Reunited with my press at last! Since I wasn’t able to locate suitable studio space in Annapolis fast enough, I set up shop in my parents’ garage. I found a little space amidst the cobwebs, strung a line across the garage door, and clamped my press to some scrap wood upheld between two saw horses. It works well enough in a pinch. In addition to working on new t-shirt designs and graphic design projects, I also managed to print the first two colors for a new run of Love Birds prints.

The past two weeks away from the boat have done wonders for my productivity. It’s been great having direct access to a scanner, printer, utility sink, reliable internet, and a larger space where I don’t have to worry too much about making a mess. But it was especially nice to have some company (my furry friend) around the “shop,” since I’ve been missing Brian terribly.

I’m going to be completely honest here. Last week, I nearly went completely stir crazy working on new t-shirt designs on the boat. It most certainly is possible to work there, but it is also most certainly not a productive environment. Brian continues to point out to me that, if I want to make art, then I will make art no matter where I am. True. And I did get some work done despite it all, but just ask him, I clearly came down with cabin fever in the process.

What can I say? I live on a sailboat. My office/studio space is the saloon of a ‘37 boat that is filled to the brim with live-aboard stuff, and my face is about three feet away from the kitchen (dirty dishes and all); believe me I am trying, but I am not always as productive as I’d like. Sometimes it gets downright lonely and claustrophobic during the week. Brian is at work all day (also working overtime), and I am trying not to spend a dime (since I have little-to-no income at the moment), so I don’t go out much. It’s not that I don’t like the boat life anymore, because I do, but is quite different living on the boat while it’s stationary than when we are traveling on it. Sure, I did it in Charleston, but back then I had a bit of studio space where I could work on my art and get away from the boat for a little while.

So yesterday I decided to reclaim my sanity by taking a bus-metro-train-car trip to Yorktown to visit my parents and work on new t-shirt designs at the house. My goal is to get my Etsy shop up and running in the next few weeks, so I need access to my screen-printing equipment and some room to think and create. I’ve only been putting this off for a year (almost to the day); I registered my Etsy shop last year, but sadly never listed anything. So here I am in Yorktown for the week, increasing my productivity and happily working on my art again.

I took a few pictures last week of my work setup on Illusion. There were several rainy days, which actually did wonders for my creativity/mood….who knew?

Our two combined water tanks (approx. 65 gallons) provide Illusion with anywhere from four-six weeks of water depending on how often we cook and need to wash dishes. The faucet on our sink (as on most boats) only runs as long as you twist the knob, which can make washing dishes more difficult, but greatly cuts down on water usage. Also, the water pump comes on only after the water subsides to a tiny trickle. Thus when we fill a pot to boil water, we are more likely to use less water than wait on the water to fill. In addition, Illusion has three 6-gallon jerricans that we keep up on deck. We keep them filled but generally only use them for showering, which is kept to a minimum – truth be told, we have showered in the rain before!

Originally, Illusion had a hot-water heater and a small shower head over the toilet, but neither Brian or I ever used it. Brian removed the hot-water heater to create extra space in one of the outdoor lockers, and after the new floor was installed, showering in the bathroom became more-or-less impossible (because we don’t want water to get trapped underneath the vinyl flooring). Instead, we opted to buy a solar-heated camp shower, which holds up to four gallons of water – enough for four showers. We hoist the big plastic bladder, black on one side and clear on the other, a short ways up the mast with the halyard, so that it hangs above our heads. I usually only fill it halfway before I lay it in the sun, clear side up, for several hours to let it heat up first. True, I have to shower with my bathing suit on, but it can be quite a refreshing experience to shower outdoors.

When we are docked, we use public or marina showers depending on the access, so I would say that I am most wasteful on the boat when I wash dishes. In any case, there is an obvious correlation between the amount of cooking we do in a given month and the duration of our water supply. Our situation differs when we are on the move, of course, as opposed to stationary, and if we are docked, we usually have direct access to fresh water. The rule is: always top up the water supply before leaving the dock. If we are underway and far from land, we will scoop up seawater or drag a netted bucket behind the boat to clean our dirty dishes, soaping and rinsing with freshwater afterward to save our supply for drinking. Water is by far the most precious commodity on board Illusion, and although we haven’t ever been far from land for long, it is of great importance. I find it all too fitting that our main water tank looks exactly like an old metal treasure chest – surely it must have hidden gold doubloons at some point in time!

