Plain Jane Plain Talk

Journals from the road, trails and at sea

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Writings, drawings and paintings that are rooted in process, simplicity and my imagination. Visit RogueLines.com
  • Starfish afterlife

    Starfish afterlife

    starfish
    Bennie – the Starfish

    My recent art project had unexpected beginnings, twists and turns and a surprising ending. Much like my favorite way of wandering through life. Without knowing the ending. Getting lost in the process. Let me explain.

    It started as a bike ride with a long-time friend, along the Isle of Palms shoreline in the middle of January. It wasn’t particularly warm, and the wind was blowing whatever heat could be felt from the sun clear north to Canada. My friend Cindy and I were riding beach cruisers – which have no gears. This means you can’t shift down to make the pedaling any easier. I quickly accept this reality and worked extra hard to keep the bike moving into the challenging headwinds. Just having the opportunity to escape the more northern chill of a Maryland winter — via coastal South Carolina puts me in an excellent mood. The beach was mostly deserted with the exception of a few walkers.

    In 30 minutes, Cindy and I reached our southern turnaround point – Breach Inlet. To go further south would require swimming. And, I would not be swimming today. Instead we turned our cruisers around, and quickly appreciated the strength of the new-found tailwinds. Barely pedaling, we are scooting along and catching up on days gone by. When suddenly, Cindy spotted a starfish. I missed it. We were cruising too fast. A minute goes by and this time I spotted 2 starfish. Not alive of course, but washed up on the beach. What a lucky discovery, I thought. Suddenly my mind went into “art mode”, and I wondered if there was an art project I could create that might involve a starfish? There was no time to finish that thought, as we pressed on with our bicycles. (more…)

  • Charleston Touristas!

    Charleston Touristas!

    This photo compilation captures the essence of some of our favorite moments discovering historic Charleston…

    The Food

    16123977507_9269666043_z16308963152_bf67830ffc_z16122697930_c8ce015857_zLow Tide & Dolphins

    (more…)

  • Taking in Charleston via the Charleston Half Marathon and 5K

    Taking in Charleston via the Charleston Half Marathon and 5K

    16299021661_bf26caba9f_zWe left our campground in Mount Pleasant by 6AM – for a 30 minute drive into downtown Charleston.  At 36 degrees, I was expecting to be bone cold while waiting outdoors 1.5 hours for the 8AM start but the run gods were on our side as Burke Middle School was open and all 4300 runners piled inside.

    This is where I met Rosanne – a lovely lady in her early 50’s who is a cancer survivor and has run over 30 marathons and a few Iron-Man triathlons.  She was quite inspiring and engaging and I nearly forgot that I was preparing to run a half marathon.  With 10 minutes before the race starts, I said goodbye to my new friend – and stepped outdoors. Brrr.  I was wearing too many clothes for running – but I really need to stay warm at the start.  Aaah, the runner’s dilemma boils down to how much clothing to wear. (more…)

  • Seeking heat – A winter diversion to Charleston

    Seeking heat – A winter diversion to Charleston

    We are seeking a winter reprieve to 20 something degree Maryland temperatures, and choose Charleston SC as our destination.   What’s not to love about Charleston?   A big city, with a small town southern charm.  Oh – and it should be warmer than Maryland.

    Our southern mini-vacation began with a good old fashioned ice storm.  The kind of ice storm that starts in the south, aligns itself directly with the I-95 corridor, and dares us to really really really want to make this trip.  We do.  And, it’s a long one.  An ice storm from the south translates to just enough ice and snow precipitation to barely coat the roadways, with show stopping multi-vehicle accidents.  For some, this is a very bad day.  For us, it means more time on the road.  More time to dream about reaching warming temperatures. (more…)

  • Apple & Celery – a post-workout snack!

    Apple & Celery – a post-workout snack!

    20150107_133456My cooking skills are limited to boiling water, making popcorn and baking a whopping total of 2 old fashioned cookie recipes.  Thankfully, I married someone who knows his way around the kitchen…and thinks “healthy choices” on my behalf!   So after a double-header workout (indoors on my elliptigo followed by more indoors in the pool) – Chef Paddy took over the kitchen and delivered what I consider to be a Foodie-Hit!   It covers the bases with Carbs-Proteins-Fats, and does it with lots of whole foods that I would have never thought belonged together (apples and celery?).   And to satisfy your sweet tooth — a hint of honey.   A great snack post-workout – or as a side dish for lunch or dinner.

    (more…)

  • Running the Alps of Crozet

    Running the Alps of Crozet

    The Alps of Crozet are located in France, exactly where they belong.

    But, if you are not needing to cross the Atlantic, live in the vicinity of Washington DC, and have a “thing” for running uphill in an all femme half marathon – the Alps of Crozet located in the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains in Crozet VA is for you.

    (more…)

  • The New York City Marathon – an epic ride

    The New York City Marathon – an epic ride

    fortwadsworth_start I could tell you that 5 layers of clothing and 2 heat sheets were not enough to keep you warm at Fort Wadsworth.   I could tell you that the 50+ mph winds were so severe, that the race organizers had to modify the start for the wheelchair division athletes — so that they avoided the 2 mile Verrazano Bridge. I could tell you how I watched the winds rip loosely fitted clothing right off runners crossing the Verrazano Bridge, and at one point I even felt the need to hang on to my step-daughter Emma who was running next to me. I could tell you how the headwinds in the South Bronx were so strong, that I actually stopped moving forward.  For a few moments, I ran “in place”.  No forward momentum. (more…)

  • A trip down NYC marathon memory lane…

    A trip down NYC marathon memory lane…

    My NYC marathons are on a 15 year (approx) cycle.   In 1985 – I ran/finished my first NYC marathon….followed by #2 in 1999….and #3 yet to come – Nov 2, 2014.   So many things have changed…. (more…)

  • A steamy Philadelphia Half-Marathon

    montageOn the road by 4:30AM, and accompanied by triSista Tamar – we made our way north for a 2.5 hour road trip – to Philadelphia for the Rock n Roll Half Marathon.  The Philly Half Marathon has become one of my favorite venues – thanks to the amazing course route that blends both downtown cityscape with majestic parkland along the Schuylkill River.   This week’s long run is 13.1 miles — making the Philly course a perfect location.

    We arrived in Philly at 7AM, quickly found a parking space, and stepped outside into surprisingly humid mid-September temperatures.   While the temperatures were in the lower 70’s – the humidity turned this into sweating weather.  I knew I would need to carry extra water – despite the course being stocked with water stations ever 2 miles.   Yes, it was that humid.

    Many take to the streets in the Philadelphia Rock n Roll Half Marathon to PR.  Despite the humidity, Deena Kastor handled that on behalf of the rest of us mortals…  While Deena was busy setting fire to the course and doing us “masters” proud (shattering the world record – OK?), Ms. Tamar and I were busy taking in the sights.   Oh sure, we were running AND sightseeing, absorbing the arts district and downtown Philly, listening to the theme from Rocky, hearing support from spectators (“Go Adrianne!!)” – and ultimately becoming one with the views from the Schuylkill River.   Conversations gradually dwindled, GPS watches beeped synchronously at each mile marker, and eventually runners began to tire.    Legs get heavy, and the footsteps get louder, and I would imagine those who listen to tunes simply turn up the volume.  For many that is the ritual of the half marathon.

    Philadelphia_skyline_August_2007For me, I run faster the second half of the half.   I even feel like I’m landing lighter.  Relatively speaking.  And all of this could be in my head.  As the countdown to NYC marathon becomes more real, as the training slowly peaks, I have discovered that running a half marathon is now framed as a shorter run.   Who knew I could ever have such thoughts?    After crossing the finish line, and reunited with Ms. Tamar, we collected food and beverages handed out to all finishers, and gradually walked another mile back to our car.  Tami took this opportunity to capture on camera distinctive architecture among the buildings – and I scouted out the nearest coffee shop for treats.   Sweet!

    Savoring this moment, cuz next week…is a 20 mile long training run.

    More photos

  • Destination Georgetown – will wait for another day

    My next ‘long run’ would be in a new neighborhood.   A new city.   On the Eastern Shore of Maryland and I was looking forward to running in new territory.   But first, we had to ‘get there’.

    OK.  It wasn’t the best weather day for a 35 mile sail from Baltimore to Georgetown Maryland.  We were on a schedule.   Typically, schedules are a no-no for sailing.

    The forecast was calling for rain, possibly a thunderstorm, and light winds 10 knots from the southeast.  The winds would be perfect, and we won’t mind getting a little wet.

    We departed the Port of Baltimore at 9AM with a light drizzle and winds from the east at 15 knots.  At our dock, the winds registered 15 knots.  From the east.  By the time we navigated 1 mile – just beyond Fort McHenry – winds were a steady 20 knots.  From the east.  Did I mention – the ‘east’?  The east – is the direction we are traveling.  The wind is directly on the nose.  Surely this won’t last, and soon we’ll have those 10 knot winds from the southeast.

    Making snails pace progress with now 20 knot winds on the nose, I checked in with the most dependable weather forecaster I know.  My brother.  My family is obsessed with weather – and who better to contact than my brother who reads every forecaster’s short notes, studies the radar and then adds his 2 cents?  He told me we had better hurry.  The weather would not be good in the afternoon.

    By the time we had reached the mouth of the Patapsco River and entered the Chesapeake Bay – the winds had upped to nearly 25 knots.  Still on the nose.  I was confident that this weather would surely change for the better – but squall after squall of bucket dumping rain did not seem to change the wind speed or direction.

    Our foul weather gear gave out in the first 2 hours.   Drenched, and with strong winds — we are getting cold, but figure — this weather has got to move on to brighter skies.

    Somewhere out in the middle of the bay, the winds were creeping higher.  On the nose.  Our forward way slowed to less than 2 knots with the engines running at full speed.  There was no way we would make our destination – Georgetown MD.  And there were no weather holes we could tuck into.  Captain Paddy suggested we turn back.  Hard to imagine.   It is usually my role to recommend turning back.   I immediately agreed.  5 hours into our trip, we did an about face, and headed back to Baltimore.

    This is when the weather got really “fun”.   With the wind now pushing us toward Baltimore, in less than 30 minutes of our ‘about face’ – apparently a typhoon arrived.   This is probably why my brother suggested that we ‘hurry’.   I didn’t have a need to look at the electronics to see what the actual wind speed was — but Captain Paddy made sure that I was informed.  “Oh my god – it’s over 35 knots” – Paddy yelled to me.   I’m already hanging on to boat parts, and then Paddy yells out “Geeezzzz….we’re over 40 now”.

    Busy self managing (i.e. trying to stay composed and not completely freak out), I hoped that there would not be any more wind speed updates.   But there were.  Winds reached 50 knots.  By now, the Bay was in full ‘boil’ with huge waves pushing us, and Cat Maudy is doing her best at surfing along.   Thankfully it is a tailwind.  My eyes were fixated on the northern shoreline of the Patapsco River.   Once we had passed into the mouth of the river, I was sure that the winds would decrease with land protection.

    20140812_163329It seemed like a very long time, but we finally made it into the Patapsco — where the wind speeds dropped to the mid-30’s.   The rains were dumping more water, and we were both cold and weary from the strain of trying to navigate the boat, and “see” with raindrops pounding into our eyeballs.

    By 4:30pm, we had arrived back to our dock space – at the Port of Baltimore.  The same space we had left 7.5 hours earlier.   Georgetown will have to wait for another day.    And my long run, will still happen (tomorrow).   Back in my home neighborhood.   At least for now.

  • Off-season in Ocean City West

    Off-season in Ocean City West

    The good news about camping in OCW (Ocean City West) in mid-April, is that there is no one around.   The bad news, is that there is no one around.  Restaurants are not open, deli’s and coffeehouses are closed, and just about every place we ride our bike — the ‘Closed’ sign appears.

    pat_assstateparkYet, we were determined to make the best of the good features of desolate Ocean City.  We have the CastAway campground to ourselves – which includes the shower & bath house.   The main roads are mostly empty – which is good news for our day 1 bicycle ride to Assateague Island National Seashore Park entrance.  With Sparky (Paddy) on his CatTrike, and me opting for the hybrid bike – we took off for a wonderful ride along lightly traveled Route 611.  “Don’t worry Sparky – we’ll stop for lunch along the way“, I proclaimed with confidence.  After all, I’ve biked or skated this route numerous times, and know that there are deli’s and restaurants along the way.

    But no.  Not in mid-April.   Everything is closed.   So, we passed all of the closed eateries, made it to the State Park – feeling ravenous.  It was one of the fastest visits to Assateague Island National Park.  A quick hello and goodbye to the wild ponies (wherever they are), a quick snapshot of pics to prove we actually made the ride – and a high speed u-turn to make a beeline for the one and only open restaurant (Sunset Grille) in the opposite direction.   All bets are off when I get hungry.  We have no time to lose to find food.  With luck on our side, the wind gods gave us a tailwind – and 1 hour later – the bikes were locked, we were seated with the locals, and lunch was served.

    sunsetgrille2Feeling energized from the food, we bicycled back to our campground, where I spent the remainder of the day enjoying the views from our private, waterfront campground, drinking hot green tea with ginger.   Sparky was busy hanging with the cable crews & electricians.  Apparently, an hour before we made our campground debut, one of the few campers, a rookie RV camper was exiting his site.  The story goes – he had a 40+ foot rig, and this was his first camping experience as an RV’er.  As he turned to leave his campsite – he cut the corner a bit short, hit a transformer – and caused a 10 foot fireball, explosion and nixed all the electrical and cable in the entire campground.  Electrified the ground – and thanks to this excitement, the team of cable and electricians – are the only people we see at the campground.

    As a camper, I’m OK without TV, and really like the idea of setting my digital devices aside.  In my mind, I’m going ‘dark’, leaving all technology behind, but reality necessitates that I check in with my clients at least once in awhile.   Sparky, noticing all of the cable peeps in our campground, got to thinking how nice it might be to have ‘cable’ TV from the RV  (we only have analog).  Since no stores are open, and we needed a ‘cable’ to have ‘cable TV’, Sparky thought — ‘hey – maybe one of these cable guys will have a cable‘?   That Sparky.  Always thinking.  Before the crew left for the day — we invited the boys to our RV for tea and biscuits (how British of us eh?) , and Sparky ended up with a cable, from the cable guys.   Later that evening, we watched cable TV!   Such luxuries!

    jane_asspark

  • CastAways

    CastAways

    A break between school semesters, a lull in the frantic pace of work life, a winter that wouldn’t quit, an RV fresh off the maintenance shop & full of gas, and a suggestion from my sister-in-law – ‘hey – why don’t you go somewhere?’ – that it finally occurred to us.  Why don’t we go somewhere?

    And that was all it took.  We knew we wanted to be near the water.  We knew we wanted the drive time to be minimal.   That left for 2 choices.  Either somewhere along the Cheseapeake Bay – or along the the Maryland ocean shoreline.   Assageatue Island met the criteria.  Unfortunately you have to book a reservation at the state park at least a year in advance.  Aren’t people spontaneous anymore?

    Paddy with the help of his buddy “Google” discovered a private RV campground located 5 miles south of Ocean City, and 5 miles north of the Assateague Island State Park.   We have no time to be picky.  In less than 24 hours, we booked a reservation, stocked the RV, packed the essentials -which include a CatTrike, a hybrid bike, the Elliptigo bike, and 2 pairs of running shoes.  Oh yeah – and Soxy, our cat.

    castawayBy 1:30PM, we had arrived – at Castaways.  Not knowing what to expect, we checked in, and were assigned campsite 7B.   Campsite 7B, is located 15 feet from the waterway that divides the mainland (Eastern Shore Maryland) from the northern tip of Assateague Island.  There were no other campers between us and the water, and there were so few campers overall in the campground – it felt like we had the place to ourselves.  The location was too good to be true.

    Looking across the waterway, was the most pristine, natural setting of dunes and tall grasses that make up the uninhabited national seashore – the norther tip of Assateague Island.  Uninhabited by humans that is.  As I scanned to our north, I could see a band of wild horses, roaming freely, feeding on the grasses.  With the winds blowing 15 knots from the north, the roar of the ocean waves were breaking on the other side of Assateague Island – sounds we could hear from our campsite.  I was instantly mesmerized by the sounds of the seas, and stopped checking my emails from that moment on.

    I pulled up a chair, having front row seats to this movie called nature.  The Ocean City Inlet is 3 miles to our north, and it was easy to see the ebb and flow of the tides – ripping through the middle of the channel.  At the backside of our campsite a thick mass of grasses and trees, which appeared to be home to untold species of birds – singing songs to the backdrop of the ocean breakers.

    frontdoorAfter a few hours, the need for exercise, trumped my need for tranquility.  We decided to pump up all the bike tires, choose a method of transportation, and let an adventure unfold.  A trip to the Ocean City Inlet was the destination, with me on my Elliptigo and Paddy on the CatTrike.  We traveled along the wide shoulders of Route 611 to Sunset Boulevard.  Along Sunset Boulevard, the shoulders disappeared, and we danced with traffic until we reached the ‘strip’ of marinas and restaurants.   Here we discovered shrimp boats lined up along the dock-age of the harbor, and suddenly I was craving fresh shrimp for dinner.

    At the Sunset Grill, a wrap of fresh shrimp, avocado and grilled vegetables was calling my name.  As we waited for our food-to-go order, we sipped on diet cokes, and wondered how we would carry our dinners home the 5 mile ride to our campsite.  Surely it will all work out, and it did.  With our dinners in containers, and in a bike-friendly bag (handles), we biked our way back to the campground.   We consumed the most sumptuous dinner, in front of our private -o natural – views of the water, Assateague Island, the ponies, and sounds of hundreds of bird species singing their songs.

    For this brief nugget of time, we have Castaway.

    poniesshrimpboatssunsetgrillejane_oceancityinlet

     

     

     

  • Happy – at the Rock n Roll DC half marathon

    Happy – at the Rock n Roll DC half marathon

    Regardless of the actual start time of any running event, triathlon or skate-a-thon, my running partner (RP) would arrive somewhere between 3AM and 4AM.  In the darkest of dark hours that felt like “O-Dark-you’ve got to be kidding me”, my RP had a need to be 1.   First in the parking lot.    First to use the porta-potties.   First to line up at the starting gate.   First to wipe away the pixie dust.   And no, we are not elite athletes.   We like to finish, and are quite happy if there are others left on the course.

    In a tradition of firsts, my RP recently had a birthday.  Not just any old birthday, but a birthday that puts you in a new age group for runners.   An age group where “slow” doesn’t really matter.  An age group where you place consistently in the top 10.  An age group that I will soon be arriving.  An age group where wisdom trumps over old habits, where PR’s occur just because you showed up, and spontaneous combustion resembles not caring who sees you dancing in the streets.  Bring it on!

    We arrived at the start line of the DC Rock n Roll Half Marathon…not 4 hours early, not 2 hours early, not when everyone else was showing up….but 20 minutes AFTER the start gun!    By oversleeping just a tad, adding extra time waiting for the DC metro to arrive, and miscalculating the distance between the metro and the start line — we arrived to discover that our designated waves were long gone.   Yet, there were still many waves of runners waiting to start.  We stepped off the sidewalk, onto the street and within seconds we were running.   There was no time to wait for the GPS to find a satellite, use the bathroom one last time, make clothing adjustments….just run.   No stress, no maintenance – just start moving!  Who knew it could be thi768013-1013-0049ss easy?

    We ran with many many thousands of runners.   We ran on a bridge over the Potomac River, ran through Rock Creek Park, up an enormous hill with Medics conveniently located along the way.   We ran near Dupont Circle and through sections where the crowd support was deafening.   We ran toward the US Capitol on North Capitol Street, and ran along a vibrant array of ethnic neighborhoods along H Street.   Allowing ourselves to be distracted by runner conversations along the way (we are too winded to make our own words!),  listening to mile after mile of bands playing motivating music,  we absorbed the amazing run vibes in total awe of the “finally” spring like 60 degree temperatures.   Before we had a chance to wonder “is this over yet?” — we had arrived at the finish line near RFK Stadium!   A truly enjoyable run through the neighborhoods of DC.   We then casually discovered while collecting race finisher food and drinks, that my RP had just PR’d!

    But wait, there’s more!   It was time to cheer on the marathon runners making their way to the finish line.   Here, we found the Touche Band playing just before Mile 26 – and discovered that there was still some juice left in our legs.   Joined by trisista Tamar (in double wrist casts) who walked for 2+ hours to meet us at the finish, and trisista Emma – who can run and talk at the same time (obviously younger age category) – we discovered a second boost of energy, and spent the next hours cheering on those who ran the full 26 miles — turning the finish into a street dance party.   Spontaneous combustion style.

    Happy Happy!!

    trisistasatfinish3

  • The outdoor gym

    The outdoor gym

    20131208_133126The long awaited first snow of the season has finally arrived.  While the calendar still registers December 8 as the FALL season – the white stuff trumps calendar dates.  It is officially winter, in Maryland.

    In preparation for the winter season – this means:

    • there is not a lot of daylight
    • the sun – when it appears – is not very warm
    • winds are from the north
    • the “north” – means Canada
    • everything is colder – from Canada
    • freezing rain…snow…ice cause you to fall
    • it’s cold and flu season
    • everyone who has a cold or flu – shows up at indoor gyms

    20131208_083714To avoid the germ sharing at indoor gyms, we created an outdoor weather-protected aerobic circuit – that includes everything a fitness enthusiast could want.   Except for heat.   Details, details.

    Situated next to a pile of wood (awaiting burn on the indoor wood stove) are 3 exercise stations.  Stations 1 and 2 include an Elliptigo and Recumbent bicycle — on trainers.  Station 3 is the slide-board.

    The quickest way to ramp up your cardio – is to use the slide-board.   While the recumbent bike works the high sections of your quads, and the Elliptigo gets your heart rate pumping – within 30 seconds the Slide board takes your workout to a whole new level.

    The slide-board strengthens the adductors (inner thigh) and abductors (hips) by sliding with powerful, and graceful movements – from one length of the board to the next.   For speed (inline or ice) skaters, this is an ideal sport specific workout – as the movement simulates the strength needed in the legs, and movement of the arms.  For runners – the slide-board is not only a diversion from everyday pounding of pavement, but it strengthens the hip muscles using side to side motion.

    So, as we exercise, in the cold, during the first snowfall of a Maryland winter, we discover:

    • you can get warm if you exercise long enough
    • it’s not snowing in the carport
    • a cup of Joe is waiting when the workout is over
    • being outdoors – despite the weather – is the best place to exercise
  • 13.1 miles of Brotherly Love

    13.1 miles of Brotherly Love

    Perfect temps – 52 degrees at the start for the Rock n Roll Half Marathon in Philadelphia PA.

    downtownphillyRecovering from a bout with dehydration at the Virginia Beach Rock n Roll Half 2 weeks prior, a cold that insisted on lots of bed-rest and a severe case of “indecision”…let’s just say I had NO performance expectations for this event.   Team TRI Sistahood had split up for the weekend — with Jill becoming a Savage Bitch for the second year in a row on Saturday (woo ha!!)   (more on this in a separate post) – and my waiting waiting waiting for enough energy to attempt some mileage via Brotherly Love on Sunday!

    Sunday morning arrived, and I still wasn’t sure if I should attempt 13.1.   But what’s the worst that could happen -eh?  The combined running vibe. mesmerizing landscape and cheers from the crowd – helped make the miles go by! 25,000 runners participated in this very festive event in downtown Philadelphia. The first half of the course weaved through the historic and arts district – past City Hall, along Market Street and roadways named for Ben Franklin. The second half of the route then turned along Fairmont Park which borders the Schuylkill River. For 3 miles, the run is on the east side of the river, and the last 4 miles is on the west side. The park is a gem – with large trees shading much of the course, wide roads, and picturesque views of the river. It was easy to become distracted from running!   The crowds were spectacular – cheering us on and willing our legs to go just a tad faster – to cross the finish line.

    jane_finish

  • Fort Richie Duathlon

    Fort Richie Duathlon

    There is a pattern to this fitness madness.   It goes something like this:

    1. Sign up for an event that you are not ready for
    2. Start training for that event way too late
    3. Taper for the event way too early
    4. Carb load when it is not really necessary
    5. Hope that you won’t be the last person crossing the finish line
    6. Throw your biorhythms completely off by getting up at 4am on event day
    7. Setup your transition area with extra food – as if you may be out for the ‘day plan’
    8. Scope the other athletes, and realize no one has an ounce of body fat
    9. Hide your extra food under a towel – as apparently you are the only person obsessed with nourishment
    10. Miss the mandatory race instructions – identifying route changes – cuz you were in the bathroom
    11. And make one more trip to the bathroom with 3 minutes to spare before the event starts

    sendoffThere you have it, the Wadsworth Sista-hood each poised on “race” day for our respective Olympic distance events at Fort Richie – located in Cascade, MD.   Sista Jill – would be taking on the Triathlon – which consisted of a 1.5K swim + 40K bike + 10K run, and I would attempt the Duathlon, consisting of a 5K run + 40K bike + 10K run.   We proceeded to get body marked – where your bib number appears on one leg – and your age on the other.  The rationale for broadcasting your private information (age) to a bunch of athletes you’ve never met — is to identify those in your age category – and turn them into your competitors.  Or something like that.

    wetsuitjillIn an unusually cool mid-summer morning with the air temperatures ranging from the 60s to low 70s – the water temperature registered at 73 degrees.   Anything below 78 degrees,  makes the swim leg of the triathlon ‘wet suit legal’.  This immediately put Jill in her ‘happy place’.   Wet suit = extra buoyancy = float higher in the water.   It also means that when you look out on the swim course and wonder why they allowed a motor boat to be on the same course with the swimmers, well, that’s no motorboat!   Meet Jill.   More on that in a moment.

    The duathlon event started 25 minutes before the TRI.   This gives Jill more time to spend with her pre-race jitters, and gives me a head start on the ‘day plan’.  I lined up with my peeps.  The start whistle blows and the runners sprinted!   I thought this leg was a 5K – and not a 100 yard dash?!   I fought the temptation to sprint (as if I could!) with them, and opted to stay at my pace – slow n steady.   Within the first mile, I had passed a few older men and even a handful of women, but the bulk of the runners were long gone.   And then there was #51…a women.  Someone in my age category.   Someone I did not know.  I scoped her from behind.   I needed to pass her.  I did.   Now I needed to stay ahead of her.  And, suddenly my event that started as the ‘day plan’ turned into an all out competition with some women I’ve never met.

    By the time I finished the first run leg – Jill was beginning her swim.  Without a wet suit, Jill swims like a fish with a motor….but WITH a wet suit – she is practically airborne!  The swim course is actually a funky swim-run on land for a tad-swim course.   Basically, the swim course is designed for the shorter Sprint version – so as the sprint swimmers were exiting the lake, the Olympic distance swimmers had to exit too…and then run across the Fort Richie lakefront to the nearest dock…and dive back in again for their second lap.   From the transition area, I thought I heard waves crashing on the shoreline – only to discover later that swim-motor-Jill was burning up the swim course.   She swam the entire distance in an amazing 34 minutes.   I don’t think she even came up for air.

    With the 1st leg of the run now over, I managed to have a fast transition onto the bike – and made sure to pack some food and electrolyte jelly beans in my waist pack.   You never know when you’ll get hungry!   I haven’t seen my nemesis #51 – so I wasted no time climbing the first hill away from Fort Richie.

    The bike course goes something like this:

    1. Climb this insane hill the moment you exit the Fort
    2. La de da thru a lovely flat wooded section
    3. Notice a big hill ahead of you…and wish you weren’t already in your granny gear
    4. Get to the main road with wide shoulders and descend for miles
    5. Realize that you have to go BACK the way you came…so better enjoy the descent!
    6. Weave off to a 10 mile country farm ride with rolling hills and bumpy roads
    7. Talk to the cows….

