Plans Go Awry

It’s been a long time since we last wrote. So much has happened in that space of time. So much has changed, yet here we are again, rocking gently at anchor off a pristine beach in the Bahamas. This life has become the “normal” life, not the frenetic chase of time we experience in the USA. Here, we have a chance to slow down and sort through the memories and experiences of the last several months.

Shell Beach, Great Harbour Cay, Berry Islands in the Bahamas

Chesapeake Apology

The summer started as all our recent summers have: a voyage to the Chesapeake. We visited places we’ve been before (Baltimore, Annapolis, Washington DC) and visited with friends we’ve made and the few relatives scattered about. We didn’t write much about this period, since so much of it was similar to what we’ve written before and we were simply enjoying ourselves too much to take the time. We can be lazy.

Another interesting trip to the Smithsonian 

Our Junior Paleontologist at camp

Jeanette reunites with Lucia, a great friend in Wash DC

A perfect fall experience in Fresno - a week before Thanksgiving

Trick or Treat with cousin Ethan in Florida

Visit from a manatee to our boat while docked in the Bahamas. It chewed on our dinghy line until it was clean!

Europe!

Near the end of our visit to DC, I began to get the sneaking suspicion that things appeared to be headed off course. We’d spent several months making plans to spend a year in Europe when our time with the boat came to an end in May/June 2016. We’d decided that while we love being out on the ocean, Europe beckoned. It was exciting to research where we’d live in Amsterdam, Paris, Montpelier, Lisbon, and Florence. Such grand names and incredible pageantry of history. By living in each of these places for at least a couple months, we’d get the full indoctrination - we’d soak up cultures, cuisine and climates. We bought the tickets. We had a plan.

Europe?

Then, everything changed. It started out innocently enough with a dinner in Maryland. A University wanted Beth to do some consulting. They needed her to start in April 2016. Decision time.

Maryland!

Suddenly we were thrust into a frenzied search for high schools and then homes that reside in the desirable school districts. We would have to commit at least five years of our life to living in Maryland. That wasn’t the plan! We were supposed to return to Florida in 2017!  We had a house waiting for us in Jupiter! We had gotten rid of all our cold weather gear and clothes! Snow was a distant, fading memory.

By the time we reached Florida in November, Beth had an offer from the university and we proceeded to blow up all our plans. By mid-month, we’d even found a new home for our wonderful boat. We signed a contract to deliver the boat in April 2016. Our boating existence had an end point and a signature enforcing it.

A Shattering Coincidence

The week before Thanksgiving, we took a quick trip to Fresno to visit my family who hadn't all gathered together in years.  It was a great time, if a bit short.  Then, the Friday after Thanksgiving, while we were driving to visit Beth’s brothers in Delray Beach, we got the phone calls that shook our life. First, my sister called me to deliver the news that my mom had suffered a stroke that morning, had lapsed into a coma, and wasn’t expected to recover. We immediately turned around and while I was packing for the airport, Beth received a call from her brother saying her dad had suffered a massive heart attack. Jeanette lost both her surviving grandparents in that fateful hour. It was sudden. It was unexpected. It was devastating.

Once again, plans changed. We were within days of leaving for the Bahamas, but instead I was flying back to Fresno while Beth stayed in Florida. It wasn’t easy dealing with my mother’s death, but it was made infinitely better by knowing we’d left Fresno just four days earlier after enjoying a family celebration with my mother in her best form. Timing is everything. My mother had one of us next to her from the moment she experienced the first shattering headache to the time she drew her last breath. At 87, she’d lived a full life we can only envy.

It was much the same for Beth’s father. He was never alone. After Beth and Jeanette flew out to Fresno for my mother’s service, we returned for Beth’s father’s. Now we were free to sail off east and search for solace amongst the deserted beaches and gentle rocking of the anchorages.

Christmas

We spent this Christmas with our friends on two other family boats (Rollick and Water Lily) off a beautiful beach of Hoffmann’s Cay in the Berry Islands of the Bahamas. We’ve never been here, and are enjoying making new memories. The highlight has been jumping into the local blue hole, which is located a short hike inland.

Hoffman Blue Hole, Berry Islands in Bahamas

As an “early” present to myself, I've acquired the photographic equipment necessary to capture 360 degree panoramic spheres. It’s basically a fisheye lens that I take a lot of pictures with and use software to stitch it together. I’ll post another blog on the process. Using this equipment, I can take pictures that allow you to look in all directions. I hope they do a better job of sharing our experience.