We don’t wash our laundry on the boat (although there are machines you can buy specifically for boats), and the toilet uses seawater for flushing; call it conservation or conscious water consumption or just plain necessity, but that’s it in a nutshell. Sure, there are plenty of ways to cut down our water usage even more. We can always shower less (although it is healthy from a personal-hygiene standpoint and I do love a good long shower), use less water to cook, stop boiling noodles, and make other subtle changes, etc. Not to mention, there are systems you can rig to catch rainwater and replenish the supply. But being stationary at the moment, I am pretty content with my current freshwater usage. I estimate that, on Illusion, I currently use an average of 1.5 gallons per day (drinking, dish-washing, and cooking water), +1.5 gallons if I shower on the boat with the camp shower. Of course, my personal water-usage amount is higher if I use public showers, or the laundromat, or even if I eat out at a restaurant, but that does not affect Illusion’s water supply and cannot be quantified at this time. Even without an exact estimation, it still puts me far under the average in America according to this site, Water.org.

No doubt, I am certainly using less water than I ever did on land. Think about it; how much do you use in a day?

It seems that the hours of studio time I put in last fall are beginning to pay off now. After just three weeks here, my hand-printed osprey and sea turtle tees are on sale at Vivo Boutique, an eco-friendly boutique supporting local artists and designers in Annapolis. I’ve also met a group of hip young artists at SOTA, Studios of the Arts, including fashion designers, screen printers, photographers, and videographers. What with all of the connections I’ve been making lately, and due to my proximity to DC, Baltimore, and Philadelphia, I strongly feel the need to spend more time working on my t-shirt designs and developing my art portfolio. Although living on a sailboat makes it infinitely harder to work (space issues), it keeps my monthly expenses down to the absolute minimum, which makes this artistic exploration possible.

I have to admit, though, I’ve been struggling over how best to use my time over the course of the next three months while Illusion is in Annapolis. Initially, I felt a great deal of pressure to get a “real” job – one that would offer me steady hourly work, decent pay, and look good on the ole’ resume. After all, we are trying to build up our savings again for our trip south this winter. But we are only in Annapolis for a few months, and that is easier said than done. Because Brian found a steady job immediately and is already working full-time, it takes some of the stress off of me. But I am still wrestling with my own sense of responsibility, both to my art and to my bank account.

My gut feelings tell me, without a doubt, to follow the art opportunities that are presenting themselves to me at this time. If only those feelings weren’t at war with my sense of duty and need for financial stability. Sigh. I need to trust that the time I invest in my art now, will pay off for me later, if I work hard. So guilty feelings aside, I am going to find some cheap studio space and get focused again. I am more than ready to get back to my art.

Perhaps some of you have already heard of Lomography, a company based in Vienna that sells art cameras, such as the Diana Mini or this cool fisheye camera that I bought back in February (as a birthday gift to myself). Well, I’ve been carting around the first roll of film since Illusion left Hilton Head Island and only recently developed it. Unfortunately, the film canister popped open in my purse (several times), overexposing a few of the images, but I still managed to get a few cool shots out of the roll.

This camera has several cool features, which I thought would work well on the boat: the curved lens captures 170 degrees, it is plastic and therefore less fragile than my digital camera, I can double expose images or leave the shutter open for an extended period of time, and I bought it with the underwater-housing case. I envisioned using it to document our journey south, putting together a small look-book about our journey after the completion of our trip – perhaps I will still do so. After all, I am pleased with the results of my first experimental run. What do you think?

“Oh, how neat,” some people exclaim when I tell them I live on a sailboat, “how romantic; how adventurous.” They assume that boat life is all about snorkeling, fair winds, and white-sand beaches. Well, it is, but it isn’t always that way. In fact, I haven’t so much as touched a snorkel since I moved onto the boat, but that’s what I tell people I signed up for. After all, it was Brian’s main point of debate, when we began talking about it several years ago.

More often, people look at me in bewilderment, “You live on that?” Yep. I live in a 10′ x 37′ floating space. It is a hard concept for some to grasp. Sure, it’s tight sometimes, especially when Brian is working on a project with every last one of our belongings pulled out of their places and strewn about in complete disarray. But when we are on the water and our field of vision opens up so that we can see for miles and miles, it’s a complete luxury.