    And WHAM….#51 BLOWS by me during the rolling hill descent.   I’m no match for her on the downhill – so opt to just keep the girl in my sight.  I’ve started strategizing on catching her on the uphill.   So much for the day plan.

    As I return from the 10 mile farm loop toward the main road – I see Jill just beginning this loop and keeping pace with all of the zero-body fat male athletes with the $10,000 bike wheels.   “You go girl” we yell to each other, and I watch momentarily with awe as she keeps up with the boyz at her 100 rpm Tour-de-France cadence.

    With Jill outta sight, it’s time to refocus onto #51, who is now within passing distance.   I wait until we reach another climb, in the hopes that she won’t be able to stay with me…and make my pass.  Now I have to stay ahead of her (not sure why?  but I do!) for the 8 mile ascent and return back to the Fort.

    Here is what occurs during that final 8 mile ascent into the Catoctin Mountains on the bike course:

    1. You try to stay 1-2 gears above granny – just in case you need her
    2. Pace slows to 8mph
    3. Male athletes with fancy bike wheels pass you as if you were standing still
    4. You get to see all roadkill up front and personal
    5. The ‘day plan’ returns
    6. You try to eat something…but it won’t go down and stays in your cheeks as mush

    Back to the transition area, I rack my bike and begin the final leg of the event — the 10K run.  The legs are a bit mushy at first, but within 100 yards – light feet return.   The first mile + of the run is uphill, so I’m breathing heavier than I would like.  No sign of #51 yet, so I have to sustain this pace.  For the final 10K run, we have to do 2 laps on the same course.   This means, as you NEAR the finish line after your first lap…don’t think about it – and turn the other way.   You have another lap to do.  It’s all mental at this point.   Jill had shared with me 4 jelly bean electrolytes – and I had eaten 3 of them during my first lap.   Was holding on to #4 for lap 2.  Turns out that wasn’t the best strategy – as the jelly bean morphed with sweat in my palm – and turned into a sticky mess.   Live n learn!

    Still no sign of #51 (i.e. she hasn’t passed me) – so I amped up the pace of the last mile for added assurance – and was happy beyond belief that I had finished before the day was over!    Moments later – I watched Jill finish her first run lap – and begin lap #2.   I’ve never seen Jill with such giddy-up in her run!   She was even smiling and talking – and if you have ever run with Jill before – that is rare!   The run has been her least favorite event — but it seems like for today — she has made friends and peace!   30 minutes later — Jill sprints across the finish line – beating her prior PB in an Olympic Tri!

    podiumjanepodiumjill01All the pre-race anxiety was long gone – and there were smiles everywhere.   I met my nemesis #51 – a lovely lady – and we vowed to look for each other in the next event.  As for an added bonus – Jill and I each earned a spot on the podium for our efforts!!   And earned the right to eat whatever we wanted (within limits!) for the rest of the day.

    jill_janeatfinish

  • Baltimore Womens Classic….always a Classic!

    Baltimore Womens Classic….always a Classic!

    One of my favorite events – is the Baltimore Women’s Classic 5K.  I’m not sure if it is a favorite because the distance is short…the course is fast…the vibe is great…or some combination thereof!

    Regardless, just under 4000 women of all ages and abilities – join together to walk or run a 5K and support each other.  By 8AM, the temperatures were steamy – and by the time I had reached the first mile – I had already consumed all of my water supply!   Fortunately, this well organized event was equipped with 2 water & Gatorade stops – and I spent time at each of them!   The end of the race weaved along the waterfront promenade near Federal Hill – and it is always a grande moment to cross that finish line.  Some raced, some PR’d, some just enjoyed the moment.  Truly a Baltimore Classic and I’ll be looking forward to coming back next year!

    BWC_20130623

  • Thawing out: Return to dockside – post Hurricane Sandy

    Thawing out: Return to dockside – post Hurricane Sandy

    At daybreak, we were preparing to motor 1.5 hours — to return back to dockside.  Back to “juice”.  Which translates to heat.  It can’t happen soon enough.   It has been 41 degrees in our cabin since Monday night – Hurricane Sandy’s landfall.

    While at anchor – the port side engine ignition switch disintegrated.  Just like that.   For awhile we couldn’t turn on the port engine.   But Captain Paddy figured out a way to hold the broken pieces in place from the inside, while I gently turned the key — to get the engine to turn on.    By 7:30AM we hoisted anchor, along with our other sailboat “friends” who weathered the storm in Wilton Creek.

    We navigated out the Piankatank River, and around Fishing Bay – into Deltaville.   Blowing 30 knots…which feels like “nothing”.  Hard to imagine I’m saying that!   Only a handful of boats were in the marina.   It was empty, and for a moment I wasn’t sure if we were authorized to return.   We had no intention of asking permission.  Frozen to the core, we made a beeline for the dock….and quickly plugged in the shore cord.   Let the thawing begin.   Followed by a very long, hot shower.

    For us, Hurricane Sandy is over.   We were very fortunate.  For millions more, they have no power, no heat…no shower.   It gets old and cold fast.  Many have lost everything.  It is heartbreaking – and they will have a long road to recovery.   If you can, please consider a donation to http://www.redcross.org and I’m looking into ways to do more.   Please share via comment if you come across ways to help.  These are our brothers and sisters.

  • Hurricane Sandy Aftermath

    Hurricane Sandy Aftermath

    The eerie sounds of Hurricane Sandy along with the sensation of a levitating boat at anchor is haunting.   At 40-60 knot winds we weren’t even experiencing the full brunt of what Sandy had to offer.  Thanks to our hurricane hole on Wilton Creek.

    By 5AM, the sounds of Sandy winds changed and bands of winds grew distant.  The boat ceased creaking and the sensation of going airborne subsided.  The worst is over, from a wind perspective.  It’s a brisk 41 degrees inside of Cat Maudy and Sandy has morphed into a NorEaster – leaving blizzard conditions behind.  Paddy is making hot drinks in the galley and Soxy, our cat is body slammed to us  seeking heat.  And all is OK, we are OK, and despite the relentless rains, the wrath of Sandy is moving on..

    We hoped that later in the day our marina would allow us to return to dockside.  But no.  Dock repairs were needed, so we spent the day drinking hot tea, hot soup….and appreciating we survived Hurricane Sandy at anchor.   We would spend another night in this hurricane hole in numbing cold — but all is good.
  • Bracing for Hurricane Sandy

    Bracing for Hurricane Sandy

    Sunday evening through Monday morning was spent sleepless.twirling at anchor.  When it gets dark and the winds howl muting conversation, the rains resemble waterfalls, and boat groan sounds like the anchor has failed – it’s easy to doubt your sanity.  


    But so far so good here at anchor.  I don’t want to jinx anything by being too optimistic.   This translates to taking photos and video.  I know some people take photos and video during a crisis — but it seems like bad ju ju to me.   Like taunting the mother nature gods to give you a good video clip – and messing with your ability to survive at the same time.  

    We’ve felt the impact of Hurricane Sandy since Saturday afternoon, as Sandy makes its way up the coast.  The intensity grows every hour.  I have to say that this hurricane hole in Wilton Creek has done fabulous so far.   We watch huge trees above the river banks sway in every which way – and yet a different weather system seems to be occurring at water level.  It is a very odd sensation, that what you “see” is not what you “feel”.  And, all of the time, you wonder when that will change.   We can get internet (via our phones) at anchor – so we monitor the news coverage.  Which by now is 100% Hurricane Sandy.  


    Today is the day.  The day that Hurricane Sandy will make it’s turn toward land.  Once she turns to the west (toward land), we would brace for the worse.   Our 5-11 National Weather tracking is bringing us news less to our liking.   It is now expected, that Sandy will make landfall closer to the Delaware Bay….i.e. closer to us.  Every mile matters.  The forecasts also show, that for some bizarre reason (perhaps the collision with the NorEaster) – that the brunt of the winds will extend down to the south bay.   What?   Our forecasts have changed – with the worst winds extending all the way to our location.   I’m not liking this news, and have decided to shut down on reading more about Hurricane Sandy.

    What will be…will be at this point.  It’s time to look at the bright side.  Our hurricane hole has been good so far.  Buffers a lot of the winds that less sheltered areas are getting.   

    http://video.google.com/googleplayer.swf?videoUrl=http://redirector.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3Dacc0487326ea0582%26itag%3D5%26source%3Dpicasa%26cmo%3Dsensitive_content%253Dyes%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1354456015%26sparams%3Did,itag,source,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D60AE9EAB4E494C8AE66F62AF1A15EB79E057E48F.1C274D5FABE2A427B893D3682F73F9C35806783A%26key%3Dlh1


     The bands of winds from a hurricane can be deceptive.   You might experience the extensive sustained winds and  gusts for say an hour….and suddenly there is a calm.   During one of those “calms”, we watched some particularly bizarre actions on a nearby anchored sailboat.  The owners who were not riding out the storm at anchor – had returned to their vessel to re-positioned it for the coming southwest winds.   Once re positioned  the woman hopped into some floating dingy type device, and was being propelled by her husband who was swimming beside her pushing her to shore.  Brrrr..  

     From 5PM to 7PM, we experienced that calm.  Maybe this was over?   We were getting settled into our new position at anchor.  Winds were blowing from the southwest , and we had the engines on – just in case the anchor didn’t hold as the winds changed from the north to the southwest.  It is nighttime again, and hard to see if we are dragging anchor.  

    Our “anchor software” set off an alarm…that we were draggin. aiii.   Any notion of being tired was now replaced with a shot of adrenaline.  We stared at any position on land (lights from nearby houses) to see if the boat was moving.   It wasn’t.  We reset the anchor software…and hoped the alarm wouldn’t go off again.  It didn’t.
    The past 2 nights – when we were getting Sandy from her north and northwest, the winds were howling.  However, as Sandy turned to make landfall, the sounds and intensity amped up.   Forget the howling winds…more like the sounds of a freight train traveling though the valley of eerie.   By 8PM, our hurricane hole which was doing it’s best at wind protection  but could not keep out all of Sandy.  The bands of winds were so intense at times, it felt like the boat was levitating.  The chain from the anchor was making grinding sounds and all of this happening in the dark.   And then there were the deafening sounds of the rain.  All I could think is when in the world will this be over???
    My brother Chuck called us around 10:30 to say that they are OK (just outside of Baltimore), and the worst seems to be over for them.   They had lost power, but the winds had subsided.  WHAT????  I was shocked that the eye of Hurricane Sandy – which was much closer in proximity to Baltimore – would bring less weather to that area?  I thought that the hurricane EYEball could not just go off and leave the rest of the hurricane behind?  If it was calm already in Baltimore…why in the world were we stuck in Sandy hell here in Wilton Creek Virginia?  It did not seem quite fair and after 3 days twirling around this itty bitty anchor I’m in need for ‘fairness’.   But no…Hurricane Sandy’s eyeball apparently went rogue…and we will continue to feel the worst of her at least through the night.   There is no choice but to settle into the fact that there was nothing we could do.
  • Sandy works her way up the East Coast

    Sandy works her way up the East Coast

    The winds are blowing steady from the North – as Hurricane Sandy works her way up the East Coast.  Even though she is still out to sea, we are feeling her wide reach.   The navigation buoys 15 miles east of us record the wind speeds – and show the winds are registering 40+ knots.

    For perspective, we are anchored 40 miles due west of the Atlantic Ocean – and 45 miles northwest of the mouth of the Chesapeake Bay.   We are 80 miles due southwest of Ocean City MD, and 105 miles as the crow flies from Baltimore.  We consider our waters in the south bay to be “one with the ocean”.  We regularly see dolphins, sea turtles and there are reports of sharks – tho I haven’t actually seen a shark here.  The water is saltwater, and I can assure you that when we have spent a day sailing in the south bay – we have to hose off the salt from everything.

    Hurricane Sandy is a wide-load….some 500 miles in diameter.   As of this writing (Sunday) she is currently 250 miles offshore, and about 200 miles south of us.  Her direction is north, parallel to the coastline, and getting closer to our position.

    Today we are seeing the winds increase, and the rains are steady.  We are glued to the 5-11 National Weather updates.   Every 5AM / 5PM and 11AM / 11PM the National Weather service puts out a revised track for Hurricane Sandy.  Since we are so close to the ocean, any sooner than anticipated Sandy turn to the west is news that we don’t want to see.   The weather updates are becoming more consistent – and showing landfall well north of the Delaware Bay.

    By late afternoon, the rains intensify and we are feeling bands of howling winds.  We talk regularly of “plan B”.   Plan B is final desperation   Plan B is where we have to abandon ship.  We are not at that point AT ALL, but feel that maybe, just maybe we should discuss having this plan.   At this point, we don’t know exactly what to expect.  The forecasts change at every update.  Sometimes the forecast is better, other times it is worse.  I prepare the ditch bag – those items that we MUST bring in moments notice all encased in ziploc baggies — SHOULD we have to abandon the boat.  Paddy readies the dingy lines — so that if we have to jump into the dingy – we won’t have to fuss with tangled line.   We contemplate weather we should put the dingy into the water now, or just let her swing on the dingy davits.  I wonder how we will put the dingy engine – which now rests on the back of Cat Maudy – onto the dingy when the winds take your breath away.  I stare at the shoreline, and decide that if our anchor drags – then we really don’t have very far to swim – to go ashore.   The water is 67 degrees.  Not frigid…but not temperatures I would want to spend any time into.   Then there is Soxy.  We could float her and her kitty carrier onto a boat cushion if needed.  Not sure what would happen once on shore.   I think that is Plan C.

    We have also started living on “End of the World Food”.   This consists of food we would NEVER eat otherwise.   Grilled cheese sammies, egg n cheese sandwiches, soup loaded with sodium, chocolate…and not a hint of vegetables or fruit.  If the end of the world is coming – why not enjoy those foods that nutrition experts condemn?

    As you can see, the looming “unknowns” of Hurricane Sandy begin to mess with your mind.  For one brief moment, I felt a truly paralyzing panic and fear.   I couldn’t move.   I didn’t want to be at anchor when the predicted mega-storm Hurricane Sandy of the century meets with a mid-Atlantic NorEaster – and does the unthinkable.   Instead of moving east, out to sea, Hurricane Sandy would be moving west.  Closing in on us.  Things were going to get worse.   I had to take back my mind.   And I did.  At least for awhile.  I turned up the radio to muffle the howling winds, and told myself over and over that the sounds were worse than what we would experience.

     

  • Departure for Wilton Creek…the Hurricane Hole

    Departure for Wilton Creek…the Hurricane Hole

    Still dockside at Deltaville, and by 3AM the winds are starting to howl.   Not steady howling, but enough to wake up Soxy…who in turn makes sure we are listening to the winds.

    Getting up at 4AM has it’s advantages.  We can:
    – recheck the latest hurricane tracking for the umteenth time,
    – charge up all of our electronics
    – make a list of all the items we must do before we leave the shoreline (gas for dinghy, more food for Soxy, and maybe more chocolate just in case)
    – get work done for clients
    – listen to the winds howl and wonder what it will sound like at 3X
    And it’s only 5AM.   aii

    By 7AM – we had a few details to tend to.  Fill up dingy gas tank…jog…get more food (apples and chocolate)…one last shower.  Could be days.  I know what you’re thinking…but this is a boat.  6 gal of hot water max.  One could hardly call this a shower.

    By 10:30AM, we departed land and dockside – and ventured out into Fishing Bay Harbor.  Winds were already blowing 20-25 from the NorthEast so we enjoyed (not) a bumpy ride to get to the Piankatank River.  From here, we following a winding river that gradually took us out of the winds.   Winds dropped to 12-15 knots – and it seems like we are going in the right direction.

    Paddy wanted to anchor out in some open area with protection from the north, but I had my sights on the locals version of a hurricane hole – Wilton Creek.   After 1.5 hours of motoring, we made it to the Wilton.  Depths of 8 feet.  Paddy considers it claustrophobic.  It seems perfect to me.  Winds that registered 25 knots just an hour ago – show 8 knots here.  One third.  Do the math — when Hurricane Sandy blows in at 60…maybe we’ll see 20?   That’s my logic and I’m stickin’ to it 😉

    After a few attempts at anchoring – which turned out too shallow – we found a few cruiser ‘friends’ and dropped anchor for our hurricane hole-down spot.   According to one cruiser (who came to visit via dinghy) the local knowledge puts the storm surge in this creek at 3 feet, and explains that winds might ‘swirl’ due to the narrow creek.   I can handle swirl.

    We take in the land terrain.  High banks, lots of trees at the top of the banks.   Basically we are sitting in the “valley” – ie the creek.  This is good.   We can hear the winds howl via the trees…but our instruments still read 8ish knots of wind.

    Activated the wind generator to get power.  And we proceed to obsess about each National Weather Service update regarding the Track of Hurricane Sandy.  It will be close.

  • Before Hurricane Sandy arrives…

    Before Hurricane Sandy arrives…

    Thursday 10/25/2012 

    We had PLANNED to do some sailing – and when we departed for Deltaville VA – this little blip in the news called Sandy was just some storm in the Caribbean.  Nothing for us to worry about here in the South Chesapeake Bay.

    But no.  Suddenly Sandy is predicted to take on the mid-Atlantic along with her sister storm Nor’Easter and voila a Perfect Storm is in the cards.  And if that’s not enough, there is a full moon and Halloween coming up – and suddenly FrankenStorm is being born.

    Thus, it’s no surprise Sandy is the talk of Deltaville. Everywhere you go – everyone is talking Sandy.  Currently they are expecting gale force winds here – which we can handle, but the storm surge is the potential problem. There are 2 “hurricane holes” that we can go to: one an hour away, and another 10 min from here. If it looks like it will get pretty bad – then we’ll probably opt to leave the dock and tuck into a smaller waterway with lots of land protection.

    If the surge is over 4 feet, then water will be on top of the dock – cuz they are fixed docks here. More than 8 feet and the boat will float off the pilings…so this is our current concern. We are also thinking about fleeing to Baltimore and tuck into some marina, but this is a last choice because of the distance and time it will take to travel. We’d basically have to do a pedal to the metal 24 hour trip – and night-time is not the best on the Chesapeake (many obstacles ).

    Soooo – we’re in wait mode (for more data) to see which mode we’ll need to take. aiii. Today is beautiful here – light winds – not enuf for sailing – a lovely calm b4 the storm 😉

    Friday 10/26/2012

    The marina is a buzz with activity.   Boat owners everywhere taking down their sails and tucking away anything that could blow with the wind.  Cruisers are taking refuge by setting out a spider web of anchors.

    Current model shows a direct hit of Hurricane Sandy to Baltimore! AIII!!! Ok – here is the update. We’ve made plans to have the sails removed today…and will fuel up this afternoon. We’ve stocked up on food n kitty food for u know who. We will have to go up into Wilton Creek, and we checked it out via car — looks to be very well protected. Paddy checked the mariner reports on Wilton Creek and it has good holding grounds, surrounded by high terrain and lots of trees. We will depart for Wilton Creek tomorrow am…along with probably a zillion other yacht-ie types 😉

    Sun – Mon – Tue are supposto be bad here, so we’ll be hopefully secured in Wilton Creek. I bought chocolate in case I go stir crazy. We won’t have electrical = heat….so that will be a downside. I do have lots of clothes… Was not planning to have to wait out a hurricane on our boat in a little creek…aiiii..what is…is.  I’m stressing with the thought of little to nil electricity (only when we run the diesel engines)…no heat…and no endorphins.   I may have to dig into that bag of chocolates early.  Will plan for a very LONG jog tomorrow AM before departure to Wilton Creek. 😉

    later in the day on Friday:

    For a very brief moment,  we were soooooooooooo excited cuz the marina was going to relocate us to another dock. Then…somebody by the name of “Keith” intervened….and said we had to leave. I think he owns the place.

    We finished putting 30 gal of diesel (5 gal at a time) into Cat Maudy.  Since some uber large yacht took over the fuel dock – we weren’t able to saddle up and get fuel.  So, we had to use a 5 gal jug – and make 6 trips to the fuel dock to get juice…then dump it into Cat Maudy.  This took about 2 hours.  We now have 40 gallons to ride out the Sandy wave.

    The marina is practically empty now. Kind of eerie. All day long boats were getting hauled out…or just leaving the dock for that creek the locals are calling a hurricane hole. The wind forecasts are getting stronger. Steady 40…gusts to 45. Let’s hope they don’t go higher.

    We left the car on higher grounds…and left the keys with our marina buddy Ed. I asked Ed to hold onto our car keys, just in case.  Just in case Ed needs to come and rescue us.

    Starting to feel the stress now of the “unknown”. I may need to get another batch of chocolate before we depart in the AM.

  • Cruisers for a day, or 2, or 3!

    Cruisers for a day, or 2, or 3!

    After a few days of Deltaville day sailing, we were finally getting our sailing chops back.  Well, maybe not completely back – but enough to venture further than 10 miles.   It was time to take a cruise.  Even if it was only a mini-cruise….we had this need to be cruisers again.

    Time is limited.  Life and work is happening all around us…but wouldn’t it be great to rekindle cruising life – if  just for a day or 2?  We found a mini-weather window, and got back into studying the weather, the gribs and  how quickly the winds were clocking in the southern Chesapeake Bay.

    With winds from the north gusting to nearly 30 knots on Sunday am, we waited til noon – and ventured out.  The seas were frisky, and the winds were down to 20 knots – so we decided to cruise south to Norfolk.   With following seas and fresh winds we were on course to make it to Hampton Roads by 5:30pm.  And then the winds dropped to 10 knots, and our sailing speeds suffered.  We made it to Hampton Roads by 7PM, as the sun was setting, and motored another 2 hours against an ebb tide to make it to our destination in downtown Norfolk at the Waterside Marina.   All was good, but we were rusty with this “cruising thing”, and forgot to factor ebb tides into our timetables.   Details for next time!

    Fortunately, the winds were from the north on our 2nd day of this “cruising”….so we “had” to stay put.   With my bod in desperate need of WD-40, from hoisting, pulling and trimming sails…a day of rest at the Waterside Marina is a beautiful thing.   We wandered around downtown Norfolk….being tourists, and getting some much needed coffee at the nearest ‘bucks.   Caffeined-up, we checked out the size of the WWII battleship Wisconsin…and thought about ways to turn old battleships into something more useful.   Such as dorm rooms for students….or fixed rent housing….I mean come’on…these ships are enormous, and seem to be built really well.   Why not make them a bit more useful?

    Back at Cat Maudy, we studied the weather and decided to take the weather window to return back to Deltaville – the next day.  South winds 10-15 knots would be ideal.   Having learned our lesson during our cruise to Norfolk, we even checked the tide tables.

    We departed Norfolk at the crack of dawn (6:30AM)…for a 1.5 hour motor through the downtown shipping channel.   During this time, we nearly ran into a barge.   It’s not that we didn’t see it coming…we did…but for some reason we were mesmerized by the barge crane thing…and didn’t notice it was heading straight for us until the tug boat captain hailed us on channel 16.   Whoopsi!

    At the mouth of the bay, the winds were in the low 10-15 range, and we made our first tack toward Cape Charles.  A few dolphins appeared as our guide, and it is always exciting to see these creatures befriend you.  Another tack, and we were near the mouth of Mobjack Bay.   With winds directly behind us, we sailed wing-n-wing for the next several hours.   And by the time we reached the Fishing Bay entrance to Deltaville — the winds had freshened up to 15 knots southeast, for a perfect sail finale!

    Despite the short cruise (3 days)…it was a tasty cruise….and reminded us how much we enjoyed – and missed our cruising lifestyle.   But for now, we’ll take each and every mini-cruise we can get!

    More photos!

  • Soxy rescued after falling into the Bay

    Soxy rescued after falling into the Bay

    By 9PM, all is dark, a cold front with tornado warnings has come and gone, and it’s time to fade into sweet dreams.   But first, sounds of Soxy crying for help are heard and Paddy leaps from the salon in a panic.  I run to the starboard hull, and we can hear her pleas to be saved, and we presumed she was in the water.

    Soxy is not an endurance swimmer. We have minutes to save her.  Paddy grabbed a flashlight and ran to the dock trying to pinpoint her location, while I ran to Cat Maudy’s trampoline to untie the kayak.   The thought of rescuing a cat swimming in dark, Chesapeake Bay water – with unknown sea life (sharks) lurking….is not my cup of tea.   But we’re talkin’ Soxy.

    I untied the kayak, and the thought of losing her sent a shot of adrenaline thru my weary bod – and like magic, I became Popeye the Sailor and lifted the kayak with one hand and ran with it to the cockpit.  Paddy grabs the kayak and tosses it in the water. “She’s under the dock” he yells…and I jumped into the kayak, listening for her screams.

    It was not easy to navigate underneath the dock with a kayak.  The waters were at high tide so I laid low, listening for her to talk to me.

    She responded when I called out her name, and I pointed the flashlight.   There she was.   A sopping wet cat, shaking, terrified, with her head inches above the waterline – clinging to the underbelly of the dock.   I navigated the kayak to her, but she wouldn’t let go of the dock without a struggle.   Finally, I was in position to grab her with both hands….and pulled her until she finally let go.   She clung to me digging her claws deep into my skin with a death grip.

    Paddy pulled both on the line to the kayak and we reappeared from under the dock.   The adrenaline rush was over and all were too exhausted to move.  Finally, Soxy ran aboard, and hid low in the hull, living to see another day, unaware she is on lock-down for the foreseeable future..  The next day we purchased a big-ass fishing net, just in case Soxy evades her lock-down.

  • Savage Bitches

    Savage Bitches

    With the Iron Girl Columbia Triathlon over in August, we craved some a new and unique challenge.  Meet the Savage Man Triathlon.   The name alone is intriguing.  Then, there is the fine print.  A description of the Savage Man 30 course (1.5K swim, 40K bike, 10K run), with bike routes touting 22% grade climbs and uber steep descents,  running routes touting rocky off road terrain, and the nearly 1 mile swim in brisk freshwater lake waters.   All of this at 2500-3000 feet elevation just west of the Eastern Continental Divide in the belly of the Appalachian Mountains.  The TriSistas had to do this.  Someway, somehow….we had to be Savage Bitches.

    We regularly train at sea level to 300 feet.  Yup, right at the water line.   We call the little bumps in terrain – hills, and feel pretty mighty mighty biking up and down these road bumps.  I don’t even know what a 22% climb looks like.

    Jill and Jane signed up to be Savages – as a relay team – Team Jan.  Team Jan is in honor of Jill’s step-mom Jan, who recently passed away from a struggle with cancer.  We couldn’t decide who would do which leg of the relay – but there was time for those details.  One thing for certain, we would arrive at the race site in Deep Creek Lake, Maryland early – to view the swim course, drive the bike and the run course – and then decide who would do which leg.  Or maybe we just each do multiple (or all?) legs of the event?  We never really know until the last second.

    On Friday, September 14, Jane drove the TriSista relay team from sea level Maryland (Silver Spring) to high elevation Maryland (Deep Creek Lake) in a Honda Fit – named Betsy-Sue.  Betsy is equipped with a miniature engine – i.e. 4 little horses to power us to our destination.  Along I-70 and I-68, as we near Cumberland Maryland, the highways advertise 6% grades, the use of runoffs for trucks, and add an extra slow lanes for vehicles who can’t get all of their horses to run at top speed.  Betsy-Sue is in desperate need of a Hemi, and can barely make it to the top of the highway mountain climbs without encouragement.  I was trying to imaging biking up a 6% grade.   Anxiety is creeping in.

