Difficult Changes

Sometimes things just don’t work out, and that has been the case for much of the first half of 2021. As we emerged from the pandemic, JoAnn was diagnosed with stage IV pancreatic cancer, and, a month later, passed away on April 3rd. Here’s the obituary I wrote a couple of days later. We were so happy, so in love. I’m devastated. She wanted me to find a way to move forward afterwards, and that is what I seek to do. This blog entry is a small part of my approach towards healing.

Grief is a difficult thing, hard to understand, hard to live with. They say it gets better, but I’ve not seen much improvement thus far. Here is a bit of info about grief that I found helpful. If you are suffering from the same, you might wander through some links from the above, looking for little kernels of hope or wisdom. I particularly like the first sentence there, “Grief is the shadow love casts in the light of loss.”

I wish, I wish this, I wish that. None of it can be. Someone who suffered similarly told me that grief is a giant onion, and you just gotta keep peeling – but the onion does not get so small as to disappear. Time, I’ve come to understand, does not heal all wounds. But with time, we can learn to carry, with perhaps a bit more grace, the things that come along with us through life. I’m so sick of the sadness, the crying, the little cues that unexpectedly send me spiraling down. Sick of feeling. But there is beauty in it as well. This grief will always be a part of me, as I seek to be out among people, doing things, seeing the world, making new connections, and finding my way such as I am able. Peeling the onion.

JoAnn hunting for blue crabs on the dock pilings, summer 2020.

Changing of the Boats

Our explorations of things nautical seem to not flow in a single direction. We were first inspired by our friends Geoff & Aimee, who took us around Corfu on their lovely ketch, whetting our appetite for life on the water.

Geoff & Aimee have this lovely ketch that we got to spend some time on.

Later, we learned of America’s Great Loop, and resolved to make that our first after-retirement adventure. We put our house on the market and made a down payment on a Great Harbor GH37 that failed an oil test during survey, despite being in otherwise impeccable condition. Not wanting a fixer-upper, we bailed (but were happy to hear the boat sold to some lucky looper after the engines were replaced). With the COVID pandemic taking hold, in lieu of full-time cruising, we decided to find a dirt home to rent on the coast of North Carolina.

Not long after arriving in Washington, NC we fell in love with a boat in the marina a short walk from our townhome. We bought Gypsy Blue early in the summer, and what a lovely boat she was! But by late summer we realized she was not great fit for us. All the woodwork, the engines and other system, were lots of work, and the outdoor area on the boat was smaller than we wanted. Worst of all, our experience with a borderline hurricane was stressful because we could not easily pull her out of the water. Gypsy Blue was unscathed, but many others in our marina sustained significant damage and we did not enjoy the stress at all. So, we put her up for sale, and and soon found a new owner who will enjoy giving her the loving care she deserves.

We briefly owned Gypsy Blue, a 28 ft 1985 Rosborough banks cruiser.

We took some time looking around at what might work better for us. We saw lots of boats everywhere we went, from tiny outboards to commercial fishing boats.

Fisherman on the Pasquotank River in Elizabeth City, North Carolina.
Fishing boat docked along the intracoastal waterway, North Carolina.

Finally, we’ve found something that seems to meet most of our current needs. We recently picked up our new boat, a Parker 2120 Sport Cabin. We are calling her “Mud Crab” after an unassuming local crustacean that is overshadowed by the more famous (and delectable!) blue crab and the more distinctive fiddler crab. Mud crabs may not be as well known but they are just as fascinating, and they are common along the shores of local salt marshes.

JoAnn at the boat ramp with our new boat, Mud Crab. Our marina is in the background.

Mud Crab is a terrific vessel for exploring the rivers and towns of eastern North Carolina and beyond. She is equipped for occasional over-nighting and we’ll be able to trailer the boat, allowing us to drive it from place to place as we explore and, as a bonus, avoid having our boat in the water during hurricanes. And no barnacles! In fact, the boat overall should be easy to maintain, leaving more time for things we enjoy. We are especially looking forward to fishing (and eventually, catching fish!). Weather permitting, we’ll be able to do limited offshore fishing just beyond the Outer Banks. In calm weather, we could even make the crossing from Miami to the Bahamas!

Mud Crab has a planning hull and a Yamaha 200 outboard engine, allowing her to go from place to place at speeds far exceeding Gypsy Blue’s stately progress. We can cruise at 25 mph on plane with a relatively economical burn rate of 3.5 mpg. We can also make other choices, like going 40 mph whilst burning lots of fuel, or slowing down to enjoy the view while getting 5 mpg.

Like everyone, we are looking forward to the end of COVID times. Meanwhile, we count ourselves very lucky indeed to have rich opportunities for boating, exploring, kayaking, fishing and relaxing. Autumn in coastal North Carolina is absolutely gorgeous and easy. Temperatures are mild, fall color is prolonged, everything takes its time. We are loving being here where we landed largely by chance.

