tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-49483009762874385392024-03-05T03:08:10.958-05:00momo and the big blue worlda girl, a boy, a boat, and the art of world travel...Monique http://www.blogger.com/profile/14770266910367787588noreply@blogger.comBlogger32125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4948300976287438539.post-22762244455079193992015-05-15T11:28:00.000-04:002015-05-15T11:28:15.597-04:00Trial By Fire<div style="font-size: 15px;">
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-weight: normal;">Listening to "20th Century Boy" by Placebo</span></span></h3>
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<span style="background-color: #fff2cc;"><i>Convoy - To accompany or escort, or a group of ships steaming together, usually under protection. Its origin, via Middle English, is the French </i>convoyer</span><i><span style="background-color: #fff2cc;">, to convoy or conduct. -From Origins of Sea Terms by J.G. Rogers </span> </i></div>
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It had been six months since we motored into the protected harbour of Kinsale, Ireland and settled down for the winter. Over the winter we worked on the boat, settled into a routine, and got used to not being on the move. As spring came our thoughts turned toward the coming voyages and everything we needed to do to be as prepared as possible. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Enjoying the last cushy marina nights by the light of the moon</span></td></tr>
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We inspected every part of the boat, mended things that were fixable, and replaced things that were beyond repair. The local charity shop was the recipient of at least three large bags of extraneous stuff that could be passed on, and the dumpster was filled with broken bits and bobs that had never found their way off the boat. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Changing out burned out bulbs in our AlpenGlow lights</span></td></tr>
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We spent at least half of the month of April living at anchor in the River Bandon, getting used to being off the dock and testing out systems that had laid dormant for the winter. Several storms came screaming down the coast, but Paragon held her own and we began to feel ready to leave. </div>
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Going over the checklist, we were pleasantly surprised by all the check marks...did we really complete our repairs? </div>
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Replenish SAE 30 marine oil (20 litres) and diesel (400 litres) - <span style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';">✓</span></div>
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Dispose of used oil and dirty diesel - <span style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';">✓</span></div>
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Spare fuel lift pump for the Perkins diesel engine - <span style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';">✓</span></div>
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Repair and replace several dock lines - <span style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';">✓</span></div>
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Replace several outdated pieces of safety equipment - <span style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';">✓</span></div>
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Replace the depth/speed/wind speed transducer - <span style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';">✓</span></div>
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Engine examination including oil change and fuel filter changes - <span style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';">✓</span></div>
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Scrub and inspect the hull - <span style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';">✓</span></div>
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General inspection, stowing, and provisioning - <span style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';">✓</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Very serious! We're blasting mussels and algae</span></td></tr>
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This is just a short list, but it gives an idea of how we spent most of our days leading up to our departure. Some tasks were more fun than others. We spent a day tied up to the wall near the town dock where, as the tide goes out, the boat is left on a ramp to dry out. With the help of friends we power washed the hull, inspected the propellor and rudder, and replaced all the zincs.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Drake bonding with Paragon</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So excited to have a clean hull!</span></td></tr>
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Other things were not so much fun. After refueling at the town dock, we headed back out to our anchorage spot in the river and, without warning, lost our engine. One moment we were chugging along and the next the engine was slowly losing power until it stalled completely. We were lucky that we were able to unfurl the staysail and sail to the anchorage where we dropped the hook, but the reason for the engine failure was a bit of a mystery. </div>
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After trying every solution he could think of, Drake rowed to town in search of a mechanic. He returned with Graham. Graham owns and operates <a href="http://oceanaddicts.ie/" target="_blank">Ocean Addicts</a>, a dive center and B&B based aboard motor vessel Embarr in Kinsale harbour. He also has a Perkins diesel engine, though a slightly different model, and was a wealth of information and help. After methodically checking the engine he discovered that an improperly installed fuel filter was stifling the flow of fuel. A quick reset of the filter and the engine fired up beautifully. </div>
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We also discovered that the air intake was almost completely encrusted with debris and goo which certainly didn't do the engine any favours. After a good scrub the filter was put back and all seemed well.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Our extremely clogged air filter</span></td></tr>
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Our departure date of the first of May came and brought with it high winds, hail, and rain. We spoke with our friend Kevin, who we planned to convoy with up the coast of Ireland, and it was agreed that we should wait out the bad weather. The next few days were spent at anchor, preparing for our journey as the winds buffeted the boats. </div>
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The fourth of May dawned cloudy but calmer and we decided the time to leave had arrived. At precisely nine in the morning s/v Exodus, Kevin's boat, and Paragon lifted their anchors and motored out of Kinsale. There was little wind, but a tiny bit of chop bounced the boat as we secured the last remaining items.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAGk1-yvLLmyRqKo62C5jZLB9-BNNUCnAXRQXHy7ioonl04YYbGJ6csDIZemPTjrH8C23xSTLAIYvk83SEFjC6eeFq3ahQSd57rZ0aIs1bp6S6QSs7P1MWehuR7LwooxsxURiFEELqdUco/s1600/IMG_2571.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAGk1-yvLLmyRqKo62C5jZLB9-BNNUCnAXRQXHy7ioonl04YYbGJ6csDIZemPTjrH8C23xSTLAIYvk83SEFjC6eeFq3ahQSd57rZ0aIs1bp6S6QSs7P1MWehuR7LwooxsxURiFEELqdUco/s400/IMG_2571.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div>
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It had been so many months since we had been out that I had...I don't know, been lulled into a false sense of reality. The plan was to sail/motor approximately 35 miles along the coast to Sherkin Island where we would anchor and wait out an upcoming storm. Surely I didn't need to take sea sickness medication for such a short trip down the coast...especially when there was such little wind predicted. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEwZeG2Aom9CCbBoZRk5YPaX4HKpUoacMxgYfWKdNijHHzhyphenhyphenmRB7xeJoUyuQc_7zM0TEkEjaCFOFhNN3SXKjCh4tCl2bY6W9tZmcf-F9966K9zEjrRg1kcRO2jiFugO5DkIi96CXhUfUGa/s1600/IMG_2557.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEwZeG2Aom9CCbBoZRk5YPaX4HKpUoacMxgYfWKdNijHHzhyphenhyphenmRB7xeJoUyuQc_7zM0TEkEjaCFOFhNN3SXKjCh4tCl2bY6W9tZmcf-F9966K9zEjrRg1kcRO2jiFugO5DkIi96CXhUfUGa/s400/IMG_2557.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div>
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I would come to regret this decision.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW8BTD7CNN021Z5NIuoHBkcsf7AcJZpz0_wVjr-rVG4OrfYi2WzNm46gWZiEjUA_j8xXwunDZhBNi2BlhJnlnd_NOdVI-ZeT01HCzEnUU7lhCZh2mOAlWmAvltVSEDgO9oCtwTdaypdnLS/s1600/IMG_2579.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW8BTD7CNN021Z5NIuoHBkcsf7AcJZpz0_wVjr-rVG4OrfYi2WzNm46gWZiEjUA_j8xXwunDZhBNi2BlhJnlnd_NOdVI-ZeT01HCzEnUU7lhCZh2mOAlWmAvltVSEDgO9oCtwTdaypdnLS/s400/IMG_2579.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div>
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As we exited the protected harbour that had been our home for the past winter, we immediately encountered a 15 knot headwind and choppy swells. It was necessary to motor directly into the chop and wind for approximately six miles, in order to clear the Old Head, before turning to the west. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimnYoULZYXGBVGBL_th0t4Ax8FAXyfK7JjA2YhfUDMMx91DIC0epyA8idlghOwZ94Nr6EwRMRJZhxPkgYPsyq9uvDWHtCT9S0uCjO1ppAXHy5KOqQkjT34zgrrzjhBICixgYW85MOwEo0S/s1600/IMG_2606.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimnYoULZYXGBVGBL_th0t4Ax8FAXyfK7JjA2YhfUDMMx91DIC0epyA8idlghOwZ94Nr6EwRMRJZhxPkgYPsyq9uvDWHtCT9S0uCjO1ppAXHy5KOqQkjT34zgrrzjhBICixgYW85MOwEo0S/s400/IMG_2606.jpeg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Heading out into the chop. The Old Head can be seen in the distance.</span></td></tr>
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The Old Head is a craggy peninsula, topped with a striking lighthouse, that extends into the sea just south of Kinsale. Home to nesting birds, a world class golf course, and spectacular kayaking, it is also a treacherous area surrounded by jagged rocks and swift currents. <span style="color: #252525;">The Old Head is known for being the nearest land point (11 miles) from where the RMS Lusitania was sunk in 1915.</span> The further we motored out of the harbour the larger and more confused the seas became.</div>
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We watched as Exodus began to bob and roll in front of us and knew our time was coming. As we lost the last of our protection of land on the port side we began to encounter even greater swells. Suddenly we were getting lost in the trough of the waves, riding up the crest before slamming once more into the trough. </div>
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I lost what little breakfast I had managed to eat and felt my limbs ache with general malaise. </div>
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After rolling about for an hour hour we finally cleared the Old Head only to be hit with the full force of the swells that had built up over the course of several windy days. Paragon was no longer a boat, but rather a mad carnival ride that shuddered with every new white cap.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Looking out towards the Old Head from the top of the cliff.</span></td></tr>
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With the Old Head in the distance off our starboard side and the wind buffeting our port side, I took the wheel as Drake prepared to unfurl the staysail when...</div>
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*POW*</div>
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I saw it coming. We were sliding up from the trough of an enormous wave, but not fast enough to escape the massive curling crest looming over us. The wave rammed the port side of the boat with a force that made me cringe and covered us with with furious foam.</div>
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There was an instant silence as my eyes widened and Drake turned to look at me in disbelief and horror. </div>
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"WE LOST THE ENGINE! WE LOST THE ENGINE!"</div>
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With my words still hanging in the air, Drake leapt over over to the helm and feverishly began checking instruments while simultaneously telling me to get the staysail out. </div>
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"Get it out...get it out...get it out..."</div>
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I fumbled with the furling line, got sick, flaked the line, got sick, started to unfurl the sail, got sick.</div>
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"Dammit!"</div>
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I turned and saw Drake fumbling with the auto pilot which was refusing to engage. It was on our list of things to check before we left port, but somehow we had let that very important task slip through our net and were paying dearly for the transgression. </div>
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Paragon was a sitting duck at this point. 20 knots of wind and giant swells on her port side were slowly pushing her towards the barbed rock face of the Old Head that had claimed so many boats over the years. A quarter of a mile of water was all that separated us from disaster. </div>
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With sails unfurled, we called Kevin on the VHF to let him know what had happened. When he asked what we wanted to do, Drake simply said that he just wanted to get away from the rocks. </div>
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As I gripped the wheel with shaking hands and a stomach that refused to settle, Drake headed down below to the engine room. His enviable steel stomach faltered as he lay in the quaking room surrounded by diesel, heat, and fumes. Meanwhile I lay draped over the helm, staring at the sails and rocks...too sick to be scared. </div>
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Back and forth Drake went, from the cockpit to the engine room, until he bounded up shouting that he had found a blockage in the center tank fuel line (the tank we were running on). Fuel wasn't even making it out of the tank and had left the engine futilely sucking air.</div>