    We reached Deep Creek Lake in plenty of time Friday afternoon to take in the beauty of early fall in western Maryland.  With sprawling farmlands, log cabin homes, leaves just beginning to turn crimson red – it was easy to become mesmerized by the surroundings.  After we picked up our Savage race packet, we returned to Betsy-Sue for a country drive along the designated bike route.   Jill and Jane have opposite biking strengths.   Downhill Jill loves the fast paced descents, and Uphill Jane seeks out a climb.   As you can imagine, Jill’s eyes bugged out seeing the steep climbs, and Jane stared in disbelief at the rapid descents.  During the first 8 miles, there is a steady climb to near 3000′ elevation.   This is followed by the next 8 miles – where the terrain resembles a roller coaster mix of steep climbs and rapid descents.  I was so awestruck with the first 16 miles, that I have no memory of the remaining miles of the bike route.  Surely this could not be the bike route, and let’s just say I wasn’t comfortable driving the car on these roads.

    So, like any gracious TriSista – I offered up the bike leg to Jill.  “Jill, really, you can do the bike leg…”  But no.  Jill was having the same thoughts – and kept repeating “Sissy, seriously, why don’t you be our biker tomorrow…”.   Obviously riding the bike route from the car was not getting us closer to putting the “who” on each leg of the Savage relay.

    It’s time to drive the run course.  At this point, I’m beginning to understand the reality of “savage”.   The person who designed the bike and run routes is evil.  Plain and simple.  As if you won’t be in enough pain from the torture on the bike route, the run was filled with what appeared to be all uphills, and included off road terrain that was not even passable for Betsy-Sue.

    “Listen, Jill – I really don’t mind if you want to do all 3 legs of this triathlon….” and Jill would respond with “Sissy, I’ll just get a coffee and watch you do the event”.   There you have it.  The day before our Savage relay — panic has set in and we were no closer to deciding anything about anything.

    A good night sleep in our cool digs at the Inn at Deep Creek, with views over Deep Creek Lake and the swim course – should solve everything.  That would have been nice.  To have a good night sleep.  Neither of us slept a wink…a tad concerned about the craziness that we had signed up for — the Savage Man.

    Waking to 40 degree temperatures, we made progress on the relay leg decision.  From making decisions on what to eat, what clothing to wear, what food to bring….how many trips will be needed to the porta-potties….to the call for the first wave of swimmers…these scary details go on for hours.  At this point, I will say for the record, what goes before and during the TRI start…stays in the SistaHood.  Let’s move this blog along.

    With the swim leg behind us (no – there is no discussion about the swim), we hopped on our bikes and took off at a comfortable pace, hoping to pace ourselves for the “unknown”.  Notice the use of “we”.  It’s a new form of relay.   Pronounced “we-lay”.  Yes, Jill and I are both doing the Savage Man we-lay.  Team Jan.  #1564.  Rock on.

    That comfortable bike pace lasted about 30 seconds.  Jill takes off at a blistering cadence during the early rolling downhills, and I had all I could do to keep pace.  The course wrapped around Deep Creek Lake, and then headed out to the countryside.  From there, we were climbing.  During the first 8 miles we found ourselves warming up, as we inched closer to the sun.  La la la…the climbs are not steep grades at this point, so we soaked up the rays, took in the scenery, and watched many many many uber fit athletes fly past us on $20,000 bikes.   “Nice pace Fluffy” I would yell to Jill.  And she would respond “You rock Sissy”….and life is good in the hood.

    Then, we passed mile 8.  The road dropped out of nowhere.  Imagine a road that really should have been designed with switchbacks, but apparently the transportation folks ran out of money for pavement.  So instead of gradually working your way down a cliff….you just bike straight over it.   This marked the first….of one too many cliff descents.

    Within seconds, Downhill Jill was gone.   Low over the handlebars, she takes the descents like a pro and easily hits 40mph speeds.  Not me.  30mph is my max bike speed, and I had all I could do to keep the speed down to 30mph.  Oh please please please please please brakes do NOT fail me now!  There was no more soaking in the scenery at this point.  The base of the cliff was still not in sight….and I think this is the longest high speed bike descent east of the Mississippi.  Maybe not, but that’s my story.

    At last…we reached the bottom.  I use the term “we” liberally.  Jill reached the bottom of the cliff long before I, and allowed me to catch up on the next climb.   The roller coaster continued like this for the next 8 miles.  We would gradually climb back up to the sun…then free-fall back down to planet earth.   Over and over.  And somewhere along Accident Road (appropriately named) I caught a glimpse of a large black animal racing up the farmland.   We were on a collision course….and the conversation went something like “What the ___?????”  A huge steer is sprinting up the pasture toward the road.   There were no fences – so farm animals run freely in western Maryland.   Based on the “Cattle Crossing” signs, it seems these beasts are encouraged to roam willy nilly.  With unbelievable good fortune, it was “lunch time” at the OK Corral, and this monster black animal turned just before the road, and made a beeline for the food troth.  I spent the next mile shaking off visions of being trampled by cattle.

    By now, we thought we had seen the worst of the bike course.  But wait.  We are staring at climb so steep, I could not see the top, from the base.  You know you are in trouble, when you reach your granny gear at the base of the climb.  I don’t know the grade of this climb, but uber fit athletes were humbled.   Some walked.  Some grumbled.  And the rest of us simply burned up our quads and forced our lungs into overdrive.  By the time we reached the top of the hill – we were back to riding high, having one more mountain notched into our belt.

    But, this is no time to bask in glory.  After a few more miles…and limited juice left in the quads, we are greeted with one final grinding climb.  Foy Hill.  Marked at a 22% grade.  Spectators line the steepest part of the hill clanging their cowbells, and wearing “devil” costumes.   As you reach the most difficult grade of the climb, the spectators run out and surround your bike…cheering you on and daring you to stay clipped in.  There is no way we could let these folks down.  With speeds dropping to 4mph….and every last bit of grit and oxygen we could muster…we made it to the summit on Foy Hill, and pedaled the final 1/3 of the bike journey back to the transition area.

    We racked our bikes in the transition area, and quickly changed into running shoes.   Let me clarify.  I quickly changed into running shoes.  Jill has some issue with the insole of her sneaker, and fiddles with it for 5 minutes trying to fit the insole (which has popped out) back into her sneaker.   I’m taking mental notes.   Fluffy had the same shoe issue in the last triathlon.  Get the girl some glue.

    We depart the transition area along a rocky pathway that keeps your footing from feeling too secure.   Then, we take to a shaded mulch covered path, and gingerly land trying to avoid stepping on tree roots and spraining an ankle.   If you are still upright, your next test is to see if you can descend down a wet grass covered terrain, make 180 degree turn while you have gained speed, and then climb up a muddy hill.  All of this occurs in the first mile.

    Back on paved roads, we make our way through a hilly campground.  The vibe is terrific!  Campers are out cheering us on – and it seems as if everyone owns a cowbell in western Maryland.   In addition to amazing spectator support, the athlete vibe is first rate.  With the elite athletes having finished long ago, we are with those athletes who are simply in it to finish.  There is a unique camaraderie among the finisher crowd, as we share in the moment – both the pain and glory.

    Somewhere into mile 4, it was time to leave the paved roads and lakeside views behind, and climb a rocky off road trail to the fire tower at the top of the hill.   Oh my.  This is the kind of trail you would encounter HIKING…not RUNNING.  It humbled us to a crawl, and we tried our best to speed walk on a trail laced with rocks and crevices.   After a long grueling climb….we finally reached the fire tower…and turned back around for the descent.  Downhill Jill led the way on the descent, and I focused on fast light footwork to avoid falling into the crevices.   We reached pavement again at the base, with 1 more mile to go.

    You could sense we were closing in on the finish line.  Our running pace picked up.  More spectators lined the roadways.  These are people we had never met before, but somehow couldn’t let our cheering fans down.  We had to keep going, despite more uphills and the little voices in our heads that wanted to be done…now.   As we crossed the finish line – there were high fives and body slams all around.  We were Team Jan, and had done Jan proud.  We had accomplished something harder than we imagined we could do – on a course that can only be defined as savage.  All told, we burned nearly 5000 calories, and earned the right to be called Savage Bitches.

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  • Cat Maudy bounces back!!

    Cat Maudy bounces back!!

    After 10 months living on the high-n-dry – Cat Maudy takes to the southern Chesapeake Bay with 2 days of sailing winds – leftover remnants from Hurricane Issac.

    Cat Maudy and her Captains worked out the kinks on day ‘one’ with 10-15 knot winds…. Hmmm…tacking, furling, unfurling, maneuvering the daggerboard…so many details have gotten rusty.

    And if sailing wasn’t enough of a moment to be savored, we had the good fortune of being surrounded by sea creatures. A school of dolphins gave us a front row private viewing of Sea World.

    By day ‘two’ – the winds had picked up to just under 30 knots.  It took all my strength to hoist the main….and we’re feeling seriously AARP trimming these bloody sails in heavy winds.  It was all worth it in the end.  With a reefed main and reefed jib – Cat Maudy rose to the occasion, reached speeds in double digits, and we went along for the ride.

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  • 2012 Skate of the Union

    2012 Skate of the Union

    The sista’hood takes to inline skating at the Fairfax Police Dept oval track – in a field of pro elite skaters (not us!) and amateurs (that’s us!) for a half-marathon ‘race. Well, maybe not a “race” for us – but we finished standing upright and burned off some calories along the way!

    Jill and I started out at the BACK of the pack…and stayed that way for the first 2 laps. It was looking for awhile that we were the clear OWNERS of last place…until Jill started kickin’ some ass….and we picked off a few stragglers one at a time.

    Once it became apparent that we weren’t going to fall, we started gaining more speed (with Jill leading again!), and soon other skaters jumped onto very sweet pace line. The vibe was fabulous — and you can’t beat skate endorphin’s!!! We came in JUST ahead of last place (woo hoo!)…with a bunch of new friends (paceline buddies)

  • Russell F Wadsworth, WWII Veteran

    Russell F Wadsworth, WWII Veteran

    …was the youngest of 7 children. He grew up in Childs PA during the Great Depression, and was called to service for his country on May 29, 1942. Here is his story, through the many letters that he wrote home to his family – during his time in military service.

    Russell provided a “support role” to the combat troops during this time period. The military decides who does what – and they decided that they wanted our Dad to manage troop recordkeeping.

    The letters that are displayed in this blog, represent all letters that were written BY Russell and saved by Russell’s family members. It does not represent all letters that Russell wrote during his time in military service. Many letters were apparently lost – especially those written to his sisters Mildred and Ida, and his mother Helen Griffiths Wadsworth. Russell apparently loved to write letters back home – and of course to recieve notes back from family as well. He wrote many letters to his brother Wilson (and wife Helen), his brother Willard (and wife Grace) and their daughter Romayne, his brother Howard (who was also drafted to WWII), and Howard’s wife Elizabeth – as you will see in this blog site.

    Why this blog? Russell had always wanted to create a “writeup” of the time that he served during WWII. In the following section “in his own words” – were the words from a document that he was composing, and had last updated in 2005. Unbeknownst to us, he had managed to collect from family and save these many letters, photos and documents for over 60 years. He simply became too frail in his later years to finish his project. Thanks Dad, for giving us the chance to put this bit hof history together for you. So, like reading a book from start to finish, to glean the most from this window into WWII history, I recommend reading each letter in chronological order, as displayed in the site – from 1942 thru 1946.

    Please respect, that this is a PRIVATE blog site, and is not published or listed on search engines to the internet public. Reproduction of any materials without permission is strictly prohibited.

  • …in Russell’s own words

    Most of this article is based on things I could remember or excerpts from letters I had written relatives. Most of the letters I had written home from wherever I was were returned to me. Letters also triggered memories that I would have forgotten entirely. Timewise, this article is based mostly on dates of these letters and in some cases on other papers relating to my military service.

    I was inducted into the U S Army and sworn in on Friday, May 29, 1942 at the Elks Club on Water Street in Binghamton, NY, along with the rest of a contingent of men from the southern tier of New York. We were formed into a platoon in front of the Elks Club and marched to the Erie Railroad Station about 2 blocks away. A newspaper picture in the Binghamton Press of this platoon included me. There we boarded a coach for the trip to Buffalo and bussed to the reception center at Ft. Niagara. We arrived there at about dusk and were taken to a barricks, and an opportunity to clean up, and a cot to sleep on temporarily prior to processing.. From here on it was wait and see. After a couple of days we were taken to the Quartermaster and issued our military clothing. which in our case was summer uniforms: uniforms, underwear, socks, shoes, caps, towels, all khaki colored, bedding and toilet articles including razor, shaving brush and soap, a fatigue outfit and a jacket „ 2 pairs of everything.. Everything smelled like moth balls. After getting these items we now had to wait around for days. At this time we were not assigned to any unit and each day we had to get up and be in formation right after reveille was sounded by a bugler. This was a daily routine. And you were required to be on time.The roll was called to see that we were present. Then we could go to breakfast at 7 AM.

    At this point we were known as “casuals” Our records were apparently being reviewed – what kind of work did we do as civilians, and the test scores for IQ. We were restricted to the Reception Center – couldn’t get passes to leave the base during this period. At about 8 AM we had to report to a designated area for our daily duty assignments. These were just for the purpose of keeping us busy. And again a roll was called. Once you were selected for an assignment names would be called out and you had to report to some particular area.
    One morning we were late in getting up and in formation and were assigned various duties like cleaning latrines and picking up cigarette butts and any other scraps of paper known as policing the area. From then on we got up on time.

    Fort Niagara is located about 14 miles from Niagara Falls, NY and 35 or so miles from Buffalo. When the weather is nice its a nice scenic place along the shore of the Niagara River where it flows into Lake Ontario. Where it enters the lake there is a Coast Guard station and the river current is swift and strong. Also located at this point is Old Fort Niagara, probably built some time in the 1600s. There is also a lighthouse equipped with a fog horn. The fog horn is especially annoying when it blows all night long when there is foggy weather. And our living areas are very close by.

    We continued our processing on a daily basis lining up for protective shots such as smallpox, tetanus and typhoid. I didn’t have much reaction to any of these other than a mild soreness in the arm which lasted only for a couple of days.. As the processing continued we began to get the feeling that maybe some of us might be assigned to this Post .

    Anyway, I’ve been exploring the area here. On weekends we would explore Old Fort Niagara. It was a French outpost way back in the 1600’s. It has interesting history and overlooks Lake Ontario where the Niagara River enters the lake. It’s a place we can go and relax and study its history. Other places we can go here is the Post Exchange (PX) and purchase things like candy bars, toilet articles, and a variety of other items that we need. And there is a theatre, modern, and shows the latest movies. At times during our training we have to go there and watch training films

    We had a guy in our barracks who was the worst snorer I’d ever heard. He goes up and down the scale and was almost as good as a fog horn. Had trouble getting to sleep on his first night in the barracks, but we seemed to get used to it and eventually fell asleep In the first couple of weeks here some of us were granted furloughs for a few days and allowed us to go home wearing our new summer uniforms. For me, this meant taking the bus to Buffalo and taking, a Lackawanna train from there back to Binghamton When we returned we were soon assigned to tents with wood platforms. It was meant for making room to handle the influx of new arrivals. Since this was warm weather they were quite comfortable.. It was a tent city as you can see from the picture. Here’s some info on what it’s like around here. There is a small post theater where you can go to a movie for 20 cents. There is a USO club and you can buy sodas, sandwiches, ice cream, etc. It has a large lounge room where you can play cards, write letters, read, or just relax to go home

    From a letter to Wilson & Helen I wrote on June 28, 1942 “We have a fellow who is in this tent is in class 1A when it comes to snoring, and he advanses to class 1A+ after he has a few beers. He goes right up and down the scale when he snores. The first night he came in I had a job getting to sleep, but by the next I was used to it. Since I’ve come back we have transferred to the tents which are quite comfortable at this time of the year.”

    The Bell Airacobra, the one the fires a cannon through its nose is made in Niagara Falls not far from here. They fly over our firing range firing the canno and 50 calibre machine guns out into the lake. They are low and noisy.

    I’m looking forward to getting a weekend pass and go to Niagara Falls to see the Falls. We can take a bus from Youngstown which is just outside the Post. It’s kind of monotonous here on week ends. That will change if I ever get assigned to some unit to work in and comes with more priveleges.

    I’ve found the Post Library, the USO Club and the theatre since I came back and usually spend my evenings at one of these places. The library is prety much up-to-date, having the latest books, magazines, etc. The theatre is air conditioned and the admission if just 20 cents. At the USO Club you can buy sodas, sandwiches, ice cream, etc., and they have a large lounge where you can sit and write letters, read, or play cards or just sit.

    “We’ve just put the tent flaps down for the night and although the sun is pretty high yet and being early in the evening, it’s becoming real warm in here. Howard’s mother-in-law and her daughter were up here last Sunday and found me watching a ball game. They were lucky to find me because we don’t stick around the tents during the day on Sunday, and that is because some corporal or sergeant may come in want you to do something. Nobody likes to do anything on Sunday. It’s getting too hot to continue writing and haven’t got much more to write about just now anyway.”

    I don’t know exactly when it happened, but during the summer of 1942 I received my assignment to the Records Section. That would be my duty while I was at Fort Niagara Reception Center. And now I would have more priveleges such as passes off the post at non-duty times. A little more freedom! The job itself kept me quite busy processing records for incoming recruits. Work was all day from 8 AM to 4 or 5 PM.

    – Russell F Wadsworth

  • Russell’s WWII Timeline

    May 29, 1942 Sendoff to Fort Niagara, NY

    On May 29, 1942, Russell was selected for service, and transported along with a contingent of men from Endicott NY, to Fort Niagara, NY. At the time, Russell was 23 years old, and was living amongst his relatives – which included his brother Willard & his wife Grace Wadsworth, and other brother Wilson and his wife Helen. Russell left behind his job with IBM Corporation.

    April, 1944 moved to New York City NY

    Just under 2 years of being stationed at Fort Niagara, NY – Russell was moved to a new temporary “staging” area – New York City, NY.

    April 6 1944 Shipped OUT: New York City, NY to Scotland

    Russell was shipped out from New York City – to Scotland on April 6, 1944. He was on a large ship called the “Ile de France”, and arrived in Firth of Clyde, Scotland on April 14, 1944. The trip took 8 days to cross the Atlantic Ocean.

    The ship took an irregular course enroute to Scotland, because it was not escorted by a convoy, and thus the boat should have sufficient speed to outrun any attackers. Ran into several storms, one of which lasted for 3 days – resulting in “mountainous” waves.

    April 14, 1944 From the Coast of Scotland, to Manchester, England

    Dropped anchor in Gurock Scotland…and within 24 hours was on a train traveling to Manchester England.

    Mail has now become censored, and the use of V-Mail begins. Mail is censored so that exact locations are not made known.He has been stationed to the European Civil Affairs Division of the US Army.

    Russell could not reveal his location to his family, until nearly 1 year later.

    May 1944 – October 1944 Manchester, England

    Russell becomes acclimated with Europe. Traffic operates on the opposite side of the road, the currency needs to be understood. He spends a portion of his stay in England housed in private homes along with other GI’s. The English show incredible hospitality to American servicemen.

    October 1944 – Southamton, England to Rochefort on Y, France

    Boarded a liberty ship at Southampton England, and headed across the English Channel to Omaha Beach, France. They remained on the boat for approximately 10 days, before going in to shore. Once on shore, and after a few days of pitching tents, Russell along with his convoy settled into Rochefort on Y, just 25 miles south of Paris.

    From there, they later moved to Troyes, France – which is 90 miles southeast of Paris.

    May 1945 – Shipped to Bad Homburg, Germany

    Relocated from his last position in Troyes, France – to Bad Homburg Germany. Bad Homburg in the Taunus mountains, is approximately 10 miles north of Frankfurt, Germany.

    November 1945 Germany, to France…then shipped back to Boston Massachussetts

    With rough seas, spent 9 days crossing the Atlantic Ocean on the vessel “Rennselaer Victory”. Left Antwerp, France and arrived in the Port of Boston on December 4, 1945.

    Once on US soil, was processed to Camp Miles Standish, MA, and then put on a train enroute to Fort Dix. During this train ride, Russell enjoyed a “chance” encounter with his brother Howard – who was one of the MP’s walking the train. This was the first time Russell and Howard had seen each other in nearly 2 years. Russell was discharged from the US Army on December 8, 1945.

    Returned to his old job at IBM, and living with his brother Wilson and family in Vestal, NY.

  • Cat Maudy to Reedville for the winter

    Cat Maudy to Reedville for the winter

    Cat Maudy sails (or tries) south for her winter ‘home’. Home this year will be Reedville VA. It’s a dot on the map just south of the mouth of the Potomac. She’ll be getting some work done – on the hard. Departed from Baltimore on a beautiful fall day – temps in the upper 50’s. The weather window would be 3 straight days of basically ZERO wind…with light breeze from the south. South breezes mean warmer temps, so we are OK to sacrifice the sail (this time only!) for warmer temps! Three hops…day 1 to Annapolis, day 2 to Solomons MD, and day 3 to Reedville VA.

    Photo and video gallery

  • SeaGull Century Bicycle Ride – 2011

    SeaGull Century Bicycle Ride – 2011

    We trained and trained for a 100 mile bicycle ride on the Eastern Shore – but nothing could have prepared us for the extreme winds on event day. For the most part, we ignored the weather forecasts of wind gusts to 40mph. It just “couldn’t” be true.

    We met our match – and somehow managed to persevere. On many occasions the crosswinds tossed us off the road, and the headwinds slowed our speeds (at times) into single digits. We ran over 2 big black snakes, saw the aftermath of a bad bicycle accident, ate way too many bananas and fig newtons (rest stop fare), and devoured cherry pie and ice cream – at mile 84. 7 hours and 22 minutes later – 3 exhausted, wind-beaten WAAAY ready to be off our bicycle tri-sista team of Jill, Jane and Tami – crossed the Seagull Century finish line. Woo ha!

    Photo slideshow

  • Cat Maudy sails da’sewer waters of the Bay

    Cat Maudy sails da’sewer waters of the Bay

    A week after Hurricane Lee drowned nearly every community along the Susquehanna River – we decided it was time to explore the waters of the Chesapeake Bay. We discovered…a sewer…debris large enough to puncture recreational boats, submerged huge blue barrels of questionable contents…and the water took on a shade of chocolate brown.

    Despite the downsides…Cat Maudy left the Baltimore dock…for sail time…and ended the day in Annapolis.

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  • Skate Of The Union 2011

    Skate Of The Union 2011

    With Mother Nature hurling 1 earthquake and 2 hurricanes at the mid-Atlantic over the past three weeks, coupled with complete lack of skating (let alone skate racing) and skate training partners – a very loud voice in my head told me NOT to enter the Skate of the Union race this year. But, no. The lack of skating or skate opportunities didn’t seem to matter. I entered anyway.

    Entering an event, means that I have to do it. There’s no backing out. My skate race training consisted of ONE (count it!), ONE hour for the entire year. And yet for some reason, I thought I could win. Go figure.

    September 11, 2011 turned out to be a perfect day for Virginia, Maryland and DC skaters (plus many who traveled further!) to get together and draft, heel carve, double-push, maintain skate technique until your quads cave, and GO as fast as possible around a 1 mile+ flat track – for 10K, 1/2 marathon or the full marathon — all to benefit the Special Olympics.

    Skating is an endorphin rush…and being a part of a kick-ass draft line is about as exciting as it gets (too bad I couldn’t keep up with any!). Unlike the prior year where I drafted with Team New Jersey, or behind a big man in a blue shirt….this year was different. I skated a few laps with random skaters, in general I was solo for most of the skate – either too fast for draft lines, or too slow. While my quads were screaming from the lack of training – I managed to stay upright and finish…and take second place with a spot on the podium. How ’bout dem apples eh?

    The skate community is pretty tight – and it was all worth it being reunited with old skate friends from the days of Leukemia Team-n-Training, A2A-86mile, Eddie Matzgar clinics, Team Skaters Quest, and Team Rollerquest of Baltimore. Will train for this next year!

  • Effin TriSistas Rock Atlanta

    Effin TriSistas Rock Atlanta

    The Iron Girl sprint triathlon event in Atlanta Georgia – came earlier than expected.   For many of the sprint TRI sista veterans, we could count the # of training bricks on one hand (um…maybe 1 finger?) and we were hopeful just to finish the event the same day it started.  Of course this does not apply to the 2 “ringers” (you know who you are)…who became part of our TRI sista family of 8.
    For some reason (global warming?  global confusion?), Atlanta Georgia is no longer located in the south.   Apparently there is an arctic depression spanning from Canada to Georgia.  Two weeks prior to the event, we learned that water temperatures would be a nippy 60 something degrees.   The race organizers suggested wetsuits for the swim portion of the event.    For those of us who are thin skinned, the news of cold water temperatures gave us an opportunity to prepare for the worst.  We started looking for survival suits — those worn by the arctic fishermen on The Deadliest Catch…and we envisioned floating in red 15 mil neoprene suits, on our backs…waiting for a Coast Guard rescue.
    For the past few months, we shared dozens of emails with our new extended family of 8 TRI-sistas.  During this period, we learned a few things:
    1)  If you are not planning to wear wet suits in 60 degree water (Maria-Kim-Julie-Deb) – just go straight to the finish line – you are already an IronGirl
    2)  Tami does not like to be cold.  Period.
    3)  Jane is attached to her rubber-duckies
    4)  Deb was not distracted for a moment from cooking while a tree fell on her house
    5)  Jill took steroids for 1 week while she battled walking pneumonia…and briefly became a man.
    6)  Holly by Golly ran a 10K in 33 minutes….and suddenly we all re-focused on training
    8 Tri-sisters, traveling in 3 cars, representing Maryland, DC and North Cackalacky….converged on Friday the 13th for our first face-to-face meet, and subsequent slumber party and girl-time.  Oh yeah…and there is that triathlon.  Let’s meet the TRI-sistas….

    Julie:   Designated TRI sista team shrink.  Julie will treat any issue or manifestation for the discount rate of $99.95.  Needless to say, Julie made a fortune during TRI IG Atlanta weekend.  Now, Julie is not a psychologist by trade – but that is just a minor detail.  Some of Julie’s notable TRI sista shrink successes include:

    — helped Maria accept that driving slower than 90mph on I-85 was ok
    — guided Kim into seeking future December 1/2 marathons in climates that are warmer than Pittsburgh
    — worked with Chef Deb to overcome guilt on recommending gas station pizza to her friends
    — coached Holly on how to pack everything a girl could need into 2 bags….bless her heart
    — worked with Jane to stay “in” the car when Jill drove up and down the rental home driveway cliff
    — gently listened to Jill’s heartbreaking French birther story– “Effin Wieder Hole….Fase”
    — and will need more sessions working with Tamar – the exhibitionist
    It is interesting that we nominated Julie as our team shrink – when her role model for IG weekend was an old man, who smoked, never exercised and clocked a TRI course at 2:08….a time that Julie was determined to beat.  No issues there….Jus sayn.

    Maria:  If there is anything to be known about pop-culture, professional football, and trivia…just ask Maria.  I’m pretty sure that I remember watching Maria win many rounds of Jeopardy a few years back.   She stumbled only once on Jeopardy…and that was during the question of “who won the first Dancing with the Stars” contest….a show that she was not familiar (back then).

    But don’t let that one lapse in trivia years gone by, fool you, because during TRI-Sista weekend…Maria was introduced to the TV program that had previously eluded her  – thanks to By Golly Ms Holly.   Bless her heart..
    And Marie found herself glued to the TV.  Perhaps it had something to do with the Pittsburg Steeler pro football man (Hines Ward) with the nice smile and lovely 2-step.  By the end of the night, Maria could name every dance move, celebrity and professional dancer.  Don’t be surprised to find Maria back onto Jeopardy with her newfound knowledge of Dancing with the Stars.

