You gotta respect these people...

Check out this article about the Annapolis liveaboards: http://www.baltimoresun.com/news/maryland/bal-md.boat11feb11,0,195495.story

You have to respect people who stick it out through blizzards on their boats.

Me? Well... I'm home with my parents. But I was super sick too and I needed my mommy. Yes. I was that sick. So... yeah. I need to go and shovel off the boat and check on her as soon as I get my car dug out. Really I should check her once a week, but it's averaging out way less and I'm just counting on the marina owners to check on her. It is not a short trip out there and there's not enough daylight to do it after work anymore.

Excuses, excuses, right?

Last day: The final frontier...

OK, so I'll admit. It's freezing in Baltimore and I'm taking two months off to live at my parents' home where there's central heat. So it's been tough to motivate myself to write in my blog about living aboard when I'm not, in fact, living aboard.

Anyway, I'm at a sailing convention stuck on hold with the airline, so let's talk about my last day.

Yep, you heard that right. Last day. But, you say, there were supposed to be four days! You've talked about only two!

Well, dear friends, I mentioned the increasingly scary forecast. That forecast started to foretell a possible blizzard the morning of the third day. Blizzard? No thank you. So I made an executive decision. We'd do the last two days in just one marathon day.

We woke up that morning and discovered small, dinner plate-sized sheets of ice floating next to the boat. Bad sign. I'm not ashamed to admit I said a little prayer before we started the engine that day. Thankfully it started and we puttered over to the fuel dock to drop Peter off, pick up Andrew and wait for the attendant. We fueled up and the nice fuel dock man found a way for us to get some water (there's not much in the shop at the fuel dock in Solomons).

Then we were on our way. Having learned our lesson from Cobb Island, and being a little freaked out about the coming blizzard, we turned on the GPS and I obsessively listened to the weather radio every time I was off. Between Andrew and I we did some pretty fancy-pants navigation to cut miles off our trip (Andrew races a lot, so he knew some nice tricks from his Annapolis to Solomons racing experience).

Once we got close to Baltimore though, past the Bay Bridge, the trip was cake. No one removes navigation markers in Baltimore harbor for cold weather (stupid Cobb Island). It was dark, but we had it covered. This was easily the part of the trip I knew the best and was most comfortable with.

At any rate, we made in to Oak Harbor marina in Pasadena -- right by White Rocks -- two hours before the snow started to fall.

I was so eager to get off the boat, I just left everything aboard. Tossed off my boots and foulies, put on a baseball cap and sneakers and Dad and I took Sam and Andrew to Little Havana's for a cheeseburger since we had to drop Andrew with his car at the sailing center. I have to say though, I was starving and wanted a Coke really badly, but I felt awful at dinner. All shivery and achy.

I spent about 45 minutes in the hot shower when I got home and slept until about 12 hours straight and felt right as rain the next day. We ended up being snowed in, so I took a couple nice naps the next day too. It was the perfect time to come home, really -- nowhere to go.

We'd left two huge light bulbs on in the engine compartment and left instructions for the marina to winterize, so as far as I was concerned, I was good to go.

Getting the stuff (extra food, all my clothes, bedding, etc.) off the boat to wash and put away was another story. It took a couple weeks to get rid of the snow, get time to go down (I was beset by a multitude of serious car problems).

But it's all off now and I can't wait to move the boat to Baltimore to live in March.

Next up? Some thoughts from the National Sailing Programs Symposium -- aka, how I am now obsessed with Stand Up Paddling.

The next morning...

My alarm went off at 6 a.m. and all I could think was, "Do I have to?" Before you could say, "Jack Robinson," Peter was up and had disconnected the heater.

"Noooo!" I thought. "Leave it in until the last possible second!"

