Journey through Kozmik Kaos

Twists and turns - wire jewelry

2011-02-10T10:41:00.000-05:00

In addition to catching up on my reading, I've also been crafting away during these cold winter days. Most recently I was commissioned by my aunt to make some earrings for her to give to my cousin for her birthday. It was a little different, and slightly more nerve-wracking, than my usual leisurely experimentation, but I was fairly pleased with the results and - unless they're just being nice - my aunt and cousin were happy with them too.

For these, I twisted some type of silver artistic wire around a tube to get the shape. Purple is my cousin's favorite color, so I added two purple beads at the bottom.

Here I twisted larger gauge silver-coated copper wire into this sort of treble clef shape, then flattened and texturized them with a hammer.

These were made with artist's coated copper wire and some bead findings.

I'm toying with the idea of opening an Etsy store but before I can seriously consider it I need to perfect this wirework, which is totally new to me, make more items to actually put in a store, and learn to take proper photos of it all. In the meantime, I'll keep doing stuff for the fun of it!

Winter reading

2011-02-02T22:23:00.003-05:00

How does one endure record-breaking winter temperatures when one hates winter? By reading, of course! Brian and I have both kept our noses buried in books as December and January have slowly passed. What have I been reading?

The Curse of the Pharoahs by Elizabeth Peters. The second in the Amelia Peabody series. I adore these books and am kicking myself for taking so long to discover them.

Amazonia and Ice Hunt by James Rollins. These books are good fun for those who like a scientific bent to their adventure.

The Amber Room by Steve Berry. I didn't enjoy this one very much. Brian tells me the author's second book is much better so I will give him another chance.

Morality for Beautiful Girls and Kalahari Typing School for Men by Alexander McCall Smith. These are the 3rd and 4th books in the No. 1 Ladies Detective Agency series. Words cannot express how dear these books are to me. They are like a warm cup of tea on a cold day. A sunny day on the beach. A ride on a classic rollercoaster. I just love them and cherish every charming word of them.

Next on my reading list....

The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo

January is over!

2011-02-01T19:03:00.000-05:00

It may seem like a strange thing to wish away an entire month when you've just turned forty years old and time may start to seem a bit more precious. However, considering the nature of this January, it was time that seemed less precious than, shall we say, torturous. As most of you are aware, we did not leave for Florida at the end of hurricane season as we had intended, which is just as well considering that Vero Beach, our eventual destination, has had lows in the 30's and our boat has no method of heating. Since Brian and I start shivering violently if the temperature dips much below 75 degrees we would have been some very miserable boaters indeed.

So why are we still in North Carolina and what have we been doing? There are two primary reasons for our rather anticlimactic non-departure. First, my grandfather was hospitalized in October and passed away in early December so we have been spending a lot of time with family recently. Then there is the boat.

It turns out there is a great deal more to be done to the boat before we can even go as far as Florida and, frankly, after this winter Florida doesn't seem quite far enough south for us. The ever-growing list of boat tasks is a bit daunting, but here is a sampling, just to give you an idea:

Plan and install a completely new electrical system, including batteries, wiring, solar panels and wind generator.
Get safety equipment such as an EPIRB and a seriously good life jacket and safety tether for me.
Scrape and paint the bottom of the boat.
Purchase an induction cooktop.
Find and fix all leaks (there is at least one bad one in the berth that results in a puddle of water on the floor).
Acquire new LED navigation lights.
Mark the boat for the Coast Guard. Kozmik Kaos is documented with the Coast Guard and we are required to display the documentation number on the interior of the boat. The boat name and hailing port must be displayed on some visible part of the hull and, like all of this, we will be doing this work ourselves.
Determine how we will access the Internet while cruising and, well, purchase the equipment for said access.
I would also add "purchase fans" because now our intent is to be ready to leave sometime in the spring and forget Florida and head straight for the Bahamas. Florida is just too darn cold in the winter!

There is also the matter of the ceiling of the boat. I may have already spent time whining about the carpet that one of the previous owners installed on the ceiling. It was old and partly falling down, not to mention a color that was less than appealing to both of us. So we removed it in October. What do you think is on the ceiling now? That's right. Glue. Very, very, very strong, old, stubborn, nasty glue. This glue has practically become one with the fiberglass. I think they are engaged. We have spent more time worrying over this glue than many of our government officials spend making important political decisions and have had just about as much success. We have Googled it. We have consulted with the wonderful people at our local Home Depot. And the folks at Lowes. We have tried various methods of removal including citrus-based cleaning products, a special kind of Krud Kutter, sunblock and vegetable oil. Believe it or not, guess which has worked the best? SUNBLOCK! Actually, I don't want to be misleading. I think the Krud Kutter and the sunblock have worked equally well. Neither is the magical solution we were wishing for however. You don't smear on the sunblock and then sit back with a cocktail to watch the glue miraculously peel off the ceiling. No, it still requires the scraping of minute bits of glue with your fingernail. Brian has done a respectable job of removing a lot of it in the berth, where it was crumbling down on the area where our mattress will go, but it is a long, tedious process and far from over.

We kind of abandoned Kozmik Kaos to visit family in December. When we returned to Shallotte we had to continually doctor the plumbing in the trailer we are staying in due to the record low temperatures. Not to mention that we both tend to go into hibernation mode when it is so cold. We are really just now getting back into boat mode, which is a good feeling. More normal temperatures have done much to improve our outlook, not to mention that we are spending time in an oceanfront condo with my parental units right now. The water isn't as warm or as blue as we'd hoped to see at this time but it is still our beloved ocean and its blue horizon urges us on with our planning.

Lake Waccamaw, NC

2010-10-31T19:03:00.001-04:00

Lake Waccamaw is situated about 37 miles north of Shallotte. In college, while working toward my degree in marine biology, we took a field trip there for my ecology class, drawn by its unique properties. I've always remembered that as a fun day, stopping in a long leaf pine forest along the way to see spittle bugs and Venus Flytraps, which are only found natively in the this area. Later, as we neared Lake Waccamaw, small gators lazed by the side of the road, unperturbed by our bus as we trundled by. I didn't wear a bathing suit that day, so couldn't go swimming, but I remember wading around near the dock, where we stopped to picnic and gather water samples - to study the unique neutrality of the water - and pestering the small snails littering the sandy bottom. The water was warm, like bathwater, largely due to the shallowness of the entire lake, which is only 11 feet at its deepest. It was a nice day. My favorite kind of day, mucking about in water under a warm sun.

I've always wanted to return to Lake Waccamaw and, nearly twenty years later, I finally did recently with Brian and my aunt Kay. Kay had recently visited the lake with my parental units and became enamored with the idea of a bike ride through its lovely neighborhoods. Brian and I love to bike too and were equally eager to see Lake Waccamaw, so we loaded up our bikes and made the 45 minute trek with a stop along the way to enjoy an old-fashioned general store, complete with Red Rider wagons and washboards and tubs, alongside such modern amenities as Gorilla tape.

