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March 11th - Belt and Sospenders, plus the kindness of strangers
March 11th - Belt and Sospenders, plus the kindness of strangers
Here we are, in scenic, fragrant Fernandina, FL, where we'll put Flying Pig on the hard for our trip ashore. It's scenic in that we're among many sailboats in the harbor, some on municipal marina mooring balls, but also many, as we are, safely anchored in the great holding ground of the very fine sand between the marsh and the barrier island which is Amelia Island. Part of the scenery is the predator sea bird which calls its distinctive Osprey sounds, perched on the mast of the sailboat which sank, some time ago, directly behind us. As Lydia sort of adopted an Osprey family in St. Petersburg, that sound immediately got her attention. It's fragrant in that we're also adjacent to three paper mills. Depending on the way the wind's blowing, we either get a marsh breeze, the odor of the sawdust piles from which they make the paper slurry, or the sulphurous overtones of the manufacturing process. Two out of three ain't bad! The area has a 6+' tidal range, which makes for strong currents, but also dries out (the term for when a boat settles onto firm ground, entirely out of the water) some of the boats anchored on the periphery of the area where most of the anchored boats can be found. A beautiful schooner, seen as we were searching out our anchor point, goes entirely dry twice each day. Its massive American flag, flying from the main mast, stands proud, regardless of the impressive list as she sits on the sand bar. Another sailboat which had anchored near her decided it didn't really want to dry out, apparently, as it was gone within a day or two of our arrival. We arrived in a pouring rain, and settled in. The next day was blowing a half-gale, with our wind gauge frequently showing well over 30 knots of wind. With all the wind and the rain, we weren't about to go ashore, so we slept in, ate a late breakfast, did a few boat chores, and basically chilled out. That's because the wind and rain were the precursor to a cold front. Bundling up in the sweats and jeans which have been unseen for the last many weeks in Miami, we watched a movie and headed for bed. Good thing we like each other, because our continued contact made the difference for being warm enough and miserable. That weather passed, however, and the sun returned, promising warmer, if not balmy weather. Sure enough, while it wasn't warm enough to wear just shorts and teeshirts, as we'd become sufficiently spoiled to consider routine in Miami, at least we could feel comfortable to emerge from the relative warmth of the cabin, eating our very late breakfast in our complete enclosure in the cockpit. Those windows let in all the sun, and keep out all the (at that point, very light) wind, and it's roasty-toasty in relatively cold weather. When we head to Maine, that will be welcomed in the early morning hours as the sun is brilliant, but the outside is still chilly! We had a chance to take a walking tour of Fernandina's lovely historic district, and were directed to Fred's, a local emporium which supposedly would allow us to purchase our few fresh veggie supplies we needed. As our time aboard winds down, we're having to pay close attention to what we have, and avoid buying any more than needed to avoid carrying food home. However, Fred's is more like a mini-WalMart, with a small freezer section and an equally sparse dry or boxed foods section. When we asked one of the customers there about how to find fresh food, the mall on the outskirts of town was the closest chance. The folks we talked to suggested it was considerably further than we wanted to walk, so we decided we'd have to wait for Lydia's son to arrive, and use his car to make that run. A round trip in a taxi hardly makes economic sense when you have 5 produce section items, plus some dried milk, to buy. So, we continued our walking tour, happened to see a sign "Retirement Sale" outside a jeweler's storefront. The storefront also advertised estate sale items, so, curious, we wandered in. We don't have estate pieces, but there are a few items from a prior marriage that have no place on a boat, so we are always on the lookout for consignment possibilities. Fernandina is a very highly tourist-driven economy, we concluded, based on the staggering number of shops which could not possibly be supported by the population base of the island. From that, we deduced that high-quality jewelry might be something "normal" in this area. The fact that "estate" pieces were commonly advertised in the various shops we'd passed, and, of course, here as well, suggested that this area was a good one to explore for consignment. The owner wasn't there when we walked in, but he arrived in short order. Sure enough, we discovered through conversation with the owner, this tiny shop catered to the variety of tourists by the various seasons, having the high-quality goods in one season, and the "promotional" goods in another. Conversation - as always, and, in this case, helped by Lydia's shackle earrings - got around to what we were doing, and how we did it. We asked about whether the mall could be accessed anywhere nearby if we went by dinghy, and the owner, Richard Bush, now another of our angels, said, no, no way, but please take my car and go for your provisioning. Like the name on the card, Gems of Amelia, he's a gem. Once again, we've proven the kindness of strangers. We're forever blessed, wherever we go, in the most unexpected ways. That's why, if you happen to meet us on the sea, if you need something we have, it's yours. We always have more