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He had switched tanks, bled the engine and, with a quick "Dear God, please don't let me fuck this up", turned the key.</div>
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The engine turned over for several seconds as the fuel made its way to the injectors and then we heard the sweet sound of the Perkins roaring to life.</div>
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Drained and reeking of diesel, Drake grabbed my plastic bag and was violently sick. I half-heartedly asked if a couple who played together stayed together, what did couples who shared a sick bag do? He only stared and then asked if I could stay at the helm for another ten minutes so he could lay down and try to recover from his time below. </div>
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Thus the relay began. I steered for a time, then he did, then back to me, and both of us getting sick.</div>
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During one of his off-watches Drake finally figured out why the auto pilot was not working. A simple loose connection was the culprit and, with the CPT back on line, we were both able to relax a bit more. </div>
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The rest of our journey to Sherkin Island was uncomfortable yet uneventful. The swells never did settle, but having the auto pilot allowed us to conserve energy. Drake eventually felt well enough to stand a constant watch and let me retreat to a berth below to curl up and attempt sleep. Unconsciousness lay stubbornly beyond my grasp, but I managed to evade being sick for the first time in several hours as I lay wedged between pillows.</div>
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The swells immediately settled as we entered the protection of Baltimore Harbour in late afternoon and I popped my head into the cockpit as Drake circled the anchorage. Kevin dropped his anchor and we quickly followed suit. For the second time that day the engine went silent. However, this time it was intentional and oh-so welcome. <br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr-f_QVVkrWWoU4XDmJsUnJV_cVCZ-GudOs6o3ZX9yM1n3YTQZizVlQkUYNRAY3GYxdvB335ei2Pj631tJKGwTKujOHKfmjcTp9D3UnWWzy47SVZUJrVVHgLHzxjPTB9thVy2HUzZE8Alj/s1600/IMG_5986.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr-f_QVVkrWWoU4XDmJsUnJV_cVCZ-GudOs6o3ZX9yM1n3YTQZizVlQkUYNRAY3GYxdvB335ei2Pj631tJKGwTKujOHKfmjcTp9D3UnWWzy47SVZUJrVVHgLHzxjPTB9thVy2HUzZE8Alj/s400/IMG_5986.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The Baltimore Beacon, also known as Lot's Wife, marks the entrance to the harbour.</span></td></tr>
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Begging off a dinner invitation from Kevin, we promised to meet up for coffee the next morning after we had cleaned up from the day. <br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUzrQ1nCCHpl7TBvp4uPXuuLzd6IOUSzliXaTuAHrBwitib4iufTfRIGdIxTXtdPoVOtQQhF1ecaLKri-ZSqq8FY7xzdxw1kHwE7Kzqtxi0Ck_mEmoQyDOpuI_CXvpqZak9jawIQz51Wq4/s1600/IMG_5989.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUzrQ1nCCHpl7TBvp4uPXuuLzd6IOUSzliXaTuAHrBwitib4iufTfRIGdIxTXtdPoVOtQQhF1ecaLKri-ZSqq8FY7xzdxw1kHwE7Kzqtxi0Ck_mEmoQyDOpuI_CXvpqZak9jawIQz51Wq4/s400/IMG_5989.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">s/v Exodus safely anchored in Baltimore Harbour</span></td></tr>
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Silence enveloped us as we stared at the beauty surrounding the boat. The anchorage had a bit of a roll, but nothing compared to the seven hours we had just endured. </div>
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"We could have died. We could have lost the boat. So much more could have gone wrong after we lost the engine. We were lucky."</div>
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Drakes words quietly drifted over to me as I thought about what he had said. It was true. We could have died, or certainly have lost the boat. If we hadn't managed to unfurl the sails in time and get away from the rocks we would have become another statistic...another boat lost at sea. I don't think there would have been time for a rescue boat to reach us before Paragon's hull met her fate upon those razor sharp rocks.</div>
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But luck...?</div>
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There was certainly a bit of luck and, despite not being a religious person, some powerful guardian angels were watching over us that day. However, we made a bit of our own luck as well. All the years Drake has spent learning about the operation of the boat and its mechanics, the endless hours trouble shooting problems in a quiet anchorage, and taking notes as more experienced mechanics helped him with problems had paid off. </div>
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In terrible conditions one of the worst things had happened and, though the stress level was high, panic never set in. We worked as a team, held it together, and stayed focused and on task. </div>
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That being said, despite all the preparation this could have been a very different story. Over the years sailors have lost their boats for a variety of reasons, and sometimes all the preparation in the world makes little difference. </div>
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So yes, we were lucky. </div>
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The day had been a trial by fire (and water!) and we had survived to sail another day. </div>
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Looking out over the calm water I simply whispered the most heartfelt thank you before retiring for the evening. </div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKB23EB83zoPKbJ-2vwJE1JtmemJTKgV52F72mie4nMKKkwGFQMX3h8_Kj5sNAPnSbnCbJPoquMgPgEIIdakIg9O0DajT7b9TpdYcyNwRwpuFS4gGOWkgYzjaBHSwPvkBjCznHalv5X-AW/s1600/IMG_6135.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKB23EB83zoPKbJ-2vwJE1JtmemJTKgV52F72mie4nMKKkwGFQMX3h8_Kj5sNAPnSbnCbJPoquMgPgEIIdakIg9O0DajT7b9TpdYcyNwRwpuFS4gGOWkgYzjaBHSwPvkBjCznHalv5X-AW/s640/IMG_6135.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Paragon safely anchored in Baltimore Harbour</span></td></tr>
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Monique http://www.blogger.com/profile/14770266910367787588noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4948300976287438539.post-5792330054534807132014-08-14T14:15:00.000-04:002014-08-14T14:15:11.502-04:00Mr. Spock has gone AWOL<h3>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Listening to "Diamonds and Rust" by Joan Baez</span></span></h3>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: #fff2cc; font-weight: normal;"><i>Aye (also Aye-Aye) The sailor's way of saying "yes" or "I understand." In common use in English ashore as well as aboard ship in the 16th century, it has two possible sources; one, the Old French </i>je <i>or </i>o je<i> (yes, that say I); and the other, the more likely early English </i>yie, <i>yes. -From </i>Origins of Sea Terms <i>by J.G. Rogers</i></span></span></div>
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We had a bit of a scare the other day that had nothing to do with sailing, and yet could greatly affect our ability to sail...at least in the short term. </div>
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The wallet went missing. Gone. Nowhere to be found. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGLRRBjS_E_sX-5WS9esHwDqozWq9vGkbyyN7H8UzaXYET7eKO1yTcPmGfFPg8BGJbDGRhWNO0_irXFRHrbqj8ydWniVY8nm9pXkdHFyS8dVpFLWDfvaG-Axj2158ZG7FaP5uRX5v1FyvE/s1600/wallet2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGLRRBjS_E_sX-5WS9esHwDqozWq9vGkbyyN7H8UzaXYET7eKO1yTcPmGfFPg8BGJbDGRhWNO0_irXFRHrbqj8ydWniVY8nm9pXkdHFyS8dVpFLWDfvaG-Axj2158ZG7FaP5uRX5v1FyvE/s1600/wallet2.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
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A friend had stopped by the boat the evening before. As she was leaving she offered to drive me to the less expensive grocery store that was a bit of a hike to get to. I had the wallet then. I <i>know</i> I did because I paid for the groceries. What happened after that is where things get a bit fuzzy. </div>
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Drake was at the cafe using their internet. Was he there before I got back from the store? Yes, which means he had already paid for a coffee. I joined him, but didn't get anything because the shop was about to close. Did I have the wallet then? I don't know. </div>
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Packaging was disposed of and groceries were put away. Shit! I took the trash out. Did the wallet get thrown out with the sea of cardboard and plastic? Was it left at the grocery store? Put in a random pocket? Did it fall in the water as I climbed aboard? </div>
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All these thoughts were going through my head as I trekked back to the grocery store (sorry, no wallet here), checked the cafe (nope), and rifled through every random piece of clothing and bag that any sort of a pocket. </div>
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The very real possibility that we would not find the wallet and that oh-so-important card inside started to become a reality, but instead of completely losing my cool I was reasonably calm. Why? Because we have a backup. </div>
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Being prepared is just part of living on a sailboat, especially while cruising to far off places. Before leaving almost a year and a half ago we made lists of every spare part and tool aboard Paragon, then systematically went over those stores to see if we had the proper amount. Did we really need three hammers? (no) Were there enough spare belts for the auto pilot? (yes) Were three oil filters enough? (no) </div>
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Then, based on an offhand comment from a friend, we turned our focus to finances. We had been so intent on the gear part of our preparations that we had entirely neglected to think of a backup plan in regard to money. What would happen if we lost our card? Or it was stolen? Or there was a security breach that was beyond our control? </div>
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We immediately remedied the situation and transformed one of my accounts into the backup account. It was a completely separate account, with card, that would always have a reserve of emergency funds for a worst case scenario. There were no links to our main account, which meant damage control if our primary card was compromised, and we also had an easy option to transfer in funds if necessary. </div>
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That foresight meant that now, despite the possible inconvenience of having to deal with a stolen or lost card, we still had the ability to access funds. We had piece of mind. </div>
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As I started to lose hope of ever finding the missing wallet I decided, no matter how random or unlikely it might be, to search every locker and drawer I had touched in the last twenty four hours. That is what led me to empty the fridge that I had stocked up the night before after the trip to the grocery store and...</div>
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Hallelujah!</div>
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At the very bottom, nestled next to the mushrooms, was our little Star Trek themed Tyvek wallet. I am certain that the entire marina heard my whoop of joy as I snatched if from the most unlikely of places. </div>
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As we sat in the cockpit, enjoying a celebratory cocktail and admiring the moon, I couldn't help but protest to Mr. Spock that the fridge was <i>not</i> a logical choice for keeping a wallet. </div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKC9cpSmqPghmR_58S-OTFFiO6mUp-NAqiK1It-vNcAAzJ0wiWQNg_PstU6hYICOCgP0-1No8P85RuZEFPVm4z0wmq_dPeFJjVs7rwCzjzSYZZ0F1PUHcDCXfy1BNFaQJNiXvwENMizMAH/s1600/wallet.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKC9cpSmqPghmR_58S-OTFFiO6mUp-NAqiK1It-vNcAAzJ0wiWQNg_PstU6hYICOCgP0-1No8P85RuZEFPVm4z0wmq_dPeFJjVs7rwCzjzSYZZ0F1PUHcDCXfy1BNFaQJNiXvwENMizMAH/s1600/wallet.JPG" height="426" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A full moon in the marina in Tórshavn</span></td></tr>
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Monique http://www.blogger.com/profile/14770266910367787588noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4948300976287438539.post-34621532737338120502014-08-03T14:57:00.002-04:002014-08-03T14:57:23.477-04:00Welcome Back Cotter<h3>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Listening to "Hotel California (Spanish Mix)" by the Gipsy Kings</span></span></h3>