Then I got over myself and got dressed. I looked like that kid in "A Christmas Story." Seriously. Underwear, long underwear, sweatpants, a sweatshirt, my foul-weather overalls, the matching foul-weather jacket, a hat, a scarf, hiking socks, tube socks, the furry snow boots I bought for Iceland, gloves and hand warmers. Whew. I just prayed I didn't have to pee. (Later I just had to do it and it took about 10 minutes. TMI? Maybe. But it's important to know these things when you plan your winter trip.)

Now where was I? We put all the stuff (my lamp, the bilge heater, the hangers for the fancy-pants D.C. clothes I had no need of on the trip...) into my car and were all set to throw lines when... cough... cough... the engine decided to give us trouble. So, OK, maybe it was cold. Maybe it was 29 degrees out. Cough... cough... rumble.

Thank goodness for Sam. Peter and Sam put my drinking water hose on top of the fuel line for the engine. I never would have realized THAT one. Then again, I wouldn't have put the hose there in the first place. Hmm. Point was, we figured it out.

Finally, we warmed the engine up and were ready to go!

To the fuel dock.

We got to the fuel dock before it opened (this will be a trend for the trip) and set to for 7 gallons of diesel. Anddd... maybe I had to make two passes at the dock to get close enough. It'd been a while. Over the summer I was a Misty-docking master, but not so much after a few months sitting at the dock. I ignored my mild embarrassment, however, and soldiered on.

We figured the best way to tackle the trip was in shifts. On the way to D.C. we just.... did whatever. I'd steer awhile, Mark would steer... This time we went with a regimented rotation. So I started out steering for an hour while one of the guys was below and one was topside with me (technically you should have a lookout topside with you if you have more than one person aboard -- and it's safer in my opinion.) Then the second hour, I went below and made oatmeal and hot drinks and rested. So two hours topside and one hour below wrapped in blankets (and napping).

We ended up going to Cobb Island the first night, and we didn't get in until full dark. Cobb Island is the first sailboat-able (?) anchorage between D.C. and the mouth of the Potomac. The Potomac is all kinds of shallow and it winds back and forth and there is almost no way to sail unless the wind is full behind you because you have to change course like every half hour.

So we get close to Cobb Island while I'm below, which is one of the few things I regret about this trip. I'd been doing the navigation and should have been up there for the trip into the anchorage.... but I wasn't. So we ran aground several times.

This isn't AS big a deal as you may think. The bottom was soft mud, as is most of the Chesapeake bottom, and, well, if you sail on the Chesapeake for long enough, you'll run aground a few times.

Add that to the fact that the entrance to the anchorage is about 10 feet wide, and there's some problems.

In addition, we discovered the next day that many markers that are shown on nautical charts as lighted are replaced with unlighted day markers in the winter. Whose bright idea was THAT?

After we finally got in and anchored, we ran the engine on idle with the cover off below for warmth for an hour or two and I fried up the ham, potatoes and green bean mixture and made tea. And then we went to bed. Like... immediately.

The next day was EASY. We got up and left the second it was light and were docked into Solomon's Island while it was still daylight. Perfect day. Except for the fact that not one of us ate lunch. The water was rough on the second day. It seriously would not have taken a lot of convincing for me to hurl.

On a normal (read: warm-weather) trip, you just hang out on deck when you feel sick. This trip I'd have rather been warm and sick, so I just took Dramamine and WILLED myself to sleep for my hours off. But by comparison it was a great day. And we got tons of sleep that night since we needed to buy fuel in Solomon's and trade Peter off for Andrew the next morning.

Ominously enough, however, we kept getting reports of a snowstorm that would be hitting day four. Dun, dun, dun....

To be continued...

The moment you've all been waiting for...

We made it to Baltimore! (Well, OK, we made it to Pasadena -- my plans to change marinas will have to wait until spring.)

The trip was a little on the intense side -- sorry I didn't post when I got back. It took me a few days to recover, we had a blizzard, I finished school, Christmas came... I'm tired just thinking of it all. Sigh.

Where was I?