Stranded At Low Tide in Great Harbor Cay

Hurricane Watching

Like All Plans...

Ours was brilliant. We would escape the bitter winds of late fall and head south much earlier than we had ever before. Normally, insurance keeps us north of Cape Hatteras until November 15th. After two years of doing that in thermal underwear, we decided to try something different. It cost a little extra, but we had an insurance waiver to head south as of October 1st. Yay!

We left Washington DC on a Sunday, and with the aid of 30k northerly winds, we were in Portsmouth (next to Norfolk) by Monday (150nM). Max speed was 13+ knots, which is a lot if you've ever been on a sailboat. Definitely a wild ride, but in control.

It never looks as wild as it does when you're in it! BTW, instrument reads 28kts of wind at beginning

25-30k winds will move you right along, we later hit 13k, but I didn't snap it

What? I'm not worried.

We paused in Portsmouth for a day to consider options and then pushed on through the Dismal Swamp Canal and down to Elizabeth City, NC.

Locking in at the north end of Dismal Swamp canal

Our next house, bit of a fixer-upper, but it's all we can afford these days

Duckweed, endless amounts just outside the canal 

This is why it is called a "swamp"

We're in the lock!

Root bear float? Nope, Dismal Swamp Canal water

South end of Dismal Swamp canal

We paused in Elizabeth City for a day before escaping because of big winds coming our way. We holed up in a little bay by our lonesome until winds (30+) passed by. You can track us in real-time using this link here.

Our track from Elizabeth city

After squeezing under a 63' bridge (our mast is 63' high, so we were definitely looking to wipe out all the instruments at the top of the mast) we worked our way down to the River Dune marina where we randomly pulled in for some P&P (provisioning and pool time). We've travelled 336 nM since DC.

Squall on the way to River Dune Marina - winds to 27k

Joaquin?

As we waited for a weather window to head out onto the ocean, we started hearing about Joaquin and how it wasn't likely to turn into a hurricane. Still, we were watching it.

A couple days later and we're in the track for Joaquin. That could be a problem.

Joaquin coming our way?

All the uncertainly is forcing us to stay where we are. Despite the fact that conditions are good for a run down the coast, the fact that Joaquin could realistically come anywhere on the east coast suggests we need to find a safe place to hang out in.

This is where our guardian angel comes into play. She guided us to the very best place to be. Exactly where we are. It is a marina you enter via a canal. It is a man-made lake, so we don't have to worry about waves battering the boat to bits. I don't think there is another marina like it for a 100 miles. Most marinas are exposed to one direction or another, this one isn't.

River Dune Marina - about as safe as it gets down here

If the Joaquin comes at us, we will prepare by taking down anything that creates windage. We'll stuff it all into the boat somehow. The high winds are a threat, but a boat is built a lot tougher than a house. We have a floating dock that will rise up with the surge and plenty of things to tie the boat to. So we should be fine.

Yes, the power and water may be out on the land, but that is where a boat has an advantage. We make our own power and we can store lots of water. We will be in better shape than most anyone on land.

From what I've been reading on the path of Joaquin, they have very little confidence on the path it will take right now. In the next couple of days, it will firm up, then we will know what we're dealing with. Right now, we're enjoying the marina while monitoring the weather online.

Bahamas

Meanwhile, we watch what is happening to our beloved Bahamas. The hurricane is perilously close to areas we love. There isn't a lot of information on what is happening down there, but I found a webcam that shows what is going on near Georgetown. The forecast is for 100k winds all day, but an amateur weather station is reading only 33k. Of course that is several hours ago because the power must have cut out. Could be the location is more protected or it could be Georgetown isn't suffering the full brunt of the storm. We hope it is the later.

Joaquin as it travels through Bahamas

Drip, drip, drip

It is October 1st, and we should have been headed further south, but we aren't. We'll be here at least until Monday. They are experiencing a lot of rain hereabouts, so there is flooding even without Joaquin adding to it. By Monday we should know what we're dealing with and be able to plan our trip offshore. We expect a couple days on the ocean to get to a water-logged Charleston or maybe even further south. We'll be a week behind schedule, but we'll be safe.

Crossing the Bar*

To live in this world
you must be able to do three things:
to love what is mortal;
to hold it against your bones
knowing your own life depends on it;
and, when the time comes to let it go,
to let it go.