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<span style="background-color: #fff2cc; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Shrouds - The major side stays of a mast. (16th century) The term as used ashore came from the shipboard sense; the shrouds were heavily wrapped for their protection from the elements. The derivation of the word is somewhat uncertain, but it is probably Old Norse, </i>scruth<i>, for wrapping. -from </i>Origins of Sea Terms<i> by J.G. Rogers</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Today was a productive day. It started a bit late (I blame it on the festivities of the previous evening), but a lot has been accomplished. We had hoped to spend the winter here in The Faroe Islands so that come spring we would be in an optimal position to sail to northern Norway. This beautiful place has also seduced us with it's striking landscape, captivating history, amazing hiking and, most of all, the people. We have met so many cool people here - some real friends - that we looked forward to spend the winter getting to know them better and hanging out. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Unfortunately the word has come down from Denmark that our visa has not been extended. (Though The Faroe Islands are autonomous, Denmark handles certain aspects of foreign affairs and defense, including visas.) Technically we can stay until the first week in September, but with the fall storms starting to brew here in the north Atlantic we need to get out in the next week or two. Last summer we stayed just a bit too long in Greenland and paid for our delay with tempestuous and storm-tossed seas for most of the sail to Iceland. This is something we do not care to repeat. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Now that we are preparing for our departure in earnest we are turning a sharp eye to every section of Paragon. The diesel tanks have been filled,the oil has been changed, the staysail has been taken down to be stitched up (by hand...yay!), and every line, nut, bolt, and cotter pin is being checked. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I will be the first to say that checking the whole rig kind of sucks. It's uncomfortable and somewhat tedious. Seriously, I'm hanging upside down off the bowsprit checking the bobstay, climbing around the mast and boom, and closely inspecting every single attachment point and piece of hardware for cracks and loose fittings. This, however, is probably one of the simplest things that can be done to prevent disaster from striking.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">While I was fitting a lock-washer onto a loose bolt on the bowsprit, I heard Drake gasp as he called me over. See if you can find anything missing on this turnbuckle.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Need some help? Here is her sister.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic3Lik4-OOmOmpt1jmUl_xF6U5srbS5nAfXdQRg6M8n-GjmqiAjB06JW42u7zWwP1fzp82l3Sc6JFljj8Mn7PLgkN_667pqDMllwv2Jk3xxftGcymKgdGaOPSLJb81fwPIByNVR0T0K0Ev/s1600/turn2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic3Lik4-OOmOmpt1jmUl_xF6U5srbS5nAfXdQRg6M8n-GjmqiAjB06JW42u7zWwP1fzp82l3Sc6JFljj8Mn7PLgkN_667pqDMllwv2Jk3xxftGcymKgdGaOPSLJb81fwPIByNVR0T0K0Ev/s1600/turn2.JPG" height="266" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">That's right. The cotter pin is missing entirely from the top of this turnbuckle. The only reason it was not able to turn, and possibly loosen the wire on this shroud, is because the cotter pin on the bottom bolt was still intact. (For those unfamiliar with a turnbuckle, it is a piece of hardware that regulates the tension on the wires attached to the mast. These wires, called shrouds and stays, support the mast and keep it from tumbling down.)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Such a simple thing to replace now as we sit in a protected harbour, but if missed the consequences could be catastrophic. It makes me wonder what else is missing so, with renewed vigour, I continue my inspection of Paragon. Let's hope there aren't any more surprises!</span>Monique http://www.blogger.com/profile/14770266910367787588noreply@blogger.com10Tórshavn, Faroe Islands62.007864 -6.790981600000009261.948257 -6.9523431000000091 62.067471 -6.6296201000000092tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4948300976287438539.post-27489587652544519532013-10-22T19:26:00.000-04:002013-10-22T19:31:46.679-04:00A little cod to keep me warm<h3>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large; font-weight: normal;">Listening to "Left Me In A Hole" by Yonder Mountain String Band</span></h3>
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It is almost freezing outside, with snow predicted later in the week, but I'm curled up in the salon with a cup of tea and feeling toasty warm. We aren't hooked up to shore power and blasting the electric heater, nor are we running the diesel boiler heater and burning through fuel. No. The cabin is filled with a warm, dry, and quiet heat due to a little green marvel softly simmering in the corner...our wood burning stove.</div>
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When Drake was renovating Paragon in North Carolina, one major concern was warmth. We were going to be taking the boat further north than she had ever been before, and she was ill prepared to keep us cozy in frigid temperatures. Insulation was installed in every conceivable area, but there was also much talk about heaters. We wanted multiple heat sources to give us a certain amount of flexibility, but also so that our backups had backups. In the end Drake decided that a wood burning stove was an absolute must as one of the heaters. He felt that it would not only be a good heat source, but loved the ambience it would add as well.</div>
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Now, a fire on a boat is usually one of the worst things imaginable...in fact, several people have done double takes when we inform them that we have a wood burning stove on a boat. However, there is a long tradition of wood stoves on boats and with good reason. Boats can be damp, bone chilling dens of condensation, but the naturally dry heat of a wood stove counteracts the dampness and replaces it with a wonderful warmth. Add the fact that it's the perfect place to dry wet clothing and I was sold!</div>
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We were prepared for what we imagined would be a taxing installation, but had no idea that the most difficult part would be to find an appropriate stove. With the explosion of the tiny house movement there were quite a few stoves built for small spaces, but many of them failed to take into account the special needs of a boat. Not only did it need to fit into an extremely specific space, but it also has to be thoroughly secure in the worst storm conditions. A fifty-five pound cast iron stove flying through the cabin was the stuff of nightmares and drove us to do as much research as possible. </div>
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What followed was much like the story of Goldilocks, but instead of three bears it felt like there were forty. Each stove we found had some little aspect that rendered it inoperable for our purposes. If they fit the space, then the door was on the wrong side. If the door was on the right side, then the legs were too delicate to adequately secure the weight. If the legs were sturdy enough then stove wasn't recommended for marine environments. It was enough to drive us mad until...</div>
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The little cod. </div>
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The<a href="http://www.marinestove.com/codinfo.htm" rel="nofollow" target="_blank"> little cod</a> is a little marvel made by <a href="http://www.marinestove.com/" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Navigator Stove Works</a>, Inc. in Washington State. As stated on their website it is "An old favorite along the Canadian coast. Built for hard usage in boats and small cabins. Styled to reflect the traditions of life at sea." They have several stoves whose cute names belie their durable construction, including the Sardine and the Halibut, but the Little Cod checked all of our boxes. It fit our space perfectly, the short legs could be firmly attached to a base and also kept the center of balance low, the door could be on either side, a porcelain enamel coating was offered to protect the stove from rust, and there was even an optional glass front so the fire could be seen. </div>
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Over a year after installing the wood stove, we find ourselves unexpectedly spending the winter in Iceland and this is the Little Cod's time to shine. She keeps us warm on these increasingly cold nights and, as an unexpected bonus, helps us to meet people. </div>
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Drake and I have taken to spending time at a local cafe, <a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/Cafe-Retro-Kaffi-Retro/156975251109730" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Café Retro</a>, that is a stone's throw from Paragon. The couple who own it are extremely nice, former boat owners themselves, and happen to make some of the best soup I have ever tasted. Ever. <br />
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In the course of our conversations, heating came up and we mentioned that we had a wood burning stove. Several days later, while sitting in a corner table at the cafe, a man came up to us and asked if we needed some wood for our stove. Grinning at our looks of surprise, he told us that he is a carpenter with a wood shop within walking distance of Paragon. The owners of Café Retro had told him that we were in need of wood and he mentioned that he had a dumpster full of untreated scraps that he would be happy to let us take. </div>
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The next day we gathered our large duffels and headed down to the shop The carpenter was not there, but his coworker let us in and could not have been nicer. We went into the back room, under the watchful eyes of the office dogs, and found more wood than we could possibly carry. We chatted with the gentleman as he helped us fill our bags and marveled at our good fortune.<br />
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Now, with the wood locker full to the brim, Paragon has become our toasty warm oasis in the dark Icelandic winter night…</div>
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Monique http://www.blogger.com/profile/14770266910367787588noreply@blogger.com25tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4948300976287438539.post-80749615258711577192013-10-03T19:15:00.000-04:002013-10-06T09:00:09.723-04:00There be gods here<br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The voyage has stopped...at least for the moment. Drake and I find ourselves in Reykjavík, Iceland where we will *possibly* be staying for the winter. The first two weeks here were tumultuous to say the least. We had planned for Iceland to be a pit stop on our way to Ireland and, therefore, were poised to take off as soon as the first weather window presented itself. The first couple of days everyone was simply recovering from the beating we received on the journey over from Greenland. Fierce winds and big seas plagued us, and making landfall had never been so sweet. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">However, as the days passed with no good window in sight, we began to wonder if we had simply stayed north a bit too long. When does a risk become too risky? One afternoon we suddenly realized that we were talking about sailing off into the remnants of a hurricane...and stopped. We unclenched our guts and admitted that leaving Iceland at this particular time of year meant sailing off into weather that posed an unacceptable risk to us. How many people tried to keep to a schedule and ended up instead courting disaster? So, despite our best intentions of reaching Ireland this year, we have decided to stay in Iceland. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We have moved from Brokey yacht club where we first landed and are now staying in an extremely protected corner of the Reykjavík harbour just off of the maritime museum. Besides being in a spot that is extremely sheltered we also have an auspicious neighbour, the Coast Guard Vessel Óðinn. It was involved in all three of the Cod Wars with Britain, towed almost 200 ships to safety, and is credited with saving countless crews from sinking or grounded ships. Every day we look out and see its magnificent hull to our port side.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Our neighbour Ódinn</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #010000;">We've also begun to explore our new neighbourhood. Just down the street, to our initial delight (and my thighs horror), is an amazing homemade ice cream shop. Within walking distance of Paragon. And open late. Every. single. night. (this could be bad…)</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The library with free, if slow, wifi is ten minutes away, as are numerous grocery stores. A wonderful internet cafe, with fresh baked bread and FAST wifi, is five minutes away. I've also discovered the coolest resale/antique store ever which may occupy many a rainy afternoon.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The library</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Frida Frænka Antiques</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">There are more galleries than I could explore in a year, not to mention amazing street art and sculptures.</span><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Things are not completely settled here. Drake and I will be heading over to Immigration on Monday to see if we are able to extend our initial entry visa and stay the winter. We are hoping they will understand that we intended to leave, but were waylaid by the weather. We have no intention of becoming one of those cautionary tales you read so often on the forums or various news channels. Could we have left and made it to Ireland? Perhaps yes, but the alternative was not a risk we were willing to take. I'd rather live to tell the tale...</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So now I sit in a cafe, pet the dog who has meandered over (this is one of the reasons I LOVE Europe!!!), and look forward to exploring my new home. </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Home for now and ready to explore!</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">p.s. While we were traveling in Greenland I was having a lot of trouble gaining access to my blog. I have a back log of posts that I will begin to upload, but I will most likely mix in more recent posts from Reykjavík as well!</span></div>
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Monique http://www.blogger.com/profile/14770266910367787588noreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4948300976287438539.post-78819142324306090952013-06-23T17:50:00.000-04:002013-06-24T16:18:03.778-04:00Whales, sails, and puppy seas<br />
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<b>Day 1</b></div>
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I thought I would feel better than this, but I'm still battling with sea sickness. The conditions as we left Lunenburg were lovely, but the moment we got around the protection of the harbour the rolling seas began and then got worse. Huge swells that seemed to swallow Paragon...far enough apart that they never crashed on deck but instead rolled us from side to side. </div>
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20˚ to port. 25˚ to starboard. 10˚ to port. 20˚ to starboard. 15˚ to port. Up down up down.</div>
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And sloppy. While going from side to side, the stern is moving back and forth. It feels as though an entire sea of golden retriever puppies is coming at us. Floppy, unsure, and coming from every direction the waves playfully loll and pounce. There is no malice intended, but they still trip me up. </div>