Oh yes. Well, I finally got everything planned out. Two days before the trip, I had a little monkey wrench thrown into the works when one of my crewmembers had a family emergency. I jumped into high gear, calling everyone I know. I had two people say that if I absolutely was in dire straights, they'd come... but finally I had a stroke of brilliance when Peter (crew for days one and two) was looking through his phone. I called Andrew, a guy I've worked with in the past and an all-around great sailor and he was just asleep enough to sign on for one day. The Solomon's to Annapolis day. (If you've been following along with the bouncing ball, you may realize that I had originally planned to go Solomon's to Galesville. Annapolis is just a bit farther and do-able, so I traded to make the trip more palatable to Andrew and easier to finish a fourth day early).

My dad would accompany us from Annapolis to Pasadena on the fourth day. And on the fifth day I'd graduate. Remember that sentence. It'll be important later.

Now, back to preparations.

The day before, I ran around like a crazy woman trying to get everything done. We were to leave Wednesday at dawn and there was a lot to do.

Monday night, my mom and I went shopping. First stop? REI. Despite the fact I lived in the Pennsylvania mountains for four years, I never acquired a great deal of outerwear. Perhaps because I like to be warm inside. I got new gloves, a big package of those handwarmer packets, a hat and two sets of long underwear. My parents were kind enough to make this gear my graduation present. My dad, apparently, had wanted to buy me a bilge pump. The need for warmth, however, was slightly more pressing than the need for a bilge pump.

Then to Wegmans, where I purchased $100 worth of food for three people, three meals a day, for four days. Not bad, considering.

Our meal plan was to have oatmeal and tea, coffee or hot cocoa for breakfast with blueberry muffins (which became our mid-morning snack). For lunch we had peanut butter and homemade jam with potato salad and more hot drinks. Snacks were cookies, trail mix, clementines, apples... and anything else leftover anyone wanted. For dinners, I tried to think of things hot and satisfying. For the first night I pre-cooked green beans, potato chunks and free-range ham (Peter eats only free-range meat) with homemade applesauce, cornbread muffins and, you guessed it, more hot drinks. Dinner on day two was free-range beef stew with cornbread muffins and salad. Dinner day three was supposed to be meatballs (which I baked in advance) and spaghetti with homemade sauce and salad on the side. That meal never got eaten.

I made just about everything the day before we left and packaged it into containers to be heated aboard the boat. The last thing I figured on wanting to do after a day of shivering was cook a whole big meal. So I made ahead. That took the majority of the day before, along with washing clothes, packing clothes, packing books and making lists upon lists of things to take and do. Peter, Sam and I would head down the night before so we could leave first-thing Wednesday morning for the long trip ahead.

Every time I take a voyage like this one, I get the pre-trip jitters. Forgetting something on a boat is nothing like losing luggage. You can't buy whatever you need when you get there. For the first two days I didn't set foot off the boat. Day three I stepped off to get diesel and didn't get off again until we were tied to the dock. If you forget it, you do without it. With the added factor of the cold, I had the jitters worse than ever before. Luckily Sam, one of my intrepid crewmates, had a class until 11 p.m. (he's about to be a diesel mechanic) so I wasn't pressured to leave early. As soon as Sam called me to say he was home from class and would shower and be ready when I got there to pick him up, I realized something -- I had forgotten to shower. The prospect of four days without a bath daunting, I took a five-minute shower and was out the door to the already-loaded car. I picked up Sam and then Peter and drove to D.C.

We stowed everything and, finally, at 2 a.m. we set alarms for 6:20 a.m. and settled in to spend one last night in front of the heater.

Trip planning...

Well, it's almost time for me to ship out to Baltimore. I've been living in Washington, D.C., on Misty Rose since August. The trip back to Baltimore is going to be a four day trip, stopping at different places overnight. We're planning to leave next Wednesday, and I'm deep in preparations for the trip.

When we took the boat to Baltimore, my friends Sam, Mark, Christine and I, it was August. Mostly we hung out in our swimming suits and got sunburns, swimming at night, grilling off the back of the boat for dinner. One day Mark, Sam and I ate half of a watermelon on deck (Christine wasn't there that day). It was really, really nice, despite some too-exciting-for-me-thank-you storms.

