Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood

The ocean, from Georgetown, Great Exuma Island to Thompson Bay, Long Island is flat and blue.  Winds are light, under 5 knots.  Imagine, our 42’ Passport sloop, glides effortlessly over the calm turquoise waters while the sun plays hide and seek in a partly cloudy sky.  

The nearly still water reflects like a swimming pool, inviting us for a splash… until we spot a 9-foot nurse shark resting quietly on the bottom, 12 feet below.  

Nurse sharks are not aggressive and one of the few species of sharks that can rest in this fashion.   Most sharks must constantly move to bring oxygen into their gills. Nurse sharks breathe stationary by pumping water through their mouths and out their gills.

The sun reaches higher in the sky the wind completely dies.  We can see through the water to the ripples in the sand bed below.  The American flag at the stern hangs limp, as does the aqua, gold and blue Bahamian courtesy flag on the halyard above us. 

Any hope of moving under sail is crushed.  The hum of the Yanmar engine powering the boat filters through the cabinetry, up through the companionway and into the cockpit.  The soft swish of water joins in symphony. Imagine cuts through the dead calm surf as easily as a hot knife cuts through butter.  Occasionally, the VHF radio breaks the cadence as one boater attempts to hail another.

We motor on, towing our 10’ Livingston dinghy that sways gently behind us. It leaves a ribbon like wake within the wake created by 32,000 pounds of sailboat motoring forward at 6.5 knots against a 2 knot current. 

Most days, the sun reflects off the water, creating mirror like jewels of light that dance and sparkle.  Today, the sun becomes a clarifier on the still water, lighting so much that small tufts of grass, rocks and branch coral can be seen as if the water is only inches deep instead of 20 feet.  We stop the boat to watch starfish wave from the bottom, ever so slowly moving arms as to make their way across the seabed.  Sea cucumbers sit on the bottom look like oversized blackened bananas.

With engine off and the boat stopped we notice that the ocean does indeed have a perceptible lulling roll from port to starboard that wasn’t apparent earlier.  The flags and the halyards slowly follow the dance of the sea swaying in time to her carefully composed music.

We drift past occasional patches of golden brown seaweed, bobbing in rhythm to the beat of the ocean.  Casuarina pine needles dance slowly past on the incoming tide heading to shore as beach decoration.

Ed and I are quiet, party hypnotized by the soothing blue ocean and gentle movements.  The engine is running once more. The auto helm steers the boat.  An apparent wind offers a slight cooling breeze caressing face and arms as Imagine moves onward.  We lean over the lifelines savoring the beauty of the day and the gifts we have been given.

In the midst of the calm, the beauty, and serenity of the day, we forget the plight of Haitians in the aftermath of the recent nearby earthquake. We forget the wars and terrorism. The downturn in the worldwide economy is forgotten as well as crime, global warming and universal heath care.  The disastrous and criminal BP oil spill has not happened yet.   It is peaceful here.  We have escaped in the moment.  This is a day that I want to share with my family and my friends.

There is beauty everywhere.  One doesn’t have to travel to the Bahamas to appreciate the grandeur of life.  Some of the greatest gifts on earth are free.  I challenge the reader to stop and take a moment to see the beauty in sight.  Listen to a child’s laughter.  Look at the contrast between the greenness of the trees and the blue of the sky. Watch as the sun creates sparkling diamonds as it flashes on water.    Wherever you are, stop for a moment and see the beauty that is before you.  It is a beautiful day in the neighborhood, wherever your neighborhood may be.

Pesky Flies of Autumn

I had a fantasy.  It lasted one day before falling flat and disappearing like the blink of a firefly in early summer.  It was simple dream.  I was going to sleep in until 8:00 a.m.  It might not be grandiose, but it was a fantasy nonetheless.   Exhausted after tossing and turning for several nights while my brain zoomed in and out of overdrive designing sunscreens and cushion covers for the cockpit of Imagine.  In mid-thought the neural switch would flip from covers to how much of fabric would be needed to make dinghy chaps.

Who was I kidding?  Sleeping in?   The alarm on my biological clock rings loudly between 5:30 and 6:00 a.m. each and every day, no matter how late I stay up.   That morning was no different.   Waking to nature’s call, I rolled out of the berth, shuffled passed the galley and into the head.  Instead of turning on the propane to make a cup of coffee that day, I shuffled back to the berth with the intention of getting back to sleep.

   

After a sigh, I settled down for some extra zzzz’s when the buzzing began.  The war of the flies had begun.  One landed on my cheek, another on my shoulder.  Noooooooooo!  It would become an epic battle.  I would shoo and get a moment’s rest before the two pesky flies became three.   “What are you doing?” mumbled my husband, Ed.  At that moment the flies came back bringing their friends and family. Now they could bring Ed from his slumber as well.  UNCLE!  With flyswatter in hand, I listened as the coffee began to percolate.  A quick glance at the clock with one eye closed determined it was officially 6:06 a.m.; so much for fantasies. 