~ Mary Oliver, “In Blackwater Woods”

Mother Ocean

My mother loved the water.  A grocer's daughter, the 14th of 15 children, Mom grew up in Wilkes-Barre, PA, in the shadow of the Poconos, miles from the coast.  When she finally saw the ocean, as an adult, she took to it as if saltwater ran through her veins.  She found great joy living near the beach and wherever she was in the world, she was always drawn back to the coast for the beauty of the shoreline, the quality of the light, and the inexpressible comfort that water people find in just being near the ocean.  Throughout her life, she exhibited a childlike curiosity of the world and if not for her inner explorer, my parents would never have bought the old Cal 30 that was the catalyst for so many family adventures - weekend sails, short jaunts to the Keys, and summer vacations in the Berries.  Our first years in Florida were filled with countless funny moments as we learned about sailing, the ocean, and its secrets.  Mom was up for just about anything my brothers and I could throw at her – and she put up with a lot.  The first time my brothers handed her a fish to fillet, she tackled it gamely only to find that the fish was not quite dead.  She shrieked, and we all jumped with her, as the fish nearly flopped its way out of the sink.  One afternoon, we were collecting conch and placing them by her towel where she lay resting on the beach after a night shift at the hospital.  Her nap was repeatedly interrupted by “someone” throwing sand at her.  We all learned something about conch that day and their funny mode of transportation.

Nurse Dooley

On her first fishing excursion in the Keys, Mom caught the biggest fish

Water Cure

A nurse by profession and a healer at heart, Mom believed that water was the cure for everything.  We were the only kids I knew who went to the beach when we were too sick to go to school.  According to Mom, there was almost nothing that couldn’t be remedied by a soak in the ocean or a walk along its shore, and we have all remained devoted followers of the water cure.  Our biggest fan and our sharpest critic, Mom reveled in our achievements and shared our heartaches as we navigated the twisting journey from child to adult.  She was the cool, hip mom that all of us, including our friends, could talk to, and she was always happy to provide counsel. She was a freethinker, progressive and in many ways, years ahead of her time.  Some of the deepest, most thought-provoking conversations I've ever had were with Mom.  She was equally capable of being serious and philosophical as she was being utterly silly, reducing us to side-splitting laughter.  Though our relationship was often challenging and sometimes rocky, love always prevailed.  Much could be written about those ups and downs, but the one true thing is this:  Mom loved her children, her grandchildren, and her great grandchild with her all of her heart.  When the chips were down, she never failed to come through for us and, later, our loved ones, with her whole heart, motherly advice (wanted or not), a warm hug, and a gourmet meal.

Mom loved being out on the water

Dolores Louise at Lake Louise

As if we needed reminding....

Final Passage

The changing dynamic between parent and child is often subtle, as it was with us.  In hindsight, I can see how Mom came to lean on me and my brothers more and more, but I almost didn’t notice it while it was happening.  In the prime of her life, she could be a force to be reckoned with, strong and capable; but, in dying, she softened and became reflective, her love expanding and growing even as her physical body was fading. Someone once told me that having a parent die is a lot like childbirth – if you haven’t actually experienced it, it’s difficult to know exactly how it feels.  My mother has been gone for over two years now and yet I still find myself reaching for the phone to call her or text a picture.  Art, theater, music, sunrises, sunsets, and all things beautiful remind me of her.  I relive moments everyday as I negotiate my relationship with my own daughter and wonder how Mom pulled it off with four of us and our busy schedules (school, sports, music, etc.) while also holding down a position as head nurse in the CCU on the nightshift.  I’m pretty sure Mom was the original Wonder Woman.  When she was diagnosed with terminal cancer in 2005 and we began to brace ourselves for the worst, it should have come as no surprise to any of us when she lived 8 more full years.  Still, like childbirth, as much as you think you’re ready, nothing can truly prepare you for contractions or death.  And so it was on Holy Saturday, 2013, when Mom crossed over, the four of us surrounding her bed and holding her as she’d once held us.  A year to the day, I had a dream.... She, my brothers, and I were on a ship sailing under the Golden Gate bridge and out to sea.  As we passed the Marin Headlands, a pilot boat drew alongside.  Dismay turned to wonder as I watched her disembark.  No words were spoken, but our eyes were locked as she drew away.  With dawning awareness and a curious sense of rightness, I realized then that she had gone as far as she could with us and we were now truly on our own. 