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I'm keeping watch, but my first dinner didn't quite stay in place. Let's just say that it wasn't as delightful the second time around.</div>
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Things are not quite as dire as they have been though. At least I'm able to get up and keep watch. I'm eating lying down in my bunk (sitting at the dinette does not quite work), but when I get up to go to the head or grab some gear I am no longer hit with an instant and intense wave of nausea. My first offshore trip I was sick for eleven days. The second I was down for four. The last one was two and this time I've been up and about almost immediately. Perhaps there IS a light at the end of the tunnel. </div>
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<b>Day 2</b></div>
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It's interesting being out here with no contact. My phone has been put on hold, there is no wifi, we do not own a satellite phone, and the VHF is really for hailing or emergencies. I am occupied only with my thoughts and companions. </div>
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Already a prolific dreamer, I find I lose myself in elaborate daydreams. I remember books I have read, conversations I have had. The wind is light, which means that we are running the engine, and the diesel fumes turn my stomach every time they are blown into the cockpit. Don't think about it. It's all in your head. I snort because I know this is bullshit. There are few things I despise more than throwing up and I cannot believe my mind would abandon my body with such blatant treachery. Nonetheless I take deep breaths and try to think of anything but the rolling boat. </div>
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Ever the playful optimists, a pod of dolphins surrounded the boat today and made me forget any cares I may have had.</div>
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<b>Day 3</b></div>
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Whale! There was a humpback (or perhaps fin) whale that breached the surface and then dove with its tail smacking the water. Then, with its body underwater, the tail resurfaced and flipped up and down, smacking the waves while we watched in breathless excitement. I am in awe. It is ethereal, wonderous, breathtaking, and magical. I feel that if I ever reach a point where a seal or dolphin or whale ceases to bring a sense of wonder and elation to me then I am as good as dead. Gazing at this giant I am suddenly and fiercely protective...and thankful. Thankful that it has shared itself with us, if only for a moment.</div>
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The funny thing is I had just finished my watch and Eanna was settling into the cockpit. My head had just touched the pillow when he shouted "WHALE! THERE'S A WHALE!". Drake and I both jumped out of the settee and were on deck so quickly that Eanna joked "In the future, if there is ever a fire aboard Paragon, I won't shout fire. I'll just scream that there's a whale and you guys will come running." </div>
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<b>Day 4</b></div>
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There is a steady wind from the southwest that is propelling us forward at a reasonably comfortable pace and motion, but I feel a bit ragged. I should be feeling better, but after a couple of days of vomiting my stomach feels like it's been roughed up with a cheese grater. Even though this time has been better than any other, getting sick so often takes a toll. When I'm moving around the boat on my way to or from a watch I still don't have that overwhelming sense of nausea and vertigo, but I've been sick enough times to build up a general sense of malaise. </div>
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I can't shake this metallically taste in the back of my mouth...if only I could start fresh from THIS point I think I would be much better. I've been popping antacid tablets with the hope that they will settle the fire in my belly. To pass the time I begin to make up ads for the antacid companies in my head.</div>
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•You thought you were still young enough to pile jalapeños on your food. You were wrong. TUMS!</div>
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•Settle the fire in your belly. TUMS!</div>
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•Today Ur Mucho Sick. TUMS!</div>
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Okay, that's as far as I got. You can clearly see that I have not, in fact, missed my calling for the advertising business...</div>
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<b>Day 5</b></div>
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Last night we were hit by rough seas for a few hours. It didn't last long, perhaps four or five hours, but it was violent enough to toss Paragon around and make sleeping almost impossible. Every thing was strapped securely down, but the shelf holding the tea, coffee, and sugar broke and the containers flew across the cabin and sent their contents crashing down. </div>
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At one point a huge wave crashed into the port side of Paragon with a resounding SMACK and flooded into the cockpit. The zippers on the enclosure were partially open which ended up being a good thing. The force of the wave was so powerful that Drake thought it might have ripped that panel off if it had been entirely closed. </div>
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My watch was to start at 2 a.m., right in the middle of the craziness, but I felt so sick that Drake took over and completed the watch for me. I lay wedged in my berth, eyes squeezed tightly shut, and tried to think of anything but my heaving stomach. </div>
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Morning arrives as though nothing has happened and there is a new excitement in the air. We are close enough to St. John's that we are checking our milage to make sure that we won't arrive at the entrance to the harbour in the dark. It is possibly the most beautiful day yet with calm seas and a mixture of sun and fog. There has been quite a bit of fog on this leg of the trip which is a first for me. At times it has been so thick that we can't see more than a boat length away and it almost feels as though we are not moving forward. </div>
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Radar is our friend at this point. I watch the radar and AIS and marvel that a massive tanker is slipping past just a couple of miles away, yet there is no indication other than the blip on the screen. How do you sail these waters without radar? We couldn't possibly avoid such a fast moving ship with this kind of visibility, and I cross my fingers that we will never have to try. </div>
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<b>Day 6</b></div>
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We're here because we're here because we're here!!! Yesterday was the first day I didn't sleep most of the time I was off of watch so I'm a bit tired, but land is near and we're almost there! Eanna was taking photographs and didn't want to stop, so he let me sleep an extra half an hour which was marvelous. I rolled out of bed at 4:30 a.m. to discover we only had a little over an hour to sail before making the final turn towards the harbour in St. John's. </div>
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It's been a lovely trip, but I think we are all ready to do some exploring on land. This is also the first port of call that is completely new for Drake. From here on out it is new territory for everyone!</div>
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We woke Drake up and everyone sat in the cockpit eagerly looking at the land that rose off of our port side. Just in case we weren't excited enough, three whales starting surfacing near the boat...spouting water in huge puffs before diving back down. Behind them another pod of dolphins popped up and I had to pinch myself to see if I was still dreaming. There was a part of me that almost wanted to sail Paragon in a lazy circle all day to watch the whales and dolphins playing in the water. Almost. But not quite. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Our first glimpse of St. John's</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The lighthouse at the entrance to the harbour</span></td></tr>
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We called the harbourmaster on the VHF, got information on where to dock, and slowly motored into the harbour and into our next adventure…</div>
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Monique http://www.blogger.com/profile/14770266910367787588noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4948300976287438539.post-39630531399748321852013-06-17T09:44:00.000-04:002013-06-22T14:57:53.933-04:00Sorbet houses on a hill<br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It has been three months to the day since we undid the dock lines and pushed off from North Carolina. Today I sit in Lunenburg, Nova Scotia finishing up some laundry and mourning our impending departure. Tomorrow we leave for St. Johns, Newfoundland where we will do one last provision before waiting for a window to sail the longest leg of the trip (over 1,100 nautical miles) to Nuuk, Greenland. </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The view of Lunenburg from Paragon</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It's an exciting prospect, yet I wish, WISH, that we had more time to spend in this lovely town. The first day we sailed into this harbour it was grey skies with a steady drizzle falling, but all was sunny and colourful on land. The houses of Lunenburg are painted like so many flavours of sorbet...LAVENDER! RED! BLUE! ORANGE! On a grey day it brightens your mood, but on a sunny day it is spectacular beyond measure. Added to this eye candy is a luminous green hill that rises behind Paragon which my eyes gobble up after the flat blue and grey monotones that make up a crossing. </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The view of Paragon from Lunenburg</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The first day, though exhausted after four long days, we explored the local area with the help of a woman visiting from Toronto. She showed us where the local liquor store was located, and also directed us to a pub Drake wanted to visit for dinner. When he was last here he visited The Knot Pub with his friend Kevin and wanted to share this slightly off the beaten path establishment with us. Sitting down to a cider and a plate of fish and chips I couldn't help but release a sigh and think "It's good to be home". </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcYq526JajT7LLCYAa8_dRAzGnsgtV4wY3wS066hHtLT_UJgz_ICL-DJ5X0YESQdRYM5uVxuRPgk4XAEJBJgo84uR7yX-JehyclYyBwuL1h_zqFVtmMB41b14BeeGnV3cUHfuaNRul1INr/s1600/IMG_5414.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcYq526JajT7LLCYAa8_dRAzGnsgtV4wY3wS066hHtLT_UJgz_ICL-DJ5X0YESQdRYM5uVxuRPgk4XAEJBJgo84uR7yX-JehyclYyBwuL1h_zqFVtmMB41b14BeeGnV3cUHfuaNRul1INr/s400/IMG_5414.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Now, I am not from Nova Scotia, but I did spend a great deal of time in Montreal as a child and one of the things that I miss is whilte vinegar with french fries. Ask for vinegar in The States and you'll most likely receive a puzzled look, a shake of the head, or perhaps a slightly dusty bottle of malt vinegar that hasn't seen the light of day, well, ever. As soon as the waitress set down my plate she asked if I wanted vinegar with my fries which made me want to hug her. I know. I'm a cheeseball, but it's the little things that I miss about Canada. Vinegar with fries, smarties, milk in a bag (you read that correctly) as well as my many friends and family. So again...it's good to be home. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The next day the boys decided they wanted to fly the new quad-copter (from this point on referred to as Harry) while I wanted to explore the town and perhaps take some photographs. They went left while I went right and, I have to say, I think I got the better end of the stick. Walking down Montague St. I stumbled upon the Ironworks Distillery located on the corner of Montague St. and Kempt St. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">What a delight! It's in a picturesque building that used to house a marine blacksmith's shop, but now produces spirits ranging from rum to flavoured vodka to fruit liquors. When I walked in I was greeted by a lovely woman (and her dog, Phoebe!) who gave me a bit of the history of the place and guided me through a tasting. I ended up with a bottle of the Rhubarb Esprit Liquor with which I'll make a celebratory cocktail when we reach Greenland. Or perhaps Iceland. Or Ireland. Maybe all three...?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">After leaving the distillery I wandered up the next street to get a proper look at some of the colourful houses and the gardens surrounding them. Many have nameplates attached giving a brief glance into their age and original owners and, now that the weather is a bit warmer, the flowers everywhere are bursting into bloom. I also felt such a sense of the areas history of shipbuilding and it's bond with the sea. Every nook seemed to have something to do with the ocean from the anchor door knockers to a dory I found leaning on its side in an alley to a local sailmaker. The whole area has such a salty feel that's intoxicating.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The afternoon was winding down and I headed back into town to meet up with Drake and Eanna at the restaurant near the museum. Just in time for happy hour (hey, I'm happy!) I ordered a rum cocktail with local blueberry juice and, to my delight, some fresh mussels which are my <i>absolute favourite! </i>Apparently they were someone else's favourite as well because not long after the mussels hit the table this little beggar appeared. He came from one of the boats on the dock, but I think the smell of fresh seafood was too much for him to ignore. </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The fresh mussels were to die for!</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"You will bend to my will", he seemed to say. Unfortunately he left disappointed.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Leaning back, I couldn't help but think I had found my mantra for this trip. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"I wish I could stay longer…"</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A sunset view of Lunenburg from the dinghy dock</span></td></tr>