This time, we'll be heading out mid-December. Somehow I don't think swimming suits and watermelons will fit into the picture.

Last time I planned the majority of the trip while I was on vacation in Las Vegas with some girlfriends, which just added to the stress, especially since I was having trouble coordinating crew and I was having even more difficulty plotting our course.

This time should be smoother navigation-wise at least. I'm planning simply to reverse our August trip. We'll start in D.C. on Wednesday at the break of dawn (yeah, so not kidding). Hopefully I'll be able to find someone to go with me Monday or Tuesday to help me fuel up before the trip. Night one will be spent in the first anchorage acceptable for sailboats, Cobb Island. The next day we'll head to Solomons Island, followed by Galesville and, finally, Baltimore.

Since it will be so cold, and since it is, as of now, supposed to SNOW on Wednesday, I still need to go buy gloves since I lost mine in Iceland and some other miscellaneous items... like a hat... I'm also obsessively checking the 10-day forecast every few hours.

I still need to coordinate cars since not everyone will be coming for the entire trip, but this is also looking simpler than the last time. I guess what worries me most of all is the cold. I hate being cold. Like, really really hate being cold.

I think with three people aboard (though I'm HOPING for a fourth) there need to be two people on deck and one off. Hopefully it'll be nice and toasty warm below with the engine running. I've got tons of blankets and will be bringing a second Fuggie (faux snuggie) and my big down comforter so I can leave one with the v-berth and one with me (or whoever wants it).

Annnnnd... I also need to figure out what we're going to eat and bake what I need to bake and make ahead what I can. So that needs to be done too.

And I'm having people to the boat Saturday and I don't want anyone on it without a deep-cleaning, which I started tonight.... soooo.... I better get cracking. Sigh.

The refrigerator has landed.... (!)

Well, faithful readers, the day we've all be waiting for has come. The refrigerator has landed! My dad texted me yesterday to say that a box had been delivered... and then again when a second box arrived. Inside? The guts of a refrigeration system! Yay!

Pictures when I go home this weekend and get a peek in the box, but I'm too excited not to share. Visions of butter, milk and not carrying ice are dancing through my head with wild abandon. Stay tuned to find out all about it!

Giving thanks for clutter-free cabin...

I love working on the boat, but when we really get down to it, the mess is downright scary.



Yikes. My knee is twitching a little just looking at a picture of the clutter defiling my ship-shape home. Deep breaths. I am not a neat freak. Goosfraba.

I'll give a prayer of thanks for cleanliness and lack of clutter. Happy Thanksgiving!

Excuse me, I can't talk right now, I'm killing seaweed...

As I mentioned in an earlier post, my freshwater tank was growing seaweed. Some of you have pointed out that it was, in fact, algae. I would like to point out that it is now past tense seaweed. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I extinctified the seaweed. I killed it so dead I had to make up a new word to celebrate. Extinctified. It has a nice ring to it.

Let's back up. Dad and I made a date several weeks ago for a Saturday, all-day work-on-the-boat blowout.

My mission? To kill (I hadn't yet invented the word 'extinctify') the seaweed in the water tank and figure out why the water pressure wasn't working.

Dad's mission? To get rid of more crap on the boat and install the stove-microwave cabinet he built (post to come) and install a light switch.

Degunking the water tank turned out to be such a job that all dad got to do was install the cabinet (which I actually did) and to put a shelf up. Then he had to help me degunk.



He helped by taking pictures. And by helping me fill and empty the water tank and unclog the filter.

First, I liberally slopped bleach into my water tank and gushed it around with a cup. Then I reached in with the longest, thickest gloves I could find in Wal Mart (they were pink and some of the proceeds from the sale went to breast cancer awareness) and a scrub brush and set to work on the walls. There was black slime coating the walls in addition to frond-like seaweed floating peacefully in the water.