I watched for gators as we neared the entrance to the Lake Waccamaw State Park, especially in areas where brown, swampish water ran alongside, but the mostly grassy roadside remained empty. After checking out the visitor's center we wandered down one of the trails and had a picnic lunch near the water, surrounded by signs telling us all about the alligators found in the area. But the alligators were AWOL. Then we took a walk down another part of the trail. Kay, who is taking a plant identification course at Brunswick Community College, stopped to examine plants along the way, peppering us with Latin names. It was like being back in college, except I'm not the one that has to take the test this time. After a while, Kay and I began to get bored, since the promised "sandy beaches" weren't appearing and we were mostly seeing the same stuff over and over again, including swarms of gnat type things that buzzed around our heads, then Brian stopped in front of us, peering intently at a pile of leaves at the base of a tree. Turns out he wasn't staring at the leaves so much as this fella, hiding among the leaves:

He was very pretty and we speculated that it might be a type of rattlesnake but the head wasn't triangular. Its tail was hidden in the leaves so there was no hint there. It mostly sat stock still, clearly as nervous about us as we were about it - well, except for maybe Kay - until Brian got a little too close with a small branch and then, rather than getting aggressive, it slithered away around the tree, vibrating its rattleless tail against the leaves as it went. While Brian and I admired him, photographed him, and speculated about his identification, Kay burned a path back up the trail. After we caught up with her we returned to the visitor's center, where a friendly park ranger showed us some pictures and we identified our fetching little friend as a copperhead.

We decided we were done with the trails for the day and canvassed the nearby neighborhood for a place to park and ride our bikes. The street follows the shoreline of the lake, which is a lovely ocean blue, so we spent a splendid while pedaling, about 10 miles, admiring the scenery. There was water on the other side of the street as well. Green, murky looking water. Water like an alligator might like. We kept our eyes peeled once again for anything leathery and primeval, or big, black eyeballs peeping out of the emerald muck. And, finally, our efforts were rewarded when we spied this fine specimen:

Seems like some Lake Waccamaw citizens don't want alligator-seeking visitors to be disappointed.

After we loaded the bikes back into the truck Brian drove us to the Lake Waccamaw Sailing Club where a pale moon hung over the water and small boats. All in all, a lovely return to Lake Waccamaw. It certainly didn't disappoint me after all this time.

The lovely Lake Waccamaw

My lovely Aunt Kay

The shell seekers

2010-10-15T20:44:00.044-04:00

We've been spending a lot of time collecting shells lately. Brian has an especially good eye and his OCD - I mean, his excellent attention to detail - means he scours every inch of every pile of shells finding the good ones. We've been experimenting with making jewelry from them for the fun of it, a previously obsessive hobby I haven't had the energy to pursue in a long time, and add to our collection every time we go to the beach. It's starting to get a little out of hand but we seem helpless to stop.

It was a beautiful North Carolina coastal day yesterday and, foiled in a task we were trying to finish, we decided to go to Holden Beach, which is only minutes from the trailer. We had lunch at Castaways, which was much more deserted than its typical summer crowds, then went shell hunting. I finally remembered to bring a bag this time, instead of us stuffing them, wet and sandy, into our pockets. I walked proudly with my grocery bag until I glanced up from my "Sanibel stoop" once and realized that we were sharing the beach with apparent professionals. We were constantly surrounded by folks carrying mesh bags and scoops, small rakes and, in the case of one couple, what looked like ski poles. The use of the mesh bags and rakes was fairly self-evident. The ski poles still have me a little perplexed. Maybe they thought the dunes would be larger.

One shell seeker walked up to us, her eyes on the sand as she inquired, "Was that an olive you found?" Perplexed, we asked her to repeat herself, certain we had misheard. She glanced up but continued to scour the beach around us, her mesh bag dangling from one hand. "Did you find an olive?" she said, in an authoritative tone. We were still confused, since we were pretty sure we had never found any kind of olive on a beach. Then she explained that one of the shells we were finding was called an olive shell. Ohhhhhhhh. Brian is especially good at spotting what we learned from this helpful shell seeker is called a Lettered Olive Shell. They practically jump into his hands and some specimens are so pretty they look like something you might pay good money for in one of the souvenir beach shops.

The Lettered Olives are a favorite but I think my absolute favorite are the shells of the Moon Snail because the colors are so gorgeous. Rich browns and soft pinks and yellows swirl into a central point that has earned it the nickname of the "shark's eye" shell, according to our shell seekers.

We've also been collecting copper wire from the scraps left by the electrician working on the construction of my aunt's house next door. Brian recently bought me a tool set at Harbor Freight that we've been playing with too. So we're both spending a lot of time learning to bend copper wire into pretty designs, grinding shell pieces into interesting shapes, and drilling holes into the tough calcium carbonate of the shells.

Today a cold front is moving in, and the temperatures are dipping from our beloved 80's to the 70's, and the plan is to get some more work done on the boat.

Don't let the bedbugs bite

2010-10-13T20:31:00.014-04:00

"It's in the bed! It's in the bed!"

On September 30th I ended 9 years of working at the University of Virginia as a librarian and the next day I ended a decade of living in Charlottesville, VA, when we finally made our move to Shallotte, NC, to begin work on the boat in earnest. Jimmy Buffett says "I'm just glad I don't live in a trailer," but we're quite satisfied living in an old trailer when it's only minutes from the boat and the beach.

We've been here nearly two weeks now and have been greeted by numerous Palmetto Bugs, which is one of the few things I haven't missed about living on the coast. If you haven't had the pleasure of becoming acquainted with these insects just picture a roach about the size of a VW Beetle. At first we just saw them skittering across the floor occasionally when we turned the lights on, but then one night I walked into the bedroom to find one staring defiantly at me from my nightstand. A few nights later I discovered another one on my nightstand - this one floating in my drink. So much for keeping a glass of juice by the bed for a middle of the night thirst. Then, horror of all horrors, a night or two later I pulled back the covers to find one crawling across the bed. "It's in the bed! It's in the bed!" I shrieked at Brian, who was a good man and despatched it with haste. The battle of the bugs continues as we search for a nice, poisonous hotel for them to occupy instead of our bed.

In the meantime, work on the boat has progressed slowly as we have settled into this new life and routine. The weather teased us by being unseasonably cool when we first arrived but we have been treated to sunny days and temperatures in the 80's recently. We finally made it to the beach and yesterday we spent several hours on the boat. Brian repaired the hatch in the main berth, which had two broken hinges and one or two leaks. We removed the old, crumbly foam mattress that we think may have been original to the boat and I started cleaning many years worth of grime from our berth.

The cleaning continues and also the planning for the electrical system and for our new (used) watermaker and autopilot, which Brian got super good deals on through Craigslist and eBay.

Photos to come soon.

Taking a stab at embroidery

2010-06-04T10:34:00.000-04:00

I'm taking up a new craft and, so far, it is a fun fit. I'm trying out embroidery and I started off with a gift for a couple that are good friends of ours, Laura and Rich. Rich has a blog called Cthulhu's Library so I decided to embroider a bib with a Baby Cthulhu for them. I think it turned out pretty good for my first attempt. Just don't look at the back!

I think my craft skills will come in handy on the boat, especially in sail repair. Speaking of which, we will have some "new" sails soon. Brian has found some good deals on Ebay and we should have them in a few days.

In other boat news, we will be on our way back to Shallotte to see the boat and more family this afternoon. I can't wait to hit the road and watch the sky broaden as we leave the enveloping landscape of mountainous Virginia and enter the flatter world of coastal Carolina. I really hope to get in some beach time on this trip!

The domestication of Tina

2010-06-01T21:41:00.002-04:00

I recently appropriated, with much glee, my mother's set of Kitchen Craft stainless steel cookware from 1963 and her 1969 Singer sewing machine. Yet more evidence of my growing domesticity, all things being relative, of course. For a woman whose idea of a home cooked meal has typically consisted of pasta, with my favorite Paul Newman vodka sauce, topped with a healthy mountain of powdered parmesan cheese, my recent adventures with the pressure cooker make me feel practically like Julia Child. This newly discovered affinity for actually preparing meals of a sort has stemmed partially from my growth as a foodie, the need to prepare meals once we're living on the boat, and watching too much Food Network when I still had cable. I can watch someone else make food all day long. The realization that I might want to learn to cook came when I realized that, at the end of the show, Giada wasn't going to come to my house and make that yummy pork tenderloin with port reduction sauce for me.