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Monique http://www.blogger.com/profile/14770266910367787588noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4948300976287438539.post-65191547277205204652013-03-29T00:40:00.001-04:002013-03-29T23:12:14.090-04:00Attack of the forty foot…Paris Hilton?<h2>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; font-weight: normal;">Listening to "Silence Is Golden" by Forro In The Dark</span></h2>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I sit at the dinette table listening to music, lulled by the rocky motion of Paragon and the sounds of Drake making pasta with clam sauce. It’s cold cold cold outside and, what with the steamy boiling water and the heat from the hydronic heater, the windows have a foggy condensation that obscures the outside. I take my hand, wipe a swath clear, peak out and see...a forty foot Paris Hilton running her hands through her hair and staring back at me. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Well kids, we’re not in Oriental anymore. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The last month was absolute madness. I felt as though Drake and I were in a little red wagon careening down the side of a mountain, desperately holding on and unsure of whether we would land triumphantly or crash and burn in a mini fireball. We had a firm date (heh!) set for departure, crew scheduled, and notice given at the marina all the while looking at a to do list that never seemed to end but, in fact, seemed to expand by the hour. Systems that had previously worked meticulously (for years!) suddenly gave up the ghost when sensing our demanding schedule and left us scrambling to diagnose and fix eleventh hour problems. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Finally we reached a point where the things left on the list no longer prevented us from leaving and...</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We left.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We left Oriental, North Carolina after several long years of work, sweat, despair, tears, setbacks, breakthroughs, and finally triumph. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Originally our plan was to leave on the 15th of March which fell on a Friday, but in keeping with superstition we delayed a day and decided instead to leave the next day. We used that Friday evening to have a gathering to get a chance to say goodbye to some of the amazing people we had met during our stay in Oriental. Some who came we had known for years - one couple we had met just days earlier - but all had affected our lives in some way. They came bearing gifts of wine, knowledge, charts, boat cards, well wishes, and good conversation...I have to say that both Drake and I were touched and so pleased to have been a part of this wonderful community. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Saturday morning dawned clear and chilly, and we pushed off of the dock at Sailcraft Marina for the last time with Adam, the first crew of the trip. We had met Adam earlier in the year and had been exchanging emails, and the occasional chat over coffee, since our first meeting. When Drake and I discussed wanting to have crew Adam was one of the first contenders. With a background in both racing for fun and recreational sailing, he impressed us with his competence, confidence, and personality-wise he seemed as though he would be a good fit. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Motoring out of Whittaker Creek we passed the sleepy marinas and began the three day journey up the Intracoastal Waterway to Norfolk, Virginia. Our first big destination was New York City and the original plan was to head up to Ocracoke, wait for a weather window, jump out of Oregon Inlet, then head offshore straight to New York. In a perfect world it would take us about three and a half days to get there, but in the event of inclement weather we had several places (Cape May or Atlantic City) where we could tuck in to wait out the storms. Unfortunately, Hurricane Sandy had created such shoaling in the inlet that it was now impassable with the Coast Guard reporting a depth of two feet or less. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Another option was to motor to Beaufort, NC, await a weather window, and then go around Cape Hatteras before heading North. Thankfully, due to some good advice and common sense on our part, we decided that route was just not worth the risk. For those not familiar with this particular area, Cape Hatteras is known as the graveyard of the Atlantic and with good reason. It is the meeting place for the Mid-Atlantic Bight and the South Atlantic Bight and also where the South flowing Labrador Current and North flowing Gulf Stream collide producing rough seas and dense fog. Add in the Diamond Shoals, which extend for up 14 miles or more offshore, and the frequency of Nor’easters which scream down the coast with alarming frequency at this time of year and you have a recipe for disaster. Combining the opposing currents, storms, and potential for rough seas seemed foolish when we still needed to complete shakedown sails on some of Paragon’s systems. Finding out that a key element didn’t work while motoring/sailing along the ICW could be inconvenient...finding it out off of Cape Hatteras could be deadly. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So Intracoastal Waterway it was. The first day was a bit of a push since we had to motor almost 65 miles to reach our first anchorage. Several people had told us that we MUST stop at Coin Jock Marina, but in order to fit that into our time line we had to make some serious miles on the first day. This was not such a difficult task with three people aboard. Anyone who has traveled the ICW on their own knows that even simple things like grabbing lunch or going to the bathroom can be difficult...pulling over is not really an option, so things must be coordinated carefully. Splitting time at the helm between Drake, Adam, and I meant that everyone had a chance to rest, eat, nap, and marvel at the root beer coloured water that was a result of tannins leaching from the surrounding trees. Drake even had a chance to climb the mast to get a bird’s eye view of our journey.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">As dusk neared we pulled into a lovely and deserted anchorage. On the way in we passed two free standing trees on the edge of the little bay and I was delighted to discover that what I assumed were leaves actually turned out to be birds perched on every branch. Combined with a spectacular sunset it made the first anchorage of our journey magical.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The next day was easier and we reached our desired destination in Coin Jock just as the Marina was closing its doors. The man working that evening, JD, was even kind enough to wait an extra moment or two to catch our lines as we pulled up to the dock. Many a cruiser had insisted that we must (MUST!) stop here because, despite its tiny size and remote location, the restaurant had wonderful prime rib. I have to disagree with them. It wasn’t wonderful...it was some of the best prime rib I have ever had. Anywhere. Should you happen to find yourself within a day or two of this little hamlet I strenuously recommend a detour to enjoy the hospitality and fabulous food. (Did I mention the complimentary homemade chips they set on the table? To. Die. For.)</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The lovely Coin Jock Marina and Restaurant<br />(photo courtesy of Adam H.)</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Leaving early the next morning we headed on to Norfolk for what we thought would be an easy day. It was misty and a bit colder with rain showers slowly soaking us, but our spirits were high and the heater down below did a wonderful job of defrosting our wind-chilled cheeks.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The last twenty miles of the ICW just south of Norfolk has quite a few bridges (and one lock) that have to be traversed, but our timing was almost perfect and we arrived at the N&S RR Bascule Bridge</span><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> #7 (usually open) and the Gilmerton Lift Bridge before its rush hour restrictions. Throughout the day the Gilmerton Highway Bascule Bridge opens at specific times, but for three hours both in the morning (6:30 - 9:30) and evening (3:30 - 6:30) they are closed for commuting traffic which means if you arrive at 3:45 PM you have an almost three hour wait. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Pulling within sight of the bridges just past 3 PM, we had already mentally dropped the hook in the anchorage that lay a mere five miles beyond in Portsmouth just across from Norfolk. Adam had told us about his many problems and delays while dealing with the Gilmerton Bridge, especially with all the recent construction, but that had ended and we felt confident. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The lift bridge was not the problem this day...it was the railroad bridge. Noticing it was closed as we approached, we hoped that whatever train was about to cross would hurry up and pass so we could make it through the next bridge before the 3:30 deadline. When no train approached, and with our window swiftly closing, we talked to the tender at the Gilmerton Bridge who told us the #7 was temporarily out of order but that they were doing all they could to find someone to fix it and he wasn’t really sure what was going on since it wasn’t really his bridge and he really did wish us the best and a very good day to you. Or something like that. It was all very nice while being completely noncommittal. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Thus began our wait. Three turned into four, then five...and as the six o’clock hour approached with no bridge opening in site we started to seriously look at anchorages in the area. Sundown was just over an hour away and we didn’t want to be caught circling in the dark. The one other boat that had been waiting, a giant tug, finally gave up and turned around and we finally conceded that we should do the same. </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Circling as we wait for repairs to be finished<br />(photo courtesy of Adam H.)</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">As Drake turned Paragon around our VHF suddenly sprang to life. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“#7 is opening, #7 is opening!”, the bridge tender shouted, and I am certain he could hear our whoops of excitement all the way from his control room.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Because of the long delays the Gilmerton Bridge tender opened his lift bridge, even though the rush hour restriction was not over, which allowed us to motor through and drop the hook in Portsmouth just as the sun was setting. </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The rosy glow of our first city anchorage</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Drake, Adam, and I spent the next day wandering around Norfolk and picking up some extra provisions. The whole area was remarkably easy to get around using a mixture of their light rail, water taxi, and cabs. It also felt wonderful to get a chance to walk and explore a new area after being on the boat for several days.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Riding back on the water taxi</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Rowing out to Paragon in the anchorage after a lovely day</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The next morning, a Wednesday, dawned cool and breezy as we decided on the next move. We had planned on leaving, but the weather looked a little unpredictable and we wavered; go today or possibly be delayed for almost a week. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This is the point where we allowed something that should not have come into play affect our decision. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> A schedule. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Schedules have no business influencing voyage planning while sailing. Sure, in the most abstract form they can be considered, but as a friend of mine said, “When I’m sailing you can choose the place or the time, but you can’t choose both.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Adam had a plane out of JFK in New York on Sunday, so with that in mind we pushed off late Wednesday morning and headed out to sea. Drake felt that we had a good chance of making some miles before tucking in to Cape May to await better conditions. The rest of the afternoon went fine as we motored out of Norfolk and then, with sails up, we headed north into the night. Things rather went downhill from there.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Motoring out of Norfolk<br />(photo courtesy of Adam H.)</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">On Thursday winds clocked to the North and increased until they were sustained at 30 knots with gusts up to 38. Thirty-five miles offshore and unable to make much progress, Drake realized we would never be able to reach Cape May before sundown and decided to hove to. We remained hove to off and on for the next 36 hours...making progress when we could in the 10-12 foot seas. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">During this time Adam was amazing. My old nemesis, seasickness, had returned with a vengeance and I was violently ill for several days and unable to do much except wish for a swift and painless death. He stepped up and attacked every new challenge with a steadfast hand and quiet confidence that was impressive. In the midst of our sea trial, and with several things not quite working as they should, he kept a sense of humor about things that were beyond our control. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">As winds subsided and, remarkably my seasickness began to dissipate, we realized that we would be able to sail into Atlantic City before sunset. A new course was set and we motored into the channel with plenty of time to spare.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Now I sit here at the dinette and, as the boat turns at anchor, occasionally see a giant Paris Hilton splashed on the side of the illuminated high rise casino. I look around, shake my head, and think, "We're not in Oriental anymore…"</span><br />