    Kim:   Ex Navy SEAL.  SEAL stands for She who Eats A meal Long b4 anyone is awake.   Like clockwork, every morning at 0400 you could find Kim rummaging around the kitchen, working up a brew of tea, followed by a bowl of cereal, banana, leftover raspberry scones and trail mix.  The rest of us were walking around like zombies, colliding into walls and each other and wondering why we had to be up at this awful hour…but not Kim.  She was focused, bio-rhythms perfectly timed, and eating on schedule.

    Kim also has a very knowledgeable Cosmopolitan side – that she skillfully “hides” by wearing her pink I LUV NY jammies.  I won’t go into a lot of detail here, but apparently Kim told the owners of a world class girlie salon…that “everyone knows” the 75 secrets on how to fiddle with your man.   Do not mess with a military girl.

    Deb:   That would be Deb “Julia Child” Rossi.  It was obvious when Deb unpacked, that not only was FOOD a primary focus for the weekend, but only the BEST food will suffice.  Deb is a self proclaimed “food snob”, and we saw no reason to argue with this highly desirable quality.  Deb had Tri-Sista nutrition bars (chocolate) specially made for our healthy eating needs and a supply of M&M’s.  It was only appropriate that we all changed into spandex.

    As Deb brought in her Kitchen Aid with pasta making attachments, homemade lasagna, scone mixes from Harry and David, and contraptions too numerous to name (mainly because I can’t – I don’t even know what they are!) so that she can make delicacies from scratch….I quickly pulled Jill aside.  “Jill – do you think we should hide all that prepared food we just bought at the Publix?”…and we nonchalantly pushed the Publix food to the far back corners of the fridge.  We could always say that the food was left by the prior renters…
    Holly:   Ms. By Golly, a native from North Carolina, shared the secrets of southern communication with her Yankee TRI-sista counterparts.   Southerners speak in forked tongues…which is another way of saying two meanings for the price of one.  You figure out which best applies.   “Bless her heart” is southern speak for “that bitch” or “sweet thang”….a “hot mess” translates to someone who is having a bad hair day…or “gee…I sure wish I looked like her”, and “cluster” is an abbreviation for “cluster F%*#” or… a gathering of goats.

    Anyway, I got to know these expressions first hand from Ms Holly.   Can you guess which meaning applies?

    Me:   OMG Holly – didn’t you get the memo on a 2 bag quota? (as we loaded her 15 bags of beauty products into the car)

    Holly:   oh Janie…bless your heart

    Me:   OMG Holly – are you still putting on makeup?

    Holly:   oh Janie…you’re a hot mess

    Me:    (after we have parked and planning to take off bikes to put in transition area)  OMG – I forgot the bike lock key…and left it at the house…we have to go back
    Holly:   Now Janie that’s a real cluster…

    Jill:

    If there was ever a contest for multi-tasking, Jill would win hands down.  Or, hands occupied.  Driving at top speeds in congested traffic, Jill can not only skillfully navigate the roadways, but can also participate in a conference call, send text messages to her hubby, eat a sandwich, rummage thru her purse, check the weather, make eye contact with passengers, respond to questions such as “is there a rest area soon”?, executes sales contracts, and finds the disco music on the radio.  It is truly impressive…and scary.

    But alas, just when you think you know someone…you find out that their birth certificate reads Effin Wieder Hole Fase.  And, to make it worse, the father she thought was French and designed the Eiffel Tower….was Effin Dutch.  Now, there is nothing wrong with being “Effin Dutch”, but in Michigan (Jill’s hometown) the Dutch immigrants are obsessed with tulips….and this is not as cool as being Effin French.  Apparently, this is still an issue for her.

    Tamar:  (or Tami)   Tami is the second of 10 siblings.   She grew up in a household where beds had to be shared…bathrooms worked on a schedule…and a household that was the hub of the neighborhood.  Privacy was

    not an option…or seemingly necessary.  Some things never change…more on this…

    Now, Tami has well known disdain for cold weather, or just being cold.  Cold, doesn’t bring out her best. I assumed that she would dread getting into the frigid waters (now up to 72 degrees) of Lake Lanier.  But no.  Dressed in a full 7mil wet suit plus neoprene head gear, that left only hands and feet exposed….Tami made a pivotal discovery.  “I can float….I’ve never floated before!”   Immediately, Tami no longer cared about any chill to the water…she was busy floating on the surface and considering ONLY doing future TRI’s that require wet suits.

    Jane:  I’m pretty sure most of you who have read this far…are thinking what I’m thinking.  Hmmm… Jane.  Does she

    actually have any issues that can be roasted on this blog site?   Yes, we are all thinking hard…tapping our fingers…with the collective hmmmm….I wonder what we can say about that Jane…

    Alright alright…maybe one itsy bitsy issue.    I suppose one could say I get a tad worked up about swimming in dark water.   OK…perhaps there is some manifesting going on….yes, I guess you could go so far to call it a complete meltdown.   And that’s before I even get into the water.    OK OK…so I am the only person on pre-race day practice swim who dragged along her rubber duckie.  Is that bad?   Enuf on that Jane… I’m sure there is more we could reveal here….but let’s move this blog along.
    Sunday, May 15 – Iron Girl TRI Atlanta Race Day
    Up at 4AM (because Jill said we had to) – we gathered in the kitchen and watched Kim consume a hearty breakfast.  Julie was nervous, talking fast and carried a picture of smoker Sam — her personal inspiration.  Jane had popped out of bed fully clothed in a TRI suit, Holly was busy putting on her makeup and Tami had slept with her neoprene hat.  Deb was thinking about where the bread should rise, and Jill was doing a house inspection to ensure everyone had brushed their teeth.  I think she sent Maria back to her room.
    It was a good thing we arrived at the transition site early.  This gave us a full 2 hours to gradually freeze in the 52 degree temperatures in 20 knots of wind.  It also gave us plenty of time to repeatedly use the porta-potties, relocate our bicycles so we could be closer together, and huddle to share body heat.  This is fun….not.
    By 7AM, the first swim wave was in the water.  And within seconds…people were swimming on top of each other, kayaks raced to rescue swimmers screaming for help…and I was not having one of my finer moments.  While we won’t dwell on my sad swim….I would like to highlight that my swim angel (Jill) stayed back with me and if it wasn’t for her I would not have made it.   You are the best.   But it won’t happen again.  Jus Sayn.
    Now, moving along….we know that Tami does not like to be cold.   As she exited her swim….fully clothed in neoprene….she realized that her TRI shorts would be wet from the water.   Who wants to ride a bike in 52 degree weather wearing wet clothes?   Without skipping a beat, Tami completely changed her outfit from the waist down in the wide-open transition area.  Wet shorts off….dry leggings on.  Privacy smivacy.

    In general, Georgia suffers from measurement issues.  One day, the swim course is 300 meters…then 1/3 mile…then 800 meters and so on.  Signs along the bicycle route are meant to inspire you.  For example –  “You are at Mile 5 You Go Girl”….but you look at your bicycle odometer which shows you have completed 10 miles. This causes your mind to go south…and you say things like ‘#$&*  this is a cluster…”   Does anyone really know the length of the bike route?  18?  19?  20?  Jus sayn.

    In addition to the measurement issue, the bike route also tested our slalom skills.   It’s a new game called dodge the roadkill….where you make quick turns left or right, avoiding DNA of dead animals.   These sudden crazed moves, has the added benefit of losing any potential drafters….as it appears you cannot ride your bike in a straight line.
    The running course is a lovely tour though Lake Lanier Island Resort….la la la la la….until you reach the turn-around point at the local landfill.  One thing for certain, you know exactly where to turn around and head back to the finish.  No extra steps spent getting any closer to this pile of garbage, and some of the fastest run times were recorded running on the second half of the course….AWAY from the “dumpsite”.
    Julie and Kim (the ringers) made fast work of the swim-bike-and run in a blistering 2:06 time, easily beating the world record held by untrained-smoker-man-Sam.  Julie was very proud of this, and Kim was busy eating again.   The rest of the Tri-sistas finished one by one, demonstrating true individual grit, relieved the event was finally over, and singing in the victory huddle “All the Lovely Ladies, All the Lovely Ladies”.
    We could now get back to what is important…eating, and bonding with our new wonderful friends – the TRI sista hood.  Well done ladies!

     

     
  • Living aboard a catamaran Igloo

    Living aboard a catamaran Igloo


    For months, Captain Paddy informs me “it’s coming”. He is referring to our least favorite time of year — called winter. I know what you’re thinking. Paddy has amazing insights ’bout the coming of the “seasons”.

    The nuances of weather are amplified when you are engaged in an extended camping trip – on a catamaran. For us, the arrival of winter in Baltimore looks like:

    1) frost on the dock making for a slippery and treacherous AM walk from Cat Maudy to shore.

    2) no more running water. The marina decided to shut this off. It has something to do with 20 degree weather. Our running water consists now of whatever is left in our tanks. And that’s not much.

    3) the cockpit of Cat Maudy is filled with bottles of pink liquid. That would be anti-freeze.

    4) Captain Paddy’s mood is not so good. He has to put the pink liquid into the engine, the hoses…and anything else that will freeze and break.

    5) our ‘boat camping’ experience is restricted to the salon. This is the only section of Cat Maudy that has any heat. We run all computers day an nite — to add to the heat factor!

    6) we run our propane heater INSIDE. Some might consider this hazardous. Yes, the fumes could kill you. But we’re desperate for heat.

    7) we avoid going down into the hulls for any reason. Here, your breath looks like puffballs of fog.

    8) wool hats and 5 layers of clothing are worn 24/7. I’m starting a new hairstyle – called the matted hat look.

    9) winds are blowing from the north – steady 25-35 knots – forcing new cold air to leak into Cat Maudy’s uninsulated structure. It’s breezy inside.

    If that isn’t enough to push us to land life (or better yet, migrate south for the winter!), now the igloo people have arrived. The shrink wrap boys. Within hours (and in between wind gusts) – Cat Maudy is covered in a sea of white taut plastic. The good news is, that the wind gusts no longer send blasts of cold air thru Cat Maudy’s uninsulated structure. But there is a downside.

    The entrance into Cat Maudy is a tiny door….that rests at an angle….making getting ON or OFF Cat Maudy a Cirque du Soleil challenge.

    Here is how it works. First, you lie down on your belly and squirm around in the cold fiberglass cockpit or fishdeck…and with your arms, swim your way thru the tiny shrink wrap door. Don’t stop with any momentum you have made via “swimming”. Start kicking with your legs, until you are through the opening. If you are going OUTBOUND, grab onto something so that you don’t slide into the 40 degree water. If you are going INBOUND – resist the temptation to stand up. Keep flailing with your arms and legs until you are past the helm station. Then, work your way up to a standing position.

    Watch the videos of Paddy and Jane demonstrating their unique styles on how to enter the Cat Maudy Igloo….

    After 3 days of igloo life, I caved. As much as I resisted making any transition back to land – (knowing full well it would be a temporary transition) – the igloo broke my spirit. We dragged off the boat anything that could turn to mold for the next 3 months, contents of the ‘fridge, and of course Soxy….and reluctantly patted Cat Maudy a temporary good bye. Let me emphasize TEMPORARY. Don’t worry Cat Maudy, the first warm spell (above 30 degrees), we’ll be back. OK??

  • Tornado rips thru Baltimore

    Tornado rips thru Baltimore

    It was 1:34 AM, inside a deep sleep when Soxy and I bolted to a wide-eyed upright position. The noise was deafening and I shook Paddy to wake him. Paddy sleeps thru any weather condition, and I didn’t want him to miss out.  It sounded like a freight train. The same sound we’ve experienced before – aboard Cat Maudy. The sound of a tornado.

    You couldn’t hear much other than the winds, except water now turbulently breaking into Cat Maudy’s hulls. I peeked out our hatch — to see a volatile sea state. The waters in our protected cove at Anchorage Marina were agitated and I’m hoping Cat Maudy’s lines hold tight to dockside. I peer out another hatch to check on our anchored neighbors and not one of the anchored boats is holding ground. Frantic sailors are doing their best to avoid crashing into nearby docks or boats.
    Two minutes later, the wind-driven freight-train moved through. We escaped another tornado direct-hit. And our anchored friends are busy looking for a safer harbor. In the news…
  • Mast Invention

    Mast Invention

    Here are ideas for Cat Maudy’s mast re-design.

    Problem: How to modify the design of the top of our mast, so that Cat Maudy can easily navigate under 65′ bridges on the ICW without having to hoist one of the captains 63 feet above the water to remove “gear” that adds 2 or more feet to our “Air Draft”….and then return back UP to the top…when sailing in open water. Too much captain hoisting!!

    Solution: The adjustable HINGED-HOLLOW-SPREADER with controls at the base of the mast to allow either (a) open water sailing with gear resting ATOP the mast or (b) bridge navigation with gear resting at some acceptable angle below the mast.

    Watch this video for more

  • The Menhaden Fish Factory

    The Menhaden Fish Factory

    In the sleepy town of Reedville VA, located near the southern end of the mouth of the Potomac River the main industry is the Menhaden fish factory.

    During processing-hours (i.e. all day long) it smells like dead fish irregardless of which way the wind is blowin’. The locals say you get used to it, but we haven’t.  So we depart Reedville, and it takes days for the scent of decay to dissipate.
  • Screeching down the Bay

    Screeching down the Bay

    Winds 15-20 from the NW, with gusts to 25 is Captain Paddy’s ideal world. Only one foil heading our way…rains and gale force winds to kick and could we sail to Reedville VA before the weather intensifies?

    Departing Annapolis harbor by 8AM, and we wasted no time raising the main sail, and turning off the diesel engines. Haven’t even unfurled the jib sail – and we are already doing over 8 knots. As we get closer to the mouth of the Severn, the full force of the winds are felt. For an hour or more, we sail with just the main.

    It doesn’t take long to see that the weather is “changing” and the skies are getting darker. We need to make better time. Thus, we unfurl the jib sail…reefed. Cat Maudy easily hits 9-10 knots, for a very smooth sail with winds off our stern quarter. Somewhere near the mouth of the ChopTank River…a huge freighter called the “Northern Juvenile”, traveling at 21 knots makes a sudden turn directly at us. WOAH!! After a brief “holy sh#$” moment…Captain Paddy headed up and Cat Maudy INHALED the wind….getting us out of the path of the “Juvenile” in the nick of time. NOTE TO SELF: Big freighters make their own rules as to where the channels are in the bay…

    Generally, when I get a call from shore (my brother) giving me weather updates — this usually means the weather is going south faster than predicted. Sure enough, BRO reports heavy weather in Solomons, MD by noon. We are 11 miles to Cove Point – near the Pawtuxent River. The winds gusts are now increasing, and Cat Maudy tops out at 13.2 knots. Sweet.

    The skies are dark, and the rains have started. We are 2 miles from the entrance to the Patuxent River – and decide to abandon the notion of finishing todays trip in Reedville VA. Instead, we’ll take cover in Solomons, MD. Our 50 mile trip to Solomons took just over 5 hours of sail time…. Needless to say – Captain Paddy is in a very happy place!

  • Baltimore departure, hon

    Baltimore departure, hon

    After a failed departure attempt on Friday…Saturday’s departure from Baltimore proved more successful. The winds have subsided from gale force – and we will have a leisurely, no hurry sail south to Annapolis.

    Leisurely it is. Highest speeds are 6 knots…and by the time we reached the Chesapeake Bay Bridge…we had slowed to 1.5 knots. One notch above floating backwards. The winds have disappeared. We motored to Annapolis harbor and decided to grab a mooring to stimulate the Annapolis economy (and grab showers, water taxi and all that fun stuff).

    Taking a water taxi to shore, I had to go for a 4 mile run — exploring the Naval Academy…Jus Say’n!

  • Tropical Storm Nicole: 1 Cat Maudy: 0

    Tropical Storm Nicole: 1 Cat Maudy: 0

    Now that the rainy portion of Tropical Storm Nicole has moved north of Baltimore – we are left with her gale force tailwinds. Strangely I was game for a sail to Annapolis.

    We waited til noon – giving me ONE LAST EXERCISE OP and the gale winds a chance to subside based on professional weather forecasters. If you ask me, the winds got stronger after noon – but hey, who’s askin’? We finished provisioning for a trip of unknown length, and only one known destination. Where the wind is blowing. The wind is blowing from the north – so it should be a fast sail – to where-ever we decide to stop.

    Left the A Dock at Anchorage Marina around noon…and we are quickly blown out past Ft. McHenry. “Maybe we should double reef the main?” I suggested to Paddy? Captain Paddy positioned Cat Maudy upwind and had plenty of work to do to hold her in place, while I attempted to raise the main to a double reef point. Once in place, all 3 of the reef lines need to be tightened.

    I tried using my strength. No luck in tightening these lines. I tried the power tool….it sounded like the rigging would break. I spoke with salt. No avail. The reef lines are jammed up – and in these heavy wind conditions…there was no fixin her.

    We had only one choice…to return back to base camp. The problem now, is that our A-DOCK landing (perpendicular to the winds) would be very tough to land a wide-ass catamaran. So, we made an emergency landing on the Anchorage P-DOCK. From a dock point of view, we traveled about 500 feet today.

    And the reef lines? They were just tangled.  For today, Tropical Storm Nicole wins. Cat Maudy will depart dockage tomorrow.

  • Skate of the Union – 2010

    Skate of the Union – 2010

    With a focus on triathlons, the tri sista hood has not put skates on in nearly a year.

    3 weeks ago, Jilly and I decided to dust off, and lace up the Bont skate boots…. Yes, there was boot pain. Our feet were screaming. Yes, we moved slowly. Yes, old ladies walked faster than we skated. Yes, we wobbled and bobbled. Yet, after only a few miles of very little forward propulsion – Jill looked at me and said “I think you’re ready for Skate of the Union”. Jill can sell ice to Eskimos.

    The Skate of the Union is an annual inline skate race – where East Coast and local amateur speed skaters…mix with the elite pro speed skaters. i.e. these folks move FAST. I had to agree with Jill. We’re untrained and unprepared. Perfect condition to step into this world of fast skaters.

    Only one problem. The “we” in the Tri-SisterHood became “me”. My tri-sista hood refused to look silly on wheels with me. Isn’t that what sista’s are for? No problem. I had a plan. Don’t fall….and get to the finish line before the boots dig holes into my feet.

    I signed up for the half marathon – which meant 12 laps on a 1.1 mile track in Chantilly, VA. I started in the back of the pack and would spend the first lap making sure I didn’t tumble. Within the first 1/4 mile – I discovered a new group of skate friends for the day. Meet Team New Jersey. Team New Jersey – is a group of 3 young skaters (teenagers?), and 2 skaters closer to mid-life — draft buddies Rose and Barry. We skated lap after lap in a lovely draft pack. We changed leads every half mile, and everyone did their job pulling the pack along. What a delight – pack skating and a friendly vibe!

    Somewhere around lap 6, we latched onto the tail end of a larger pack of skaters. At the end of this pack – was a tall man in a navy blue shirt. I HAD to draft him. He blocked ALL of the wind…and suddenly skating became effortless. All we (my new friends from New Jersey) needed to do — was to stay right behind the tall man in blue….

    On the sidelines, tri-sistas Tami and Jill are doing an incredible job as support crew. Tami took most of the pictures on her camera. I think they came out nice. Tami never downloads her digital pictures to the computer, she likes to keep them in her camera at all times. So you’ll just have to “visualize”. Jill was busy watching the skaters. A speed skater in a well organized pace line is a beautiful thing to watch. Who can blame her?
    By now, I can’t wait to be finished – so the TriSistas can take off on our next athletic activity. But, first things first. I need to finish. It is now the last lap – and the large group of pack skaters we latched onto at Lap 6 — crossed their finish line. They were one lap ahead of us – Team New Jersey. I took the lead at this point – and never let go. I needed to finish…as fast as possible. Boot pain was taking over, and it was time to end this skating experiment. Rose and I coasted over the finish line – and I wasted no time removing my pink skate boots.

    Reunited with Team TriSistaHood – Tami, Jill and I took off for a 40 minute run in the burbs of Chantilly. Being a Sunday morning – the roads are empty. Jill wanted to swim in a man-made pond filled with large lily pads in the middle of corporate America, but Tami and I restrained her.
    We couldn’t lose any more time. Our thoughts had turned to food. It’s time for treats.

    View more pictures!

  • Cat Maudy leaves the dock for Labor Day!


    After 60 days of scorching temperatures over 90 degrees in the mid-Atlantic, a typical shortage of summer winds (which would have been too hot anyway), an exercise regimen that included 5 sprint triathlons and a host of other excuses (oh yeah – WORK!) – Labor day weekend changed all of that.

    Temperatures plunged into the delightful range of mid 70’s, the humidity is gone, and thanks to a “cold front” – winds are steady 20s with gusts to 30. If Cat Maudy can’t get outta Dodge now…then she better have a pretty good reason.

    In typical Cat Maudy form…we had no plan. Other than to depart the dock, and get the best angle on the winds. Where we are headed is unknown. How long we’ll be gone – again unknown.

    What is known…is Soxy’s tummy wasn’t quite ready for motion. Soxy has been living large being an ‘A Dock’ kitty at Anchorage Marina for the summer – and suddenly bouncing around in waves was not part of her plan. Soxy is not in a good mood.

    We put a reef in the main, and headed out the Patapsco River doing steady 8.5 knots. Added a reefed jib sail – and speeds are up to 10 knots. Unlike Soxy, Captain Paddy is grinning ear to ear and easily holding onto his lunch.

    With winds from the west – we had many options once we reached the mouth of the Patapsco River. Feeling spontaneous, we opted to head south…. Will we then turn into the Magothy River? Nope.

    We continued south under the Chesapeake Bay Bridge – and considered a nice quiet anchorage at Whitehall Bay vs a more ‘urban’ anchorage in Annapolis. True to form, we couldn’t decide – and opted to just let Cat Maudy go where she wanted. She choose Annapolis. We anchored in front of the US Naval Academy – and enjoyed an evening of glorious temperatures in the 60s and 70s.

  • 2010: Iron Girl Sprint Triathlon

    Headline News: Iron Girl Triathlon Team Sistahood completed the journey on Sunday 8/22/2010 (swim, bike, run) and are now a bunch of Iron Girls… (yes, it rained…thank you for asking!). Woo hoo!!!
    And, for those of you who want details….here it is: Iron Girl is a women’s only sprint triathlon, held every August in Columbia MD. 2500 triathletes sign up each year – to test their stamina, determination and grit – for an event that can take as little as “just over an hour” for the PRO’s….to somewhere over 4 hours for those who want more time exercising.

    Leading up to the Iron Girl sprint TRI – is endless training….and eating….and more training. It is an all consuming activity. You train…eat…think about your next training event…get hungry just thinking about it….turn the smallest detail into a training activity…
    Our training looks something like this:

    8/10/2010: 2 mile run on the Canton/Baltimore waterfront: 95 degrees. In dire need of air conditioning. Note to self….don’t run in this heat. Listened to my iPod with a whopping 2 tunes installed (Love Shack and Amadeus). They repeat over and over. Someday I’ll add more songs to the run collection

    8/15/2010: Open water swim at Gunpower River: winds from southeast – huge waves – could only swim in 1 direction — WITH the waves. Tami (who is all of 78 pounds…wet) and I did water aerobics against the waves. WTF???? Who’s idea was it anyway to swim in this sh@#? (did someone say “Jill”)? Jill, Elliot and Tricia had no problems swimming both directions in the tsunami….That’s because they are pros. Every time I looked over at Tami she was being tossed around in the waves like a little cork. After that “swim” (or whatever you call what we did in the water!) I wanted to go and run. You know, just be cuz. Nobody else thought this was a good idea. I gave Jill the stinkeye, and Tami eventually caved. We did 3 measly laps around the parking lot to make up for the lack of quality swimming in the brown lake. After all of this nonsense…we headed to the diner to devour omelette’s and short stacks. Food makes everything better.

    8/16/2010: Pool swim. I brought my new fancy smanchy watch to help me count laps…but then I forgot to press the button each time I did a lap. The one time I did remember to press the lap button on the watch….I sucked down a lot of water – so decided knowing the number of laps wasn’t that important. A man hopped in my lane after 30 min…He must be new to the pool. With my ultra wide kick…rarely does a man dare to jump in my lane and risk bodily injury…


    8/19/2010: Last chance open swim workout at Gunpowder River: Just a few days b4 IronGirl – and needed a good vibe in the open water swim practice. Swim buddy Jill and I briefly read the warning post at the shoreline. Something about severe water contamination…b careful w/open wounds…and better not swallow any of the water – or you will notice a 3rd eye growing on your forehead. We should have headed back to our cars…but we got in the water anyway. I think the Purdue chicken farms got flooded upstream. The river is filled with feathers…and more things I don’t want to think about. Jill swam laps around me….I got tangled in seaweed…and managed to finish 1200 meters despite many thoughts about the nasty water.
    The training season is now over, and it is Iron Girl weekend. This is where the bacon hits the grease, the sh@# hits the fan….or Tami just bakes us a bunch of cookies. IG weekend starts out with a mandatory shopping spree. It is a very well organized event. First you pickup your race packet with bib numbers….and then you sachet through a maze of vendors with anything and everything an exercise girl could want….but doesn’t really need. Don’t that that “need” factor stop you from buying tho….and there we were – bags bulging with new tshirts, post exercise dresses…and more spandex. Someone has to stimulate the US eco.