It’s a simpler existence, one that makes me conscious of my water consumption, aware of every piece of trash that exits the boat, how much power I use in a day, and infinitely more aware of the natural world around me. When I initially moved aboard, I had to carefully choose which material possessions to bring along, as we had a finite amount of space. Since then, I have carefully weighed every material purchase decision against what I already had, and my material possessions have shrank considerably. Do I really need that new dress? Probably not. All this is to say, that I’ve been thinking about the ways in which I have begun to live responsibly on the boat and consider things I can do to decrease our impact even further.

Since we became mobile, Brian and I have been trying to reach a target point of self-sustainability and eco-friendly living. I consider this a worthy effort, because the environment is important to me (as you may have deduced from my art), and regardless of any politics surrounding the matter, I want to enjoy and admire it in it’s natural state for a long long time. It’s only right to respect the environment, appreciate what it has to offer, and live consciously. With this in mind, I’ve decided to add a new category to this blog of a sustainable slant. This means that from now on, I will be including posts about the ways in which we are conserving, reducing our impact on the environment, or using renewable resources for energy. Or as my mother recently said, ways in which we are “going native.”

There’s something to be said for Southern hospitality, but I’ve never experienced a friendlier bunch of people than up here on the Chesapeake in good ole’ Maryland. I’ve only been in Annapolis for a week, but everyone is eager to talk to us and help us out whenever they can. It’s a boaters’ community of the highest order. I’ve never seen so many sailboats in one place before. They are packed into marinas along Back and Spa Creek like sardines. It’s downright difficult to find a nice spot to anchor, because there are so many mooring balls and the harbormaster patrols the creeks constantly to enforce safe anchoring. Illusion has anchored, spent a few days on a mooring, anchored again, and then re-anchored, and we will probably move her again.

After a pretty intense squall on Sunday, we aren’t sure that Back Creek is the place to settle down for the next few months. Although it was admittedly a considerable blow (wind gusts clocked in at a whooping 63 mph and power is still out in several nearby counties), it proved that the creek doesn’t have the best holding. In fact, the two large 50-something-foot sailboats anchored next to us dragged straight into the docks behind us. Not to mention that the channel was a zoo of small boats and sailboats seeking safe harbor before, during, and after the storm hit. It blew in so fast that some unfortunately were caught on the bay with their sails up (I’ve never seen a boat with a snapped mast or tattered sails before) – it was a sad night for many. But even aside from the storm, Back Creek is still a busy spot; Eastport is an active sailing community.

Annapolis is surprisingly small and navigable. Brian and I spent the last week biking and walking around without issue. The city has a large waterfront and quaint historic district, which of course I love (a la Charleston). I will post more about the city soon, after I have spent a little more time here and snapped some photos. I also plan to post about the little towns we visited on the Chesapeake during our trip up. I’ve been pretty busy and internet has been spotty over the past few weeks, but I hope to be back on my regular posting schedule soon. Stay tuned!

It was a bit of a shock to go from the quiet rivers of northern North Carolina to a jumble of bascule bridges and a lock system in Virginia. Waiting in narrow waterways for bridges to open while avoiding other, larger sailboats that are also waiting, a large tug boat that is waiting too, and trying not to run aground or into the bridge isn’t what I would call relaxing (and that is apparently a good day!). We snaked our way past a graveyard of dilapidated boats, an industrial maze of cranes, naval ships, and tugs leading container ships. A small craft advisory had been issued for Hampton Roads that day, but we pushed onward, despite the discomfort, to Hampton, where we planned to meet up with my family for my brother’s birthday dinner.

Although I grew up in southeastern Virginia on the York River, I had only been sailing in the area a few times as a child. It was definitely an eye-opening experience to arrive by water, and I began to see the Chesapeake in a new light. Nearly all of the other sailboats that had been traveling alongside us up the coast of North Carolina stopped at the anchorage in Norfolk, but we had a little bit of insider knowledge from family friends, so we sought out the quieter anchorage in Hampton. We were quite happy with this choice, although there were only a few tight spots to drop the hook. The town of Hampton was impressively accomodating; in fact, the dock master even gave us a welcome packet upon our arrival (and we weren’t even renting a slip!). They offer a public dingy dock, $1 showers, and free bicycle rental.

Our first night in Hampton, in the midst of dropping our second anchor, a squall hit. My parents were waiting for us at a nearby restaurant with my brother when a 40-knot gust of wind hit us side-on. The wind shifted quickly, pushing Brian and the dingy into a nearby dock, while Illusion heeled way over under the force of the blow. The wind generator was on and cranking, as I struggled to locate the off switch and turn on the engine in case the anchors drug. We were terribly positioned, side-on to the wind, as Brian climbed back onto Illusion and tried to winch down on the second anchor rode. He managed well enough, and although we still weren’t in an ideal position, both anchors seemed to be holding us tight. Still, a second squall line was headed our way.