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Monique http://www.blogger.com/profile/14770266910367787588noreply@blogger.com24tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4948300976287438539.post-13833281119692550922013-02-24T12:07:00.000-05:002013-02-24T14:10:15.654-05:00Pliobond sticks to your ribs<br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Listening to "Precious" by The Pretenders</span></span></h2>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The oven on Paragon has not worked since I arrived almost two years ago. Something to do with a spring and a thing and a boyfriend who never, ever bakes. Ever. And this was cool. I sautéed, simmered, and braised my way through through my cookbook much to my, and Drake's, delight. Curried chicken, moyakodon, and super spicy beans and rice were some of our staples. Then one day I had a craving for lasagna and suddenly nothing else would do. Not only did I want lasagna, but I wanted MY lasagna. Layers of gooey melted cheese combined with obscene amounts of garlic, spinach, mushrooms, chorizo and ground beef layered with spices and noodles and….oh my. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">There were other problems with the stove/oven. I loved how heavy duty and over built it was, but all of the knobs had come off leaving us to turn on the propane using one jury rigged knob…except for the one burner that required channel locks and a stern grip (or glare) to get started. The biggest concern, however, was the broken gimbal on one side. The metal rod and attached hardware had bent at some point and presented a real hazard. Cooking at sea is dangerous enough without the threat of the stove suddenly detaching and flying forward. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">If we had the motivation and an excess of extra time there is a chance that we could have taken the stove apart, ordered new parts, cleaned up some of the rust, fixed the gimbal, and generally restored her to her former glory. If the parts were available. If all went as planned. If we weren't pushing off for New York in less than three weeks. A lot of ifs...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So, with visions of cheesy baked food in our future, we ordered a new Force 10 three gimbaled range with a 19 L oven. It has come in so, after we finish up some things we have going today, it's out with the old and in with the new.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Other projects are going…okay. I cut the insulation for the aft clothes locker, but I didn't want to use the spray adhesive that Drake has been using. Perhaps I should take a step back. Are there any Douglas Adams fans out there? If so (or even if not) there is a spaceship in one of his books, The Restaurant at the End of the Universe, that has some amazing qualities including the fact that it creates absolutely no friction. Like any. If you try to put your hand on this ship it just slides right off…nothing sticks. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I believe this ship was coated with our insulation. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Nothing (NOTHING!) seems to adhere to this stuff. I thought I would use duct tape to keep it in place while I trimmed the sides, but the duct tape fell away like so many autumn leaves. Regular glue just beads off and the spray glue Drake was using seems to have a limited shelf life since strips of insulation are drooping and peeling apart. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV18KY4QVjCC6533uuNwgkHIMQIJs33r_UR-X6h4fY7ki9qqKRnLlL0J2jKqZjsFAv4tK7_APe1HYj1WQDYcmHjVS6yWSH8nLR7q50ABeVvYGBfCuqVfT6Js_-HPCr9Mvfqi160NmSTHnW/s1600/IMG_3483.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV18KY4QVjCC6533uuNwgkHIMQIJs33r_UR-X6h4fY7ki9qqKRnLlL0J2jKqZjsFAv4tK7_APe1HYj1WQDYcmHjVS6yWSH8nLR7q50ABeVvYGBfCuqVfT6Js_-HPCr9Mvfqi160NmSTHnW/s400/IMG_3483.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Insulation that is falling down in the condiment locker</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcrVm2W4BwQroPoM7h_uA74wlcGJzwCcmDGFX5Vo6YhtjGgnhzLcAE9InUIubMzoo10Jx4kr_wMWvAXJhPwej46sm91vszUh9BGdCVRjWN0DHv0yhrTUMjejP7OV7lgoBMTaKOyWuYIwaJ/s1600/IMG_3480.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcrVm2W4BwQroPoM7h_uA74wlcGJzwCcmDGFX5Vo6YhtjGgnhzLcAE9InUIubMzoo10Jx4kr_wMWvAXJhPwej46sm91vszUh9BGdCVRjWN0DHv0yhrTUMjejP7OV7lgoBMTaKOyWuYIwaJ/s400/IMG_3480.jpg" width="235" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The spray adhesive does not seem to be working</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I went to the hardware store yesterday, got a couple of different bonding agents, and I think I found one that will work. It's called Pliobond (sticks to rubber, leather, steel, fiberglass, and your soul!) and smells sufficiently like cancer in a bottle to make me think it will work. It also mentions that it is resistant to salt, gasoline, and some acids which is a relief. I can't recall how many times I have left an open bottle of acid in the clothes locker only to have it tip over to disastrous results. (I am joking. I would <u>never</u> leave an open bottle of acid in the locker. I always close the acid before I put it in with my clothes.) The test piece seemed to hold so *fingers crossed* I'm going to give it a try and attack the aft locker. It would be lovely to finally get everything off of the bed and be able to sleep in the aft cabin again. We'll see how it goes…</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqr-BH1nnSOZRG1qDw6dAhHaJS23kMW3CGXptVoJPTHbmpESyvaXMTAD6u4Jaw48TyuZ80P9czOP4pOtWrMJvl22rEmIuXo8U90LITYPcw-NXY-3WGVQ7LPbAWcJ6OK5RMotblPWc7jIuE/s1600/IMG_3478.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="338" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqr-BH1nnSOZRG1qDw6dAhHaJS23kMW3CGXptVoJPTHbmpESyvaXMTAD6u4Jaw48TyuZ80P9czOP4pOtWrMJvl22rEmIuXo8U90LITYPcw-NXY-3WGVQ7LPbAWcJ6OK5RMotblPWc7jIuE/s400/IMG_3478.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I'm hoping this will work</span></td></tr>
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Monique http://www.blogger.com/profile/14770266910367787588noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4948300976287438539.post-88424992209611798112013-02-19T19:51:00.000-05:002013-02-19T20:31:41.801-05:00Need some rain? Wash the boat!<h2>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Listening to WBUR Boston's NPR News Station</span></span></h2>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Nothing ever works on a sailboat. NOTHING! Okay, this is an exaggeration, but that is how it feels sometimes. You go to flush the head, the head that you just soaked with vinegar and thoroughly cleaned, and nothing happens. You go to check the radar, the very radar that was working mere moments ago, and *poof* it's suddenly gone. You sit at the dinette under the dorade vent tapping away on your computer when suddenly a drop of water plops down. Never mind that the vent was just resealed. Never mind that after it was resealed you sat with a hose and sprayed it with everything that little spigot could handle. No. This is a boat and everything on it has a shelf life and, despite your expectations, some expire faster than </span><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">others. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We have had a trying day. Days. Time is passing faster than ever, and every thing that does not get done or suddenly stops working is a mini disaster. Now, when a replacement part needs to be ordered, we are actually looking at a calendar to make sure that it will arrive before we leave. Notice has been given, a departure date has been set, several friends have agreed to crew, and we are feeling the heat. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I'm certain this is my inexperience talking, but there is a part of me that feels it will all be okay. I almost feel that we could take off tomorrow and, with what we have, be more than okay to start our travels. Sure, there are things that need tending, but isn't that what cruisers do… travel the world and go to beautiful places to work on their boats? Of course, unlike Drake, I am not in charge of the safety and well being of everyone on board and tomorrow comes faster and faster. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It's not all despair and ringing hands. Today Drake made wonderful progress cleaning off the deck and cockpit and I've learned something. Much like a car, washing the boat seems to be a sure fire way to bring about some serious rain. The last three times I have washed the deck rain followed within several hours, and as I sit here the rain is pattering away on those lovely clean decks. *shrug* Perhaps we'll be like the rain god mafia and people will pay us to stay away from their outdoor events. Pay up or it's grey skies for everyone!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I have also been working on several things. My avoidance of laundry has left me riffling through the back confines of the clothes locker where I discovered we had a serious moisture and mold problem. (Do I sound like a broken record? mold mold mold!) This is interesting since the very next locker is fine, but this one is quite obviously NOT fine after I discovered one of my favourite jackets spotted with mold. Blah! After removing the shelves I scrubbed the whole area with a bleach mixture and will lay down a few more layers of insulation as soon as the surface is dry...hopefully that will take care of the problem. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd9g6S6b88mRDbGRICAndMe0r6la2rcsF-cih5DUGTY4OeIC3EEwTWIBtxpTns99DoEW19I2yWPmb1zmbipTAH6fhyphenhyphenvXLHL3pU1kUUnI02Yb2-2OT0XQjSbyZyDnUN0Hqn6UHX2HuFOUOr/s1600/IMG_3355.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd9g6S6b88mRDbGRICAndMe0r6la2rcsF-cih5DUGTY4OeIC3EEwTWIBtxpTns99DoEW19I2yWPmb1zmbipTAH6fhyphenhyphenvXLHL3pU1kUUnI02Yb2-2OT0XQjSbyZyDnUN0Hqn6UHX2HuFOUOr/s400/IMG_3355.jpg" width="265" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Before scrubbing</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWmYDHkz35ibsBja2DhCvBg8wsB-fbGV11gWw7g-NKUfef2P0YW8XXfEwPpn7MoQQ_huM55PmS6UtdbZ54ayML7SYlXSWVptkrEmPeVT5cpqPNlh5vqVswLuzfpI6mHvJZKptxlSKq8AG8/s1600/IMG_3360.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWmYDHkz35ibsBja2DhCvBg8wsB-fbGV11gWw7g-NKUfef2P0YW8XXfEwPpn7MoQQ_huM55PmS6UtdbZ54ayML7SYlXSWVptkrEmPeVT5cpqPNlh5vqVswLuzfpI6mHvJZKptxlSKq8AG8/s400/IMG_3360.jpg" width="265" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">After scrubbing</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Since everything that was in the locker is currently piled high on our bed in the aft cabin, Drake and I are bunking in the salon. This has its perks. Tonight we will lay on the settee, watch an action film that has <span style="text-decoration: underline;">nothing</span> to do with sailing (I'm thinking <i>The Bourne Identity</i>), and recharge our batteries. All I can think is...tomorrow will be a better day.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">P.S. I promise not to talk about mold for a while, maybe, and I've also included this sunset to remind me of the beauty that I am surrounded by every day. </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Sunset on Whittaker Creek</span></td></tr>
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Monique http://www.blogger.com/profile/14770266910367787588noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4948300976287438539.post-80226663151635416372013-02-09T16:41:00.000-05:002013-02-09T18:41:16.392-05:00The Devil and Mr. Clean<br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; font-weight: normal;">Listening to "This Is Not A Love Song" by Nouvelle Vague</span></h2>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">As the days fly by and our departure date looms in the foreground, Drake and I are madly dashing around Paragon in an attempt to finish all last minute projects and tie up loose ends. In between whipping lines, downloading and figuring out weather fax, and repairing various things (the aft head door, the zipper on the strataglass) I have also spent a portion of every day cleaning and organizing. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The organizing part can be quite satisfying. Do we really need sixty 2-4 foot pieces of leftover rope? What about the miles and miles of spare wire? (Drake is under the impression that one day he will meet someone in a far off place who needs to completely rewire their boat and TADAA! Like a misguided superhero he will come to the rescue.) Broken brushes, lids to tupperware bottoms that are long gone, random plumbing fittings, and a host of unnecessary items linger uselessly about. Damaged items are thrown in the bin, superfluous extras are given away, and the remaining objects have been neatly stored.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The cleaning part is not as fun. Fenders that have been neglected for far too long have accumulated a layer of grime and gunk that seems impenetrable. Slightly dank pools of condensation that emit a stale smell seem to pop up overnight and soak everything in their path. Best of all though is the sailor’s constant companion...mold. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Mold would like nothing more than to take over this boat and cover every slightly damp surface with its fuzzy and blackened finger print, so with a bleach mixture and scrubie in hand I attack. In some cases, a quick swipe and a little elbow grease is all that is needed to put the sparkle back. Other times, however, there isn’t enough elbow grease in the world to clean the dirty object, but this is where I bring out my secret weapon...the Mr. Clean Magic Eraser. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I do not know what sort of Faustian contract was signed in order to make this magical little pad. I am certain that the key ingredients include crushed fairy wings and the tip of a unicorn horn mixed with the last remaining dodo feather, for how else could this eraser literally wipe clean the grimiest of grime with a mere swipe. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I spent over an hour trying to clean a fender with the most abrasive pad available. Soaking it with soap, mineral spirits, acetone and, finally, the tears of my frustration, I had all but given up. As a last resort I grabbed the magic eraser and sat back in amazement as it sprinkled it’s faery dust and left a sparkling clean fender in its wake.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Timidly at first, and then with a resounding WHOOP! I proceeded to clean stains that had left me stumped and under the impression that we would be simply be surrounded by discoloured patches around the boat.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Rust stain on the cabin top? Gone! Grease on the faux leather covering? Finis! A wine stain on the galley laminate that resembled the state of Wisconsin? No more! (sorry Wisconsin) </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Now for those of you who are scrambling over loved ones in an attempt to quickly reach the keyboard to tell me exactly why I should NEVER use the magic eraser on the boat, I beg of you to leave me in the dark. This innocuous little pad has made my life easier in ways I cannot fully describe. It has cut my cleaning time and, more importantly, frustration in half. Therefore, to those delightful people at Procter & Gamble who have waged their souls so that I may better clean...I thank you. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCbazI9ddsMniq3yQaKZY6y1Lxjci3DuBxDcv9j-2juTmwdY723ekUTGxHOM2HXCSageWf6TyOe7HpYhyphenhyphen246EHFjbCXkSoKNP05TdJvBHkzt1_mIHvMEPxgwikHUF3SJMXa0Bki6WxJbLG/s1600/IMG_3351.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCbazI9ddsMniq3yQaKZY6y1Lxjci3DuBxDcv9j-2juTmwdY723ekUTGxHOM2HXCSageWf6TyOe7HpYhyphenhyphen246EHFjbCXkSoKNP05TdJvBHkzt1_mIHvMEPxgwikHUF3SJMXa0Bki6WxJbLG/s400/IMG_3351.jpg" width="338" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Side by side comparison. The fender on the right is the third one I cleaned using nothing but the magic eraser.</span></td></tr>