Braving a sail on San Francisco Bay (2004)

Mom takes the helm of Remedy in 20+ kts as we sail under the Golden Gate Bridge

Saying Goodbye

April 19^th dawned cloudy and cool with light winds, not an especially promising start to the day.  We had finally managed to get my three brothers, their wives, and all but two of their children together for a sail and we wanted everything to be perfect.  With a freshening breeze and clearing sky, we sailed out Lake Worth Inlet and into calm seas.  Cousins played and teased each other, and explored every manner of having fun on a boat, while the adults relaxed, sipped Bellinis and noshed on shrimp, lobster, and other delicacies that are required for all gatherings of my foodie family.  We laughed and joked and told our favorite “Mom” stories.  Tears were shed, hugs were shared, and collective memories warmed our hearts.  Then, three miles out into the Gulf Stream under a deep blue sky, we spread my mother’s ashes at last, remembering her loving, joyful, adventurous spirit and taking heart in the fact that she is now part of Mother Ocean where we live, work and play. 

A time for togetherness...

A time for reflection...

A time for play.

* Crossing the Bar

Sunset and evening star,

And one clear call for me!

And may there be no moaning of the bar,

When I put out to sea,

But such a tide as moving seems asleep,

Too full for sound and foam,

When that which drew from out the boundless deep

Turns again home.

Twilight and evening bell,

And after that the dark!

And may there be no sadness of farewell,

When I embark;

For tho’ from out our bourne of Time and Place

The flood may bear me far,

I hope to see my Pilot face to face

When I have crossed the bar.

~ Alfred, Lord Tennyson

Dolores Louise Hudak 8/25/35 - 3/30/13

Changes in L’Attitude

The Elimination-Challenge

One of the first things I learned when I was in naturopathic medical school was that when in doubt, treat the gut.  As our second brain, the enteric nervous system in our gut is constantly giving us feedback about the messages we are taking in from our surroundings.  Over time, habits, including the foods we eat, can fade into the background like white noise or elevator music.  An Elimination-Challenge is one way to clear the static so that the messages can once again be received loud and clear.  In essence, the elimination phase requires one to remove specific foods, or those foods eaten most frequently, from one's diet.  After a washout period of three weeks, each food is re-introduced (i.e., challenged) one at a time.  Having cleared the chatter from your body’s circuitry, you can now discern how that food really feels in your body – for better or worse.  This is a great way for people to get real feedback about their food and learn what nourishes them versus those foods that cause heartburn, headaches, joint pains, GI distress, fatigue, insomnia, etc. 

By now, you may be wondering what any of this has to do with sailing.  Well, I was in the shower one morning – and I don’t mean those 2-minute showers at the stern of the boat, I’m talking about a long, endless-hot-water-at-a-stable-temperature marina shower – and I was struck by an idea.  My friend Andrea had posted a message to some cruiser moms on Facebook about her feelings on re-entering “normal” life on land.  As I read her account of what was essentially a disorienting, frustrating experience, I found myself nodding in agreement, relieved to find that other cruisers were also exhibiting acute crankiness, impatience, and general discontent.  You see, my forays onto land – with its traffic, press of humanity, noise, stimuli, excesses, and commercialism – were also leaving me dazed and irritable.  As the water steamed up around me in the spacious shower stall, I had the sudden insight that following a five-month washout period in the Bahamas, the “challenge” of returning to the US, resulted in a dramatic response that’s touched me on a soul level.  Something is just not right here.  Like waking up in someone else’s skin, it all feels too unfamiliar, jarring, and just plain wrong.  More and more, when people ask me when we’re coming back (to land), I find myself thinking “Why?” – a huge departure from my attitude two year ago when I insisted that we have our back-to-land plan in place before we cast off. 

Best Laid Plans

Over the past two years that we’ve been living on the boat, what I thought would be a short-term break with a return to something that closely resembled our previous life, has transformed into a long-term exploration and investigation of everything.  While I was happy enough to sell everything and throw the entire deck of cards up in the air, I was in no way prepared for how they began to land.  In fact, last fall when we began making plans for our next winter in the Bahamas, I was certain that I would be returning this summer to one of two potential job opportunities that had presented themselves quite serendipitously.  By February, one of the opportunities had evaporated and when the other job opened, it evoked feelings of such ambivalence that I decided not to apply.  Instead of an opportunity, it was beginning to look like a big step in the wrong direction.  I thought that this past year would be a time for me to manifest what’s next, but now I see that it was a time to strip away all of the constructs of what I thought my life should look like.  As I percolate along, gestating happily at anchor, I am curious to see what emerges at the end of this fruitful journey.  At this point, what’s next is anyone’s guess. 