Though I never had much of a desire to cook it's a little more surprising that it has taken this long for the sewing bug to catch hold of me. I'm a crafter at heart, thanks to the genes of my paternal grandmother, who always had something homemade to give me when I visited, so sewing seems like a natural fit. But I didn't take Home Ec (Cooking and sewing? Puhleeze) in high school and hadn't really given much thought to what I might be able to do with a sewing machine until I met my friend, Kathy, who is a sewing whiz. She has made her own curtains that wouldn't be out of place in a Pottery Barn catalog. If I didn't like her so much I'd have to hate her. Plus having the boat has really stoked a fire in me to learn to sew and she is going to teach me how. I want to make window coverings and new cushions and who knows what else. Ideas are flitting around my head like fast little moths. They're very hard to catch.

But what I really wanted to write about tonight is the delectable, kitschy booklet goodness that came with the stainless steel cookware and the sewing machine. Gosh, I love the 60's. And my mother for being so organized that she still had all of the paperwork to go with these things. Check it out.

"What's new for tomorrow is at SINGER today!"

And on the back we have the "exciting" portable stereo (play your records on the beach!), the portable typewriter, the portable TV (I bet all the cruisers had these in the 60's - looks like it could even double as an anchor), and the portable phonograph (I didn't even realize they still made those in the 60's. Where's the big tuba piece?)

And then there is the cookware. I am so thrilled to finally have cookware that will allow me to prepare a gourmet meal in my evening gown. And thanks mom for your labeling skills that let me know this is a booklet for the cookware and not a guide to being a Vanna White trainee.

This cookware is going to be such a help when I am having a party and preparing for the beau monde (aka the hoity toities) such delicacies as prune whip...

prune custard pie....

And, of course, the always delightful cabbage, pineapple and marshmallow salad.

All kidding aside, all of this begs the question, what were you people trying to do to each other in the 60's? The only reason I can imagine preparing any of these delicacies for a soiree is if I really, really, deeply detested everybody that was going to attend. Or if I wanted to help them maintain regularity.

It also makes me wonder what we will be making fun of 40 years from now. How are those cool iPod commercials going to look to the youth of 2050?

Of family and boats

2010-05-31T10:35:00.001-04:00

I think we all have a vision of what our most perfect day would be. My vision usually involves some combination of my family, a beautiful summer day, the ocean (or some other salty body of water), and some form of watery entertainment. It is frequently snorkeling, often kayaking, and now , of course, it is often sailing.

Last weekend very nearly matched my idea of the perfect day. My grandmother, who originally bought the land in Shallotte, even came down for a four-day weekend. I haven't seen her so happy in ages. I never realized that she just might love it down there as much as I do. She told us how she and my grandfather used to tour the waters of the Shallotte River in a little gator boat and how much she loved it. We weren't able to take her out in our boat but she did get the grand tour of Kozmik and got to enjoy some evening breezes on our last day at Greg and Susan's at the Shallotte River Inlet.

Three generations.

Granny Peg at the helm.

On Saturday we got to do a little sailing on our friend Lola's Freedom 30, Suvarov. The Myrtle Beach Yacht Club, where she has a slip, was hosting a "race" that day. We came in dead last. But it was a beautiful day on the water with some great people so we were fairly unconcerned by that. Although Lola, who was a bit nervous about racing in the beginning, is now thirsting for a winning victory. I think it brought out the competitor in her once she saw it wasn't going to be like the America's Cup. And I finally got to see some of the stuff I've been reading about for so long put into action! Points of sail, luffing, uncontrolled jib, jib sheet, mainsheet, telltales...it all makes a little more sense now. I'm learning bit by bit and even got to steer a little.

At the helm of Suvarov.

A fellow racer.

Happy to be on the water.

Sailing 101.

We also had to move Kozmik Kaos to a new location on this trip and, as luck would have it, Lola found us the perfect spot further up the Shallotte River. It's at a crane and welding place that used to be a boatyard and it's owned by some really nice people. My mother's name is Jean Smith. The owner's name is Gene Smith. When I introduced them he said, "When people see us they always think of cleanliness. They say, 'Hi, Gene!'" He's not only funny but also pretty brilliant and an inventor. He invented a medical apparatus to help people that take care of bedridden patients. You sure do get to meet some cool people when you have a boat. Gene the inventor met us Sunday morning to guide us up the river and we had a really beautiful and peaceful trip upriver to her new home. She is now made fast to a non-floating dock. On one side is the welding place and on the other is the beautiful Shallotte River, a winding ribbon of water and grass that is full of life.

Kozmik Kaos wending her way up the Shallotte River.

My aunt Kay, who has just retired to Shallotte after many years working overseas in various countries, just bought an inflatable kayak. I don't think I've mentioned my kayaking affliction here. I haven't gotten to do nearly as much of it as I'd like but I LOVE to kayak. My favorite two places I've kayaked are Big Pine Key, in the Florida Keys, and the Intracoastal Waterway at Wrightsville Beach, NC. I have been nagging Brian about how much I want a kayak to carry on the boat and we are on the hunt for a nice inflatable for ourselves. We find ourselves drawn to the Hanauma two-person kayak. Those see-through windows would be fantastic in the tropics! I could hardly contain my excitement when Kay told me she had ordered a kayak. After it arrived we took it out to the public launching place near downtown Shallotte. Kay, Brian and I took turns paddling around in it. Brian, who had never been in a kayak before and was a tad nervous, took to it like a pro. Kay then paddled from the launching area down to our new dock where my grandmother waited so nervously you would have thought we were on the Congo.

The next day we all had a little coffee and breakfast on Kozmik and Kay, Brian and I did a little more paddling in the river. I inspected the bottom of the boat, which is threatening to grow into a full-fledged reef. We have to do some scraping pronto or we'll be finding Nemo in places we don't want to see him.

Tina kayaking on the Shallotte River.

A slightly more relaxed version of kayaking.

Hair today, gone tomorrow

2010-05-19T12:52:00.000-04:00

For his recent birthday, Brian decided to shed a few pounds of hair. After 4 years of growth, and an average of 22 inches of hair, he has started all over again. Before I went all Delilah on him I made him pose for some pictures displaying his hair in all its copious 80's hair band glory.

Now he's sporting more of an alternative, Billy Corgan look. I think he pulls it off well but I also happen to like bald guys.

He's donating the bounty of his hair to a very worthy cause, Wigs for Kids, which makes wigs for children that have lost their hair from health conditions, medical treatments and burn accidents. We had a plethora of ponytails to send them when all the snipping was finally done and I can say some lucky kids are going to get some very pretty waves and curls soon.

Hopefully they will split it between several children because it's an awful lot of hair for one person. A small child could be a little overwhelmed by it all and might end up resembling a familiar (to some of us of a certain age) TV character.

Not exactly a confidence-instilling look!

Back to the boat

2010-05-03T12:41:00.001-04:00

We had a quick visit with our boat in Shallotte last weekend. The weather was beautiful on Friday afternoon and I even managed to bake myself in the sunny cockpit in between projects that day. But mostly we worked. And worked. And worked some more.

Brian went through the entire existing electrical system. Most of it was corroded and he stripped those bits out. He verified what he'd already suspected: he'll have to start almost completely from scratch with our electrical system. That's probably why he looks so overjoyed in this picture.

We also decided to go ahead and strip off the horrible carpeting that was serving as the headliner. The glue doesn't look great but I still think I prefer it to the pale blue carpet. Now we just have to decide what we're going to permanently replace the carpeting with. Teak is one option we're considering. (Thanks for the suggestion Jim!)