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Monique http://www.blogger.com/profile/14770266910367787588noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4948300976287438539.post-62105713668535014462013-02-05T12:32:00.000-05:002013-02-05T13:09:21.189-05:00Rope? Nope, but line is divine...<br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Listening to "Sexual Revolution" by Macy Gray</span></span></h2>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">One of the first times I came aboard Paragon I was looking around and asked the name of the rope that was pulling up the big sail. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">If you can imagine at this point that big SSSSCCCCRRREEEEEEEECCCHHHH that happens in the movies where the music abrubptly comes to a halt as everyone turns to look at the goof ball who just put their foot in their mouth. Thus began the first of many lessons about sailing and boats in general. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Rope practically does not exist on a boat. In the most general sense of the word there are lines. Lines criss cross the boat in every direction, and as they begin to do certain jobs their names get more specific. There are halyards, dock lines, sheets, and fender lines to name a few, and they all need attention in some way. They need to be cared for, coiled and stowed, cleaned, whipped, and occasionally spliced. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Drake was telling me a story about a particular gentleman who, when questioning potential crew, would ask if they could whip a line. If the answer was no then he felt they didn't have the basic knowledge he required to help on the passage. At this point, and after a bit of practice, I can resoundingly say I possess this skill.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">For those not in the know, lines can become frayed at the end which can lead to some serious unravelling. This can render the line unusable, but is easily prevented by tightly wrapping (or whipping) twine around the bitter end. I'm certain there are many different ways to wrap that twine, perhaps with a lovely design or pattern, but I was taught a simple and effective way that works and takes little time. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The twine is so tightly wound around the end of the line that it feels solid and will keep the lines from unraveling with even the heaviest usage. In preparation for our departure in about a month (Gah! <u>About a month</u>!!!) I spent the day checking all lines and whipping those that had none. *Note: These pictures are not meant to be instructional. I'm just showing what I did.*</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsGrFrKFe3tf4ftJhHIeoAibiyggWSau1ASeGE4nZyHju2bKWkx-j-X42u5e71EGep3wJrL-o4MNXxD7MN_uD0t51WrR_GKczGdMgeirOMNtoa1q5AF-pjEdNgS55MEBzAUGMIukklP8aX/s1600/IMG_3333.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsGrFrKFe3tf4ftJhHIeoAibiyggWSau1ASeGE4nZyHju2bKWkx-j-X42u5e71EGep3wJrL-o4MNXxD7MN_uD0t51WrR_GKczGdMgeirOMNtoa1q5AF-pjEdNgS55MEBzAUGMIukklP8aX/s400/IMG_3333.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Waxing the twine to help it lay better</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPlmUl0tdfcp3So2G2oXlmn38dyWFNffymodMequskfnAtTQD8HmeD90ZaEipS4wKKNMlaJzKh5PD_0FXQMx94xEPjV5V1GoVtQEewGh1d0_cEdM050Og3fDQBCPbznNrzD8PFNzKTKUSG/s1600/IMG_3334.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPlmUl0tdfcp3So2G2oXlmn38dyWFNffymodMequskfnAtTQD8HmeD90ZaEipS4wKKNMlaJzKh5PD_0FXQMx94xEPjV5V1GoVtQEewGh1d0_cEdM050Og3fDQBCPbznNrzD8PFNzKTKUSG/s400/IMG_3334.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Preparing to start wrapping</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhah-kDonVWYgz0cIpPjybaNGrVkb1OkAHnvn2ujspiW35ZeOAMsW0N2TBuyrPcNJLulcZUzq30llCzB5OVsyxuI1SMjScI8TsDImpLgVCRmHQrJO4ZT3IEzAM_qcEVhPTiFolOntZZ2n5J/s1600/IMG_3335.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhah-kDonVWYgz0cIpPjybaNGrVkb1OkAHnvn2ujspiW35ZeOAMsW0N2TBuyrPcNJLulcZUzq30llCzB5OVsyxuI1SMjScI8TsDImpLgVCRmHQrJO4ZT3IEzAM_qcEVhPTiFolOntZZ2n5J/s400/IMG_3335.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Initially I go over, under, over to create an extra little 'lock' on the starting edge</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBbfOsMbUXf8ZsMRAq0DczIHIc_WklMxGnir_Jcv1PUVFc2rHerOqUTOTB1ExktmMdiwm0-SGlQyg-ZKeOxrvWkMhG_kVBCHa6Vyv5PnwiIWMACRv0ZRTbHE_QJTdSfNGKj5xVkydMMlBz/s1600/IMG_3336.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBbfOsMbUXf8ZsMRAq0DczIHIc_WklMxGnir_Jcv1PUVFc2rHerOqUTOTB1ExktmMdiwm0-SGlQyg-ZKeOxrvWkMhG_kVBCHa6Vyv5PnwiIWMACRv0ZRTbHE_QJTdSfNGKj5xVkydMMlBz/s400/IMG_3336.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Halfway wrapped</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNtqt7Eth_zKqMDjqxsU0YRcL8FqMfMva2I74qW5X-lMHZlEgbehj79_SKLS4i2GY6mPd_I3RGVq8JA-IcmGWiHupTcaqZtiWO650BOaaVwH9hlzpMOtMa1UQGQhUsGnivcjxyQ_GuH4ZQ/s1600/IMG_3337.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNtqt7Eth_zKqMDjqxsU0YRcL8FqMfMva2I74qW5X-lMHZlEgbehj79_SKLS4i2GY6mPd_I3RGVq8JA-IcmGWiHupTcaqZtiWO650BOaaVwH9hlzpMOtMa1UQGQhUsGnivcjxyQ_GuH4ZQ/s400/IMG_3337.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Now I loop the other end over and begin to wrap with the other side</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGq-f8hv0Ufe_XiRur_bF7y7_MXox05Qy0-EM6b5Vrl1mcMy0BAL0oxdLDKvNTrvM5AzGATYVhAD0RqsDvLDMIQYVs12foPVLzotw9lS9zztspfNVuv4kv8zZ90O5lrzlEEjtxS9uCMjl9/s400/IMG_3338.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="400" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Pulling the ends in the center tightens the whole wrap</span></td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGq-f8hv0Ufe_XiRur_bF7y7_MXox05Qy0-EM6b5Vrl1mcMy0BAL0oxdLDKvNTrvM5AzGATYVhAD0RqsDvLDMIQYVs12foPVLzotw9lS9zztspfNVuv4kv8zZ90O5lrzlEEjtxS9uCMjl9/s1600/IMG_3338.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeKG-HDiGqlQzC-h7-m09Jf2ZKR3wPzmga7ax3me1FPOwSPH-oPiuuT7rk-uuOO2PkNNsgfwk6Ihwi4TwxN0NQVbsnfwLguPQNqyl0bysqKvsrqfFWIjAY345Gqt7nfWZEWoemfuUfytv5/s1600/IMG_3341.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeKG-HDiGqlQzC-h7-m09Jf2ZKR3wPzmga7ax3me1FPOwSPH-oPiuuT7rk-uuOO2PkNNsgfwk6Ihwi4TwxN0NQVbsnfwLguPQNqyl0bysqKvsrqfFWIjAY345Gqt7nfWZEWoemfuUfytv5/s400/IMG_3341.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Trim the loose ends and tie a square knot</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMUm5DxaDvjO5NGaW7CvlTYQxoJisSv5yCIWP-l_H_0zHGvE1bAY-3pMKAuLypY0y4OZkGTBew1jt9f4ZefvR7YJv8kRO04Rrfus-QuI9Ri6mvw8RLjca_fpjaG0eYqxrMcqYhOdlYZzsp/s1600/IMG_3343.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMUm5DxaDvjO5NGaW7CvlTYQxoJisSv5yCIWP-l_H_0zHGvE1bAY-3pMKAuLypY0y4OZkGTBew1jt9f4ZefvR7YJv8kRO04Rrfus-QuI9Ri6mvw8RLjca_fpjaG0eYqxrMcqYhOdlYZzsp/s400/IMG_3343.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Seal the ends with a lighter</span></td></tr>
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Now, instead of looking like this…</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLi_yjIS3RFHWtCmCW4erFHXg9lU3sqtAQSAREhqq0fOg2N0-EkDtGFstgxweKqAlaH19haNpH3PxWB2NOGU4EkCkkZt_MVHvvN4RbLDbJb57hRfZlMFaslF_UXcAaaJ9usZnizrnin5LD/s1600/IMG_3346.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLi_yjIS3RFHWtCmCW4erFHXg9lU3sqtAQSAREhqq0fOg2N0-EkDtGFstgxweKqAlaH19haNpH3PxWB2NOGU4EkCkkZt_MVHvvN4RbLDbJb57hRfZlMFaslF_UXcAaaJ9usZnizrnin5LD/s400/IMG_3346.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">How several of our lines looked prior to being whipped</span></td></tr>
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...our lines look like this and are ready to go.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFEkKcvgb8_ieijZ3HgTdAt8wCBISERYgfrZXVRYd660DxUKSOnebtUwfmra_QipEi6GixBL4XS2ZaXDp-FusyzPBpq-5IavVZ6yjAtwJIxSKnnbi_LcDsHDL4IH7sbpX-c7opjVkbVNae/s1600/IMG_3344.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFEkKcvgb8_ieijZ3HgTdAt8wCBISERYgfrZXVRYd660DxUKSOnebtUwfmra_QipEi6GixBL4XS2ZaXDp-FusyzPBpq-5IavVZ6yjAtwJIxSKnnbi_LcDsHDL4IH7sbpX-c7opjVkbVNae/s400/IMG_3344.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The beautiful finished product</span></td></tr>
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Monique http://www.blogger.com/profile/14770266910367787588noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4948300976287438539.post-13862162724559328872013-01-29T00:14:00.000-05:002013-01-29T00:40:08.592-05:00Clip clip trim trim<br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; font-weight: normal;">Listening to "Kiss With A Fist" by Florence + The Machine</span></h2>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">For quite a few years I traveled between places as dictated by the season. Summer lodge, winter ski town, summer resort, winter ski town. The constant travel, plus the general miniscule size of employee housing, meant that everything I owned could be packed quite easily into my tiny Honda Civic hatchback. A couple of bankers boxes, several duffles, a roof rack and I was ready to move on. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Then, I found that the ski town suited me quite nicely and I started to put down some roots. This is how the slow spread started. Much like a cubicle worker sitting for eight hours on an office chair, my bottom line started expanding. I collected books, acquired several house plants, lost a few due to my complete lack of a green thumb, and generally gathered more clothing and gear than I had ever had before. Backpacking, hiking, rafting, downhill skiing, cross country skiing...the list went on and on and before I knew what happened I had become a bonafide house dweller with stuff.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The next time I moved was not so easy, and as Drake and I draw closer to our push off date I am reminded of that. Paragon has been in the safety and comfort of a marina for so long that she's fallen victim to the excess of stuff that plagues many a house. Drake and I both became somewhat lax when it came down to a cardinal rule of boats: A place for everything and everything in its place. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">No where is this rule more important than in a small space, but I think especially on a boat. A coffee cup haphazardly left on the edge of the book shelf is not simply a coffee cup but potentially a lethal weapon once the boat goes out to sea and begins to roll and bounce. In addition to the safety issue, it's simply not feasible or comfortable to have more than you need while living in such a compact space. Therefore, the trimming has begun. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The galley seemed like a manageable place to start, especially since it is used every day, several times a day. We have a space that runs behind the stove and counter that holds just about every condiment and sauce we might ever need to cook. It had also become, unbeknownst to me, the place where condiments went to die. I swear I have cleaned this out in the last year, yet I still found fermented plum preserves, a crusty tahini jar with a lid so rusted it crumbled in my hand, and an extremely suspect jar of capers from 2008. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I pulled everything out, threw away anything that looked capable of intelligent thought, soaked and washed the Dri-Dek that lines the bottom, washed every jar, and replaced the containers in the most ergonomic way possible. Things that are used most often are right in front, things that are rarely used are on the edges, and things that were never used are resting comfortably in the recycling bin. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFZyJekLz7XWgidx1jsb-xKF58WF-_ZV3UjvxzsC49Ary4lT7jmzFitRYACPMk5kYIEasdWahRCRAmpuhen9cNAZDiIz2oti6CEmKbTcsoPiRq5T49xVI6yeEwp1vx48FRwV4_LF4vmJMC/s1600/IMG_3263.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFZyJekLz7XWgidx1jsb-xKF58WF-_ZV3UjvxzsC49Ary4lT7jmzFitRYACPMk5kYIEasdWahRCRAmpuhen9cNAZDiIz2oti6CEmKbTcsoPiRq5T49xVI6yeEwp1vx48FRwV4_LF4vmJMC/s400/IMG_3263.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">How did this all fit?</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm7KTtU8_kAlqdmRTauaLxgbzOMIJjKWsf7hF2xE0ohYlg3zQZlKi3PiVlglV49Qp6PzQZ3fnaT5J3VhyRuxNnCLy5RDRbcy8eedugQ9P7WAGRPUhwrzy94iGsShsbH1O5iM8Vo75dOlnZ/s1600/IMG_3265.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm7KTtU8_kAlqdmRTauaLxgbzOMIJjKWsf7hF2xE0ohYlg3zQZlKi3PiVlglV49Qp6PzQZ3fnaT5J3VhyRuxNnCLy5RDRbcy8eedugQ9P7WAGRPUhwrzy94iGsShsbH1O5iM8Vo75dOlnZ/s400/IMG_3265.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Dri-Dek up and first scrub finished</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZkzdMMRnuA43LK3i2GDPFMgO-icoshVvvDJbsvjVvuaDF03zHWyN1zWeMBU8i0SHq3NcWhD03vXXW3vhPb39cvEyq7q6HbBVjljINBr-IuW9Fvit1GSikTbTZl1QG_RvQKVSngcjpUjjE/s1600/IMG_3271.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZkzdMMRnuA43LK3i2GDPFMgO-icoshVvvDJbsvjVvuaDF03zHWyN1zWeMBU8i0SHq3NcWhD03vXXW3vhPb39cvEyq7q6HbBVjljINBr-IuW9Fvit1GSikTbTZl1QG_RvQKVSngcjpUjjE/s400/IMG_3271.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Bottles clean and put away</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjax-PEyIuD_QB3FMhydbwcA9nmWUslyeqUaWHZp7vjHZ-dSEf9KpuQlG1OZrD2rYx3H1ZpyjcWrM-fddtUoYzD_TbEwZLqkaaF2_jazSgb0DBLiHeOwS9fW4iYOUH97Hq2XGUgfv2XvZcz/s1600/IMG_3274.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjax-PEyIuD_QB3FMhydbwcA9nmWUslyeqUaWHZp7vjHZ-dSEf9KpuQlG1OZrD2rYx3H1ZpyjcWrM-fddtUoYzD_TbEwZLqkaaF2_jazSgb0DBLiHeOwS9fW4iYOUH97Hq2XGUgfv2XvZcz/s400/IMG_3274.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I even have extra space!</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I know this is a small step, but hacking away at one unruly section of the boat and seeing it come together in such a lovely way feels great. I only hope the spare parts locker goes as well!</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A welcoming sight</span></td></tr>