    Saturday afternoon arrives – and it is now time to rack our bicycles….check out the transition area….and closely inspect the buoys in the water. Team Jill-Holly-Tami and I find our bike numbers amidst the 2500 bikes that are preassigned on large metal racks. We spend another 20 minutes staring at the surroundings trying to locate something “unique” that will alert us to finding our bike during the event. Tami’s bike is next to a tree….Holly is a few rows from Tami’s tree….and Jill and I are side by side near some bright orange cones. How hard can it be to find the orange cones?
    Next stop….a quick view of Centennial Lake – the swim course. The finish line is dotted with bright orange buoys quite close together. This is a good thing – because one surely doesn’t want to get lost in the weeds while trying to get out of the water. At the swim start – a huge white buoy marks the beginning of the course. The swim course takes you close to shore in an “outbound” direction – keeping a close eye on some yellow buoys. Two bright red buoys mark the “turnaround” point, and then you head straight back on the opposite side of the lake – keeping your eye on a new set of yellow buoys, around the island…and to the finish line.
    From our vantage point on shore – the swim distance looked quite long. I wonder how they measure up 1100 meters in the Centennial Lake? Jill, Holly and Elliot are busy discussing their swim strategy. They will get right up in the pack of swimmers, breathe bilateral, check their heartbeats to make sure they are in the ‘zone’, stay tight to the buoys, and swim past the crowd with their special dolphin kick to the finish line. Yeah right. Tami and I worked out a very different strategy. We would wait 10 seconds after the swim wave starts so that the peeps get out in front of us, stay far away from the buoys, far from the other swimmers, hope the kayaks would keep a close eye on us, and Tami would stay to my left so that we could always see each other. OK, so we might be swimming some extra mileage out there…
    After spending another hour looking at the transition from every imaginable angle, we decided it was time to move-on from being overly neurotic – and get some food. Barbecue and a slumber party was part of the evening plan — the night before Iron Girl.
    Jill wanted us to arrive in Centennial Park at 2AM so that she could get the first available parking spot. The slumber party IG’s (Holly, Jane, Tami) successfully vetoed this idea – and we arrived in Centennial Park at 5AM. We were one of the first 25 cars to arrive on site.
    Along with the rain.
    Possibly thunder and lightening.
    For Tami and I, a little thunder-n-lightening could be some very welcome news. Especially, if it were to force the race organizers to abandon the swim portion of the TRI….and turn it into a run-bike-run. This wouldn’t be a bad thing. Jus say’n.
    But no such luck. We proceeded back to the transition area – with bike shoes, helmets, running shoes, towels and whatever else seemed necessary to get us from one leg of the event…to the next. It’s still dark at 5AM – so it is a bit hard to see. I’m hoping that I pumped up the tires on my bike – and not someone elses.
    By the time we finished setting up our transition space in the dark, got body marked, made a few trips back to the car, and waited in very long lines for the porta-potties….it is now time to meander over to the swim start. Holly gets in the water with her swim wave at 6:45 – and she swims like a fish out of the gate. Jill, Tami and I move with the herd of pink swim cap ladies toward the waterline. Our wave starts at 6:55AM – and it seems that these women can’t wait to get in the water. Tami and I get in the water up to our knees….and wait. Jill tries to coax us further, without much luck. Finally the race officials insist that we move further into the water. OK now….you don’t have to be so pushy. We’ll start swimming when we have to.
    The gun goes off….and we watch Jill glide effortlessly through the water. That’s what swimming is supposto look like. I had counted to 6….(out of 10)…and Tami was getting impatient. She suggested we might want to start before the next swim wave gets in the water. Oh – ok. And we’re off.
    I can assure you – there were NO swimmers on the outside perimeter of Centennial Lake. Occasionally, someone on a kayak a few feet from me – was saying something. With an earplug in one ear — I’m hearing impaired – so his conversation was one directional. But, I got the idea…these were the moments where Tami and I had ventured too far off course. Tami was swimming strong – and I had my work cutout for me — to keep up. Tami swims freestyle, and occasionally does some breast stroke. She swims at a perfectly choreographed cadence, one that was passed down to her from her older sister Beth. I swim using the 1-sided-breast-stroke-lurch. It’s a variation of the side stroke, breast stoke and butterfly – and I’m fairly certain it will be considered as an Olympic event – soon. In case you want to try this in your pool – you basically swim on ONE side (right)…propel outta the water (like the breast stroke) – but only on one side….and occasionally fly outta the water when attacked by seaweed. It is probably the most energy inefficient stroke available to mankind – but if you work at – you’ll get yourself a fine workout.
    Slowly…we passed buoys. One at a time… and eventually rounded the red buoys – which meant we can start swimming to the finish line. Tami and I were focused on our swim….but always keeping an eye on each other. Tami would call out to me to swim closer to her – when I started weaving to the lily pads. And I would yell “watch out Tam” – when a swimmer came up behind Tami. I didn’t want my girlfriend to get mowed over….we needed our swim space. Before you knew it….we had reached land. Tami and I stood and hugged. We had done it. The swim is now behind us…and we’re feeling real good.
    We run up the hill to the transition area… Where are those landmarks? The tree? the orange cones? Tami can’t see a thing without her prescription glasses – which she is not wearing. She is busy running circles around the transition area – and I can’t seem to locate those friggin orange cones. I eventually found my bike….and Tami located her tree. Whew.
    Jill and Holly were long gone from the transition area – and the rain was now coming down in buckets. This should be fun. Tami and I take the first 20 minutes of the bike ride at a much slower than normal pace. Not sure how the bikes will react to slick roadways – and we don’t really want to find out. Slow is fine. For awhile anyway.
    Ms. Madone, true to form – cannot hold herself back on an uphill. We easily fly past 30 bikers… And then, the dreaded downhill. Ms. Madone – who has not been herself this year – slows to a crawl to avoid the noodle affect. It’s better to be safe…than fast….so we watch all of the peeps barrel past us. Including Tami. “See ya Tam on the uphill” – I yell out. “Ok girlfriend – you rock” she replies as she whizzes by.
    5 miles into the course, the rains had stopped…and the big pools of water on the roads were dissipating. Ms. Madone catches back up to all the downhill speedy bikers….who are now tiring on the uphills. And so we go….fast uphill….slow downhill….for the remainder of the bike race. And with the sheer volume of bikers on the roads….Tami and I became separated.
    I returned to the transition area having successfully not fallen off my bike (due to slippery conditions or to the dreaded bike noodle)….and was pumped up to be starting the run. Not because I’m an exceptional runner or anything….but because I knew the end of all of this crazy exercising was near.
    One problem…I can’t find my rack#. Did someone move those orange cones? Finally…there it is. I whipped on my running shoes….and bolted out onto the running course. Running….after you have swam 6/10ths of a mile…and raced on your bike for 17.5 miles…isn’t exactly easy. For the first 1/2 mile, you contend with leg mush. This is where you put weight on a leg…and it turns to mush. You spend your energy trying to talk your legs into behaving like a runner – but they just don’t listen. An iPOD would be handy (with my 2 favorite tunes) right about now…but the race officials won’t allow. With an iPOD, at least I wouldn’t have to listen to my own heavy breathing. You know you are breathing scary, when people ahead of you look back, eyes wide, mouth open and JUMP to the sidelines out of your way.
    As I descend Heartbreak hill….I see Jill – ahead of me, looking strong. “You rock Sissy” Jill yells out….”No YOU rock Fluffy” I yell back….and she is long gone. Ahead of me is a para triathlete – who is doing an incredible job running with one leg, and one prosthesis. As I pass her, I greet her with “you are such an inspiration girlfriend”….I find myself suddenly very emotional. This woman really is – an inspiration. I vow not to bellyache about my breathing, or how tired I might be feeling. At least I can refrain from bellyaching for the next 10 minutes!
    With a mile to go on the run course – I cross paths with Tami – who has not even broken a sweat on the run. She breaks out into a huge smile and we give each other some encouraging words. Jill crosses the finish line first with an amazing blazing time of 2hr 16 min, Elliot and I cross the finish in 2hr 22 min….Tami 2 hr 29min….and Holly well under 3 hours. Considering that Holly had to become a professional bike mechanic on the fly (her bike became possessed – and her chain popped off twice) — she showed what she is made of. Pure grit.
    Many many thanks to our support team of Chuck, Paddy, Jim, Rick & Linda, and Dave who braved the wee early hours and rainy weather – to cheer us on, make us laugh and walk at least 5 miles to watch us from every vantage point. And special thanks to Paddy (who did his first TRIrelay this year), joined the gym to be my workout partner, and believes that I can swim in open water – long before I believed it….and Chuck (who also did his first TRIrelay this year)- who never misses an opportunity to support Fluffy, Sissy and everyone else in the periphery. xoxoxoxoxo
    Moving forward….we have a new recruit to the TRI-family. Hellooooo Linda – let the fun begin!
  • It’s all about Heart

    It’s all about Heart

     

    In 1978, Minh, escaped from Vietnam on an over sized rowboat with no life vests and no idea how to swim.  Determined to learn to swim at the age of 50 – she decided to tackle the Hagerstown Maryland Sprint Triathlon. Minh stares at the water from the edge of the pool.  But first, Minh’s story.

    I was born and grew up in Dalat, a small resort town up in the Lang Bian mountain, with an elevation of about 1,500m, 300km north west of Saigon, where I lived until May 1978, when my family fled Vietnam on a small fishing boat – about 6ft by 20ft, with 17 people on board – 9 in my family, 2 family friends, 2 fishermen and their family.

    We left Vietnam via the Cam Ranh bay on May 18 sometimes after midnight when it was pouring rain. It was very frightening for me, a then 17 year old girl, who didn’t know how to swim, to wade out to the boat in chest high water in the dark pitch of the night, compounded by fears of getting caught by the coast guards and sent to jail for trying to escape. Each of us had to carry our supplies of water, gasoline, and food too.

    All of us cramped into to hull of the boat, covered in fishing net when the boat left the harbor. We headed straight out to the South China Sea, in hope of getting rescued by those big ships that we saw when we got to the international water. But none stopped for us even when we sent out the distress signal. After 5 days, we ran out of water, food, and had a little bit of gasoline left, so the fishermen decided to let the boat afloat. It rained a little bit and we caught some water using a piece of tarp. The fishermen caught some fishes too, but most of my family members and our friends were very weak by then, due the dehydration and sea sickness.  Desperation set in on May 23rd, when we didn’t see any ship for the whole day.

    Around 4 o’clock that afternoon, we caught sight a small vessel ahead of us. The fishermen turned on the boat engine and chased after the ship. When we came up along side of the ship, their crew thought we were pirates, so they were yelling at us, wielding their big fishing spears. My father screamed for us to get up from the hull. After seeing us women and children, they put down the weapons and threw some ropes over to our boat. They were from Taiwan and one of them, the cook, spoke a little English. We were very lucky that they were following a school of fishes and veered off course and were going pretty slow for us to catch up to them. After giving us some food, water, and one can of gasoline – they were low on gasoline too so couldn’t give us a lot – they pointed us toward the coast of Indonesia while they went the opposite way.

    Around 8 o’clock that night, a big storm gathered on our left and coming fast at us. The cloud was so black and lightening was everywhere. The fishermen were screaming and cursing in panic and we all thought that was the end for us. The big waves and rain had started to come in when we caught sight of the Taiwanese boat again. They had turned around when they saw the storm coming. They stayed on our left side to block us from the storm. I still remember those big waves. One minute there was a big black wall of water in front of me that I thought would smash into our boat, the next I was on top of one, looking down at the dark pit of water below me. The storm had passed quickly but it seemed to me like a very very long time.

    When the sky cleared and the waves calmed down, we bid farewell to our rescuers one more time. The cook jumped down to our boat, crying, handed us a piece of paper with his name and address – which I kept and wrote him a letter when we first came to the US – more on that later.

    At dawn the next day, we came to one of the most beautiful beaches I had ever seen off the coast of Indonesia. The people there let us came on shore to rest, and gave us one of the most delectable food I had ever tasted. Since they didn’t have any refugee camp in the area, they gave us some more gasoline, water, and food and showed us the way to Kuching, the capital of the East Malaysian state of Sarawak, where we stayed for 3 months in the refugee camp that was setup on a deserted strip of land on the bay near Kuching.

    It was there where I was almost drowned one day when I went along with some kids to take a bath in the river. I was holding on to the side of one of the boats left on shore by us, the people who came to the refugee camps, when the tide rose so quickly I lost my footing. I could still see the sun fading as I sank down to the bottom of the river, holding my breath at first, then inhaling water, choking. I don’t remember how long I stayed there until someone caught me by my arms and brought me up to the surface. I vaguely remembered being slapped in the back and I was coughing so hard it felt like I couldn’t get any air in.

    After that episode, I became panic every time I got near the water. I still have nightmare about being in the ocean at night. I’ve tried to take swimming lesson a few times since we came here in the US, but I every time, I had to quit after the first day because I couldn’t get over the fear even though I wanted so much to know how to swim. When we went to the beach or the swimming pool, the most I could do was standing in the water at thigh high, and every time I saw my family had fun in the water, I wished I could join them.

    It was until the end of last year that I made a vow to myself that I had to learn how to swim before I turned 50. I signed up for a lesson at the community pool last November and went through 4 sessions where we learned to blow bubbles and float on our back and front in the kiddie pool. I finished the class without much improvement. Signed up for the next one at the community college where the instructor was like a drill sergeant. I don’t know how many gallons of pool water I had shallow in that class and still had not been able to swim except to float on my back and front crawl a few feet. I have to admit that I had been able to jump down to the deep end of the pool once (12 feet I think), when the instructor forced us to. I was coughing and choking when I came up to the surface and was so freaked out, but I survived!

    The breakthrough for me came when my good friend Jane decided to take on the big task of teaching me how to swim. Something in the way that she showed me how to breath under water, how to move my body so I would glide instead of sinking, how I turned my head to breath to the side, made it so easier for me to learn.

    When my 50th birthday came in June 2010, I was able to swim free style the length of the regular pool without stopping! I had sign up to do the swimming part in a relay sprint triathlon on July 25 – and now needed to swim 6 laps in a row. I’ve never done this before.

     

    Sunday – July 25, 2010. was a typical Maryland day. Sweltering heat in the 90s. Unrelenting humidity. Jill (driving at warp speed), Chuck and I arrived at the Hagerstown Sprint Triathlon at the wee hours of the morning – well before daybreak. Jill and I were entered in the triathlon – but today would not be about our accomplishments. Today was about Minh and her family. My bro Chuck is part of the “race crew” and heads to the registration desk to report in for ‘volunteer duties’.

    Minh and her family arrive. Minh is understandably nervous. She has never swam in a competition before – and has the added pressure of being a swimmer in a triathlon relay. If she doesn’t finish her swim ‘leg’….then her relay team will not have the opportunity to participate. Her relay team, includes hubby Trung on the bike, and son Bach as the runner. Her daughter Lamie – will be attempting her first individual triathlon. Minh’s determination to learn to swim – has inspired her entire family – to TRI.

    The first wave of swimmers – are the elite men. You know, the guys who are super speedy in their super speedos. They are out of the water in less than 5 minutes. The next wave of swimmers are the elite women. I don’t know what these ladies eat for breakfast – but I could use some of “that” in my diet. The swimming pool is completely churned up as the elite women power through 300 meters in the same time it would take me to do 2 laps.

    The relay teams are next in line. This includes 9 super charged men…and our Minh. I watch in amazement as Minh remains undaunted by the field of swimmers that she is pitted with. Jill and I, along with Lamie, Bach and Trung stand on the sidelines – and I’m guessing that we are just as nervous as Minh. Well…maybe not. We can’t see Minh’s face – but she is about to put on her game. She steps toward the water…and taps the lane official on the shoulder. “You might want to take a nap” Minh explains to the man….”It’s gonna be a long swim for me”. The lovely man smiled, and assured her she could take all the time she needed. Leave it to Minh to charm the men.

    The relay swimmers are OFF. The water is churned up with 9 serious manly swimmers creating what looks like a pool tsnaumi. Minh struggles to get air, but keeps working on getting to the end of the lane. We stand on the sidelines…and send her telepathic messages “One length at a time Minh…you can do this”. Minh completes her first lap. On her second lap, she falters. Freestyle is much harder with all of the waves created by the power swimmers. There are no wake barriers between the lanes…and the pool is ultra choppy. Minh tries swimming on her back…but struggles even more. We yell to her from the sidelines “COME ON MINH YOU CAN DO THIS!”.

    People standing near us….wanted to know Minh’s story. So here it is. Minh didn’t need our screams from outside the pool deck that day. Minh would dig deep. Just like she did in 1978 when her family left Vietnam.

    As we stood in the crowd of swimmers on deck….suddenly Minh appeared OUT of the water. Her face was BEAMING as she rushed toward us. We stood there hugging and crying. Minh had done it. While many first timers would have been intimidated to be in a pool with such strong athletes, Minh was undaunted. She finished swimming her 300 meters – and there wasn’t a dry eye among her support team. Trung was now on the road – pedal to the metal on his bicycle – and Bach was standing by waiting for Trung daddio to return.

    It is now time for the run – and we cross paths with Bach – who is just finishing his last 1/2 mile. He’s in the shady section – and ready to complete the event for TEAM MINH. Bach is looking fresh – and has barely broken a sweat.

    Lamie is less than 1/2 mile behind us and running as if she could run all day. Jill and I are busy applying cold bandanas…and counting the steps to the finish line. In this heat, it can’t come soon enough. Lamie races over the finish line – hands stretched high overhead – and with energy to spare.

    Knowing her incredible journey, today was a huge day for Minh, and her family. Triathlons are more than athletic achievements. It is more than how fast you go, or where you place. Triathlons are about …. camaraderie …encouragement …courage…. determination… inspiration. Minh – not only learned to swim, but she conquered some very deep rooted fears of the water, and  inspired her family to be a part of her day. And she inspired countless more in the process.  Kudos, dear friend.

  • Road Trip to the Adirondacks: Little Sand Point provides more endorphin highs


    After Paddy’s successful debut in the world of triathlon relays – it was obvious that perfect weather, and temperatures in the mid-70’s were calling for more “activities”. Our wake up early AM conversation went something like this.

    Jane: “Do you want to go for a walk?”
    Paddy. “No”.
    Jane: “Do you want to hike up Panther Mountain today?”
    Paddy: “No”.
    Jane: “OK. Maybe you should drink more coffee….I’ll go for a bike sprint around the lake…and we’ll continue this conversation when I return.”
    Paddy: “OK”

    I know better than to try to get a “yes” from a man who hasn’t had enough coffee. With that, Mr. Huffy (heavy duty Trek bike with the fat wide tires) and I took off for a nice workout around Piseco Lake. I did stop and smell the roses….and take some blog pics. The scenery in the Adirondacks is too incredible to simply blur on a bike sprint.

    By the time I had returned to our campsite – Paddy was in an agreeable mood. We took off for a hilly bicycle tour along Old Piseco Road – and burned off another 6-8 miles.

    It was another windy day in the Adirondacks, and the little lake was all churned up. It was Day 3 of fun in the Adirondacks – and we now had this lake swim figured out. Swimming would be in ONE direction – i.e. WITH the wind and waves. Add a boogie board and flippers for the return trip (against the wind and waves) – and you have a perfect swim/fun water workout.

    The “monkey” appears to be finally off my open water swim back. Not completely, but a little bit maybe. For the first time, I carried on a conversation while swimming (other than “Paddy – get closer!”)….laughed at one of Paddy’s jokes…..and at one point even took off far from my Paddy/boogie board safety net — to swim the final 300 yards to shore. A pretty big moment in my “learn how to swim as an ol’ fart” world.

    Piseco Lake is a fantastic lake for swimming. Fresh water. Clean fresh water. Perfect temperatures. No lake grasses. Another week in this environment – and I might actually become a real swimmer. For now….making big strides will be enough.

    We returned to our campsite, and made a roaring campfire. Paddy wanted to toss in all of the pine firewood all at once. This probably wasn’t such a good idea – since the fire got pretty high. But we didn’t burn down anything – and roasted a bunch of marshmallows.

    After 3 days in the Adirondacks, the lack of internet, or any technology has become a wonderful loss. I have ceased checking my Blackberry, and whatever happens in the rest of the world – can stay there. I’m not quite ready to depart from this magical place – but I’m pretty sure we will be back again next year.

  • The Piseco Lake Triathlon


    It is 6:30AM, and Paddy and I are busy prepping for the Piseco Lake Triathlon. Paddy remarks this would be a good sailing day. Translation — it’s windy. The wind gods were ignoring my pleas for calm waters. As we sat on the campsite picnic table – looking out over the waterfront – there was no mistaking that sound. The sound of waves lapping the shoreline – one right after another. I saw whitecaps build on the lake. I’m not sure I can do an open water swim in whitecap conditions. I’m not even sure I can do an open water swim in calm conditions… I start thinking of better ways to spend my day rather than attempt this open water swim. But, this TRI is not simply a “jane pursuit” today — I had convinced Paddy to join me as a relay team. We would be the “Team TRI — Jane and Paddy”. I would do the swim and bike — and Paddy would complete the 3rd leg in the event — the walk or jog to the finish. We are a team. I had to at least…TRY. Paddy was counting on me.

    Paddy and I hop on our bicycles – for a 4 mile ride from our campsite, to the Irondequoit Inn. We could have driven the monster RV – but it didn’t seem right to move the beast once it had nestled into our campsite. The Irondequoit Inn is a bed and breakfast, that sits overlooking Piseco Lake at the northern tip. It has a tennis court, sprawling land with fabulous views, and a soft sandy beachfront. The Irondequoit Inn is hosting the start of the triathlon – the swim portion. Perhaps the water would appear less lumpy from the beachfront? I had high hopes for calm “seas”.

    Paddy is happy to be done with the hilly bike ride from the campsite. He takes a rest at the top of the hill, while I head to the water to study the swim course. I’m hesitant to register for the TRI, until I have a chance to see the swim course close up. I’ve only done 3 open water swims prior to this event — and in each case I had a personal swim buddy (or buddies) near my side. Today, I would be by myself. I stare at the course. A line of buoys runs parallel to the shoreline. I make a few mental notes. I could swim to shore if I get in a panic. The winds and waves have increased. There is no denying it – the water is choppy.

    One lone race official is busy prepping the swim exit chutes. I ask him a zillion questions. The little people in my head want to know many things. “Is the water over my head” I asked. “Yes – at least 10 feet” he assured me — as if I was hoping that he would say “yeah – it’s nice and deep for you”. The direction of the a quarter mile swim is out-and another quarter mile back. You follow a line of buoys into the waves and wind then turn around and swim with the wind and waves on the way back to shore.. The official assured me there would be big pontoon boats 300 yards apart for the swimmers to grab. In case you need a rest. He assured me there would be plenty of kayaks and canoes for swimmer support. It all sounded well organized. I’m still not sure I can do this — but Paddy and I decide to go and register anyway.

    Paddy and I hopped back on our bikes – for a 1/2 mile ride to the Piseco Lake Airport. Registration for the TRI occurs here – at the Piseco Airport grounds. We filled out a form, handed over some moolah – and signed up as a team. There it is. In print. I would do the swim and bike, and Paddy would do the walk / jog.

    The Piseco Lake Triathlon is a unique Triathlon. Not that I am worldly when it comes to triathlons – but I have done a few. Here in the Adirondacks, they do not use official “race chips” to automatically time the participants. There are no bike numbers or running bib numbers. As a matter of fact – there are no paper numbers at all. No numbers except the numbers you are body-marked with. The theory is — once you enter or exit each leg of the event – you loudly call out your number to the race official. This is how they keep track of you. I love it. Very low-tech. Very Adirondack.

    As we handed the registration form to the race official, the nice lady gave me a green post-it sticky with the number C-42. This is our team number. C-42. We are instructed to take the green postit sticky marked C-42 to the body marking lady – and she will write our number on our arms and legs. Body marking is the only way for the race officials to know who you are. Paddy and I now have C-42 written all over our arms and legs. I think this means we are officially registered.

    Now mind you – nobody handed us a map, or any instructions for the Piseco Lake Triathlon. Just the little green post it sticky with our number – C42. I assumed that was all we needed to know.

    Paddy and I hopped back on our bicycles – and rode back to the Irondequoit Inn. There are no bike racks…no “personal space” that is marked only for you. Just find a spot on the lawn or tennis court – and leave your bike there. This is how the Piseco Lake Triathlon works. You pick a spot in the sand – any ol’ spot will do. So Paddy and I left our bikes near the tennis court fence.

    I look around at the other bikes, and note some very serious athletes here. Some bikes were equipped with $5000 bike wheels on top of fancy $5000 bike frames. These bikers must know how to ride in nearly “off road” conditions on a race bike. I had already opted NOT to use Ms. Madone for this event. Why? Not because I’m mad at Ms Madone for becoming a noodle during my last 2 triathlons. Not because we’ve had words. Instead, the roads around Piseco lake seem more like a dirt trail, rather than smooth pavement. Huge potholes, gravel and lots of road dugouts. The old Trek jalopy (i.e. Mr. Huffy Puffy) with the big fat wheels will be my bike of choice today. Mr. Huffy won’t be anywhere near as fast as Ms. Madone – but he is much better equipped to handle the terrain.

    Riding Mr. Huffy simplifies the equipment needs too. No special clip on shoes are required, I can just wear my running sneakers. Paddy is busy holding on to a coffee mug, my swim goggles and swim cap, smoking a pre-Triathlon cigarette and proudly displaying his body marks – C42. This is his way of getting psyched up. We head down to the beach. Other triathletes have gathered and it is becoming quite a crowd.

    Other swimmers are commenting on the lake conditions. Most of the chatter revolves around how “choppy” the lake is. The winds have picked up, and I’m having many self doubts. The little people in my head are chatting nonstop about how rough the water has become. It’s time to tone down the little people. I look at the pontoon boats who are now in position along the swim course. I discuss strategy with my team – Paddy. “I think I can make it between pontoon boats – so I just have to swim from boat to boat.” Plus,, there are lots of support boats swarming around. “I think I can do this” I finally said to Paddy. “I think I can do this”. Paddy nods in agreement. He hopes the swim starts soon so he doesn’t have to listen to my incessant anxiety over the open water swim.

    The official with the megaphone announces it is time to get in the water. We all get in the water at once. A big crowd lurches forward. There are no swim waves, no organization of swimmers….just everyone gets in the water at the same time. Of course I linger back. Way back. If I stayed any further back – I would be standing on shore. Every other swimmer is far ahead of me. The whistle blows….and the bodies surge forward into the water. It is pretty shallow at the start – so we get to walk along ways in the water before we need to start swimming. There is no turning back now.I am the very last swimmer into the water by a long shot, and I’m hoping that all of the support boats take notice. My message is keep a close eye on me OK? I start swimming. So far so good. No panic, I’m just breathing and getting into a rhythm. I make it to the first pontoon boat no problem – and consider continuing on to the next pontoon boat without stopping. On second thought it is a bit of a distance to the 2nd pontoon boat. I stop for a moment and catch my breath.It is a LOT harder than I thought. That is, swimming into a headwind, and waves.

    Due to the curve in the shoreline, the further out into the lake I swam, the the bigger the waves. I’m doing my best to stay on top of the waves – but it isn’t working too well. The waves run close together, and they are breaking over me. I just need to get to the next pontoon boat. That’s my only thought. I am actually passing other swimmers. Pretty rare for me – and I only hope that the support boats are still paying attention.I arrived at the 2nd pontoon boat – and now I’m breathing hard. Not because I’m panicked, but it is VERY hard swimming in these conditions. Head wind, and waves crashing over your face – unrelenting. This makes my swimming pool practice sessions seem like easy-peasy. But it’s time to let go of the pontoon boat, and head for the next one. A particularly big wave crashes over me and I suck down a bunch of Piseco Lake. For a moment, I panicked. I called out loudly for help. And immediately flipped on my back to try to relax. Get a grip Jane. I don’t need help….I can do this. The big people in my head are in charge of the little people now – and I can do this. I did the back stroke for awhile and this was much easier. Somehow, I made it to the last outbound pontoon boat.

    I meet up with a fellow triathlete swimmer – who is clinging on to the final pontoon boat. “Are you ok?” he asks. “Yeah” I reply. “Just need to catch my breath”. He responds – “Come on darlin – you and I will do this together”. At that point, we exchanged names. Meet Hank. My new swim buddy. Hank leads the way to the final orange buoy, and I follow obediently. Hank yells out to one of the support boats — “keep a close eye on us ok?”. Hank encourages me to keep swimming. Suddenly – I was no longer alone. Along with another pokey swimmer in our proximity (Joe) and a lady who was too tired to tell us her name….we had become a uniquely bonded swim team of 4. The final 4 swimmers in the Piseco Lake Triathlon who are in the water longer than anyone else, and pretty damned determined to complete the swim. From this point – until we reached the shoreline, we would be looking out for each other.

    I rounded the final orange buoy in the outbound direction. Hallelulah. We can now turn around and head back. Finally we are swimming WITH the waves and the wind – and it is SOOO much nicer. Our team of 4 – swam from pontoon boat to pontoon boat – together. Here is how it went down. We would all decide we were “ready” to depart from one pontoon boat – and swim to the next. Usually I was the first to arrive at a pontoon boat (go figure that?!)….and I wasted no time locating the swim ladder to hang onto – and catch my breath. Technically, I was feeling pretty good at this point, but I wasn’t going to leave my new friends behind. “Hank – over here – I’ve got a swim ladder with your name on it”, and Hank would always replay “Jane – you’re the best, I’ll be rite there”. Then I would yell – “How are you doing Joe” – and he would check in as well. After a few seconds of rest at the pontoon boat – Hank would ask if we are ready to keep going…and despite how tired any of us felt – we always replied “ yeah – lets do it”.