I also finally got around to making some temporary window coverings. The existing curtains were, well, not exactly attractive and were also falling apart. The little hooks they attached to were old and breaking. So I took some Ikea window panels, made out of natural fibers of some sort, that I was no longer using in the house, cut them to size, and velcroed them to the little railings that the curtains had been attached to. I started out sewing them together and making nice, neat edges. Then Cap'n told me he'd like to have them all done by the end of the weekend and I realized there was no time for perfection. So the edges are a little raw, and the fit isn't exactly perfect in places, but it works as a temporary measure. It was pretty hard work trying to get it all done so fast - and in the company of some horrific, bloodsucking sandflies that took over the boat on Saturday - but I had a great time doing one of my favorite things - creating useful stuff by hand.

I didn't get any photos of the finished product so that will have to wait for our next trip to the boat.

We also removed this old mirror in the head and will replace it with an actual medicine cabinet of some sort.

It wasn't ALL work and no play though. We had a chance to visit with our friend Lola, whom we met on SeaKnots and connected with on our last trip to Shallotte, and also with Jim (Cut) and his wife Debbie who both have a lot of sailing experience. Brian and I and Lola have boats, but little experience. Jim and Debbie have lots of experience but no boat. Funny how life works sometimes ain't it? We had dinner at the lively Inlet View Restaurant and formed the Shallotte Sailing Club. Here is the Board of Directors:

From left to right: Debbie, Lola, Jim (Cut), Brian, Tina (Thanks to Lola for the photo!)

We got a very late start the next day but got to visit with Jim on our boat a little while before heading back to the hills of Virginia Sunday evening. He brought a Sailmonster burgee to fly on Kozmik Kaos and we managed to get a picture with the emblem showing in spite of the, shall we say, gregarious winds that day.

(Thanks go out to Jim for the photo!)

I can't remember if I've told the story here yet but we've been lucky enough to dock our boat at the home of some truly wonderful folks, Greg and Susan, that live on the Shallotte River Inlet. We were hoping to be headed for warmer, more southern parts by now but, alas, we are still in Virginia. Greg understandably wants to be able to use his dock for his own boat now that fishing season is upon them so we will be looking for a new home for Kozmik this month.

Learning to love pressure

2010-04-19T15:15:00.002-04:00

Cooking that is!

In all of my reading I have discovered that many cruisers use a pressure cooker to make easy meals that save on propane and water. I'm not much of a cook, and I've always been afraid of grills and basically anything that combines cooking and gas or anything potentially explosive, so I wasn't exactly in love with the idea of a pressure cooker at first, despite the many reassurances I read about the safety of the new cookers.

Then I mentioned to my mom that it sounded like I needed a pressure cooker and, wouldn't you know it, she had just found one on sale and had bought it but hadn't used it a bit. It was sitting in its box in the basement. Soon I was the proud, but slightly wary, owner of a T-Fal pressure cooker. Now I just had to learn to use the thing. It sat neglected on the kitchen counter for some time while I read and researched but I couldn't quite get up the nerve to try it. Finally, last weekend, Brian the Fearless declared that we should make dinner in the pressure cooker. So I looked up an easy recipe for pork chops and we went to the store to get the accompanying carrots and potatoes in the recipe. That evening we had possibly the best pork chops and carrots I have ever tasted in my life. And the pressure cooker didn't explode or do anything dangerous or heinous! We survived to have a really delicious meal. We could cut the pork chops with a fork. Yes, a fork! And the carrots...mmmm...the carrots were the epitome of carrotness. Sweet and tender. We were officially hooked on the pressure cooker and have since made pinto beans and scallops in it as well, both of which were quick, easy, and to-die-for. If the pressure cooker had fingers we'd both be ready to put a gold band on one of them by now.

While we're talking food and cooking, let me tell you about my new all-time most favorite cookbook, The Cruising K.I.S.S Cookbook II. I got it at the Annapolis Boat Show - signed by the author! It's meant specifically for cruisers but has loads of great information for any new cook. She has recipes, galley equipment recommendations, cooking terms, conversions, provisioning recommendations, useful tips and SO MUCH MORE! It's unbelievable what she crammed into such a compact tome. One of the things I especially love is how she not only provides specific recipes but will also tell you how to cook something basic but then tell you different ways to flavor it or prepare it. I wish I had discovered this book years ago! It even has a section for pressure cooking. We may never cook another way again.

0, 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, 21, 34, 55...

2010-03-24T09:40:00.000-04:00

A colleague of mine shared the video below with us today and I just had to share it as well. As much as math has plagued me my entire life I do appreciate the fact that, really, math is at the core of just about everything in our universe. Take a look at a field or meadow sometime. Perhaps it may seem chaotic, especially to our human eyes that want to seek order and symmetry, but look closer at the flowers, pine cones, and leaves that you may find there and you will find order out of seeming chaos. The development of many things in nature are ruled by what is known as the Fibonacci sequence, a sequence of numbers that manifests itself in a beautiful symmetry all around us. Our earth is a way cool place. You just have to take the time to learn a little about it to truly understand just how amazing it is.

Back to Kozmik Kaos

2010-03-18T16:31:00.000-04:00

I'm baaaack! After going into mental hibernation for the past few months my brain and body are finally starting to wake up after their long winter nap. This winter piled us under a whopping total of 55" for the year. The first 21" in December was kind of cool and pretty. I had never seen that much snow before. By February, when we were getting storm after storm - and dire predictions of 40" - I was past being winter-weary and nearing crazed desperation. Even Kozmik Kaos had a dusting of snow this winter!

The bad weather seems to have finally broken and this past weekend we made a run for Shallotte to see our boat for the first time since November. The weather was very March-y and I had a cold but it was so good to see Kozmik Kaos again that we didn't even care.

We spent some time taking measurements for new sails, a new mattress, and new cushions for the salon. We also gave her a good cleaning. My aunt Kay scrubbed her down with a verve that I'm afraid I'll never live up to. There is a great deal of rubbish and stuff crowding every inch of the boat still. Fred Sanford would feel right at home. I think it must have taken the entirety of her 33 years to accumulate all of the parts, tools, supplies, and general junk we have been trying to clear out. But my "side" of the boat, the galley and main berth side, is finally starting to feel like ours and once I get some window coverings and a new mattress she will feel even more like home I think.

We also made a new friend during this trip. Lola, also a sailing newbie, and I discovered each other on SeaKnots and she only lives about 3 miles from where our boat is currently docked. So we got together to check out each others' boats and have a bit of seafood for lunch.

Family, friends, and boats make for a pretty sweet weekend. The only thing missing was some sweltering hot weather. I'm hopeful we'll have that soon though.

Day four on the ICW - Tina gets a bath!

2009-11-30T15:42:00.000-05:00

By our fourth day we had both hopelessly lost track of the date or day of the week. We had come somewhat untied from time and calendars and I marveled at the feeling of liberation. My work breathed down our necks, however, and the trip took on somewhat more urgency since we had left later than we intended and it was looking like we wouldn't reach our destination until the next day. That would be a total of 4 days to get us from Beaufort, SC, to Shallotte, NC.

The waters of Winyah Bay greeted us that morning as we rounded the bend. By noon we had reached the Waccamaw River, a brown, tannin-infused ribbon of water that had us dodging logs and river detritus as we wound our way closer to the tourist-laden Myrtle Beach. By the time we reached the Waccamaw we had left behind the wretched greenheads and were surrounded on all sides by Cypresses and Cypress Knees.

This seemed like a likely place for alligators and I kept a vigilant eye out for them but never saw any black eyes peering from the surface of the water.