   

Those flies were going to suffer.  I whacked and hit air more often than a fly.  For each one downed,   another two seemed to take its place.  In Florida, outdoor restaurants hang bags of water from the trees to keep away the flies.  Apparently the fly’s reflection is magnified and they are frightened away.  Floridians swear it works. Soon we had three bags of water dangling from the overhead.   The flies laughed at us.

That’s when I remembered the bleach.   Once in the Bahamas, when eating at an outdoors café flies swarmed.   A waiter noticed our plight and brought a cup of bleach, setting it in the middle of the table.   “They don’t like the smell,” he explained.  Suddenly we didn’t have to fan the air over our plates and eat at the same time.  It was worth a try.  Ed held a cup in one hand and a flyswatter in the other while I poured the bleach.  Relief lasted about five minutes.  Apparently, American flies enjoy the smell of bleach.

Two swatters, bleach, and bags of water had not worked when I opened a drawer looking for a sponge.  OKAY!  Our arsenal suddenly expanded with two forgotten fly strips; Yes, those disgusting sticky things that spiral down to catch wayward flies.  I hung one in the aft berth and one in the main salon and waited… and waited… and waited.   The flies weren’t buying it.

By now it is 8:30 a.m. and I’m wondering if we shouldn’t just bomb the boat and leave for a while. That’s when it happened.   I walked straight into a hanging strip.  My hair and cheek were covered with goo.  I cursed a little and removed strands of sticky hair from the strip.   Ed looked for the camera.  The flies whizzed past.  Have you ever heard a fly laugh?   I’m sure I have.

   

By the end of the day, we had snuffed the life out of dozens of flies.  The traps caught two flies and two people, one twice.  I turned my head to say something to Ed and found myself once again peeling my hair from the sticky strip.  I guess the flies and I are even… two for two.  Next it was Ed’s turn.  He caught his beard in the gummy goo as he reached for his hat hanging nearby.  The fly strips came down after that.

A trip to a nearby farm supply store came next.  We left in possession of a certified, guaranteed baited flytrap.  For $6.95, the hanging bottle trap promised to catch hundreds of flies a day.   If it worked, it would be worth every penny.  The last hope flytrap smelled like horse urine or some other noxious odor that comes from a barn.   It seemed to draw the flies.  But they did not fly into the trap.  However, it did work in a way.   We left the boat.  The flies had their own party before we returned.  The odor became so bad that the trap went into a plastic bag and then the garbage. Yep the flies had the last laugh. 

Flies may have destroyed my fantasy but they had given us a purpose for the day.  Ultimately victory was ours.  Late afternoon brought with it a cold front.  Just as quickly as the pesky flies of autumn had appeared, the cloud of pestilence was gone.

Living on the boat brings us up close and personal with many insects.  Spiders decorate Imagine each night until we hit salt water and they disappear.  In Florida a colony of ants made a home in a small crack under the toe rail.  They came aboard via a hanging bridge provided by the dock lines.  Mosquitoes, mayflies and stinkbugs have hitched rides as well. 

Screens keep the majority of insects at bay, but sometimes a hatch is left open.  That’s when unwelcome visitors fly in.  I’m won't say who left the hatch open on the day of the fly wars.   I will say it wasn’t me.

Dinghy for Sale (SOLD)

Who would have guessed that a year as a landlubber would pass so quickly.  Imagine needed some maintenance.  We had an important family wedding in California and my aging parents needed a little help as Mom's descent into the abyss of Alzheimer's disease escalated quickly.  We braved the cold northeastern winter and lived a blue water life vicariously through social media postings of our cruising friends.

The heat exchange riser cracked and water filled the bilge during out last weekend on the boat as we brought the grandchildren back to the marina after anchoring out for the night.  As we pulled into the slip and secured the lines, I heard the bilge pump doing what it supposed to do.  The riser was, of course, a custom made part.  After a little research we  were able to contact the company that made the original fabrication.  The old part was re-welded and a new one crafted.

The oil in the bilge and the oil pan would prove more of a challenge.  On Imagine most of the engine sits below the cabin sole under the galley sink and cabinets.  Before Ed can change the seal the engine has to be lifted.  That in turns means that hoses, hot water heater, sink and cabinetry must be removed.  

The galley console not fills the starboard settee. Two 4 by 4s cross the cabin and extend through portholes.  A third 4 by 4 sits across the first two. Next the engine hoses and fittings must come off before Ed uses a chain hoist to lift the engine. He will use a pallet to rest the engine as he gets down to removing the leaking seal.  

While Ed is doing the he-man work down at the boat yard, I spend hours searching fabric sites looking for a durable, dirt hiding, easy to sew material to reupholster the well worn cushions for Imagine's main salon and nav station.  I assure you that my lifetime affliction of paralysis or analysis is out of remission.  AHHHH!  I've narrowed it down to about a dozen choices.   Maybe a dart board would help?