    This scene repeated itself from one pontoon boat to the next….and finally Hank yelled out to me “Jane – you can stop swimming now – we can stand up”. Music to my ears and sure enough I could stand. Our little team of 4 had made it – and we were bonded through the remainder of the TRI. We were smiling now, with high-fives all around. It was an incredibly satisfying moment standing on the beach….having conquered the high winds and waves.Paddy patiently waits for me to wipe the sand off my feet – and stuff my bare feet into my sneakers. Paddy’s turn is soon coming. We trot up the hill together from the beach…to the tennis court – where Mr. Huffy Puffy is waiting. I hop on, only to discover that the seat position is set for someone with a height of Michael Jordan. I never realized Paddy was so tall? This won’t work – I can’t reach the pedals. I hop off…and spend a few minutes adjusting the seat height. Off I go.

    Since I am at, or nearly at dead last – I wonder if I’ll see any bikers at all. Especially riding on Mr. Huffy. Three miles later – my wish came true. I see a biker who is body marked. A fellow triathlete. I realize I’m riding Mr. Huffy – who is a magnitude of 10 times slower than Ms. Madone – but I can’t resist chasing a bicycle. Even on Mr. Huffy. Mr. Huffy and I quickly pass the first biker…and I begin thinking there are more cyclists ahead. Soon I pass a group of 5….then more and more appear. Mr. Huffy and I are super excited to be back with a pack of athletes – and not at the end. I’m guessing that I passed between 30-40 bikers. The vibe is tremendous along the bike route. Piseco Lake residents are out cheering us on – and there are race organizers everywhere – all busy writing down your number as you go past. I’m not really sure if I’m supposto – but I yell out “C42” every time I see someone “official”. In case they need to know. As I near the turn to head back to the Irondequoit Inn – the road becomes a buzz with race officials and volunteers yelling out frantically to the cyclists – to “go to your right”.

    Hmmm…this can’t be correct – as I know that my next turn to get back to the Irondequoit Inn (where Paddy is patiently waiting) is to go to my left. Maybe I have to go around some little road for more mileage?  Nope. We are herded into a parking lot at at the Piseco Lake Elementary school. I notice well over 100 bikes just laying about across a field. What’s going on here? Then I see a sign – pointing to the exit for the runners. What? I’m nowhere near the Irondequoit Inn – and Paddy is waiting for me to hand off the invisible “wand” so that he can be the 3rd leg of the triathlon. Nobody told us that the bikers would NOT be returning to the Irondequoit Inn where we started the swim. Instead – we have to start the run leg from a completely different location.Back at the Irondequoit, Paddy is becoming the information hot line for triathlon spectators. “When will the athletes be returning here” – peeps would ask Paddy. “Soon….the bikers will come back here – and then the runners will take off” – Paddy confidently advised. Tho it sure is strange, Paddy thought — “surely ONE biker should have returned by now”. But, Paddy patiently waits – and tells others to do the same. “They’re coming” he insists.I drop my bike like all others (at any ol spot in the field) at the Piseco Elementary school, whip off my helmet…and start running. This is crazy. What if I had ridden Ms. Madone with my special clip on bike shoes. I would not have been able to run (or walk) in these. What about Paddy? He is waiting for me back at the Irondequoit Inn! I assumed that the transition area was back where we started???

    Despite the confusion…I had my cell phone with me. I called Paddy and simultaneously started to run toward the Piseco Airport. I’m breathing pretty hard cuz I just biked Mr. Huffy into the ground and passed 40 bikers to give us a shot of not being last – and Paddy can’t understand a word of what I’m saying. I keep repeating myself. “I don’t know what’s going on – but they had us start the run from a completely different spot” I panted. “You have to leave the Irondequiot Inn now…and walk past the airport until you see me” I instructed Paddy – who was every bit as clueless about this transition from the bike to run – as I. “Just start walking…and we’ll meet up in the middle”.Paddy trots like a bat-outta-hell…and is walking with big long strides. Beads of sweat form at his forehead….and his t-shirt is beginning to resemble a sponge. Neither of us know what the heck just happened to the transition area…but for some reason – in the Adirondacks, a triathlon means there are 3 separate locations where you can end up. The lady forgot to write this on the green postit sticky with C-42. The first location is at the lake (Irondequoit Inn). The second location is as the Piseco Elementary School – where you ditch your bike anywhere….and start running toward the 3rd location – the Piseco Airport. Oh my.

    My swim buddy Hank (who I passed on the bike) – had caught up to me on the run. We shared more high-5s and cheered each other on. We will probably never see each other again – but I can assure you we are tri-buddies for life. I wasn’t planning on running today – and my focus was finding my teammate Paddy – so that he could have his glory moment. And there he is….in his unmistakable orange t shirt. Hustling his butt to complete the 3rd leg in our team relay. I must say, I have never seen Paddy walk this fast. There was a genuine giddyup in his stride, and he was sweating bullets.


    As we made our way along Old Piseco Road toward the Piseco Airport – finally a large group of race organizers were in sight – marking the finish line. “What do you think Paddy – should we run in the last 20 feet together” I asked. “How much is 20 feet” Paddy inquired, clearly tired, yet determined to make a good finish. As we got closer – the triathletes who had already finished – were actively cheering in those of us yet to reach the finale. “Come on Paddy – lets run it in”….and with my prodding, the peer pressure of the cheering crowd – and the excitement of the moment — there was no stopping Paddy. He jogged across that finish line – as we held hands high for a spectacular moment for Team C42.

    Paddy had done it. He completed his first triathlon relay event – and he was clearly diggin’ the endorphins. We headed straight to the food tent – and discovered they were serving homemade ice cream. I absolutely love this triathlon. Ok – there was a bit of confusion over multiple transition areas – but that can be long forgotten with some homemade ice cream.

    It is now our turn to be supportive spectators. We wait, watch and cheer on the remaining triathletes as they cross over the finish line. Paddy and I – team C42 were FAR from last place…and we spent the next 45 minutes cheering peep after peep. Our triathlon day is not over yet – there is more exercise on the agenda. It’s time to retrieve our equipment – which by now is spread in 2 separate locations. I opt to head back to the Elementary School and grab Mr. Huffy. It will be a 3 mile walk…but I’ll get there eventually. Paddy heads back to the Irondequoit Inn – for another mile of walking – to grab Ms. Madone. We agree to reconvene at the Irondequoit Inn.


    Fortunately for me, a fellow triathlete driving her pickup truck along Old Piseco Road — offers to give me a ride. How delightful. I found Mr. Huffy lying in the field at the Piseco Elementary School– right where I left him – and rode him back to meet up with Paddy. Here we traded bikes. I was reunited with Ms. Madone – and Paddy is back with Mr. Huffy. Paddy and I road our bikes along the remaining 4 hilly miles back to the campsite.

    The day was classic Adirondack magic. We are in the heart of the beautiful, tranquil Adirondack Park, where the temperatures are in the upper 70’s and the vibe is fantastic. Paddy completes his first EVER relay triathlon. He did it. He hustled. And finished strong. And if the TRI athletics weren’t enuf, he rides his bike on hilly Adirondack miles – just to show up at the event.

    That new giddyup in his step….lasted the rest of the weekend. Rock on Paddy. As for me, there were 4 people who had to be pulled from the water that day. 4 people who did NOT complete the swim. And I wasn’t one of them.

  • Sailing? What’s that?

    It’s been a month since we last sailed. Many days passed with lighter than normal winds, higher than normal temperatures, and a swelter factor that was beginning to feel like mid-August. Add an infusion of triathlon training and working for a living…and we were beginning to think that sailing was a thing of the past.

    But not so. Finally a breeze. Finally a break in work projects. And Cat Maudy got a rare opportunity to leave the “A” dock. The sail was perfect, and we topped out at 11 knots of speed over ground. Cat Maudy ate a few monohulls for lunch (just say’n ;-)…. and we even managed to remember details such as pulling up the fenders, hoisting the main, tacking, and avoiding the big ships in the shipping channel.

  • Baltimore…At Last

    Bundled in cold weather gear, we left our mooring in Annapolis in hopes of a slow sail into B’more. But alas, NO wind at all. Not even a smidge. It’s all good. We motored the last 30 miles of Our Big Adventure – back into familiar territory. The Chesapeake Bay Bridge, the Magothy River, Bodkins Point, hundreds of crabpots….and of course up the debris-filled Patapsco River. Some container ship is missing half of it’s lumber from the Amazon forest. It can be found floating in the Patapsco.

    Our Big Adventure, which began last fall (October for Paddy, and November for me) has been an amazing gift. We’ve learned to appreciate time. I no longer wear a watch – and generally have no idea what day or time it is. I do wear a compass watch. It tells me wind direction. Go ahead, ask me the time – and I’ll give you North…South….East or West – or some variant inbetween.

    In summary:
    8 month voyage
    6 weeks to return from Biscayne Bay to the Baltimore Harbor
    Caught 1 fish
    Return trip: 700 offshore miles, 300 inside passage miles, 200 Chesapeake Bay miles
    Overall trip: 2500 miles on water, 100 miles in a car
    Top sail speed: 14 knots on Chesapeake Bay
    Top average day hop speed: 9.2 knots from Ft. Lauderdale to Lake Worth
    4 John Shuttleworth boats in the same mooring field
    Biscayne Bay sailing rocks!
    Favorite ports: Charleston SC, St. Augustine FL, Ft. Lauderdale FL, Coconut Grove FL, Norfolk VA
    Cat Maudy steering/rudders are finally “fixed” after 4 years of going in circles!
    We left the grid – and lived on 3 solar panels and a wind generator

    Transforming our lives, into slow motion, and eliminating the need for instant gratification (pizza delivery, a midnite dash to the grocery store for chocolate to name a few), has given us a rare opportunity to take stock of the importance of each other, each moment, family, friends and those whose paths we cross for a day. It has been an incredible voyage….and I really just need to get my endorphins now.

    Stay tuned… the next chapter is just beginning!

    At Last

    …

  • The big blow no show

    Rest days. Yeah right. You think you need a day of rest from a big sailing adventure, cuz you’re a tad weary, and wake up the next day to discover that the winds are favorable. It would be a sin to waste favorable winds…on rest. Time to prep the boat — for sailing.

    We departed from Solomons at a leisurely 8AM, with freshening winds blowing from the west. I admit, I’m in some sort of hurry to restore my endorphin-depleted lifestyle. When Paddy looked at the forecast and suggested that we might want to reef the main due to projected winds of 25 knots….I said no. Hard to imagine. This never happens. Usually, Captain Wuuus (moi) wants to sail only with the SS Handkerchief. Not today. We will get every bloody speck of wind that Cat Maudy can capture.

    We motored at most a mile out of the Patuxent River – when the west winds took over. I hoisted the FULL mast sail, and we unfurled the FULL jib. No hankie sails today. With these winds — it was setting up to be a fast sail to either Annapolis, or possibly Baltimore if we could snag 10+ knot average. Thunderstorms are projected for the afternoon – so we needed to be “in some port” by 3PM. It is so completely foreign that I think about “how fast we need to sail” — I can only attribute it to my severe lack of endorphins. Visions sprout in my head about riding my speed bike cross country…or running my next road race….or just getting the jiggle out of my wiggle would be a good start after 1000+ northbound miles on a sailboat. I digress.

    The winds were stronger than I expected, and Cat Maudy loved every bit of it. She raced around Drum Point at the mouth of the Patuxent, and like a stealth machine cruised past all of the other sailboats. Probably because they were all reefed down. Probably because they weren’t so desperate for endorphins.

    No sooner had I started to calculate our arrival time into Annapolis at a 9+ knot rate – the winds QUIT. Just like that. One minute – they are blowing 25 knots…and the next minute, it’s all over. Completely over. It ended. No more winds AT ALL.

    We complete our 40 mile mostly motor hop to Annapolis, and pony up to one of the mooring balls in the Annapolis Harbor. 30 minutes later, Cat Maudy self cleans – as we are greeted with 2 hours of rain and thunderstorms. Tomorrow winds will be light. It could be a rest day. Then again, maybe not.

  • Touchdown into Maryland

    After 700 miles of offshore sailing during our “return to the north”, it’s hard to imagine that our most robust sail of the journey (to date) occurs on home territory. The Chesapeake Bay.

    We departed downtown Norfolk at 6:15AM, and spent the next two hours motoring to the mouth of the Chesapeake Bay. We had a few obstacles along the way. US Warships. The really big ones. The aircraft carriers. We patiently waited for these huge ships to back out of their ports, and gain speed heading out the channel. You need to stay 500+ yards away, or else they point guns at you. Sipping coffee, we are in no hurry to become target practice.

    As we entered into the mouth of the Chesapeake Bay – the seas are flat, and the winds moderate. With the jib and main sail up – Cat Maudy is ready to capture every scrap of wind – should it beef up. And it did.

    It is generally a mistake to cut across the Horseshoe shoal (north of Willoughby Bay) to save time going north on the Bay. Usually this shallow shoal is laden with crabpots – but mysteriously, there were NONE. I scanned the water line repeatedly with my binoculars searching for one of the little land-mines that would ultimately connect with our prop and rudder….but NONE existed. This is most unusual, and I figured stealth crab pots were lurking for us “up ahead”. Remained on high alert for crabpots while cruising the southern bay shallow waters – just in case.

    It is not particularly warm here. Temperatures are in the lower 50’s….and with the winds and steady rains – it feels like 30. Bundled up with long undies, 3-4 layers of clothing plus foul weather gear, 2 hats, goggles and mittens – you would think we were cruising in Alaska. Where did the warm weather go?

    It didn’t take long for winds from the east to give us a chance to sail. Without motor. Our sail speeds ranged from 7.5-9 knots, and Captain Paddy’s mood is changing for the better. The sea state is getting very lumpy. The waves in the Chesapeake hit you about 1 per second. There is no “wait” between waves – and it didn’t take long for Soxy to get cranky. She likes a stable ride, it it is getting hard to keep any footing.

    Cat Maudy is one of probably 2 dozen sailboats that have decided to depart Norfolk in the AM. We catch up and pass most of them (ok…just sayin’ ;-), but by the time we reach the Potomac, the winds have gone into kick-ass mode – and the majority of the other sailboats bail out for the day. Waves are up to 4 feet, and fortunately the winds have shifted more to the southeast. This helps the stability factor – and we are no longer being bounced around as much. Two other sailboats and Cat Maudy – make up the remaining regatta, headed toward Solomons, MD. We are now making steady 9 – 11 knots of speed. Add some 25 knot gusts – and Cat Maudy screeches along at 14 knots.

    Without having Popeye The Sailor Man on board, trimming the sails, and prepping to gibe the boat for a final tack into Solomons – takes every ounce of strength I can muster. And that’s not much…or nearly enough. Somehow we managed to gibe without breaking anything. Our final tack brings us to more beamy seas, and the winds are howling. Cat Maudy shoots like a bat outta hell. I sure hope there are no crab pots in the vicinity, because there is no time for navigating around these. We race for shore, and tuck up into the mouth of the Patuxent River, escaping the feisty Bay seas.

    The winds were so stong – that we blew out a batten on the main sail. We didn’t notice this, until it was time to bring the main sail down. The loose batten, that no longer rests in its track – is now flopping everywhere….and no matter what I do, it keeps connecting with the lazy jack lines. All of this techno-sail-mumbo-jumbo just means that I can only bring down the main halfway – until it gets tangled up because the the broken part. And, it’s windy as all get-go. Paddy is busy holding the boat in place, and gives me one of those “you gotta figure it out yourself” looks. Each time that the broken part gets tangled in the lines…I have to RE-hoist the main sail about 6 feet…to untangle. Then try to lower it again without making contact with the zillion lines that it wants to connect with. This is fun. (NOT). I’ve now re-hoisted the main 3 times…and re lowered – with no success. My happy mood is long gone. Time for plan B. Let’s just say that Cat Maudy and I exchanged some very SALTY words. I can’t repeat them here, but it seemed to work. The main sail finally lowered in position a top the boom.

    12 hours….100 miles from Norfolk to Solomons
    Top sailing speed = 14 knots
    Temperature = brrrrrrr

  • Takin in time at Norfolk’s waterside

    The Waterside Marina is located in the heart of “tourist trap” downtown Norfolk. We love being tourists – and this is becoming one of our favorite layover stops. There is no shortage of restaurants, easy access to grocery and the weekends are filled with free concerts, wine tasting festivals and art vendors.

    It doesn’t seem to matter that the winds are blowing 30 knots from the north east, and we can’t make any headway traveling north. We’re not going anywhere. At the moment.

    So we enjoy some cruising downtime. This includes:

    – jogging and more jogging. catching up on a severe lack of endorphins
    – eating fabulous salads at Jillians Restaurant – a whopping 20 footsteps from our dockage
    – sharing winter boating stories with fellow cruisers at the marina
    – working….yep…we still need to make a living!
    – turning on the propane heater. The warm air from southern Florida is just a memory
    – provisioning…for what may be a 3-day sail up the Chesapeake Bay

  • Clearance under Fixed 65′ Bridges on the ICW: Our experiences during 1st week of May 2010

    for tall masted sailboats

    Every time we approach one of these 65′ fixed bridges, with our 63.5′ air draft, it appears we won’t clear…until inches before potential contact with the bridge. If only someone would take notes – so that we could have some feel as to whether the measuring stick is accurate, or the water levels are running high vs low….and general observations. Hey? Maybe that “someone” should be me? Below are my notes for all 13 fixed bridges between the mouth of the Cape Fear River (NC)….and Norfolk, VA.

    Other tall masted sailboat may not have the same experiences we did — due to tidal fluctuations, the lunar cycle, and winds…so be sure to navigate carefully and wisely based on your own observations. Here is what we found:

    Note: Our VHF antenna is 2′ above our mast height of 63′ 7″ This would make clearance (without contact with VHF antenna) to be 65′ 7″.

    Carolina Beach Highway Bridge (NC)
    mile marker 295.7
    does bridge have measuring stick? Yes
    measuring stick reads: 68′
    tidal timing: 2 hours after high tide (low high tide)
    our experience: NO contact with our VHF antenna
    winds: 15 knots southeast
    accuracy of measuring stick: good
    notes: we had plenty of clearance, even with weekend boaters creating wake

    The following bridges are affected by ocean tides:

    North Topsail Beach Route 210 Bridge (NC)
    mile marker 252.4
    does bridge have measuring stick? Yes
    measuring stick reads: 67′
    tidal timing: 2 hours after high tide (low high tide)
    our experience: Ticked top of VHF antenna
    winds: 15 knots southwest
    accuracy of measuring stick: probably high…estimate closer to 65.5
    notes: we had plenty of clearance

    Emerald Isle Highway Bridge (NC)
    mile marker 225.7
    does bridge have measuring stick? Yes
    measuring stick reads: 65.5′
    tidal timing: 1 hour before low tide (low low tide)
    our experience: Ticked top of VHF antenna
    winds: 10 knots southwest
    accuracy of measuring stick: good
    notes: we had plenty of clearance

    Atlantic Beach Highway Bridge (NC)
    mile marker 206.7
    does bridge have measuring stick? Yes
    measuring stick reads: 66′
    tidal timing: 1 hour after low tide (low low tide)
    our experience: NO contact with our VHF antenna
    winds: 15 knots southeast
    accuracy of measuring stick: good
    notes: we had plenty of clearance

    US Route 70 Highway Bridge (NC)
    mile marker 203.9
    does bridge have measuring stick? Yes
    measuring stick reads: 66′
    tidal timing: 1.5 hours after low tide (low low tide)
    our experience: NO contact with our VHF antenna
    winds: 15 knots southeast
    accuracy of measuring stick: good
    notes: we had plenty of clearance

    Core Creek Highway Bridge (NC)
    mile marker 195.9
    does bridge have measuring stick? Yes
    measuring stick reads: 67′
    tidal timing: 3 hours after low tide (low low tide)
    our experience: NO contact with our VHF antenna
    winds: 15 knots southeast
    accuracy of measuring stick: good
    notes: we had plenty of clearance

    The following bridges are affected by wind tides:

    Hobucken Highway Bridge (NC)
    mile marker 157.2
    does bridge have measuring stick? No
    measuring stick reads: I got a Stanley electronic measurement from the bow of 60′ 11′. Add this to our bow height of 3′ 10″ off the water – and this bridge measures 64′ 9″ .
    tidal timing: —
    our experience: Ticked our VHF antenna
    winds: 10 knots southeast
    accuracy of measuring stick: —
    notes: we had plenty of clearance

    Wilkerson Highway Bridge (NC)
    mile marker 125.8
    does bridge have measuring stick? YES
    measuring stick reads: 65′
    tidal timing: —
    our experience: Ticked our VHF antenna
    winds: 10 knots southeast
    accuracy of measuring stick: good
    notes: we had plenty of clearance

    Fairfield Highway Bridge (NC)
    mile marker 114
    does bridge have measuring stick? NO
    measuring stick reads: —
    tidal timing: —
    our experience: lightly ticked our VHF antenna
    winds: 10 knots southeast
    accuracy of measuring stick: -no measure, but best guss is 65′ 5″
    notes: we had plenty of clearance

    Coinjock Highway Bridge (NC)
    mile marker 50.1
    does bridge have measuring stick? YES
    measuring stick reads: 64.5 from southbound entrance, no mark on NB entrance
    tidal timing: —
    our experience: ticked & slightly dragged our VHF antenna
    winds: 10 knots southeast
    accuracy of measuring stick: -fair
    notes: much tighter clearance than we expected

    Route 726 Highway Bridge (NC)
    mile marker 28.6
    does bridge have measuring stick? YES
    measuring stick reads: 64.5
    tidal timing: —
    our experience: ticked and dragged at 90 degrees our VHF antenna
    winds: 20 knots northeast
    accuracy of measuring stick: -probably reads higher than actual clearance
    notes: we barely cleared this bridge

    Great Bridge Highway Bridge (VA)
    mile marker 12.6
    does bridge have measuring stick? NO
    measuring stick reads: —
    tidal timing: —
    our experience: lightly ticked our VHF antenna
    winds: 20 knots northeast
    accuracy of measuring stick: -no measure, but best guss is 65′ 5″
    notes: we had plenty of clearance

    The following bridges are affected by ocean tides:

    Route 64 Highway Bridge (VA)
    mile marker 7.1
    does bridge have measuring stick? NO (bridge appears to be a bascule bridge, but it does not open!)
    measuring stick reads: —
    tidal timing: 2 hours before low tide
    our experience: no contact with our VHF antenna
    winds: 20 knots northeast
    accuracy of measuring stick: -no measure, but best guss is 66′
    notes: we had plenty of clearance

  • Arrival in Norfolk marks the end of the Inside Passage

    Coinjock NC to Norfolk VA

    Departing CoinJock at 7AM should give us plenty of time to arrive into Norfolk by late afternoon. This final section of the Inside Passage is marked with 3 fixed 65′ bridges, numerous drawbridges, and a lock.

    We exited from the stump laden land cut, and entered our widest body of water for the day – Cutterick Sound. Winds are from the north east at 20+ knots. Which means that this shallow Sound has livened up to a bit of a chop. It also means we can unfurl the jib and gain some time.

    There is lots of spray going over Cat Maudy’s bow, and the ride is a bumpy. Soxy retreats to the salon. We motor sailed at 8.5 knots, and continued to motor sail up the North Landing River. The North Landing River eventually narrows into another land cut – and we are back to motors only. Here we meet our first 65′ Cruisers Challenge Bridge…and despite my most optimistic efforts to find signs of low water…this turned out to be our toughest bridge clearance of the trip. The bridge measurement marker reads 64.5’….and this clearly was wrong. I would guess less than 64 feet. We cleared, and dragged our VHF flexible antenna at the top of the mast at a 90 degree angle the entire distance of the bridge. The strong winds from the northeast are pushing water up into the land cuts. We have one more fixed bridge to clear while in the “wind tide” region of the Inner Passage. I’m trying not to think about this bridge being any lower than the one we just cleared.

    There is no measuring aid on the last fixed bridge affected by wind tides. We carefully watch the clearance of the sailboat directly in front of us – to give us a guage. On the prior bridge, like us, they barely cleared. On this bridge – it looks like they had more clearance. We creep up slowly….and good fortune is with us. Barely a tick with the VHF antenna – and we easily clear this final hurdle. Final hurdle before the lock that is. We still have 1 remaining fixed bridge when we exit the lock.

    As we get closer to Norfolk, we are met with a series of timed opening drawbridges. Cat Maudy is in a brigade of 5 motor yachts and 2 sailboats. Here is how it works. The motor yachts race to be first in line for the first bridge opening. No problem. Once the bridge opens….you have to make the next bridge either on the hour or half hour. Sometimes this is too speedy for sailboats. So the motor yachts race ahead. It looks like the bridge will open for the motor yachts, and the sailboats will need to wait for the next opening.

    But wait. The bridge tender sees that it has 5 motor yachts ready to go thru their bridge – and also sees that if he waits 4-5 more minutes, the slow-poke sailboats will catch up. (this only happens in Virginia on the Inside Passage….in Southern Florida the bridge tenders never wait for anyone) He’s not into doing any more work than required. It’s Friday after all. And someone is thinking “miller time”. So, he doesn’t open the bridge until everyone in the brigade catches up. As you can imagine, the VHF Channel 13 (bridge tender channel) is a buzz with motor yachts who don’t want to wait for their slowpoke sailboat friends. Don’t mess with the bridge tender. He’s in charge. And he waits for the sailboats. What a lovely man!

    After 3 times of realizing that there is no need to rush to the next bridge – cuz the Bridge Tender Dudes are part of a network (and it’s Friday) – the speedy motor yachts finally “get it”. For the remaining opening bridges, they realize there is no need to rush. They will just have to wait for the slowest member of the pack anyway (the sailboats). We now travel in one long caravan – sailboats and motor yachts together – all at the same speeds. I sense Cat Maudy has a sly grin on her face, watching the motor yachts maintain her pace.

    With such a large caravan of boaters all together, and Cat Maudy at the back of the pack – the “Great Lock” for a moment looks like there won’t be enough room for us. A small fishing boat ahead of us moves to the final “large boat” spot – which would eliminate us from being able to enter the lock. My New York “Yankee” instincts take over. I race to the bow and yell – “go to the other side – we don’t have any room” at the fisherman. Normally, fishermen are drunk and would give me the middle finger – at such a request. But, we are in southern Virginia – and people still refer to you as “ma-am”. Much to my surprise – the fisherman acknowledged, smiled at me, and went to the other side of the lock giving us plenty of room to join the brigade. Mind you, this would never happen in Maryland….or Florida….or most anywhere else. The poor fisherman then struggled to re-adjust his fenders, and lines for the other side of the boat — barely missing a collision with another boater. He was single handed. My yankee bad.

    The final fixed bridge was a cakewalk. Back in tidal currents now, it appears we are a low tide. Wonderful. We arrive at the Waterside Marina in downtown Norfolk – where the young dockhands want us to navigate Cat Maudy into an impossible position. Strangely, Paddy hands over the VHF to me – and wants me to work it out. I think this means, to turn my “yankee” back on. I tell them “NO way” can we navigate into a dock slip – and repeat that our beam is 28′. The lovely young dockhand tries to suggest another slip. I tell him “NO” again – and tell him where we can land Cat Maudy. He gives in – and we tie up onto the facedock. I tip the dockhands real good. Being a yankee is so conflicting.

    We are in Norfolk. Yippie-I-eh!

  • The fish are where?

    Belhaven NC (approx) to CoinJock NC

    It is slated to be a sweltering 90 degree day, plenty of sun, light winds and muggy. We moved into position at 6:30AM under our new “bimini shades”, glad to know that we will no longer be scorched by the sun.