By now we had fallen into a fairly comfortable routine. Brian steered and I planned and took notes. I noted the time whenever we passed a statue mile and alerted him whenever we were nearing a bridge. This day was bridge-free but I did realize that there was no convenient anchorage for us that night. We either have to stop very early or very late, and we knew all too well the folly of waiting too late to anchor. The dream of a night at a marine began to emerge like a beautiful mirage in the desert. I had a list of marinas from the Salty Southeast Cruiser's Net and called a couple of them for rates. We decided on the Osprey Marina, which turned out to be a delightfully serendipitous selection.

After three hot, sweaty days on a floating oven the prospect of a shower was almost more than I could bear. We docked, beautifully so, at the marina around 5pm. It was a pretty marina, but small, tucked back into the sidewaters of the Waccamaw. There were turtles paddling around the boat and Brian found a baby turtle to play with as I hopped excitedly around the boat gathering bathing supplies. He tried to enlist me in his turtle playtime but I was too drawn by the siren song of the showers. I'm not exactly a prissy woman but I do like to be clean. I hadn't been able to so much as wash my hair in days and the best shower of my life called to me. I spent a glorious time in the shower and probably used a ridiculously exorbitant amount of water, but it made me happy.

We emerged from the showers a few hours later, squeaky clean and wearing real clothes, looking and feeling fairly human. Feeling fit to be among landlubbers, and ready for a real meal after days of Chef Boyardee and tuna and crackers, I called up a local restaurant that would pick us up at the marina. We were picked up by Kevin, who happened to be the chef at Scatori's, as he finished up some pizza delivery rounds. It turns out this was a Monday night, which is apparently a slow restaurant night in the area, so Kevin had plenty of time for cabbing transients like us to his own restaurant and back. Keven was a great guy and we had a great time learning all about his experiences living in New Jersey and Myrtle Beach, and about learning from Emeril Lagasse in Orlando. I shared with Kevin a love for food shows, though my love doesn't really extend into the kitchen so much, and we all chattered away on the drive to the restaurant. One side of Scatori's is a low-key pizzeria and the other is a slightly more formal, but by no means stuffy, sit-down dining area. We chose the formal side and were treated to delicious food the likes of which I'm not accustomed to getting in Myrtle Beach. Kevin sent us a martini glass of seafood that was scrumptious. I even liked the mussels. One of the things Kevin will do is create a dish for you on the fly if you just tell him the three main ingredients you'd like. Brian asked for one of these "Kevin specials" with seafood. My entree, chicken gorgonzola, was yummy but Brian's was a concoction of seafood delight. If you ever get the chance to go to Scatori's, whether you're staying at Osprey Marina or not, be sure you do! And also be sure to get one of the Kevin special requests. You won't be sorry. Our server - I'm sorry to say I've forgotten his name - was fantastic and super friendly too. I can't recommend this place enough.

When we got back to the boat that night I was actually thinking of it as home and without any grudgery. There was no dealing with the Beezlebubs and I was able to get a fan going and slept soundly through the night. We slept in the next morning, had a leisurely breakfast at the marina, and got a fairly late start to the day. But it was well worth it. The Osprey Marina was a wonderful facility with such friendly people. Throw Scatori's into the mix and this place was hard to beat.

Day three on the ICW - attack of the greenheads

2009-09-14T13:00:00.002-04:00

Our second night of anchoring on the ICW was considerably smoother than the first night, relatively speaking. We anchored in Toomer's Creek, near what appeared to be a houseboat and, of course, a smattering of crabpots. Since Beezlebub the Larger was the anchor that seemed to finally get us set the night before we toyed with the idea of trying a Bahamian mooring using both the Beezlebubs. Why we thought we could get two anchors set when we couldn't set one the night before is a question for the ages, but still, I was game. Well, game also being a relative term. I won't bore you with all the details, because there are more agreeable things to ponder, but I think this is when my anchor-loathing truly began. On a more pleasant note, we had chosen a beautiful spot on this night. We were ready with our bug defenses, including an awesome screen, and had plenty of daylight for anchoring and prepping. The sun set across the water and marsh grass in a rosy glow as we prepped for the night.

When I went down into the main berth I heard a strange and unnerving crackling sound. At first I had visions of the paint cracking off the boat in great swathes and then some distant part of my brain said snapping shrimp. Brian later heard it (the noise, not my brain) and asked, in an only somewhat alarmed and what-the-heck tone, what was making that noise? "Is something chewing on the boat?" We could hear it from everywhere inside the boat and it was particularly loud when we were at the front inside of either hull. "I think it's snapping shrimp" I told him in a fairly confident tone. We could see no physical evidence of activity outside or of paint peeling away so we dismissed it and went about our preparations for the night.

I was still nervous about the anchoring, and still rose multiple times during the night to check our position, so it was still a fairly sleepless night for me while the Cap'n slumbered loudly next to me in spite of all my efforts to get him to take turns checking the anchor. But we were more relaxed about our departure the next morning, since we were actually off the official ICW and didn't have to worry so much about being mowed down by another vessel, and had time to take in the soft beauty of the morning. Egrets waded in the water around us again and I also spied two small fins swimming near the marsh grass. A baby shark having a little breakfast near one of the crabpots. Being a shark aficionado, I hoped the little guy would stick around but after a moment it disappeared beneath the surface and was gone from view. This was the kind of time that made me fall in love with the water all over again.

I had somewhat mastered the art of making coffee in a percolator on our small Coleman propane stove and managed to engineer a breakfast of coffee and oatmeal as we got underway. By the 3rd day we had come to realize that navigating the ICW was cake. We could even have our Maemomapper going on Stanley, my Nokia, and just follow the pink line. Depth wasn't much of a problem for us since our draft is only about 2'. We were averaging a stately 5 mph and I was able to fairly accurately predict when we would arrive somewhere by tracking the time we passed the statute miles. I had a state-of-the-art tracking device for this called, in some parts of the world, a notebook.

A combination of ease, exhaustion from lack of sleep, and brainmelt from the heat had worn away my nervous anal-retentiveness. I even missed checking the time at a few points. Most of this day was spent figuring out how to spend less time and energy ducking from one hull to the next a hundred times in an hour, trying to keep cool, admiring the scenery, and worrying about anchoring that night.

And then there was our combat with what we now know is the dreaded greenhead horsefly. Somewhere near Georgetown, SC, these ferocious flies began to invade the boat in droves. At only 5 mph, or slower, we couldn't outrun the dastardly beasts. They were immune to our bug spray and judging from how many hounded us I think we may have been the only blood supply for miles around. Every venture into the interior of the boat was accompanied by crazed swatting and frantic flailing, inspired by their nasty bites, in an effort to kill them or, at the very least, get in and out without one landing on you.

Our only anchorage choices as we neared Winyah Bay were either very close or too far away to make during daylight, so we began the anchoring process around 5:30 that afternoon. We found a likely place called Duck Creek. I stood on crabpot watch with the binoculars as we motored into the creek and was dismayed by what I saw. The creek was a veritable minefield of crabpots. Every inch of shallow water was filled with them. As we neared the opposite mouth of this short creek I saw yet more crabpots. Cap'n weaved his way through them as I called out their locations. I stood up by the mast and scanned the horizon of the larger creek ahead and saw ahead....more crabpots. I was stunned. They were literally everywhere. Some Mad Crabber had lost his mind and exploded crabpots across every inch of shallow water.