than enough, and what we need always appears, just when we need it. Well, anyway, we did, indeed, consign the remaining few items to his shop, Gems of Amelia, Richard Bush, Proprietor. In addition to our few items, there are many more treats for those so inclined toward increasing their jewelry stock! To get to their shop, go up Centre Street from the dinghy dock to 4th, and turn left. Monday's boat project was to return the mast collar cushion piece (the soft material between the mast and the aluminum collar which is fastened to the deck) to its normal position. We'd had the mast tuned in Annapolis, but aren't happy with the end result. The rigger had slacked most of the lines, which allowed the mast to "pump" in high winds. That motion eventually worked the bulk of the cushion collar out and up over the aluminum collar, making for some insecurity, as well as noise when the mast moved. A great deal of grunting and groaning on my part moved the mast enough to allow Lydia to get started on pulling the cushion back down, but very quickly the space I was able to create was insufficient to allow enough room to complete the task. Eventually I worked out a system of shims, and went topsides to hammer the cushion down, back into place. When the shims were removed, once again the cushion in the starboard side was tightly held in place by the mast. The weather forecast for the next several days is benign, so when we're sailing, I'll tighten up the shrouds and stays, and see if we can't stop the pumping. Samuel arrived in good order late Monday afternoon, and we gave him the cook's tour, along with the obligatory seminar in how marine heads work. After some settling in, we had a huge meal aboard. Lydia made an enormous salad, along with some brown rice, and I barbecued chicken on the grill on the stern. Discussion of "schedule" - HAH - on a boat?? - included whether he'd rather spend some time exploring Cumberland Island, immediately adjacent, or instead, head out for sailing and fishing, tomorrow. Sailing and fishing won out, so we went astern to retrieve and remount the dinghy. Samuel's anxious to learn everything he possibly can about how the boat works, and all the minutiae connected with everyday operation. So, I gave him a seminar on outboard retrieval from a dinghy in a lumpy, current-swept river, and how to raise and secure the dinghy from swinging in the davits. We're ready to go, at first light. Unfortunately, 4 bottles of wine later (Lydia's not seen Samuel in 3 months, and they stayed up until 4AM), I'm not sure the crew will be up to it, but I'm pulling the anchor as soon as I can see the bow rail! In preparation to leave, as I do every time, I made notations in the ship's log. As I marked the engine log, I noted that today's hourmeter's reading was exactly 200 hours from the last time I installed an alternator belt. PHEW! What a change from this summer, when we were fortunate to get 10 hours, sometimes, from the best NAPA had to offer! And, at that, this one is a smaller belt, running in a smaller pulley. Counter-intuitive, that, but there you have it. A relatively high-output alternator can survive - nay, prosper - on a smaller belt than was shredded readily in the past. This belt required its first tightening in almost 100 hours today, and that's only the second in these 200 hours. Despite its smaller surface area, and presumed strength, it's outlasted more than 10 or so of the others. Best yet, I no longer hold my breath as we're maneuvering out of a tight channel. Before, I halfway expected the belt to fail at the worst possible moment, prompting an emergency anchoring while I go install another, as happened so often this summer. So, with all systems in relatively good order, the jacklines (the safety lines onto which one hooks a tether, the better to stay on the boat in the event of some circumstance which would otherwise prompt a man-overboard situation) laid, and gear stowed, we're about to get under way. The reference in the title has to do with life preservers of the same name. They cleverly made the association with suspenders, as they look sort of like that when you have it on, and the universal distress signal, SOS. These are automatic, in that if you are immersed in the water, they inflate with a CO2 cartridge. However, ours are also harnesses, and have the appropriate attachment point for the tethers mentioned above. On deck at night, and in general in nasty water (wind and waves such as to have concern for comfortable stability), in the cockpit as well, harnessed and lifejacketed is the rule. We also have stainless steel rails, rather than the typical lifelines (usually steel wire, strung between stanchions), surrounding our boat, helping with the on-deck security. Fortunately, I've never had a situation where either has prevented me from going overboard, but I'm sure there will come a time when I'm very glad for our boat's safety systems. With any luck, we'll find more fish out there. Certainly, I'm ready for another dose of dolphin (not Flipper!), or perhaps tuna, or mackerel, or whatever else interesting we might find. Stay tuned. L8R Skip Morgan 461 #2 SV Flying Pig KI4MPC See our galleries at www.justpickone.org/skip/gallery ! Follow us at http://groups.yahoo.com/group/TheFlyingPigLog and/or http://groups.google.com/group/flyingpiglog "You are never given a wish without also being given the power to make it come true. You may have to work for it however." (and) "There is no such thing as a problem without a gift for you in its hands. You seek problems because you need their gifts." (Richard Bach, in The Reluctant Messiah) |
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