    The line of cruisers had started. We are all headed in the same direction. North. The start of the day will be a 15 mile land cut between the Pungo and Alligator River. When you look at the map – it seems that Cat Maudy has sprung wheels and is traveling on land. I can assure you this is not the case. We are still floating. It is just along a narrow land cut lined on either side with exposed tree stumps. Avoid the tree stumps at all costs. More ideas for our evolving Cruisers Challenge board game!

    We creep up to the short Wilkerson Bridge. Why this bridge was built at 64′ instead of the standard 65′ feet is anybody’s guess. In any event, I have my Stanley electronic measuring stick poised and ready. The water levels appear low. How do I know this? I stare at the grasses along the banks of the channel…and look for the transition from green grass…to yellow…to exposed mud. If I see plenty of exposed mud – then the water levels are low. If I see only green grass, then the water levels are high. You are probably wishing you had this kind of excitement in your day.

    Surprise of all surprises. The Wilkerson Bridge now has a “measuring stick” (this was missing during our prior trip on the Inside Passage). The measuring stick next to the Wilkerson Bridge reveals 65 feet of clearance. Oh happy days! We creep up to her anyway – and clear with plenty of room. I put Stanley back into my pocket – glad to know he was not needed today.

    We have a light breeze – just enough to keep the bugs at bay. The land cut between the Pungo and Alligator Rivers is a breeding ground for bugs. The water is a chocolate brown, which we are told is due to the soil. Ok, I’ll buy that. The days of clear turquoise blue water found in South Florida are long gone. But there is plenty of life under the surface of the chocolate waters. We discovered this in our toilet bowl. Bear with me here. Boat toilets (heads) are designed to BRING IN outside water which is used to FILL the bowl. So, as I walked into the ‘head’ – and peeked into the bowl – little minnows were swimming. It’s a bit un-nerving seeing little fish swimming in your toilet bowl.

    We passed through our next 65′ fixed bridge with plenty of clearance – and are feeling mighty confident now about the water levels. Once on the Alligator River, we deviate slightly from our course to take a few shortcuts. One of our monohull traveling companions hails us to ask about the water depths. We report that the actual depths are higher than what is noted on the chart. And we don’t think much about this.

    There are light winds, enough to gain a few tenth’s of a knot by unfurling the jib – but not a lot of speed. We travel along the Albermarle Sound – a large shallow body of water that takes us to the North River.

    OK. Crab fishermen listen up. Would you like to save some money? I have a thought. Can you make the buoys a COLOR that we can see? Black, dark blue and dark green….NOT WORKING. We can’t see ’em. Orange, Red, Yellow….these are GOOD…we can see these. How does this save you money? If we can see them, we have a better chance of avoiding them. If we can’t see them….they get wrapped on our rudders and props….and we have to CUT the buoy from the crab pot in order to be set free. If you can’t find your buoy…then you can’t find your crabpot. All it takes is a BRIGHT COLORED BUOY – and you probably won’t lose as many crabpots as a result. Just a thought from a blonde boater.

    The fixed bridge in CoinJock NC – turned out to be the shortest we’ve encountered. It is 64.5 feet – but we clear it anyway. The higher water depths we noticed on the Alligator River…were a result of wind tides. Yes, the wind is light – but it has been blowing from the south for nearly a week. Apparently in some sections of the Inner Passage – it pushes the water levels higher….and in others – it is lower. Good luck trying to figure all of this out.

    We arrived at the CoinJock Marina, along with our brigade of fellow cruisers at 4:30PM. The marina is one very long face dock on the ICW – and the marina folks try to fit you all in – in one big lineup. We race off the boat – and head straight to the air conditioned restaurant for a cool one. Two diet cokes and and hour of A/C – and we are fully recharged. 45 miles to go to Norfolk.

  • Little discoveries along the Inside Passage

    Swansboro to Belhaven NC (approx)

    Up at 5:30AM we had the engines crackin’ at 6 – and started moving Cat Maudy northward. Our first fixed 65′ bridge was lined up for low tide. Yeah right. I’m not sure what’s up with the tide tables, but we keep finding that low tide is really closer to high tide. Irregardless, it appeared as if the water levels between Cape Fear…and Swansboro were lower than we expected (probably due to some lunar cycle) – so even when the tides are not at their lowest — we were seeing plenty of low water. If you don’t understand anything I just said – then you “get it”. Forget trying to understand the tide charts and water levels. They is what they is.

    The first hour of motoring we skirted with patches of dense fog. So dense, that a trawler who was motoring along, doing the “la la la”, directly in front of us….suddenly veered off to port and within a few seconds ran aground. Lesson learned: Stick with your GPS when you can’t see a thing. We slowed to 5 knots…and blindly worked our way thru the next few miles.

    The bridge heights are looking very favorable to us. We easily glided under the first 2 fixed bridges with height markers on the bridges displaying well over 65′ of clearance. The third fixed bridge – in Moorhead City – registered at 67′ and for the first time EVER – we didn’t even bother to slow down. Cat Maudy is getting a bit confident eh?

    As the fog gave way to intense sunlight, it looked as if we would be overdosing on Vitamin D – until we made a bit of a discovery. The 2 helm stations on Cat Maudy are “exposed” to the elements. If it’s raining….you get wet. If it’s sunny – you get a tan. If it’s windy – you hang onto your eyeballs…that type of thing.

    Here we are, four years into owning Cat Maudy – when we discovered we had “bimini shades” for the open cockpit. Sure enough – a nifty zipper connects the hardtop bimini – with two huge cloth extensions – which cover each helm station. So that’s what these little scraps of cloth are for? Who knew? I can assure you, the Captains are living large now. Under the newly discovered “bimini shades”.

    Speaking of the motor yacht named Living Large — they were NOT having a good day. The ICW channel northbound from Moorhead City – some 20 miles inland is surprisingly shallow. You can be right in the middle of the channel, and let your mind wander about what’s for dinner….when all of a sudden, without notice – you are in 2 feet of water. Just like that. You quickly check to starboard and port and wonder – ‘woa – did I just doze off at the wheel?’ – but no, you are smack dab in the center of the channel. As we passed Living Large, and his companion TowBoat US – it looked strangely quiet in their wheelhouse. In their case, they had veered well outside of the channel. Guessing the Admiral was having a little “chat” with her Captain.

    This must be prime “crabbing” season – as it didn’t take long to discover that crabpots are everywhere. This includes not only the shallow waters lining each side of the ICW channel, but in the channel itself. I guess there are no “rules” when it comes to dropping crabpots in the water. Navigation is challenging enough with the shallow depth. Paddy calls this “Cruisers Challenge”. We spend the next hour devising a monopoly-like board game designed for Cruisers. “Go to Jail” is more like “Run aground”…and winning a fortune is more like “Sail in flat seas at 11 knots” – that type of thing. Or, an unlucky move on the board game would be “hit a crabpot….slow to 2 knots….and waste an hour trying the unleash the beast from your rudder”. You get the idea. Maybe we should return to paying more attention at the helm.

    Along with a brigade of other sailors and cruisers, we motored up the Neuse River…to the Pamlico River…to the Pungo River – and finally to an anchorage that wasn’t cluttered with crabpots at 7:30PM. A long 13 hour day, covering 88 miles of the Inside Passage. We are two miles from the dreaded “Wilkerson Bridge” – all 64 short feet of her. Will save this excitement for tomorrow.

  • Charm on the ICW

    Wrightsville Beach to Swansboro, NC

    There are two natural body of water wonders to choose from, when navigating by boat up and down the eastern seaboard. One, on the outside – from the ocean. And the other – on the inside – the Intra Coastal Waterway (ICW). The ICW isn’t always majestic, or even natural for that matter. For example, southern Florida’s ICW is sadly overdeveloped, and any natural beauty requires you to have a bounty of cash. But along the coastline of North Carolina, the ICW offers a mixture of tranquility, nature at it’s finest, and some of the most unique “hurricane housing” architecture you’ll find anywhere.

    For Cat Maudy, with her ‘tall girl’ mast – navigating along the ICW becomes strategic. We must “time” getting under the fixed bridges at lower tides, and many of the drawbridges only open on the hour. Twice, we missed “the hour” by less than 5 minutes. This caused us to motor in circles – and passing 55 minutes of time waiting for the next drawbridge to open. It’s not easy to “time” the drawbridges. Sometimes, we travel at 9 knots when the current is in our favor. Usually, as we cross an inlet…the current works against us, and our speeds drop to 5.5 knots. It doesn’t matter if the tide is ebbing or flooding. You never really know how long it will take to get to any destination. Part of the charm on the ICW.

    A 5 mile stretch of the ICW between Wrightsville Beach and Swansboro, North Carolina – is a military base. Called Camp LeJeune. Nobody plays with Barbie dolls here….this is serious GI Joe war games “get out of my way” stuff. Signs along the ICW indicate that boaters must “STOP” cruising if the red lights are flashing. I triple checked. They were NOT flashing red. So we continued.

    Hard to imagine what “goes on” here when the red lights ARE flashing – but when they are NOT it is quite unnerving. Gun artillery goes off incessantly, and Top Gun jets swoop toward Cat Maudy at warp speed. The sounds are terrifying, and this continues for 5 miles. I manage to get a few photos of the swooping fighter jets, before deciding that maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. Maybe they don’t want their picture taken? Their guns sure are awful big.

    We end the day – at anchor, in Swansboro. Swansboro is a quiet ICW town, just north of Sneeds Ferry – and shrimp boats line the shoreline for the evening.

  • Wrightsville Beach…for a day, or 2

    It isn’t yet “prime time” at Wrightsville Beach – but you would never know it by the number of beachgoers and boaters. Anyone who owned a boat….or related to someone who owned a boat…or just grabbed mom -n- dad’s boat for the day – were out lookin’ for “action” on the ICW.
    Sunday. A weekend on the ICW. We decided to stay put, and take in the local flavors. This included multiple trips to Roberts Grocery Store – a classic old-fashioned “country” grocery store – located right along the main drag of Wrightsville Beach. In business since 1919 – the family who runs Roberts – take you back in time. There are no bright lights here, no pristine floors or fancy coolers. Just enough options to choose from, and an inhouse butcher shop – in case you need fresh meat. We tried their “Famous Chicken Salad”…and it was so delicious and unique – we stocked up for our ICW trip to Norfolk. One or two more visits to Roberts – and they would surely know me by name.

    A block from Roberts Grocery – is a surf shop called Wings. Paddy’s fashion dreams come true inside Wings. Orange plaid shorts, bright orange swim trunks, and more orange plaid with every other imaginable color mixed in…. You might want to wear your shades from here out – around Captain Paddy..

    Wrightsville Beach offers a perfect opportunity for exercise. Roads with extra wide lanes plus shoulders, makes for ideal biking, running or walking. Of course, I OD’d on endorphins for 2 days. It was magnificent!

  • Changed plans…

    We departed Bald Head Island at 7AM hoping to get beyond the Cape Fear shoals before the seas grow. About a mile and a half offshore….heading straight into the swells…the ‘queazies’ took over. Cat Maudy pitched into the swells. Over and over. This would go on for 2+ hours. I tried staring at the horizon…but the horizon kept moving. To keep going…I would be seasick.

    We turned around, and headed back in to the Cape Fear River. Wrong seas for the wrong gal.

    Paddy climbs the mast to bring down the equipment at the very top. This includes the tri-color light, and wind equipment. These items add extra height to our already “too tall” mast for the ICW fixed bridges. We will have to go inside at this point – and navigate under the 65′ fixed bridges along the ICW. Since our height is 63.5′ – we don’t want to risk close calls with the wind and lights on the top .

    We depart Bald Head Island at 12:30PM – for a 25 mile trip to Wrightsville. Low tide is 4:30…and we would be at the one and only fixed 65′ bridge around 3PM. Luck is on our side – and the bridge shows a clearance of 68′. We easily pass under this bridge – and motor on thru the busy ICW. Lots of pleasure boat traffic…and shallow depths keep all the boaters hugging the middle of the channel. Arrive at the Seapath Marina just after 4PM – and spend a delightful evening with fellow cruisers John Lennon and his wife Vicky – the artist. They are enroute traveling the Great Loop – in their motor catamaran. Yup….we hung out with John Lennon. Cruiser John Lennon that is.

  • Winyah Bay to Cape Fear River

    All set for a 75 mile day hop to the mouth of the Cape Fear River – we hoped for the best – without having our trusted sources of weather info guiding us. We assumed, the weather forecast is the “same” as yesterday. 10-15 mph winds from the southwest – with more of the gusty stuff. The only problem with ending our day hop at the Cape Fear River…is returning back to the ocean for day 3.

    The Cape Fear River has shoals that extend 15 miles offshore. There is no shortcut. If you go into the Cape Fear River, then to exit, you have to get banged up by southwest seas for 3 hours….or take the ICW on the inside. Better yet, we could do an overnight and bypass the Cape Fear River….but my exhausted bod says “no”.

    It is a long stretch between Winyah Bay and Cape Fear. We spent most of the time 12-15 miles offshore. Every now and then, a boat would appear on our horizon – and we would stare it down until it was out of sight. Any visual distraction to take my mind off the fact that we are all alone out here. Since we could no longer see the shoreline, I adjusted the GPS to show the coast line despite the fact we are nowhere near it. Little comfort things to get thru the day.

    The winds were negligible thru 2PM – which means we had the engines burnin‘ fuel. By 3PM we unfurled the jib sail – and were motor-sailing at 8+ knots. As we got close to the mouth of the Cape Fear River – it was windy as all get-go, and the combination of shallow waters and seas bouncing back from the coastline – made for a bumpy ride.

    Less than a mile inside the mouth of the Cape Fear River – we discovered a tiny marina / golf complex tucked behind a narrow channel to our starboard side. It was 5PM, and most marinas are closing – but we got lucky. They had a slip for us for the night. Paddy motored into the Bald Head Island Marina – and we sidled up to the face dock for the night for $20 – an unheard of rate. Then, we received a $20 coupon for dinner. Do the math. Dockage plus dinner for about $20. Nice. If you have to enter the Cape Fear River – Bald Head Island is a great place to stop. Plus, there are no cars here.

  • Plans in motion – to Winyah Bay

    Southwest winds 10-15 knots with gusts to 20 in the afternoon. That was the forecast. The weather folks weren’t kidding about those gusts.

    We departed the Charleston Maritime Center at 7:30AM. Charleston is one of my favorite ports, and I was having mixed feelings about leaving. But, we had to take advantage of each and every weather opportunity – and it appeared we would have 4 days of good sailing winds. 4 days translates into 4 of our last remaining ocean hops. We could have also done an overnight and skipped the 4 hops….but they are just too darned tiring.

    Day 1 – Charleston to Georgetown (Winyah Bay)
    Day 2 – Winyah Bay to Cape Fear River
    Day 3 – Cape Fear River to Wrightsville (Masonboro Inlet)
    and Day 4 – Wrightsville to Beaufort.

    That was the plan. And as we have well discovered on this sailing voyage – all plans are subject to change at any given moment. This would be no different.

    The coastline between Charleston and Georgetown is laden with long reaching shoals that extend 6-8 miles from the coastline. The days of hugging the coast line (such as in Florida are over – and we have to stay further offshore to bypass the shallow spots. The water color is noticeably different as well. You can see the shoal areas by the color of the water. The water becomes a murky brown, as if completed churned up by the sand.

    We motor sailed with the main only for the first 7 hours. It wasn’t until we turned toward Winyah Bay – that we started to get a breeze. The winds went from 6 to over 20. Just like that. Steady 20+ knots of winds pushed us up the long channel into Winyah Bay. The channel is flanked by a combination of submerged and visible jetty’s. The tidal current was working against us – so with the surf pushing us in and the current pushing us out – it was a bit of a rough ride toward land.

    Heading toward a protected anchorage, our charts were showing a channel of 23 feet of water. It turned out to be closer to 5 feet. Not even close to 23 feet. Assuming that massive shoaling has taken place. Noticing that all of the fishermen in boats were hugging the shoreline – we aimed for shore. Sure enough, the depth returned and we set down anchor for the night.

    By midnight, the winds settled down. I tried checking my standard set of online weather sources – only to discover that we were nowhere within Internet range. This gave me time to reflect upon what life was like before we became glued to the ‘net. Kind of hard to imagine. We would make our next offshore hop tomorrow without our brains exploding on weather details. I’m getting nervous.

  • Cancelled Blessin’

    While strong thunderstorms and near gale force winds may have put an ending to Charleston’s Blessing of the Shrimp Fleet — it left room for Plan “B” — a relaxed and shrimp laden afternoon with our Charleston friends Cindy and Bruce. A walk along the pier under the Ravenel Bridge made it clear why the Blessin’ was cancelled. Winds gusted to 35 knots, making the Cooper River void of boat traffic. With the exception of one small sailboat. He apparently had not tuned in to the weather channel.

    Cindy and Bruce “define” southern hospitality – and it didn’t take long for Paddy and I to settle into a relaxed southern groove. Despite being 600 offshore miles away from Baltimore, thanks to Cindy and Bruce — Charleston felt like home.

  • Can’t get enuf of the big aquarium….

    Still groggy from lack of sleep….I dragged my bod off of the Mega Dock…and over to the nearest tennis court for an hour of singles, followed by another hour of doubles. Chasing a little ball around the court, and trying to focus on hitting it with the racket strings was a bit of a challenge – but I had the best excuse going for any mis-hits. “I just got off my boat OK?” Despite lacking the precision to hit the ball squarely – the abundance of endorphins and camaraderie made up for it all! Thankfully my partner Cindy, and opponents were gracious enough not to mind. Love this southern hospitality!

    By 11:30AM, slack tide, Paddy and I moved Cat Maudy from one side of the peninsula (on the Ashley River)….to the other side (on the Cooper River) – to dock for a week at the Charleston Maritime Center. The rates were cheap (relatively), and from our new location – we were within easy walking distance of grocery stores, pizza delivery, and the Charleston Aquarium.
    It wasn’t as if we were lacking for marine life. We live and breath marine life. So, why not spend an afternoon getting close and personal with otters, bald eagles, sea horses, eels, albino alligator, penguins, sharks…monsta‘ turtles…and hundreds of species of fish?

    The most popular exhibits — based on the number of 5 year olds in attendance – are the river otters and the huge loggerhead turtles. I admit, it’s hard to walk away from these exhibits. The river otters appear to be fed a diet high in sugar. There is no shortage of energy with these creatures – and they were happy to perform a show demonstrating endless enthusiasm in the form of diving, swimming, staring at their fake dam, followed by more swimming.

    The loggerhead turtles are found in the “big ocean bowl” exhibit – where they swam in a counter-clockwise direction with hundreds of other huge fish. I assume the fish, sharks and turtles in this exhibit got together one day, and decided that the fishbowl highway runs counter clockwise. Everyone seems good with this program, except the turtles. These guys are cruisin’ for a bruisin. About every 5 minutes, the turtles change course to clockwise, and this is where the real fun begins. Big fish collisions! The water churns with excitement. Who knew that turtles were such troublemakers?

  • A day hop…becomes an overnite offshore sail into Charleston

    Our forecasted weather window of lite westerly breezes has morphed into winds from the north – for the second day. The bad news…is the winds are from the north, and we won’t be sailing. The good news…is that the winds are light – so we motor sail.

    We depart our mooring in Fernandina Beach with a swift moving ebbing current. Cat Maudy is nearly a go-fast boat moving at 10 knots leaving the harbor. With now 2 days of barely any winds – the seas are smooth, and we head northward to our next day hop destination — St. Catherine’s Sound – just south of Savannah Georgia.

    Twenty miles north of Fernandina, we approached the channel to St Simon’s Inlet. A large motor yacht is hailing the Coast Guard requesting guidance into the channel. The Coast Guard refuses to help. Not even a little – like hey — head “west” or something like that. We could see the motor yacht just ahead of us. The Captain gave up asking the Coasties for help…and hailed us to see if we could give any assistance. Paddy told him to head at 303 degrees from the outer sea buoy…and follow the channel buoys ‘red…right…returning’. The other captain profusely thanked us for our help. He ‘splained he had been offshore and up for 35 hours, was shorthanded on crew…and probably too tired to see the difference between land and water. While I have to wonder why a boat like his doesn’t have GPS software that will show him the way, or even a good set of binoculars to SEE the channel markers….I can appreciate being overly tired on your boat.

    Can we talk? Has the Coast Guard stopped helping the little people on boats – i.e. fishermen and cruisers? Do they not like us? Maybe the Great Recession has hit them hard – and they don’t have any more money for boat fuel? Whatever it is, the Coasties seem preoccupied with other important duties. Such as polishing their guns, training to shoot at boats, or practicing war games on coastal waterways. These are skills your average cruising mariner can appreciate. During one stretch, for 15 hours…the Coast Guard repeatedly reported a disabled vessel 15 miles off shore that was taking on water — and all OTHER vessels should assist. Now, if I was on a boat that was sinking…it sure would have been nice if help could arrive. OK? Just say’n.

    The landscape of Georgia is a stark contrast – from South Florida. South Florida is filled with high rise hotels and condos – with every inch of beachfront property owned by wealthy individuals or corporations. In Georgia – there are no buildings….no (or very little) beachfront development. It is quite refreshing. The coastline consists of one island after another, separated by “sounds”. Most of the sounds provide access from the ocean — to inland, if you are planning to use a rowboat. The sounds are extremely shallow, and include shoaling out 6-8 miles into the ocean. There are TWO deep water channels in Georgia. One in the southern end called St Simon’s Inlet – which takes you into Brunswick, and the other further north leads you into Savannah. In between, unless you REALLY REALLY want to get to Georgia from the ocean, and are willing to risk running aground….you might just want to keep on going.

    This is exactly what we discovered. After motor-sailing from 6:30AM to 4PM – we were two miles away from the channel into St Catherine’s Sound. But, when we got to the “channel markers” – we discovered there were none. Apparently someone decided that the channel into St Catherine’s Sound….starts 3 miles IN from the outer shoal. This means, we would have had to “wing it” for a few miles HOPING we don’t run aground…til we made it to the “channel”. Think of it this way – you are in your car, and trying to get to I-95….but there is a big forest for 3 miles between you and the highway. You have to go off-roadin. You have no idea how to get TO I-95…but you have to go thru the forest to get there. So, if you can figure it out….and weave thru the trees, then you get to hop on the highway. Otherwise, enjoy the trees in the forest.

    So, here we are – 4PM at St. Catherine’s Sound. We couldn’t safely get into shore. It is time to consider some new options. Our next port is Savannah Georgia. The outer sea buoy is located 20 miles from us. We could motor there at 7knots….but it is a long channel from the sea buoy to land – at least 8 miles. From there we would need to travel another 12 miles up the river to find any anchorage. It would be dark by 8pm. Not a good option.

    The only other option – is to keep going. All night, to Charleston. It’s hard to imagine that this is our best option, especially after I had just sworn off of any more overnight sails and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. But, it is our best option. Really, our only option. In addition, the course correction needed to head to Charleston — allows us to shut off the motors, and just sail. This puts Paddy in a VERY good mood. The weather is favorable – 8 knot winds from the south…and Cat Maudy is back to being a sailing machine. She loves lite air – and is cruising along at 6 knots. Nice.

    The sail is quickly becoming the best sail of our trip. With a gentle breeze, and flat seas…Cat Maudy is eating up the light air off her stern quarter. We predicted arrival into the Charleston Harbor around 8AM. I rush to the galley – and prepare dinner and snacks for the night. PB&J’s all around.

    Just shy of the Tybee Sound off the coast of Georgia, we are greeted by a school of dolphins. These creatures love to swim, jump and play near the beam and bow of our boat. Their presence makes for a wonderful diversion from staring at the horizon, the trip odometer or the most current GPS position. I grab my camera to capture the moment – and Flipper & Friends do their best to avoid being filmed. Switching to video mode proved to have better results. Gotcha!

    We reached the channel marker for Savannah while we still had some daylight. This is a good thing. Savannah is an active shipping port – and despite the fact that we only had a mile to go to REACH the channel…incoming and outgoing commercial freighters were moving in and out of the channel at 15 and 23 knots. We had to GIBE the boat twice to let the freighters have right of way, before Cat Maudy could sprint to get to the other side of the channel.

    By 8:30PM, the twilight from the setting sun disappeared, and a three quarter moon rises to provide just enough glow for low lite, nite time visibility. The sky is clear, and with the combination of starlight and moonlight, gentle lapping seas, and a constant southwest breeze – the night was becoming magical. Still, this is no time to let down your guard. We are between 8 and 10 miles offshore, and there are unmarked buoys, sunken ships and depths as shallow as 20 feet. Every 5 minutes we scan the dark horizon for any shadows or lights, the charts for any course deviations, the AIS software in case a big ship is heading our way, and the radar to show us anything else we may have missed. The attention to detail feels much greater at nighttime.

    VHF channel 16 is buzzing with activity. Flares go off near St. Catherine’s Sound – indicating some mariner is in trouble. A fishing vessel 60 miles offshore has a disabled engine. More vessels hail the Coasties with their troubles….and true to form, the Coasties simply broadcast the troubled position – and suggest other boaters in your area assist you. We notice the lights of two other sailboats who appear to be traveling a similar course to ours, en route to Charleston. Our comfort factor goes up a notch. We have “ghost friends” nearby.

    By 1AM, the winds had shifted to the southwest, and had lightened up. Our speeds were degrading to the “TOO SLOW” range. Time to turn one engine back on and kick up the speed. We continued with one engine, motor sailing until daybreak (6AM). The shipping channel into Charleston is now less than 11 miles away. We make a slight course change toward the channel – and this gives us a better direction for the winds. Back to sailing – and Cat Maudy trucks along at 7 knots!

    Just as we arrive near the Charleston shipping channel – the Coast Guard announces they will be shooting off their guns at 8AM near Charleston. Of course! They want all mariners to stay away from the shooting zone. At the same time, they announce a vessel is taking on water and needs help. Perhaps another boater could help them? hmmmm….. We sail as quickly as possible into the Charleston Harbor…away from the shooting spree. Our two “unknown” sailboat friends from the night, arrive shortly thereafter.

    While sailing up the harbor, and back in cell phone range, I hook up a game of tennis – with my Charleston “tennis connection”, Cindy. The overnight sail is over, and it’s time to focus on getting endorphins. Cindy informs us that this weekend will be buzzing with the “Blessing of the Shrimp Fleet” – a big event that occurs on Sunday here in Charleston / Mt. Pleasant. It appears to be an opportunity to eat a LOT of shrimp. We vow to find out more about this – once we get some much needed sleep.

    We grab a slip at the Charleston City Marina. The folks here at the City Marina are the nicest imaginable. They speak with a delightful southern drawl. My conversation with the dock hand goes like this:

    me: How was the weather this winter in Charleston?
    CityMarina folks (CMF): yes, ma’am…we sur had a col one
    me: Did you have any snow?
    CMF: yes ma’am…we even made sno balls
    me: OK, I’m going to throw you this bow line…are you ready
    CMF: yes ma’am….thank you ma’am
    me: OK, I’m gonna throw you this spring line….ready?
    CMF: yes ma’am…thank you ma’am
    …and on and on

    I then ask the dock hand if he knows anything about the “Blessing of the Shrimp Fleet”. Most people would say – “no sorry..” and be done with it. But, not here. We are in the heart of southern hospitality – Charleston. The dock hand replies “yes ma’am….I’ve heard of it…let me find out more for you”….and contacts the Marina office to get more information for me. The lady at the marina office, takes it on her own to research the “Blessing of the Shrimp Fleet”, and then comes to FIND ME (walking down the pier) – and tell me how they can help me to GET THERE. Not just with a map….but they will DRIVE US to the other side of the peninsula, and then pick us up to bring us back….and wanted to know WHEN we wanted to go. OMG. How hospitable is that??