Then I turned the water pressure on at the switch. I heard the motor going and turned the handle on the sink -- nothing. Hm, I says to dad. Why ain't the water pressure a-pressurin'?

Turn it off, says he, and let's have a look-see at the plumbin'.

OK, so we're not that Southern. We're from Baltimore. But I thought it would jazz up the bleaching experience for you, right? No? Moving on...

There turned out to be a line headed from the tank toward the motor (of course), but we couldn't see the entry. So we bailed out about 15 gallons of water with a plastic cup.



I look troubled, don't I?

After that, we discovered the line was clear so far as we could see. My father, brilliant plumber that he is, figured there should be a filter before the pump's motor to keep gunk out of the motor. And we found it. I didn't get a picture, but it's a small clear yellow square. We had to unscrew four bolts, find the four tiny rusty nuts and clear the black gunk from the filter and put the thing back together.

Not wanting to clean the filter twice (it took the two of us probably 45 minutes to take it apart, clean it and put it back together -- it's in a very awkward spot) I set to cleaning the tank anew, using a cup to clear all the water and a sponge and many buckets of water to take out all the seaweed. Every once in a while I'd lay my head flat next to the opening and peer this way and that looking for more gunk with a flashlight. When I was satisfied the gunk was gone, I used a little more bleach. Then I pulled in the big guns.



I found this stuff in West Marine when we stopped to pick up screws. At that point, I was willing to try anything.

Not to sound like a commercial, and no, they didn't send me anything, but this Thetford cleaning duo is AMAZING. Buy some. Your water tank will love you for it.

I emptied 10 ounces of the blue stuff into the tank and filled it with water. Alarming amounts of suds started to form. I only panicked a little, I'm proud to say. After I filled the tank to 40-gallon capacity, I turned on the water pressure switch and said a little prayer.

Water came gushing out of the sink! It also came gushing out of the head sink -- the one we didn't think worked! (This praying stuff must have something to it.)



Look, water! I know this picture it bad, but I had wet hands and probably shouldn't have been touching my camera at all, but such was my thrill that I couldn't stop myself.

I had to push aside my thrill through because this project was barely begun. Once the tank was empty, we filled it again and emptied it with the sink and galley foot pump. Then we had to fill and use some of the clear stuff and empty again. Then we could fill it up a final time and add a little freshener. My father is skeptical of the freshener (of which I added two ounces) but I think it does make tank water taste better.

So there. Why don't you take out the trash, Dad? Isn't that what daddies are for?



To which he says, "Not so many pictures of Daddy on your blog. You're liable to scare people." Aww, he's just being coy.

To this I say, you can call me Allie The Seaweed Extinctifier. Today victory tastes like sweet, fresh water.

Let's get this finished...

Now that Dad (aka Handyman Extraordinaire) has routed and sanded and glued my new over-sink cutting board, we need to finish the board. Clearly varnish would be bad -- no one wants to eat varnish. So to finish the cutting board, we decided the best course of action would be to mix mineral oil with beeswax. The cast of characters:



In a glass bowl, (obviously plastic would be a bad choice,) we poured out a little bit of oil and then shaved the wax into the oil using half of an old pair of scissors because we didn't want to gunk anything else up. (I actually did most of the shaving, but I photographed dad doing it).



I put the whole business in the microwave (it took a surprisingly long time to melt -- like three minutes) and stirred it up. Here is the finished solution:



With a clean rag I wiped the waxy oil onto the board and let it soak in. The colors of the wood really started to pop.



Here Dad, Madame Secretary and I are with the cutting board. Mom took the photo.



And here it is on the boat! Ahh, counter space! Check back for another post on using the board...

Give the gift of financial stability...

So in addition to being a liveaboard and a journalist, I also teach sailing. The Downtown Sailing Center is the non-profit sailing center I work with in Baltimore. It's totally awesome and you should fan it, vote for it and share it with your friends! (And because we can totally use the money. Like, for real.)