We've also identified items longer used.   The largest item is a Livingston catamaran dinghy in very good condition.  It is the park model with extra reinforcement. It was used one summer on Chesapeake and the following season in Bahamas.  Its V-hull cuts through chop and it is roomy with a 5'2" beam. It is the driest dinghy we've had with 12 inch free board and 5 inch draft.  Made of fiberglass it weighs 160 lbs and has a maximum capacity 700 lbs. It uses 7' oar or up to a 10 hp engine with a 15" shaft.   It is a great tender that tows well.  We towed it nearly 3,000 miles when our davits broke in a storm.  Why are we selling it.   We chose an inflatable because we go offshore whenever we can and prefer a dinghy that we can deflate and put on deck.  $900 firm.

Also looking for a new home is a bronze left hand prop 16x12x11/8,  new condition sat in bilge as spare.  $350 or best offer.

Also for sale is a bronze 17 inch max folding prop that fits a 11/4 inch shaft.  It is good shape. $1000 or best offer.

Its spring.  Flowering trees and bushes bloom, the sun sparkles like glittering jewels off the water and the song of the sea is calling me.   I am so ready to feel the subtle rock of the boat lull me to sleep at night as water laps softly against the hull.

Oysters, Skipjacks and Buyboats

My friend Keith White lives near the Sassafras River in Galena, MD.  He has messed around and on boats for decades.  Keith loves the history and culture of the Chesapeake Bay.  Recently he shared this glimpse into history of Skipjacks and Buy Boats.  I thought my boating friends might enjoy might enjoy a step into the past.

By Keith White

When the first Europeans showed up in America, the oyster reefs in the Chesapeake Bay were widespread and almost countless. Many nearly dried out at low tide. There were so many beds that they constituted, if not a hazard, a navigation consideration. Oysters could be harvested by simple means. The Eastern oyster proved an unlimited, boundless resource any who wanted them.

Skipjack under sail on Chesapeake Bay. Photo by Marion E. Warren (Marion E. Warren Collection, MSA SC1890-BP7506, Maryland State Archives). 

Oysters feed by drawing in water and extracting the nutrients they need, thus filtering the water as an additional benefit. Marine naturalists have estimated that in those pre-colonial times there were sufficient oysters in the bay to filter all of the water in the bay once a week.  By the 1980s it would take about 350 days to filter it once.

In those colonial days things looked good and oyster supplies seemed limitless. Around 1700 oyster “tongers” began to harvest oysters. By1800 oystermen from New England arrived with dredges, looking for new fishing grounds, having exhausted their own oyster beds by rapacious dredging without thought to any form of conservation.

Time passed. Half-hearted legislation was put in place. Dredging was prohibited then restored, but only under sail.  Competition was stiff and oyster wars were fought between newcomers and those who lived in the area.  Maryland watermen fought Virginia watermen.   The Oyster Navy was established after the civil war to bring conflict under control.

 By 1880 the watermen of the Chesapeake would harvest 15 million bushels annually.  Most came from the approximately 2,000 skipjacks working the bay.

Nellie Crocket circa 1926

Time spent dredging oysters was time spent making money. Time sailing back to shore to deliver oysters for sale was not time that produced income.  Thus the buy boat concept was born. These boats went out to the oyster beds and brought the catch to shore, leaving the skipjacks to dredge uninterrupted.

Buy boats were built for the job, or were converted vessels. Purpose built boats varied from 40 to 100 feet in length, although most were in the 45 to 60 foot range. The mast and cargo boom were used to transfer the sorted oysters from the deck of the skipjack to the deck of the buy boat.

Buy boats, or run boats, were worked hard throughout the years. The boats that lasted were the were well built and had owners and captains who took pride in the condition of their boats and kept them up.

When oystering was fast declining many of the oyster boats were used for different careers.  New owners sometimes did not maintain the boats and many were threatened by time and neglect.  Some of the received better care and survived to grace the waterways of today.

Nellie Crocket today

Two of these survivors live on our river, the Sassafras. The Nellie Crocket lives on the Cecil County bank, just above the Route 213 bascule bridge in Georgetown, you can see her as you drive north towards Elkton.

The Nellie Crocket was launched in 1925, built by Charles A. Dana of Crisfield for Andrew A. “Shad” Crocket of Tangier. She was named for one of Crocket’s daughters. She was operated by Crocket until 1942, carrying oysters in season and produce and lumber in the off-season.

In 1942 she was purchased by the US Government and operated as a fire boat in ports around the Chesapeake. In1945 Shad Crocket bought her back and continued to operate her as a buy boat. She then had a series of owners until, at the end of her working career,in 1990, she was bought by Theodore “Teddy” Parish of Georgetown.

Now the Nellie Crocket enjoys Grand Old Lady status on the Chesapeake among her peers in the Chesapeake Bay Buy Boat association.

The Muriel Eileen, the second buy boat on the Sassafras, lives on the Kent County side of the river almost opposite the Nellie Crocket.

Muriel Eileen