Changes in Latitude

Not that being back in the States has been all bad.  I have dearly loved catching up with my family and friends, the comfort of familiarity, reliable internet and phone service, great restaurants, ethnic food, movies in a real movie theater, marinas with sufficient hot water for an entire shower, and grocery shopping that does not entail having to choose the best of the rotting fruit or, for that matter, reaching for a red cabbage and - what the heck - throwing in a green one, too, just for variety.  Nonetheless, I found re-entry to the U.S. a dragging-my-heals, kicking and screaming experience that only gradually eased into resignation and then, enjoyment.  As we’ve worked our way north to the Chesapeake, I have begun to come to terms with these new feelings and finding that home really is where we are at this moment.   Sitting on the hard at Dennis Point Marina (Drayden, Maryland), the trip north – even at our slow pace – seemed to go by too fast.

Soft Landing

This year, we left the Bahamas sooner than we wanted because of a failed windlass.  At first a bit cranky, the windlass gave up about three weeks too early for us.  Given that we were already so close to our return date, we decided to just head back rather than release and haul up 100 feet of anchor chain manually.  A broken windlass gave us a good excuse to raft up to Water Lily one night at Saddle Cay – our last hurrah, as it were.  From our position in the Northern Exumas, we sailed across to Nassau and all the way to the Berries (Bird Cay) in one fell swoop.  Up until Nassau, we were having a wonderful ride, but stronger than forecasted winds and big seas plagued us all the way across New Providence Channel – a body of water that always seems to bite us.  At one point, we decided to reef the mainsail but the outer covering of the main halyard parted, leaving us no choice but to work the cover off the core to avoid jamming the halyard at some inconvenient point.  If we had any doubts about heading back to Florida, they were now put to rest, as we knew we couldn’t sail too long with the halyard in that condition.  After two nights at Bird Cay we had a good weather window to continue on to Florida and arrived in Lake Worth the next morning. 

 

Rafted up to Water Lily at Saddle Cay

Dinner on Dream Catcher 

One last sandcastle for the road

Peanut Island

Florida is our home base and we always have fun there.  On this trip, we also had our friends on Rollick and Water Lily nearby, as we were all clustered around Peanut Island.  As its name suggests*, this is a tiny island just inside Lake Worth Inlet.  Quiet and peaceful during the week, the island is party central on the weekends as power boats - laden with beer-filled coolers and bikini-clad babes, doing their best to out-blast everyone else’s music - line the shore.  My brother Phil, who until recently was a supervisor for Palm Beach County beaches (now Division Chief at Delray Beach), told me that people were even erecting props in the shallows for pole dancing before they were banned.  But, that was not the Peanut Island we experienced.  We anchored south of the island and only skirted its perimeter as we cleared in to Customs and rendezvoused with friends. 

(*Peanut Island was formed when the inlet was first excavated and was, in fact, originally called Inlet Island.  When the State gave permission for the island to be used as a shipping terminal for peanut oil, the name was changed to Peanut Island.  Although the enterprise was abandoned in 1946, the name has stuck but I still like to think the name is because of its diminutive size – about 80 acres.)

Cumberland Island

Tired of traveling, we were desperate to find an excuse not to take the boat north this year.  A summer in the hot, hazy, humid Chesapeake just didn’t’ sound like fun.   But insurance requires us to be north by June 1st, so we sucked it up and moved on – reluctantly.  After the better part of a week in St. Augustine for Jeanette to finish up her 6^th grade final exams, we were on our way to Cumberland Island.  I was last there 30 years ago, camping with my friend Dede.  We covered nearly every inch of the island back then and I’m happy to say that it looks much the same as it did all those years ago.   It was a bit more crowded (though, to be fair, it was Mother’s Day weekend) and there is a museum now in the old ice house, but the ruins are still intriguing, the Live Oaks still magical, and the wild horses are as beautiful as ever.  One equine family came quite close to us while we were picnicking – a stallion, a mare, a filly, and a foal.  There was some display of sexual dominance by the stallion making for an interesting lunch conversation with our 11-year-old daughter - not that Evolve (thank you, Diane) and Planet Earth’s David Attenborough haven’t already taught her about the subtle nuances of sexual activity among mammals.  A wonderful Mother’s Day dinner on the boat, a peaceful night at anchor in Cumberland Sound and we were off. 

Oh, the things you'll see when you go to sea! (Fernandina Beach, FL)

The ruins at Dungeness

Typical path on Cumberland Island

Horses,

horses,

and more horses!