JoAnn standing up in her kayak trying to recover a fishing bobber from a tree. Outside of Washington, North Carolina.
Catching red drum from a kayak on the Pamlico River.

New Plans

Friends, we have come to the realization that the purchase of Gypsy Blue was ill-timed with respect to Covid-19: the things we hoped to do on such a boat – cruising in a way that would involve a good deal of interaction with other people. Upon reflection, we realize that we probably can achieve greater life satisfaction by selling this boat and perhaps buying a smaller, trailerable outboard boat, or at least spending more time on kayaks. Either way, we’ll continue exploring and fishing. With this brief post, we’re closing down the website except for an advertisement of the boat for sale – still working on the advert.

Gypsy Blue gets her survey

Overcast skies and the promise of intermittent drizzle and rain on survey day.

8:15 am

Here we go, heading into our second boat survey. Like the last one, we really like the boat owners as well as the boat. Here’s to hoping the outcome is better than the last boat we had surveyed – it had a bad engine, and therefore we did not get the boat.

We are calm, comfortable. The situation is different – not just Covid-19, and not just that our plans and the scale of the boat have shifted. There is no seller’s agent, no buyer’s agent. We have only a verbal agreement that we’ll buy the boat at a set price – a price agreed upon by both parties as seeming fair, and allowing both parties to look each other in the eye afterwards and remain on good terms. Unlike the last few days, the skies are overcast, with a chance of rain peaking at the time we are scheduled for haul-out.

JoAnn is making sandwiches for the owner, surveyor, and for us. Last night we shuttled the truck over to the haul-out marina, so that I can take everyone back after that is done, as the boat will stay there for hull cleaning, no matter what the outcome.


JoAnn taking notes at the dinette during the survey.
The surveyor beginning to check out the engine “room” beneath the pilothouse floor.
Boatyard worker using a 5000 psi sprayer to knock the barnacles off the hull, in the pouring rain, whilst his boss sits with us under the shelter of the covered porch.

2:45 pm

Survey is completed. We spent about 5 hours on and under the boat with the surveyor and owner, going over all the systems in detail. A few minor problems found, but nothing major. We took the boat out for a sea trial and got her up to full speed, before turning back towards the boat yard for haul out. Haul out was a 1 pm, just when it started to rain more heavily. One of the boatyard guys power-washed off the light coating of barnacles that had accumulated. Then I followed the surveyor around the boat in the rain as he tapped on the hull with a leather mallet, inspected the shaft, prop, zincs, and through hulls. We all spent a little while on a covered porch eating the sandwiches that JoAnn had prepared. Boatyard crew plopped the boat back in the water and we took the short journey across to waterway to Gypsy Blue’s slip.

No problems of a scale to cause us to back out on the sale, so it looks like we’ll own a boat very soon – just a matter of paperwork and insurance!


Swashling the buck! Buckling the swash!

What distinguishes an ordinary adventure from the truly epic? A theme song! Ideally one that is as exuberant as it is sardonic.

Album Cover: The Life Aquatic Studio Sessions, by Seu Jorge. Released 2005.

During our deep dive into nautical movies, we found ours:


 The Pirate Song
(transcribed from the movie Sea Gypsies)

 We got scurvy in our fingers
 and tattoos on our toeses
 and we're sailing on the high seas
 the water up our noses
 swabbin' decks and closin' hatches
 eatin' only what we catches
 oh we're pirates
 we likes to sail the the seas
 
 and we'll go to any measure
 sail through any storm and weather
 always under pirate cover
 
 swashling the buck
 buckling the swash  
 rude comers, new comers
 doin what we want
 and we don't really mind 
 if we steal all your wine
 steal a family heirloom
 yeah we do it all the time
 
 yeah we're rude fuckers
 crude fuckers
 doing what we do fuckers
 ----(trails off, drunk)---
 yeah we'll go to any measure
 sail through any storm and pleasure
 oh what pirate never plundered
 when his [birdie's gettin' hungers]
 always buried eight feet under
 always under pirate cover
 
 we got scurvy in our fingers
 and tattoos on our toeses 
 and we're sailing on the high seas
 salt water up our noses
 swabbin' decks and closin' hatches
 eatin' only what we catches
 oh we're pirates
 we likes to sail the the seas
 
 well a pirates only pleasure
 is his god forsaken treasure
 and he'll go to any measure
 sail through any storm and weather
 'cause a pirate never plunders
 with his booty when he plunders 
 always buried eight feet under
 always under pirate cover
 til one day we got attacked
 then we thought we should perhaps
 drop some pirate treasure maps
 that lead to pirate booby traps
 oh there's just one gal for me
 lovely lady named the sea
 well i'm a pirate
 and I likes to sail the seas
 