We were limited by the amount of chain and rode we had on our anchors so we couldn't anchor just anywhere. 15' was our minimum depth. We finally found a spot that seemed shallow enough and had somehow been neglected by the crazed crabpotter. The tide was running fast and hard. I had my usual difficulties with the Beezlebubs. "Has the anchor touched bottom?" Brian called out. I'd try to count out the feet of chain and rope as I lowered the bloody heavy thing into the water. I waited for some obvious sign that it had touched the bottom, but there was nothing obvious about it, and I couldn't realistically count because it was hard enough just holding onto the thing with my reduced musculature. "I don't know! I can't tell!" I called back. He gave me a look. I stared down at the water where the chain disappeared beneath the surface, willing it to give me some sign. When no sign was forthcoming Brian came to the front of the boat and stared at it himself. We wrangled together with the anchors and finally felt it was possibly set. We stared down at the water together. The boat would move, the anchor rope would turn at odd angles to the boat as it moved, not at all in the place we would expect it to be, but we seemed to be staying basically in place. The anchors were now becoming almost living entities to me. And I loathed them.

Since we anchored so early we had a little time to kill now. We cleaned the foredeck, which was covered in marsh mud from the anchors, got our screen up, dispatched the remaining greenheads, and settled in for some dinner and cards. But Kozmik Kaos was anchor sailing, swaying back and forth by about 90 degrees, and she was doing it fast. And a curious rushing sound came to us from the creek bend a few yards away. It sounded almost like waves and it looked like there were even tiny whitecaps. Once the darkness came we settled into the main berth for the night. I slept little, once again paranoid about the anchor and too hot, and Cap'n once again slept like a log. A very unmovable unwakeupable log. Eventually I did sleep some and sometime during the night the fierce tide reversed and the boat became less like a pendulum and more like a solid object on a chain.

Day two on the ICW - we make Charleston!

2009-09-09T16:12:00.002-04:00

The stand-out memory I have of our second day on the Intracoastal Waterway is definitely our trip through Charleston, SC. Our chartbook for this trip was a rather intimidating affair replete with mysterious lines and symbols of varying types. It had both of us novices a little nervous, to tell the truth, but Charleston really had my knickers in a twist. The chart for Charleston looked like it had been drawn by madmen. We had a nice, tidy pink line to follow on the chart in order to stay in the ICW but in Charleston that sweet little pink line disappeared and was replaced with a maze of other lines that intersected in drunken ways and things that seemed to emanate an urgent and dire warning of submerged objects, restricted areas, and large vessels that wouldn't even notice our tiny little boat was there. Charleston wasn't the quiet and peaceful waters we had navigated the day before. Charleston is a major harbor. It has industry. It has commercial traffic.

As it turned out, I was entirely worried about the wrong thing about Charleston.

I managed to stay relatively calm as Charleston loomed nearer. We found ourselves navigating a nasty, narrow little passage just prior to Charleston that was short but gave us some of the most trouble we had on the entire trip. The currents and the powerboat wakes were making steering a challenge for Brian and then one of the rudders began to emit a loud screech. The Captain commenced with angry yelling as I tried to figure out exactly where the dreaded racket was coming from while he continued to fight the currents. We eventually emerged from the narrow passage and I took over steering while Brian dealt with the rudder. We also had our first restricted opening bridge to contend with before we got to Charleston, the Wappoo Creek, Highway 171 Bridge, which the Cap'n handled like an old pro. He really sounded like he knew what he was doing when he hailed them with our VHF. I was proud. The Wappoo Creek Bridge is an old Bascule bridge at at Statute Mile 471.

We made it through the bridge and soon saw another, much larger, bridge in the distance, the Wappoo Creek, Hwy 171 bridge. This bridge heralded the entrance to Charleston Harbor. Past the bridge we could see a few boats, including a couple of sails! Once we passed under the bridge, and entered the harbor, it didn't take long for it to become apparent that what I really should have been worried about were all the yahoos in their motorboats out to get their weekend boat jollies. Everywhere you turned there were powerboats of all sizes zooming full-throttle across the water. "Rules of the Road" were apparently nothing but a myth here. Many of these boaters, either uncaring of or oblivious to the effects of their wakes on us, blasted past on us on both sides. They passed to our starboard. They passed to our port. They passed in front of us. We were in a state of constant rocking. The sun had decided to come out and was scorching our backs. There was a wide expanse of horizon not far in the distance that I was fairly certain was the Big Blue. The chart was confusing and so were our heretofore sensible ICW markers. Unfortunately, I must compliment the Captain on his prowess during all of this. He got us through there without breaking a sweat (metaphorically anyway, physically is another matter entirely) and kept us right on track with the ICW. Soon the specter of Charleston was behind us and we congratulated ourselves on our successful piloting of Charleston Harbor.

Our passage through Charleston wasn't all bad. It was super cool to see Charleston from the water, including the intricately lovely Cooper River Bridge in the distance.

We needed to stop and refuel not far past Charleston so I consulted my list of marinas, also supplied by the wondermous Salty Southeast Cruiser's Net, and we decided to stop at the Isle of Palms Marina. It wasn't terribly easy to find but they offered a great BoatUS discount and had a restaurant for those of you looking for nibbles in this area. This would be our first time docking since we left Beaufort and, given the horror stories I've read about docking, I was possibly more nervous about this than I was about Charleston. But Brian slid up to the fuel dock like he knew exactly what he was doing and the marina folks helped, so all I had to do was throw the lines to them instead of leaping off and making a complete fool of myself. Success!

Once we refueled it was time to start thinking about anchoring for the night. It was 6:35pm already and we had learned from the previous night's experience that we should anchor early to allow plenty of time for the, shall we say, challenging art of anchoring a boat.

First day on the ICW

2009-09-08T12:17:00.004-04:00

Once we arrived in Beaufort we had many tasks to accomplish before we would be ready to embark on our trip up the ICW: finish the paperwork, do an inventory of the boat to see what we had and what we needed, gather supplies and provisions, and get fuel. All of the reading I've done indicates that the majority of cruising actually consists of working on your engine in exotic places, so I shouldn't have been surprised when our departure was delayed by, you guessed it, engine troubles. And, naturally, the trouble turned out to be one small piece of a tank that needed to be replaced. But is that possible? Of course not! No, that would be too easy and inexpensive. What we actually have to do is replace the entire tank. Fortunately for this trip that piece wasn't really necessary. So we decided to make this trip without replacing that bit and Brian turned off the grating buzzing alarm.

We had been further delayed by the scraping of the bottom of the boat. If you aren't a boat owner, or weren't a marine biology major, you've probably never given any thought to the bottom of a boat. If your boat is in the water it very quickly becomes home to a myriad of marine organisms that can produce a huge amount of drag, thereby reducing our already slow speed to a crawl and increasing our fuel consumption. Our boat hadn't been scraped in a few months so that was a job that definitely had to done before we left. The previous owner usually took it out to a sandbar and waited until the tide went out to scrape. Naturally, the low tides that week were going to be in the dark so we decided to take her out to the sandbar mid-tide in the daylight. So we took her out and anchored in about 7' of water. Brian tied one end of a rope to the front of the boat and the other end to the back. The plan was I, being the strongest swimmer, would hang onto the rope and pull myself down its length while going at the bottom of the hulls with a paint scraper.

This sounded like a great idea at the time but multiple forces worked against me: firstly, our lack of a swim ladder. When you're getting on and off the boat in the water it's a lot further down than it looks! I had to get in and out several times and my arms were turning to jelly. We fashioned a foothold with a rope but given my current lack of musculature now it wasn't much help. I was also hindered by the fact that I couldn't get a purchase anywhere. This basically resulted in my hanging onto the rope with one hand, scraping with the other, while my feet flailed around in the air and water like, I was fairly certain, a dying fish. I was cutting my hands and feet on the blasted barnacles which, let me tell you, hurt like the dickens! One of my feet was soon bleeding rather profusely and, I must admit, this didn't help the slight nervousness I already felt about whatever might be swimming underneath me. Frilly, gelatinous things floated into my mouth as I scraped them off. And all of this was further compounded by the fact that there was a fierce current running through there. When I tried to do the inside of the hulls, down the center of the boat, it got really fast and tried to suck me right through. My nerves were shot by then. I finished the front inside of the hulls and then begged Brian to let me up. It was mostly done and that was going to have to be good enough.