Between phone calls with my parents (should they go ahead and eat dinner or not?), we put out fenders, closed hatches, and prepared for a second blow, which never came. We waited instead until the rain subsided and then took the dingy to shore to meet the family for an after-dinner beer and birthday cake; by that time, we had unfortunately missed dinner. Despite our initial concerns, it turned out that we had positioned Illusion in a pretty nice spot, which we enjoyed for the next few days. We even made friends with some young folks on another boat that we recognized from Charleston, trading sailing stories like a couple of old salts (we aren’t) until we pulled up the anchors and made our way to the York River. We sailed most of the way, which was fantastic, reaching Yorktown just before dusk.

We’ve been enjoying the area in between working on the boat (Brian), preparing scholarship applications (me), and visiting with my family. I think I can safely say for the both of us though, that we had the greatest time kayaking to Goodwin Island from Back Creek yesterday. It may have been a hot day (101 degrees), but it was nice and cool on the water.

Illusion covered the coast of South Carolina in just two full days of offshore sailing, and had conditions been a little more favorable, we could have probably made the trip in less time. In contrast, it took us a couple weeks to cover the coastline of North Carolina on the Atlantic Intracoastal Waterway (ICW). Partly due to a short visit with my family and some coastal exploration of small towns along the way and partly due to weather, we made slow progress up the coast of North Carolina.

Compared to our offshore travel, the ICW seemed slow and tense, especially in the southern portion. There were many boats to watch out for, shallow water to avoid, and the most crowded anchorages that I’ve experienced. With that said, there was also much to see along the way and beautiful scenery. We motored nearly the entire way, pulling out the jib whenever possible to gain an extra knot and speed up our pace. I think next time we will try the offshore route around North Carolina, with one stop at Beaufort, NC, to explore Cape Lookout and Shackleford Banks, which we were sorry to have missed on account of poor weather.

We stopped to explore several towns along the way. In Wilmington, we docked for one night at the public docks to recharge our batteries and fill up the jerricans with fuel and water. The town is in the middle of revitalization efforts, but it was a cute riverside location and the docks were located right in the center of everything. We grabbed some pizza, checked out a few art galleries, and just wandered for a while. When we reached Swansboro two days later, we anchored in front of the bridge. My uncle came to pick us up, and we visited with his family at the beach for Memorial Day Weekend. I was excited to hang out with them at their house for a few days, and Brian was happy to get in a few surf sessions. The ICW was a zoo of motor boats over the holiday weekend, so we were happy to avoid the crowded waterway. We did experience some of the madness when we left on Monday, but things had started to slow down by the time we reached Beaufort.

The anchorage in front of Beaufort town (Taylor Creek) was quite crowded our first night, and I was amazed to see so many cruisers in one spot (obviously, I haven’t been cruising for very long). I liked this anchorage because it provided easy access to the town and was right beside the Rachel Carson National Estuarine Sanctuary, which had wild horses on it! It was a popular spot because of its proximity and easy access to the ocean and its proximity to several other cool anchorages (Cape Lookout and Shackleford Banks). Beaufort had many cruiser amenities (even an entire bookstore devoted to cruising books), and I particularly enjoyed the North Carolina Maritime Museum. North Carolina has such an interesting and unique maritime history; I remember visiting Bald Head Island as a kid and being fascinated by the Frying Pan Shoals and the stories of pirates like Black Beard and Stede Bonnet who occasionally took sanctuary on the island.

We left Beaufort for Oriental several days later, hoping to visit the marine consignment store there. The sleepy town reminded me of childhood and carefree days of summer in a bygone decade; it was beautiful, quiet, and quaint – the perfect location for a bed and breakfast. Houses kept manicured lawns with flowers and vegetable gardens galore and sidewalks that made it easily walkable. Apparently the marine consignment shop doesn’t operate on Wednesday and Thursday (we arrived on Thursday), so we missed out as we continued north for Virginia the next day. In the early hours of daylight during our departure from Oriental, we happily wasted (enjoyed) a few hours of time sailing on the Pamlico Sound. It was one of the most relaxing parts of our trip up the ICW – no engine noise, just wind and waves.