  • Offshore to Fernandina Beach

    With a 4-day unheard of weather window, we were jones’n to make 4 consecutive day hops…to Charleston SC. I had plenty of time to triple check the weather before we departed at daybreak. That’s because the anchor alarm started blaring at 3AM. Our software “thought” we had moved from our anchored position….but really we hadn’t moved. Since you never really know for sure – I didn’t dare turn off the alarm. My sleep state was over.

    Every weather and mariner forecast predicted that seas would be flat…with light winds from the west. No chance of thunderstorms. One out of three of these components turned out to be correct.

    The seas were VERY flat. Light swells gently rocked the boat from the southeast. The winds however – were from the NORTH. Not “North WEST” or “North North WEST”….but completely NORTH. And we are headed NORTH. With the winds hitting us on the nose – there would be no sailing today. Thunderclouds were forming everywhere. We motored. As fast as possible.

    The highlights of our trip from St Augustine to Fernandina Beach include:
    – 4 sea turtles, of which I had no luck in photographing so you’ll have to take my word on this

    – many dolphin friends joined Cat Maudy for the ride

    – we watched the Coast Guard do training exercises near Jacksonville, and we’re very happy they didn’t point their weapons at us

    – staring at very BLACK clouds hoping they wouldn’t turn into waterspouts

    We arrived at Fernandina Beach Florida (on Amelia Island), as our last stop in Florida – on our northbound trip. To the right of the channel…was Georgia. We are so close, that we can throw rocks at Georgia…but we didn’t. That wouldn’t be nice.

    To the west…is beautiful, pristine swampland. Beautiful in comparison with looking to the east. In the east, are a series of paper factories…which smell bad, and dozens of shrimp and fishing boats…which also smell bad. All of these bad smells are attracting a lot of bugs. We waste no time closing all of the hatches.

    We arrived at the Fernandina Harbor mooring field – and latched onto a mooring. The currents in north Florida are swift – and we didn’t want to wake up discovering we had dragged anchor into Georgia.

  • How OLD is the city of St. Augustine? Captain Paddy ‘splains…

    Captain Paddy takes a break from sailing…to provide a history lesson on St. Augustine, FL. St. Augustine has been a US city for a LONG time. A very LONG time. This is a very very very OLD city. Get it? View this Paddy video classic.

  • Zombies….in St Augustine

    Somewhere around 11:30am….3 full hours into a deep sleep upon arrival in St. Augustine…we awoke to a huge BOOM that shook the boat. Being at anchor, it was easy to imagine the worst. We were anchored close to barges, cranes and bridges….maybe Cat Maudy dragged anchor and hit one of these beasts? Or, maybe another boat dragged into ours? We bolted from a wonderful dream state…and sprinted to the cockpit for a “looksy”.

    Nope. No collisions. We haven’t moved. And, no one has run into us. OK….maybe we are so tired that we are imagining huge BOOMING sounds in our sleep? And then we heard it again. BOOM. The explosion rattled the boat.

    Our anchorage is located adjacent to a FORT. The cannons at this FORT are still working. They are working exceptionally well, as a matter of fact. Every 30 minutes for the next 7 hours – Cat Maudy jumps an inch outta the water, Soxy’s hair stands up straight….and we keep thinking about how nice it might feel to sleep. Maybe when the tourists go home.

    There we were, Paddy and I….blissfully riding a fancy tandem road bicycle leaving Chicago on Route 66 — heading to California. Paddy was breaking wind (no…not “that” kind of wind)…catching bugs in his teeth…and I was pedaling high on endorphins. We were dragging along a tent, a laptop and two padded boat cushions for seating. Soxy rode along in a basket. We planned to stop in a KOA campground for the nite. They have showers at the KOA…and we would need one. My SPOT beacon rested on the handlebars and I could no longer remember when I transmitted my last GPS position. It didn’t matter. We were biking Route 66 and there was no telling what we would see and who we would meet….

    This is how far I got into my perfect dream —biking only a few miles outside of Chicago — when all hell broke loose at 3AM on Cat Maudy. The “YO — you’re dragging anchor” alarms fired on all cylinders – and Paddy and I scramble to the cockpit. The barges, cranes and bridges sure seem a lot closer at night. Next to us…our anchored boat neighbors had bonded. They had dragged into each other…and were heading our way. We had 90 feet of chain out….and Paddy turned on the engines, while I went forward to prep the windlass for raising the anchor. We watched and waited. We blew our boat horn to wake up our dragging neighbors. Eventually they heard us…and moved their boat.

    The tidal currents in St. Augustine are strong. Raging would be a better description. There is a 5′ tidal change between low and high tides, and when the winds oppose the currents – even the best anchoring plans can go sour. For now, we haven’t moved enough — to reposition. So we monitor our surroundings for the next hour.

    Just as daylight arrived….so did the crane and barge workers. Incessant noise from construction started at 6:30AM. Cranes dropping large loads of rocks into dump trucks. Workers yelling at each other…and tugboats blasting their horns. For now, I’ll just bookmark my dream…there would not be room for sleep in St. Augustine.

  • Slim pickins – offshore to St. Augustine

    I’ve come to the conclusion that Ft. Pierce is a foul weather abyss. Expect endless days of easterly winds and pounding seas. You know you’re desperate for a sailing weather window, when you consider going offshore in conditions that previously would have been unacceptable.

    So, here are the options. Saturday. One day. One 24 hour day. No more…no less. This is our “window”. After that – no more weather windows out of Ft. Pierce for a week. Easterly winds would subside eventually around Ft. Pierce….but would become favorable further “northward” along the coast. Translation: We could depart Ft. Pierce early Saturday….the sea state would be BIG and UGLY….but eventually the seas would get better. Swells from the east would remain BIG til we got beyond Cape Canaveral…then the sea state would subside. This boils down to two choices:

    (1) We could sail for 1 day and get to Cape Canaveral in the daylight….or (2) use the full 24 hour window of opportunity – and sail overnight to St. Augustine — 164 miles.

    There wasn’t much conversation on Cat Maudy for the first 4 hours offshore. I spent much of my time staring off at the horizon to avoid being seasick….and Paddy tended to steering the boat. So far, this was not “fun”…and I had to turn off the “little people” in my head who were chatting incessantly about how rough the seas are.

    Within 30 miles of Cape Canaveral the winds and seas began to subside. This was the deciding moment. We either continue beyond Cape Canaveral to St. Augustine for an all-niter (160 miles)….or head in to Cape Canaveral (65 miles). Talk about undesirable options: Sail further offshore into unknown sea conditions and sail in the dark VS stop at Cape Canaveral and wait another WEEK for the next weather window. We opted to keep going. I couldn’t imagine being stuck in Cape Canaveral for a week.

    The winds had subsided, and we were motor-sailing. Cat Maudy maintained a speed of 7 knots. At one point, we were 12 miles offshore – allowing us to clear the shoals around Cape Canaveral. You could barely make out the largest of buildings on shore. At this distance the coastline was hazy. Things were looking pretty “lonely” out in the ocean – until FLIPPER discovered the roar of our engines. When I first noticed the dark fin of this large mammal….I thought maybe it was a shark. But as he gracefully slid thru the water, and hopped over the surface, keeping pace alongside the beam of Cat Maudy – this was no shark!

    Apparently, Flipper was having so much fun discovering US….that he sent a SONAR-GRAM to all of his porpoise buddies miles away. From a mile radius all around Cat Maudy….the water surface came alive with FLIPPER’s friends all racing toward us. They stopped whatever they were doing — feeding, napping, whatever porpoises do — and are full speed heading toward us. Within 60 seconds – Cat Maudy was the “place to be”. Dozens of porpoises came to greet us…and spent a good 15 minutes cruising, jumping and playing alongside Cat Maudy. It was very cool.

    We passed by the last shoal of Cape Canaveral at 6pm, and changed course to head closer to the shoreline. By now, we had consumed our second (out of a total of 4 in 24 hours) PB&J sandwiches. Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches are the food of choice during bouncy sea states. No need to spend time prepping food in the galley….if that means you’ll be too seasick to eat it. So, we eat the ‘easy stuff” – PB & J’s.

    Daylight hours were waning…and by 8:30pm twilight was replaced by moonlight. We are now 14 miles north of Cape Canaveral, and the sea state could not be better. Light swells from the south, and winds from the south to southwest. If we weren’t pedal to the metal to make the 24 hour weather window…we could have just “sailed”. By adding engine power to the sail mix — helped us keep a 7 knot per hour pace.

    I grabbed an hour of shuteye around midnight, and then Paddy took his turn for an hour of zzzz’s. It might not sound like a lot, but just an hour of sleep can really perk you up. Time for another PB&J.

    By 2AM…our moonlight was replaced by starlight, and a coastline of city lights. Soxy, our cat decided this was her moment to investigate the innards of our stack pack. The stack pack is a bunch of material that is used to “wrap up” our main sail. When we are sailing, the stack pack just “hangs” on either side of the boom. When we discovered Soxy was nowhere to be found….she had discovered hiding in the stack pack. Now, we are cruising along at 7 knots (sometimes 8)…there is dew all over the deck….it’s dark out…..and Soxy can’t seem to figure out how to get OUT of the stack pack. Instead of returning to where she go INTO the stack pack (near the mast)…she decided that the only way OUT – is at the end of the boom — which hangs out over the water.

    Now, Soxy is family. But with that said….we are not about to put ourselves in peril trying to save her. OK….maybe a little peril…. What is up with cats? Did you ever notice how they climb up a tree….find a little limb to dangle on….and can’t figure out how to return to the base of the tree? Nooooo….you have to rescue them. They like this. They want you to rescue them.

    Soxy is peering at us, trying to get OUT of the stack pack – at a position where she will surely fall into the water. Aiii…. I tether to our forward lines…and creep toward the mast on a slippery deck. From here…I coax Soxy to walk along the boom FORWARD toward me. As soon as I can reach her…I grab her around the shoulders…and she hugs me in a death grip. Kitty saved. No one in the water. And, Soxy is quarantined INSIDE the boat until further notice.

    By 4AM the sea state has completely flattened, and we enjoy a perfect offshore westerly breeze. We continue motor sailing….for optimal time. By now, our eyes are blurry….and it’s hard to tell the difference between a boat who might be navigating near you….or if it is just lights from the shoreline. We are getting really tired….and daybreak can’t arrive soon enough.

    We arrive at the St. Augustine inlet around 7:30AM – and navigate to an anchorage. Anchors down….confirmation that we are “holding” ground….and collapse from exhaustion.

  • Ft. Pierce – home for a week

    After 5 days at anchor, I wondered if Cat Maudy had sprouted a new “home port”. Ft. Pierce, Florida. Earlier in the week, with 2 ocean sail, back to back hops —
    (1) Ft. Lauderdale to Lake Worth (45 miles), and
    (2) Lake Worth to Ft. Pierce (60 miles)– it looked as if Cat Maudy was cruising on a northbound ROLL. We were in the mindset that nearly every day would be a sailing day.

    WRONG. The weather windows had completely evaporated. Each day introduced worse sailing conditions than the prior day. Strong winds from the EAST produced whopper seas and sea conditions. Exasperation, frustration, and resignation that “there’s no place like home” – resembled Ft. Pierce.

    We made the best use of our time at anchor…getting work done for clients…staring at every imaginable weather service on the Internet hoping that ONE day would look favorable….and staring at each other. There is only so much one can take….and Paddy knows when I need to get to shore and exercise. 5 days without land endorphins is well over any girl’s limit. We bought a night at the inn (i.e. dock slip space at the Harbortown Marina) – and within minutes I had the tires pumped up on my roadbike (Ms. Trek Madone).

    It’s hard to put into words the feeling when clipping into your roadbike, prepping for a high cadence workout….when tires meet an actual road surface. Unable to ride my Trek roadbike on land (it’s been hooked up to a trak stand on Cat Maudy) for 4 months — I had forgotten that breathtaking feeling about riding on real pavement. It was glorious beyond description. My mood picked up considerably….and it suddenly didn’t matter that we had been stuck in Ft. Pierce.

    Paddy knows a good thing….and bought us a second night at dockside. This allowed me to exercise fanatically making up for lost time on land — with a day filled with biking…running…and swimming. Life is good!

    We also prepped the boat for eventual sailing. I said “we”….but really this means Paddy. He handles the much needed boat chores while I get my happy-face on. Paddy removed all of the fresh water from our storage tanks — and replaced it with good ol‘ chlorinated drinking water. Turns out we had a bit of a problem with our drinking water supply. While spending time on Biscayne Bay we had gotten into the habit of MAKING our own water, and filled our storage tanks with de–salinated, filtered water from the Bay. It wasn’t until I experienced a gut wrenching dose of intestinal unpleasantness….that we figured out our “made” water was not so good. Enuf said.

  • Gambling with weather

    I have a few rules when it comes to sailing offshore. One, is NEVER travel on “weather transition” days. “Never” seems pretty strong. Mostly “never”.

    These are the days where the winds are clocking around to a new wind pattern. For example, if winds start out in the AM from the South….and are predicted to be blowing from the NORTH by the afternoon — this would be a NO NO for sailing. Generally, the winds clock FASTER than they are predicted…and in our case we would be doing battle with winds on the nose.

    So, when I woke up at 3:30AM to study the latest weather patterns, it looked as if we had a small window. Winds would be south / southwest…and by 4pm…they would be out of the north. If we could make the same speeds we made during the sail from Ft. Lauderdale to Lake Worth (or even 8 knots) – we would be in Ft. Pierce in 6 hours. Knowing that the transition days clock to new wind direction ALWAYS earlier than predicted….we would have to leave….early. Pre-dawn. Just because the winds always transition early. If we don’t sail today….we may be stuck in Lake Worth for 3-4 days waiting for weather.

    By 5AM we decided to go for it – and at 5:30AM motored out of the Lake Worth Inlet. It is 55 miles to Ft. Pierce. The sea state was delightful. Calm. One problem tho. There was very little wind. So much for plans to travel at 8 knots minimum. We motor sailed for the first 3 hours…and then the winds picked up from the southwest. I am becoming greedy. If our speed dropped below 8 knots, I started fussing that we needed to trim the sails better. We need 9+ knots to make up for lost time.

    Be careful what you wish for. We are 45 minutes from Ft. Pierce, and the winds are transitioning. Out of the west now…over 20 knots. We pick up more speed – and reach the inlet by 12:10. Just in time. 30 minutes later, it rained…and the winds clocked over to north east. We lucked out gambling today. I won’t make a habit of it tho.

  • Departing Ft. Lauderdale

    Cat Maudy’s leak is fixed…and we are ready to move on. She is launched back into the water at 10AM… Slack tide is 10:30AM. It couldn’t be better timing for one more trip on the New River through downtown Ft. Lauderdale.

    We learned our lesson navigating INBOUND on the New River. This time, I checked the schedules for the Carrie B and Jungle Queen sightseeing paddle boats. They would not be meeting us head on. Plus, we tucked behind mega-yacht Euphoria….and just followed them for the ride OUTBOUND. It also helped not being Easter weekend. We had zero traffic on the New River.

    The weather windows are reasonably good for offshore cruising – so we plan to depart Port Everglades – and sail 45 miles north to Lake Worth. Winds are 10-15 from the East. Generally I don’t prefer easterly winds or seas. Too much bounce on the beam. But the weather deteriorates by the weekend – so we go for it.

    As huge swells and waves rolled INTO us, I started having second thoughts about our choice of weather opportunities. We are heading due EAST out of the channel. The swells pushed the bow of Cat Maudy WAY up in the air….and then she crashed down into the trough just in time for the next wave to come crashing over the bow and foredeck. OH my. We continued out of the channel, and my thoughts were fixed on the belief that the ride would be better once we changed course.

    Finally, we rounded the last shoal, and changed to a northerly course, Sure enough the sea state was more tolerable. Not great…but tolerable. We averaged 9.2 knots…with a high speed of 11 knots. Apparent winds were 12 knots. We couldn’t figure out why Cat Maudy was hitting such fast cruising speeds – but I wasn’t complaining. The faster we get to Lake Worth….the faster we can be done with these bouncy seas. Go Cat Maudy GO!

    We cruised into Lake Worth Inlet in just over 4.5 hours. And spent the night analyzing weather, patterns, sea states and predictions. Can we make another hop to Ft. Pierce before the weather crumbles?

  • Hubub at the LMC

    The Lauderdale Marine Center boat yard is filled with the largest yachts you can imagine. Well over 100 feet in length. Most of these yachts are larger than a 3000 sq foot home – 4 and 5 stories tall. The yard is a buzz with hundreds of contractors and servants – to the owners of these mega yachts. And then there’s us. Itsy bitsy Cat Maudy – compared to these monster ships. Cat Maudy is hauled onto land to fix her leak. We sat next to a yacht called “Barbie”. My barbie doll fishing pole felt right at home.

    Keith, the expert from Yanmar (the engine folks) – started right away working on the leak. He had the engine and our sail drive out of the boat within the first hour. And, he found the leak. The “seal” that is supposto SEAL out the water….had a huge gash. Looked like a knife wound. Before the end of the day, Keith had the problem fixed…and all of the parts were put back together. Nobody knows WHY the seal was gashed. It just is.

    Paddy is convinced that each and every time Cat Maudy is hauled out of the water – we have to paint the bottom of the boat. “Bottom paint” – is some really nasty black or blue paint that is designed to prevent growth of sea organisms on the bottom of your boat. Bottom paint smells bad, gets all over you …and is toxic. I’m really looking forward to this.

    We rent a car and spend the afternoon picking up all paint supplies (tape, paint, stir sticks, paint suits, shower caps, goggles, gloves….) and prep the boat for two coats of paint. I’ve got this down to a science. This will be the 4th time in 3.5 years that we’ve painted the bottom of Cat Maudy.

    The remaining 2 days on land at the Lauderdale Marine Center are a blur. Two coats of bottom paint. A road trip back to Miami to pick up mail left behind. Provisioning as if we will not get to a grocery store for the next 3 months. Including, stockpiling Starbucks coffee. Paddy needs his coffee.

  • The New River

    The New River in Ft. Lauderdale is touted as the American version of waterways and channels in Venice. If this is true, then I will scratch off my bucket list any attempt to ride the river boats in Italy.

    The New River is not designed for mega yachts, sightseeing paddle boats…or even catamarans for that matter. It is best suited for rowboats and kayaks.

    Ok. I will concede. It’s a beautiful weekend. It’s Easter weekend. Which means that everyone who owns a boat in Ft. Lauderdale is on the water. Prossibly not the best time to attempt navigation up the winding, narrow, hairpin turning, waterway through downtown Ft. Lauderdale called the New River. But, we had no choice.

    We did all the right things. Kindof. I plotted the 4 bridges I needed to hail. We put out all of our fenders (bumpers) around the boat. Just in case of a little collision. I scratched out a picture of all the hairpin turns and highlighted them in yellow. Yes yes yes…we have GPS. I didn’t need to draw a picture.

    We waited for slack tide. I made 3 “Securite” calls on VHF Channel 16. Um. That would not be correct. A bunch of captains started yelling at me to use Channel 09 for the New River. Otherwise, nobody hears you. Such details.

    So, I switched to VHF Channel 09 and made 5 more “Securite” calls alerting mariners in the opposite direction that we are a wide-load catamaran inbound on the New River. It didn’t matter. Between the Carrie B and Jungle Queen sightseeing paddle wheel boats, and the mega yachts that practically consume the entire width of the narrow “river” – it seemed as if Cat Maudy would soon become a monohull sailboat.

    You could not see boaters coming toward you around the hairpin turns. I didn’t hear anyone else making “Securite” calls. So, you basically had to peek your nose around the corner…hope for the best….hit the throttle hard if it is clear….or back down just as fast and hope that the boaters behind you will notice.

    Despite the supercharged stress level of navigating the New River — we eventually made it to our destination. Lauderdale Marine Center. We tied up to their dock….and stepped onto land. It was a glorious moment.

  • Many new friends at Lake Sylvia

    After sailing to Ft. Lauderdale on a leaky boat – we had safely made it to our anchorage in Lake Sylvia, near the Port Everglades inlet. The magic kick-butt pump pushed out the incoming water, before you had time to notice the water level in the engine compartment was rising. We now had to wait on anchor for 2 days – as Cat Maudy is scheduled to be hauled outta the water on the following Monday. Whew. All is good. Time to let down our guard.

    Anchoring in Lake Sylvia is nearly the same as rafting up with some other boater you have never met before. The notion of having plenty of room to swing around your anchor safely without colliding into another boater is gone. The currents are tricky, and anchoring is not for the novice. We’ve had plenty of experience dragging anchor.

    We anchored Friday afternoon, and after 24 hours of changing direction due to tides, and looking at neighboring boats in very close proximity – we felt pretty secure. So, when a mega power yacht dropped anchor 20 feet from us (far too close) – we stopped expressing concern. Everyone seems to anchor too close here – so just go with it. It’s a friendly Florida thing.

    Thirty minutes later, while eating popcorn for dinner – a huge THUD shakes our boat. I run out to the foredeck – and sure enough, the mega yacht dragged anchor – right into the bow of Cat Maudy. Paddy and I made a noisy fuss trying to get the boaters attention. The captain and crew were below deck, and hadn’t noticed they had dragged anchor – or the collision with Cat Maudy. Cat Maudy and the mega yacht were now “one”.

    Finally we got their attention. The captain of the mega yacht informed us how tricky it is to anchor in Lake Sylvia – since WE are new to the area. hmmmm. Let’s see. Dude…YOU dragged anchor into OUR boat”.

    Welcome to Ft. Lauderdale!

  • Pon pon pon pon….Cat Maudy is taking on water

    When Captain Paddy broke the news that Cat Maudy had sprung a leak…and water was coming in — I admit my first thought was getting OFF the sinking ship.

    Sure enough, all of the little seals that are used to keep the water OUT of the engine compartment – BROKE – and now water is sloshing in. Paddy’s thinks we need to sail Cat Maudy 30 miles offshore up to Ft. Lauderdale – to get the boat hauled out. Yeah right. I’m going to knowingly get into a sinking ship…go offshore for 30 miles and tap my heels together 3 times….repeating “there’s no place like home”. This is way above my pay grade.

    After getting over the initial shock that we are suddenly taking on water, the next step is trying to figure out how to STOP it from coming in. So, we dried up the water as best we could, in the engine compartment and watched. Every little wave bounce…forced new water in the starboard engine compartment. The seals around the engine are breached. There is nothing we can do to stop it while she sits in the water. Now what?

    Surely there is a boat yard in Miami that can haul out Cat Maudy? Yes and no. There is a boat yard up the Miami river, with a crane that could lift CM outta the water. Unfortunately, the guys are more interested in PAINTING Cat Maudy rather than fixing the LEAK….so we weren’t too comfortable with their expertise. We continue to talk to everyone we know – only to determine that the boat yards we need — are located in Ft. Lauderdale, and not Miami. Going offshore is becoming the only option.

    Going offshore on a sinking ship is not on my bucket list. I double checked. So, we prepped for the worst, and hoped for the best. The prep part includes purchasing a submersible pump…that can pump out upto 1100 gallons per hour. I tried to imagine 1100 gallons – and this seems like a lot. Paddy spent the night wiring up the kick-ass pump – while I re-read the life raft/ abandon ship instructions, reviewed the weather conditions for the umteenth time…and prepared a ditch bag. A ditch bag contains your most important belongings, i.e. everything you MUST keep — in the size of a knapsack. It is used when you need to “ditch” the boat. i.e. Abandon ship. Soxy, our cat could not understand why I was trying to stuff her in a bag.

    Offshore weather conditions were calling for 8-12 knots of winds from the east. It turned out to be closer to 20 knots from the east – and the seas were quite lumpy. My job, among other sail trimming and hoisting tasks…was to check on the water leak every 15 minutes. The routine went something like this: I felt around the compartment door for water….held my breath….opened the door….no water gushed over the doorway….whew…..checked the water level….discovered the little pump is working like a champ…more whew…..and shut the compartment door. Ft. Lauderdale cannot come soon enough!

    By mid-afternoon – Cat Maudy entered Port Everglades in Ft. Lauderdale. She is still afloat despite taking on water. We anchor in Lake Sylvia, near the New River – and exhale a huge sigh of relief. We are within reach of the boat yard now and wait in the queue to get hauled out….and repaired.

  • Weather excitement in the mooring field

    At some point, you realize you’ve become acclimated to extreme weather. Floridians do this all the time during hurricane season. When they are not lined up 100 deep in checkout lines at Home Depot, gas stations and stores that sell ice. OK…maybe Floridians are not as acclimated as I think.

    Today’s forecast – called for tornado’s and water spouts on Biscayne Bay. Naturally, we are on a direct course for this excitement – and there is not a darned thing we can do about it.

    The first batch of squalls caused anchored boats to drag, and float through the mooring field. The Dinner Key marina folks had this one under control – and hauled the adrift boats to another location.

    The next batch of squalls included the potential tornado. We must have missed it. I’m not complaining. The winds kicked up enough to break our wind speed gauge. The boat shook and rain came at us in horizontal blasts. Visibility nil. Then, it was over. Water spouts developed near No Name Harbor on Key Biscayne. Two helicopters crashed in the Port of Miami. Everyone was safely rescued. All in a day.

  • Kite Skiing

    Love to water ski and don’t own a boat? Get a kite!

    Kite skiing appears to be the most self-reliant method to go skiing whenever you like (assuming you have some wind) – and where ever you want to go.

    This kite skier – who navigated through the mooring field missing tall sailing masts and a zillion boats on a busy weekend — makes it look very easy. He has to manage the line to make sure he doesn’t get tangled with other mariners, watch for boating traffic on the move, get the best winds, and stay upright. Surely, he has done this before. Captured on the blog video cam!

  • Bicycles and Bayside

    A bicycling advocate was surely on the “design committee” when Miami metro rail was first proposed. It is practically impossible to ride your bike on the roads in Maimi. Having lived in NYC and metro-DC, I can assure you that Miami drivers win the gold medal for “I drive – and am in a huge hurry” attitude. For the past 2 months, Paddy and I ride our bikes with extreme caution….and in tandem….assuming the drivers are not interested in 2 hood ornaments for the price of one.
    However, directly underneath the raised metro rail…is a delightful bike and jogging path connecting South Miami to Downtown. A path completely devoid of automobiles…. a bikers dream. This path, would be our ticket to Bayside Miami – in downtown.
    The weather was perfect with light headwinds en route to Miami out of the north. Within 45 minutes – we had arrived at the end of our path. This should have been downtown Miami – just 2 blocks from Bayside. Instead, the path ended at the Miami River. I guess the path designers forgot about putting a bridge over the river so that joggers and bikers could complete their journey. Small details. Time for plan B. We abandoned the biker path…for scary Miami roads. Slowly winding our way over one drawbridge, and a series of sidewalks and one way streets – we arrived at Bayside – intact.
    It comes as no surprise that Bayside is a tourist trap. The harbor is filled with boats providing sightseeing tours, and Go-Fast boats offering speed rides in the Atlantic. Food choices range from the typical Americana…to local flavors. The language? Predominantly Spanish. Which is OK, other than the constant reminder that I need to get beyond Lesson 2 “Learn to speak Spanish” in Rosetta Stone.
    Keeping with the Miami-vibe, we opted for Cuban food. And, we weren’t disappointed. Black beans, rice, plantains, and one last close-up glimpse into Miami. The weather is morphing into summer, and soon Cat Maudy will be departing this Miami winter respite. We took our time, taking it all in.