After 3 days in Beaufort we were finally ready to go on Friday, August 14th! We rose early the next morning, to catch the outgoing tide, but the sky was a low gray spitting lots of rain. We wouldn't be able to see a thing so we were delayed once again. But the rain cleared up by afternoon and, after a 2 hour shopping trip with Brian in KMart, we were finally able to leave around 3pm.

As we motored away from the dock we were surrounded by dolphins and they continued to be constant companions all the way up to Charleston a couple of days later. I was a mass of nerves and excitement. Binoculars around my neck I dashed from the saloon, where I checked the charts and marked our progress, to the cockpit where I watched for markers, crabpots, and dolphins. Navigating the ICW turned out to be much less scary than I expected. Basically you follow the markers and, unless one is missing, you can pretty much navigate by going from marker to marker. Even the turns we had to make weren't that confusing since we had our chartbook and charts on our Nokia N810. The depths weren't really a problem for us since our catamaran only has a 2 foot draft. However, if I had a monohull I'd be much more nervous about the depths because shallow depths weren't that unusual.

We began the day with gray skies and rain but by afternoon the gray had been washed away by sunshine and we were surrounded by beautiful scenery and wildlife all the way.

Since we had gotten such a late start we didn't get far that day and it was nearly getting dark by the time we decided to anchor. I had a list of anchorages from the Salty Southeast Cruiser's Net (a fantastic resource) and picked one out on a narrow part of the ICW (at Watt's Cut) that showed a small, shallow creek off to the right. And this is where things began to go awry. The creek, shown clear as day on the chart, was nonexistent. It was getting dark. The tide was going out. Crabpots were all around like little bombs waiting to mangle our propellor. And we were running out of time. A combination of factors - lack of anchoring experience, insufficient lighting, physical obstacles, an engine that refused to idle, and changing tides - made our first night anchoring, well, a valuable learning experience would be a positive way to put it. We spent the entire night on anchor watch, being eaten alive by mosquitoes, listening for other vessels (since we finally got anchored nearly smack in the middle of the waterway), and making sure we stayed anchored.

The boat swayed all night long with the currents. When I was on watch I nervously paced the boat with the flashlight, eyeballing the ICW marker, the crabpots, and surrounding marshes to be sure we were actually staying put. At one point, in the wee, wee hours of the morning, I sat huddled under a towel in the cockpit, trying to escape the mosquitoes and the chilling air, watching the horizon slide back and forth and wondering at how I had found myself there. Things splashed in the water around me. I tried to get a glimpse of whatever it was but never could. Brian said he saw them later and they were little fish. Bats flew all around me and I cheered them on, hoping they were devouring some of the billions of mosquitoes that were tormenting us with their buzzing and biting. Then, as I sat pondering the moonlight, the boat suddenly slid much further past the sightline I had been eyeballing. I didn't know what the heck was happening. I called Brian and he came out with me and we watched the boat warily as it settled into a new routine. We had basically swung around by probably 180 degrees for no apparent reason. The anchor was holding though and so we went back to our respective spots to finish out the night.

Brian rose with the sun that morning to work on the engine, which had been a major poophead that night because it refused to run at anything other than full throttle. The Cap'n, being the sometimes genius that he can be, had it working beautifully by the time we left the anchorage that I dubbed a name that shall not be repeated here. After very little sleep we left the anchorage in the pale light of morning, surrounded by lovely seabirds wading in the water having breakfast, as I learned how to percolate coffee on a Coleman propane burner. We motored along, me in a sleepy haze, and I pondered what the second day would bring us. I calculated the day and figured out that we probably would make Charleston that day, which I was rather aflutter with nerves about.

Technorati Tags: cruising intracoastal_waterway

We have a boat, now where do we put it?

2009-09-05T12:25:00.000-04:00

Brian and I have now officially had a boat since early June but it has seemed a little like a dream because we hadn't set foot on it again until mid-August when we moved it from it's long-time home of Beaufort (that's BEWfert, ya'll), SC to Shallotte, NC. The trip from Beaufort to Shallotte, which takes about 3.5 hours by car, took us a leisurely 4 days to make by catamaran and was a trial by fire if ever there was one. There were too many firsts to enumerate here but they included: my first extended period of time on a boat, our first time anchoring a boat, our first time docking a boat, my first time trying to sleep on a boat, my first time living in a 27' oven and bugcatcher, and the first time either of us has seen the Intracoastal Waterway from the water rather than land. Oh! And I can't forget our first time spending a night at a marina, which was nothing short of blissful since it included my first shower in 3 days.

The ICW that I know and love, in North Carolina, is a nice stretch of water that typically runs between the beaches and 'mainland'. It's just a hop over to the ocean. The water is oceany and there is typically a nice ocean breeze. That's North Carolina. In South Carolina, which is where most of our trip was, the designers of the ICW must have been full of hooch when they planned it out because it mostly winds through the buggy, not-so-breezy backwaters of the state, which I've decided should possibly name the mosquito as its state bird. According to ICW history, however, it sounds like this stretch, which was the last part of the ICW to be constructed in its first phase, was even more torturous in the past and it has been improved at various times since its creation in 1913. The ICW actually has an interesting history but I'll leave that for you to discover on your own and will reserve this space for the tales of our trip. I will say that, even though I'm grousing quite a bit about it, there was some lovely and peaceful scenery on this short voyage and the many dolphins and birds and lovely sunsets are what stand out in my mind the most, in spite of the horrifying greenhead that I will tell you about in excruciating detail later.

But I'm getting ahead of myself here. Get back, self! We started this "vacation" in the bustling metropolis of Shallotte, NC, which truly was a sleepy little town when my grandfather bought land there in the 1970's but has turned into a "real" town that has actual communities, paved roads, traffic and, of course, a Wal-Mart today. When we arrived in Shallotte we planned to go retrieve our boat in a few days but still had no idea WHERE we were going to bring it. A detail that some people might think was pretty important. My new, less-prone-to-anxiety, self didn't have my underwear in a wad though because I knew that things would somehow work out and they surely did. Long story short, we spoke with a super nice lady that was working in her yard one afternoon before leaving for Beaufort and our boat is now docked at her house in Shallotte on the Shallotte River. It's a lovely spot overlooking the marshes and I'd give anything to be sitting in the cockpit with a glass of wine right now.

Dinghy on a downwind haul...AKA Wheeeeee!

2009-07-29T14:42:00.015-04:00

The PIC (partner in crime) and I have been hauling our dinghy to the lake quite a bit since it fell into our laps a few weeks ago. Getting it there has been an adventure in and of itself and then, once there, we have usually found that there was the barest puff of a wind. Somehow there seems to be a dome covering the lake area that keeps all wind out except during dramatic thunderstorms. Then it will rush through making the tree tops sway frighteningly over your house and then disappear as quickly as it came.

This past Saturday we looked at the weather forecast and whooped with excitement when we saw the predicted windspeeds. 11mph!!! Now that is some real wind. So we rolled the dinghy to the lake and the wind was blowing so hard that it whipped the sail around as soon as we put the mast up. We lashed it around the mast to keep it still until we got further out into the cove. I was excited but not the least bit alarmed. Until we decided to put the sail out that is. I was at the helm and as soon as the sail was out the wind grabbed it and it felt like a giant hand was trying to push us over. I realized I was out of my element and traded places with Brian.

