Services. Of course she remembered me. I told her what I had in mind. Could they haul out the boat, wash the bottom, and take a look with me before midday Friday? And, if it needed painting, get that done sometime during April? She looked at her schedule. Yes. I told her I’d get back to her.

I spent an hour thinking about it. I talked to Jason. He said to do whatever I thought worked best. I talked to the guy who ran the marina where I was parked. He seemed to think I should use the local guy.

In the end, it all came down to me.

The easy, lazy way was to make sure the Deltaville yard could handle my time constraints and just stay there. I’d have a few days to prep the boat at a nice marina where I could also do laundry and get miscellaneous chores done. A dog-friendly place where my pups could run around. It was easy. But it was also a much longer drive for Jason and we’d probably have to start our trip to Texas on Friday right from there.

The trip to Kent Island would not be easy. Weather was moving in. It would be iffy for the next two days and then bad on Wednesday. Chesapeake Bay is a large body of water that can get mean. My boat can handle more than I can, which is nice, but I really don’t like long days of cruising with the waves tossing me and my dogs and everything in my cabin around.

But the other benefits of Kent Island were this:

  • I knew the yard and I knew the level of service I could expect. They would treat me like a valued customer. I also really liked their Volvo guy and liked the idea of him doing work on my engine.
  • I was a much shorter drive for Jason (although it was in the opposite direction of Texas). But I knew Jason wanted me to come back to DC with him and it would be possible from Kent Island.
  • I would have a networking opportunity with the folks at Pocket Yacht. I’m hoping to work with them as a licensed boat captain to train new Ranger Tug owners and help them move boats.
  • I would have a networking opportunity, with Jason, to reconnect with Sam, another boat captain I’d met in Belhaven in April 2023. I was hoping Jason could get some boat captain work with him moving larger boats. And I owed Sam and his wife dinner.
  • I would be 2-4 days closer to Baltimore, where I had a potential three day training gig with a new Ranger Tug owner. He was hoping to get training as soon as possible and wasn’t happy about having to wait until I returned to the boat in May.

Another benefit popped up later that day when I realized that the AIS transmit feature of my Garmin Black Box 800 unit was not functioning. I’d had that installed by the Pocket Yacht guys at Kent Island and could probably have them fix it while I was there.

As you might imagine, I decided to go to Kent Island.

Going the Long Distance

I got under way from Deltaville at 9 AM on Monday morning, leaving that nice comfy marina behind. I called Stephanie at Deltaville to tell her I’d made other arrangements right after getting the boat on course. She sounded surprised; maybe she’d forgotten all about me?

I covered about 50 miles before the Bay decided to toss me around a little more than I wanted to be tossed around. The weather also kept me in fog with 1/4 to 1 mile visibility so I had no sight of land for about three hours. Solomons, MD was the only real option for relief, so I ducked in there and spent the night at a marina.

I emailed John to tell him I’d made other arrangements and would not be bringing my boat after all. I told him it was important for me to see the bottom of the boat before I approved any work on it. I also told him that his comment about having lots of people fooled did not instill confidence about his organization in a new customer. He sent me a rather haughty reply that I deleted. I was done with him.

I got under way again at about 7 AM today. I’m not even sure the sun was up. It was totally overcast with enough of a breeze to keep the Bay choppy and the fog off the water for most of the trip. I stopped for fuel and a pump out at Knapps Narrows, which required me to navigate two narrow, shallow channels, get through a drawbridge, and dock with (instead of against) a current. Wind-driven waves made the last 15 miles to Kent Island pretty rough — rough enough that I had to zigzag into the channel to Crab Alley just to keep the 2-foot waves off my beam.

At Kent Island

It was about 11:30 AM when I was safely and securely tied up at the dock.

I went in to talk to Stephanie, who looked genuinely glad to see me. “Did you want to be hauled out today?” she asked, looking uncertain.

“I need a day to prep and pack the boat,” I told her. “Thursday would be my perfect world date.

She looked at her schedule. “Thursday would be perfect for us, too,” she told me. “We’re putting some boats in the water that morning so we can haul you out in the afternoon. And then there would be room to get your boat into the yard.”

It was exactly what I wanted.

After spending the past week stressing over my haul out plans and traveling in sometimes rough conditions, I could finally relax. I was in good hands.

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.