The wildlife and stretches of deserted waterway in the northern portion of the state provided a refreshing change of scenery after the crowded waterways of the south. I think my favorite stretch above the Pamlico Sound was the Alligator River, which I kept scanning for alligators and snakes (I never saw any). Although the water was brown, the banks were verdant, lush with vegetation and the occasional cypress tree. Butterflies fluttered around Illusion as we passed through the Pungo River Alligator River Canal, and I saw a fox running through the trees along the shoreline.

We made the mistake of avoiding the Great Dismal Swamp route and Elizabeth City, because of a misperception that it was too shallow for our 5′9 draft (we will definitely take it if we have the option again), but we ended up spending a beautiful night on the North River, which we discovered was a freshwater river. Excitement ensued when we anchored and, shortly thereafter, jumped in the water with our shampoo and soap for a little swim and a scrub. It was the first night since the Cape Fear River that we spent anchored alone (unless you count the hundreds of crab pots that surrounded us and the frogs with their croaking nighttime chorus). We were one with the natural scenery and felt rewarded with an unbelievable sunset. It was a peaceful and beautiful night even despite the disconcerting appearance of two tugs pushing barges up the narrow, serpentine river after dark – an indication perhaps of what was to come.

On our last leg of the North Carolina ICW, we achieved several hours of sailing in the Currituck Sound surrounded by hunting ospreys and nests full of their half-grown offspring; it was a beautiful last stretch of waterway to contrast the hubbub that awaited us in Virginia.

After Illusion’s first storm experience a few weeks ago, I have been paying extra attention to the weather and the various cloud formations in the sky. I am constantly pointing out cumulous cloud formations to Brian (perhaps to the point of annoyance), including the occasional cumulonimbus, whose name I love to say. Part of this fascination with cumulous clouds can be traced back to my younger years and my father’s incredibly long explanations of weather patterns concerning aviation (he works in aeronautic safety). Although perhaps only half paying attention back then, I always remember that cumulous clouds hold moisture and are formed when hot air rises quickly. Cooling as it reaches higher atmospheric levels, the air condenses and begins to drop, full of water vapor. The air warms again in the lower atmosphere and rises to the top again, leaving the moisture at the bottom and creating a circular effect. When the air reaches a certain height (and cold temperature), the moisture will drop out of the cloud as rain. These clouds are fascinating to me because they grow vertically and can reach towering heights. I saw many of these formations over the coastline, when we sailed offshore from South Carolina.

When I first started reading about weather a few weeks ago, I flipped through a book on the boat that Brian had acquired a while back called Weather at Sea by David Houghton. Brian’s version (I am not sure which edition it was) was the British version, which was an earlier version and admittedly left us both wanting, but I did learn a few interesting facts. For example, I was pleased to discover that many of the old sailor sayings about weather are true. One night during our offshore-sailing adventure, Brian noticed a ring around the moon. There is an old saying that goes: “When halo rings the moon or sun, rain’s approaching on the run.” Upon further reading, we discovered that the ring around the moon can be seen when a thin layer of cirrus clouds forms across the sky. Cirrus clouds indicate that a low pressure system is on its way. When the low comes in contact with warmer air, it creates storms and brings colder temperatures. Similarly the saying: “Red sky at night, sailor’s delight, red sky at morning, sailors take warning,” also holds some truth. It is based on an old shepherds’ observations concerning the sun’s angle to the clouds, the direction the light reflects off of them (to the east or to the west), and the visible spectrum of light (red).

I recently ordered two more books on this subject: Mariner’s Weather by William Crawford and the Weather Wizard’s Cloud Book: A Unique Way to Predict the Weather Accurately and Easily by Reading the Clouds by Louis D. Reuben, Sr. et al. The former is a more in depth look at weather, but with a focus on practical information for sailors, and the second book focuses on the study of clouds and what they can tell us about the weather. To ease some of our sailing worries (isn’t there already enough to worry about?), we also acquired a radar that we will install here in Virginia, generously donated to Illusion’s great (mis)adventures by Brian’s family and a close family friend. After consulting the cruiser’s forum and asking other veteran sailors and cruisers their opinion on the matter, we determined that the radar would be more useful to us than satellite weather. I am eager to try it out because I’ve never used one before. We do, in fact, have a barometer (floating around the boat somewhere), which I plan to hang up and put to good use in the future. I hope that a better understanding of the weather will ease some of my fears and help me make more informed decisions in regards to travel plans, routes, and generally what to expect of the weather.

These are some cloud formations that I observed during our trip up the North Carolina ICW.