Charleston

The recent news about the Charleston shootings has had us reeling.  We spent a wonderful week there and just loved exploring the city.  The locals with whom we spoke all seemed to have such hope for the revitalization and development of their town.  Everyday we took long walks through old neighborhoods with their beautiful ironwork and lush gardens.  Jeanette and I had a girls’ day with a museum, house tour, and lunch out on the town.  One of the most interesting things about the house tour was the docent herself.  A 94-year-old former schoolteacher, she was sharp as a tack and reminded me so much of my Great Aunt Florence that I found myself as captivated by her as she was by Jeanette.  I’m not sure how the others felt, but the docent directed most of what she said to J, who made for a thoroughly attentive audience.

Loved the iron work, the fountains...

the whimsy....

and the flower boxes everywhere!

Our morning view

Sand Bar, Oyster Bar, Whine Bar

We left Charleston in the afternoon.  Our plans to sail overnight to Morehead City were thwarted by unfavorable winds and we ended up retreating to the ICW at Cape Fear.  It was slow going on the inside and we had two groundings before we realized that the charts on my iPad hadn’t been updated.  Waaaaahhhh!  The first grounding was right on the edge of the channel, thankfully on a sandbar.  The second took place where the channel had been re-marked, but I mistook the marks for private navigational aids and failed to make the proper adjustment.  We hit hard bottom – most likely an oyster bar – and I was feeling quite badly until a power yacht came motoring along beside us.  His last words before he, too, ran aground were “I’ve got plenty of depth here – 7 feet!”  Apparently, he also thought the marks were private.  At that point, I was sufficiently traumatized to turn the helm over for good that day. 

The ICW - beautiful and deceptively benign

Favorites Old and New

We spent little time in Morehead City – just long enough to fuel up, refill a propane tank, do laundry, and hit our regular breakfast spot.  Another day in the ICW and we found our new favorite stop – Oriental, NC.  With a free dock for transients and a small, compact village to explore, what’s not to like?  Our stay coincided with the farmer’s market and fresh fish (salmon!) from the fish market.  On Saturday evening the local marina, where the transient docks are located, hosted a band.  We dragged our chairs up to the cabin top and enjoyed their mellow tunes until well after sunset. 

Roanoke Island

Another favorite, Roanoke is at the northern tip of Pamlico Sound and the southern tip of the Albemarle Sound – two nasty bodies of water we generally try to avoid.  We spent nearly a week here, visiting the museum and enjoying the quiet peace of Manteo.  While we were there, Ken found out that the nearby Oregon Inlet had just been surveyed and marked.  Rather than cross the Albemarle and continue up the ICW, we decided to give the inlet a try so we could have one last sail on the ocean before the Chesapeake.  Not recommended for boats without local knowledge, the twisting channel is surrounded by dry sandbars.  Even following the marks, we touched bottom just outside the bridge when we dipped in the trough of a wave. 

Learning to use an old-fashioned woodworking vise

Practicing duck hunting

Had to consult the fish book on this one... a Cobia

Ever-present dredging in the ICW

Even from 20' of water, the sandbar is unnerving

Chesapeake Bay

Although Cape Hatteras is the boundary for our insurance, most cruising boats with that parameter summer in the Chesapeake and we are no exception. Our first stop was Portsmouth/Norfolk where we spent our anniversary and enjoyed Harborfest with its tall ships parade, sea-air rescue demonstrations, a tug boat muster, live music, and ship tours.  Harborfest was a zoo, but it paid off for us as the anchorage at Hospital Point had the best view of the incredible fireworks display set off from a barge in the river. 

Tug muster - showing off their considerable muscle

The Hermione

Regatta in Norfolk

Sea-Air-Rescue demonstration

Now that we’re in the Chesapeake, our pace has slowed to a crawl.  From Portsmouth, we came up to Dennis Point Marina, at the mouth of the Potomac, for a haul out and boat maintenance.  As predicted, the weather was hot and humid, but the pool and the a/c were reasons enough to feel grateful.  Our one-week stay morphed into three, but that’s a story for another post. 

Got a/c?

Now we're in Baltimore enjoying a decadent experience in a marina (almost a requirement when the temperature hits 95 and the humidity 80%). We're enjoying AC coolness and a pool next to the boat for managing the weather. Our friends on Rollick have rolled out the welcome mat and introduced us to a combination of Huckleberry vodka, lemonade and raspberry juice. Deadly. Lots to see and do here. We're going to hide from the weather for at least a month before heading south and back to Washington DC for more museums - they have a never-ending supply of them.