We then spent many happy hours sailing fairly steadily from one end of the lake to the other. The sun was shining, it was a beautiful hot summer day and then.....POOF....the wind disappeared almost completely while we were at the far end of the lake. Capricious hussy. So there we were in our 10' sailboat mostly bobbing in the water with dark clouds looming up behind us and our beach much too far away. It was late afternoon and the perfect time for a summer thunderstorm. Folks in their powerboats motored by us and laughed. At one point I'm pretty sure I saw a turtle swim alongside that also pointed and laughed before swimming away and leaving us in its wake. We had managed to drift about a nanometer before Brian finally gave in and started paddling with our daggerboard. More people went by in their boats and laughed but we were making actual progress now. Still, even the main beach seemed far, far away and our own beach was even further past that.

The sky was conflicted. On the right it was bright and blue, but bright and blue's evil twin, dark and ominous, threatened to our left in addition to the ones at our backs. The fact that people were now asking if we were okay and needed help didn't do anything to ease my anxiety. Then the wind from the approaching storm finally decided to show up and instantaneously we went from Are We Ever Going To Get There to Hold Onto Your Collar Toto! I was back at the helm by this time, while my poor PIC laboriously paddled us along, and I think I might have uttered a bad word or two when I felt the wind grab the sail and nearly tip us over. But this time I knew what to do! I let the sail out all the way and we went zooming across the lake like a bullet. We were probably going 5-7 knots in our little dinghy on a downwind haul. The water got choppy, the wind was gusty, and the rudder was suddenly so sensitive the barest movement sent us veering off-course. But I managed to keep her steady and got us back to our cove lickety-split. I handled it quite well, if I do say so myself. And, I must say, it's pretty exhilarating to go flying across the water under windpower. We had a great day on the water and didn't spend a cent on fuel and didn't pollute a thing.

Man vs. Mole: The Release

2009-07-23T09:54:00.033-04:00

In the last installment of Man vs. Mole the Mole Hunter had prevailed and captured two moles which, after a day or so of mole patrol, we determined were the only culprits on our premises. Friday found us trekking up the street with our mole containment unit to some vacant lots and trails that lead to our local beach, where we released our new furry pals in a nicely damp and wormy-looking patch of dirt. I was proud of my Mole Hunter for finding a non-lethal method of ridding ourselves of the cute, but pesky, varmints. Alas, after some follow-up mole patrol yesterday, the MH informed me that there were signs of activity in the front yard. So the Mole Hunter is back on the job.

Now on to another topic entirely, but one of my favorites, books. I am a librarian by trade - probably one by birth really - and possibly emerged from the womb waving a book and begging someone to read to me. I have recently been culling my book collection, since it would likely sink the boat, and it is proving to be a painful process. Amputees often feel phantom limbs and I wonder if I will experience phantom books from now on? I have joined a book blogs group, and have actually been friended by a few people, so I'm thinking maybe I should actually start mentioning some books in this here blog. My life of late hasn't allowed for much lounging about with book in one hand and bonbons in the other but I have been rereading a recent favorite of mine, Me Talk Pretty One Day by David Sedaris. There aren't many books that I will read more than once but his laugh-out-loud style always brings me back for more. Sedaris is also known for his commentary on NPR's This American Life and Me Talk Pretty One Day was on the bestseller list for, well, a long time or, at least, quite a while. Nothing all that exciting happens in Sedaris' books but his wry humor and sarcasm can make a walk to the mailbox entertaining. One of my favorite quotes from MTPOD (on growing up gay):

When asked what we wanted to be when we grew up, we hid the truth and listed the people we wanted to sleep with when we grew up. "A policeman or a fireman or one of those guys who works with high tension wires."

Surprisingly, I find that I am laughing just as much as I did the first time I read this personal treasure. So, if you haven't given David Sedaris a try, do your funnybone a favor and pick up one of his books soon.

Man vs. Mole, Part Deux

2009-07-16T09:05:00.007-04:00

The man versus mole saga continues and in this installment man is triumphant! Yes, the great Mole Hunter persevered and has been rewarded with the capture of not one, but two, hostages. We are currently keeping them as pets, and as a warning to any remaining family members, in our specially purposed pet mole containment unit.

We plan to implement a mole catch and release program, but not until we are certain all moles have either been captured or have vacated the premises upon seeing the fates of their kinmoles. Currently, we are keeping a steady supply of worms in the mole cooler and they seem to be content enough. The cat isn't allowed into the bedroom but the moles slumbered next to us on the floor last night in their cooler by the bed. I am an animal lover in the extreme, except for anything with more than six legs, and am a worrywort to boot, so I am worried that the moles might not survive their captivity. When I got up this morning I lifted the lid to the mole cooler and one of them was actually lying completely still on top of the dirt. He was so cute and furry and I was afraid we had lost him. Brian, with his usual blithe certitude, assured me the little guy was fine and, sure enough, when I checked later he had burrowed back into the dirt.

So the Mole Hunter has emerged victorious but continues his mole patrols today to make sure all offenders have been apprehended.

Aren't they cute? And, in case you didn't know, moles have very, very soft fur. You should definitely pet one if you ever get the chance.

Did you know?

2009-07-14T09:47:00.006-04:00

Moles can dig up to 18 feet of surface tunnels per hour?

Moles can travel through their tunnels at speeds of 80' per minute through existing tunnels? It'd take a mighty good radar detector to give him a ticket.

A large collection of mole burrows is called a citadel? Isn't that charming?

A mole travels through its citadel of tunnels using a movement similar to the breaststroke.

Moles eat 70 to 80 percent of their weight every day.

Moles can be dangerous? They have apparently caused at least one famous death, that of King William III (William of Orange). Granted, I found this information online, but seemingly reputable sources say that the unfortunate William died after being thrown from his horse, which had stumbled over...you guessed it...a mole hill.

The star nose mole is perhaps one of the strangest animals I've ever seen...brace yourself...

Kozmik kizmet

2009-07-13T17:49:00.004-04:00

Brian and I have been causing some excitement in the neighborhood recently by rolling our new Walker Bay dinghy to the nearest beach for some time on some water. We've been stopped many times by folks who believe we are literally dragging the boat up the road. No, we tell them, it has a wheel in the keel. I can only imagine what people must think when they look out their windows and see a couple pulling a boat up the road.

The story of how we found our dinghy is a great example of how things work out for us. We had decided we really wanted a Walker Bay 10 dinghy with a sailing kit. We were checking Craigslist and a few came up for sale, but too far away, and costly. I figured we wouldn't find one for less than $1000 if it included the sail kit. I also figured we'd have to make do with something else until we could find one, but I should have known one would just naturally come our way. A couple of weekends ago we found ourselves at the marina, to pick up some books for a boating class, and Brian walked over to take a gander at the small bulletin board. A moment later he called me over. You could have knocked me over with a feather when I saw the small, faded ad for a Walker Bay 10 dinghy. We called the number as soon as we got home - I was afraid the ad was old and it had been sold - but no, it was still available. And it included the sail kit! We went to get it the next day and, that evening, Brian sailed it over to our beach.

Has there ever been a time when things just seemed to happen exactly as you wanted them to?

Man vs. Mole

2009-07-10T11:44:00.007-04:00

He has the tools....

He has the will....

But does he have what it takes to defeat....

The Mole?

Yes, we have a new guest in the back yard and, not unlike some humans, he doesn't seem to be getting the hint that he is unwanted. Brian has been monitoring the situation for a couple of days now, and even got a brief glimpse of our furry little invader yesterday, but so far the mole as eluded him.

Score so far...
Man: 0
Mole: 2

But the beer helps ease the sting of defeat for a while.