 swashling the buck
 buckling the swash  
 we're plank walkers, rude talkers,
 doin what we want
 and we don't really mind 
 if we drink all your wine
 steal a family heirloom
 we do it all the time
 oh we're toothless, ruthless, always do it soothless
 sail away, misbehavin'
 never washin', never shavin'
 we're pirates
 and we likes to sail the seas
 
 well we're pirates
 and we'll do just what we please
 
 [longer acoustic refrain, slowing pace]
 
 well its true I must admit
 we pirates never come in peace
 but one thing comes of grinding
 of our rusted crooked stolen teeth
 lovely lady named the sea
 a life rotten piracy
 and you know a pirate once
 will always be
 nothin' but a bastard to the sea
 
----------
Footnotes:
Hear the song:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=FjbM72GCa_E
www.youtube.com/watch?v=VZ4JwCXVfJI

also, at the tail end of the movie, 
Sea Gypsies (available on amazon, free 
if you have prime), a woman sings it, 
with more lyrics

Not as original as Seu Jorge playing Ziggy Stardust-era Bowie in The Life Aquatic, but it suites us just fine. We will never be quite that epic. Or quirky.

Now to learn to play it on ukulele…

The cats remain skeptical, as they so often do. We remind them that as pirate kitties they eats only what they catches, but they just flick their tails toward the cabinet where we keep the kibble. Perhaps we’ll make pirates out of our pampered pussycats with more time afloat. And less kibble.

Always under pirate cover,

JoAnn


Books I might write while listening to the Talking Heads at sea

The geometries of space-time become more fluid as we begin to let go of what came before and explore new dimensions of experience. This posting probes the possible contours of such a journey. Some of these ideas are pure fancy, others are already beginning to take shape – keep an eye out at your favorite bookstore, library, purveyor of music, or blog.


The Voyage of Gypsy Blue: Wanderings Near the End of the Anthropocene

…Home, is where I want to be

A Seafarer’s Songbook for the Ukulele

…Oh! You got light in your eyes

Gunkholing Guide for the Curious and Perverse

…You got a face with a view

Diesel Sous Vide

…Feet on the ground, head in the sky

We Saw a lot of Hawks,* Then it Got Weird.

…Make it up as we go along

The Man with a Quantum Propeller:** Inter-dimensional Traveling through the Intracoastal Waterway.

…I can’t tell one from the other

We’ll Figure Out Where we are Once we Clear the Frogs from the Windshield

…The less we say about it the better

Tesseract Cat Saves the Day. Again.

…And you’re standing here beside me

Full Throated Enjoyment: I’m Just Lucky my Mom Modeled Unabashed Female Desire Before Sister “Just Mouth the Words” Ruined That, Too

...Love me til my heart stops

Here, Now, and Nothing (Else): Diary of Beans the Cat, Author of Being and More Being: Feline Reflections on Post-Quantum Philosophy

…I guess that this must be the place

The Trip, Just Being the Future

…If someone asks, this is where I’ll be. Where I’ll be!

Detail from “Fur Traders Descending the Missouri.” George Caleb Bingham, 1845.

* Which Alison’s mother thinks are people who have died or were never born.

** This shit is real. Theoretically.


When does a journey begin?

Does it start when you finally push off from a pier? Does it start as a child, throwing a stick into the current of a river, dreaming your dreams of a nautical voyage until it passes out of sight around the bend? Or is it in between, perhaps when you firm up your plans and commit to the journey, with no going back?

Albemarle Sound, 1913 chart detail

For us, it feels like the journey has begun. We do not yet know which boat will be ours, but we have a plan, albeit one that it is continually shifting in details. We’ve spent many nights and weekends making piles of stuff we thought we needed, but are now ready to shed – to sell, give to friends, or donate. Much smaller is a pile of “stuff that goes on the boat” and a few things to go into storage. We’ve looked at hundreds of boats for online, and have begun to narrow our focus. On trips to the coast, we’ve started wandering through marinas, talking to liveaboards, peeking inside boats when invited to do so, and looking at boats listed for sale. We immerse ourselves in books-Chapman is being read cover to cover-as well as websites, YouTube channels. We ask naive questions on online forums, and later smarter questions. We talk to lots of people, filter through opinions, skim through maritime magazines, browse major marine parts vendors. We lock in on a boat, then pick it apart, later repositioning it on the list. We graph out asking prices versus year for particular boat models. We dissect our financial position and refine our calculations as to what is possible, what is preferable, and what will always be beyond our financial reach. We practice knots, discuss best practices. In the end, we learn, and learn, learn. Our maritime vocabulary expands, we hone our skills in assessing boat condition, and learn about our limits. All of this, it is part of our journey.

So, the journey has already begun. And we are psyched!!