One cold day

The events of the past month have, for the most part, lived up to our expectations. I have not yet successfully overcome the “leave early/arrive late” method of travel, but the bridge incident solved that, I think. Looking back on pre-departure conversations with others who have done this, I voiced the plan to leave at a decent hour and “be where we’re going to be by three”. We have yet to do that even though we have no schedule. The plan is to definitely work on that since Bear thinks that is the big negative so far.

On the flip side of the “death march” timing, comes the people and places we have encountered thus far. We anticipate arrival at the day’s end anchorage with much excitement. The guides do show customary anchorages along the way but we have found that past storms and even the tides cause them to change. What may have been the perfect “hidey hole” may now hold a wreck or shallow water. These places are often just off the GIWW with the nighttime tow traffic. Being within a hundred yards of that traffic can cost one sleep since one can hear them coming for quite some distance. The sound usually comes through the hull and starts as a very deep rumble. At times that happens minutes before one can hear it above deck. Other anchorages are well off the waterway and this does not happen. So, the quality of sleep is directly proportional to the distance from the “ditch”. One thing missing thus far is to encounter another boat at anchor. In fact, we have seen only five pleasure boats over 20 feet underway in the past month.

Making a dock, thus shore power, is yet another good experience. One anticipates problems with current and dock configuration as a possible source of embarrassment. “Lord, please don’t let me screw this up” especially if there are those on dock to observe any mishaps. Showing up with a tweeked mast does not count since the observers did not witness the event. It is sort of like my idea of how a battle damaged ship was received. Forgetting that, it is a nice treat to meet the other crews after one ties up. There are some really interesting characters such as the machine dealer from Odessa, Texas that takes his trawler from Houston to Houma ever year for Mardi Gras. Or the fellow with the steel ketch who is an arborist (a true tree hugger) that organized safaris in Africa and South America for almost a decade. Then one day, he decided to learn to sail and bought the steel boat, the first boat upon which he set foot. It turns out to be a kit boat that was assembled by a retired auto worker. I posted a picture of it a post or two ago. We met a fellow in Galveston that soloed the Atlantic and Pacific several times. I wish I had spent more time talking to him. He was there to grab our dock lines and there to assist us in bringing them aboard upon leaving Galveston. I am sure he wondered about the young whipper snappers.

We now plan to go back to the yard today and see if we need to stay until the mast is unstepped. The plan was to do that Monday but if we can just leave our sweetie in the hands of the yard we might head back to the hill country for a bit. The bow pulpit will take four to six weeks to fabricate unless we can find a local fabricator. We do not yet know the lead time on the spar (mast) and the rigging. This little event will requires a sail maker to repair our headsail and bimini, a rigger to stand and tune the mast, a stainless steel fabricator for the bow pulpit (also called bow rail), marine electrician to rewire all the stuff on the mast and a gel coat repair person for some minor repair. Ten seconds of inattention and ”viola” a mini, localized stimulus program. Given the fact that getting the parts will take some time, we might as well hang out in our place with the big screen.