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Monique http://www.blogger.com/profile/14770266910367787588noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4948300976287438539.post-28705011827033587522013-01-22T21:21:00.001-05:002013-01-22T23:45:01.869-05:00The Battle Cry of Paragon<br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; font-weight: normal;">Listening to "Le Violette" by Luciano Pavarotti</span></h2>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Lying in the aft cabin this morning, eyes still shut and clinging to sleep, I heard the Battle Cry of Paragon waft into my consciousness. Though it has many different endings, the beginning is always the same.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Mo! Do you know where my _________ is???" </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">As in do you know where my headlamp, drill, shoes, boat pole, drill battery, jacket, glasses, belt, coffee, headlamp again, pen, little piece of starboard that I just had in my hand, backpack and, most recently, leatherman is. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I have always known where things are located, even when they are not in their designated spots. Should you happen to absently place your notebook on top of the washing machine or drop a shear pin in the top drawer, there is a good chance that I will somehow absorb this information and be able to regurgitate it's exact position even days later. I do not know how I do this, but since Drake is the master of misplaced things we make a good pair. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">That being said, I found the missing leatherman this morning (port side settee in the plastic box under the cushion) and we commenced to enjoy our last day living at anchor in Ocracoke. I spent a great deal of time on the phone ordering parts for future projects and arranging several returns while Drake sewed closure straps on the storage bags that live on the stern rail. I even bundled up and sat on the bowsprit to watch the ferry, the jellyfish, and the various birds circling the lake. It made me happy to sit outside in the frigid weather and just be a part of this magical place.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Watching the world float by</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI8kfjj_a7Ds1w-sRy4Z8qWmKyB4q3riuHqxfw6XxULhEnQryEzRtdAr7t0GyLDaSXVJZXiW2jLGDHIRnQ00M8lZb08qzz8yJPWJNxLD-JO-GT_iFKxd3KLOKB_61AN8EqHYCO62kQQDyL/s1600/P1000649.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI8kfjj_a7Ds1w-sRy4Z8qWmKyB4q3riuHqxfw6XxULhEnQryEzRtdAr7t0GyLDaSXVJZXiW2jLGDHIRnQ00M8lZb08qzz8yJPWJNxLD-JO-GT_iFKxd3KLOKB_61AN8EqHYCO62kQQDyL/s400/P1000649.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Freezing cold, but happy to be at anchor</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Now the dinghy has been raised and secured, lines have been checked, and the cabin is almost completely stowed in preparation for our departure. We have reached a point in our projects where we need an infusion of parts that are waiting for us in Oriental, plus we are currently burning our last pieces of wood in the stove. It is supposed to be bitterly cold the rest of the week, with temperatures plunging into the low 20's, so off we go back to the marina. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In celebration of our last evening, Drake has even surprised me with...STOVE TOP PEANUT BUTTER COOKIES!!! Oh yes! We are missing some key ingredients (pah! who needs baking powder!), but improvisation is what cooking at anchor is all about. They are deeeelish and, with a cozy fire in the stove and hot chocolate at hand, a perfect way to end our stay in Ocracoke. </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Stove top cookies!!</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Did he notice that I grabbed some cookie dough…?</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Finished product!</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Tomorrow we head out into Pamlico Sound with the bow pointed towards Oriental. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUKTKC26avoekodjQdQtzCJPUdnURFsA7bnvKLdBiOYGK-Ej_-Kfu0J1mt__A_v0u_n8X6AuqRPkqUZ_d69m0pPC7Hpmr0AcpJS5AoIdrDl_Feq67coLpPUQyvKVUiHmWx35ovbUieRBzx/s1600/IMG_3162.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUKTKC26avoekodjQdQtzCJPUdnURFsA7bnvKLdBiOYGK-Ej_-Kfu0J1mt__A_v0u_n8X6AuqRPkqUZ_d69m0pPC7Hpmr0AcpJS5AoIdrDl_Feq67coLpPUQyvKVUiHmWx35ovbUieRBzx/s640/IMG_3162.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Last sunset in Ocracoke</span></td></tr>
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Monique http://www.blogger.com/profile/14770266910367787588noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4948300976287438539.post-69593464774865674142013-01-20T17:22:00.000-05:002013-01-20T17:56:34.122-05:00No sea, only sky<h2>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Listening to "Farther On Down The Road" by Taj Mahal</span></span></h2>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It's interesting getting a taste of what it will be like to live at anchor. We left the marina in Oriental ten days ago and have been having a lovely time sailing and testing out various systems, however, we do not have our extra solar panels, the shore power cords, or the wind generators operational. This means that we have been relying on the panels on the hard top, which are often shaded by the boom, and infrequent injections of power from the engine. Most of the time we simply try to conserve power and direct usage where it is most needed. Computer charging does not fall very high on this list. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Today, however, has been lovely. Sunny, crisp but mild, and a blazing sun that has allowed our little solar panels to shine...or rather soak up the shine. My computer is humming happily and I'm eager to see what the world has been up to in our absence.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I had the most wonderful time while anchored in West Bay. In general I greatly prefer to live at anchor as opposed to docked in a marina. There is this connection with your surroundings that is somewhat lost once the boat is hobbled to a dock...she can't move freely and the natural rhythm is somewhat stifled. It helped that we woke up to the most magical sight. Calm waters that reflected the sky perfectly, and with a fog that obscured the land and made both Drake and I feel as though Paragon was floating on a cloud. I cannot explain the wonder of our surroundings that morning as I looked in all directions and saw, not water, but sky. Sky everywhere!</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It was as though we were anchored in the sky</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The fog obscured the land and created this magical illusion</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The days in West Bay also gave us a bit of time to decompress and change <i>our</i> tempo. We were able to step back and spend some time together before heading on to Ocracoke. </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Sunrise on the morning we left West Bay for Ocracoke</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">May I just take this moment to say how very much I adore Ocracoke. I have wanted to come here ever since I can remember, though for some reason or another we never made the trip. Now that we are here it is everything I thought it could be and more. I think the fact that it is the off season has even made it better. Many businesses are closed, but those that are open are both glad to see you <i>and</i> have the time to step back and have a chat. The whole village has a relaxed and sleepy atmosphere that is, I'm sure, quite different from the mad house it turns into during the summer tourist season.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Our arrival by sailboat has raised several eyebrows since January is not usually a popular month to hop in a boat and head out to the outer banks for a visit. In fact, we were stopped the other day by a delightful gentleman, Rob, who zipped through town in the vehicle of choice, a golf cart, and told us he wrote The Shipping News for the Ocracoke Current. As he put it, he wrote about interesting people passing through, and just the fact that we were here in January must make us interesting. You can read the article here: <a href="http://www.ocracokecurrent.com/53865">http://www.ocracokecurrent.com/53865</a></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Now Drake and I have spent the days working on Paragon and exploring the island. We walked up to the Ocracoke Lighthouse, visited the British Cemetery, purchased some cards at Books To Be Red, walked along the Springer's Point Preserve nature trail, and enjoyed a lovely meal at the Topless Oyster Restaurant. I look forward to checking out more of this lovely island…</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Anchored in Silver Lake on Ocracoke Island</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The Ocracoke Lighthouse</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Walking on the nature trail. It's nice to be surrounded by such greenery</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Dinner and drinks at The Topless Oyster Restaurant</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Oysters Rockefeller and some Guinness while waiting for dinner</span></td></tr>
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Monique http://www.blogger.com/profile/14770266910367787588noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4948300976287438539.post-1530026203486722712013-01-16T09:55:00.003-05:002013-01-22T15:40:01.383-05:00Freakin' frockin' fruckin'<h2>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Listening to "Chocolate Jesus" by </span></span><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Beth Hart & Joe Bonamassa</span></span></h2>
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"Let's go to Ocracoke!" is a phrase that has escaped my lips on more than one occasion, yet we never seemed to go. The weather doesn't cooperate, the tides are off, we don't get it together...you get the gist. However, after being apart for a month, Drake and I wanted to spend a couple of days away. Also, there was the ever present need to go on shakedown sails and *voilá* a trip is born. </div>
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Before we started, however, there were a couple of things that needed attention, in particular the stern light. It had stopped working ages ago and had consistently been swept aside under the guise of "we have much more important things to deal with" excuses. However, we are now staring dead on at everything we have put on the back burner. With two months (and counting!?!) before we leave, everything must be attended to immediately. Since Drake was grinding fiberglass for the new battery supports, I was elected to tackle the job.</div>
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I believe I may have mentioned my extreme suspicion when dealing with things that might kill me, such as electricity. Clinging precariously to the stern while grounded on various metal railings and supports, I ruffle my feathers at the merest hint of electrocution. After Drake assured me that my untimely death would most likely happen in another way entirely, and once my pointed silence complete with squinty eyes had been delivered, I got down to business. </div>
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Taking the outer casing off I was pleasantly surprised to see that the bolt used to tighten down one of the wires attached to the light had completely come out and was rattling around in the bottom of the cover. Crossing my fingers that this simple fix could be the answer to the nonworking light I grabbed my screwdriver and started to screw the bolt into the rather awkwardly placed hole. </div>
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This is the point where I should have thought things through...instead I fumbled with this teeny teeny screw while perched on the railing halfway over the water. Just as I began to think I should grab Drake for a second set of hands, I watched the bolt slip from my fingers and instantly disappear into the water.</div>
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"Oh Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuudge!!!"</div>
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But like my favourite Christmas movie, I did not say fudge. My expletive of choice rang out across the water, startling a flock of seagulls and, I'm sure, endearing me even more to our lovely Canadian neighbors who most likely think I am embracing the swearing part of sailor more than the actual sailing.</div>
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I suppose it may be true that fortune favours fools, or maybe we simply have an amazing hardware store, but either way I was able to quickly replace the metric bolt that had taken a header into the water with the help of Paul. I also purchased three extra bolts, just in case, AND taped a plastic bowl under the stern light as I replaced the fittings. </div>
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Now we sit in an anchorage in West Bay where we just woke up to the most beautiful and calm morning that I have had the pleasure to see. It's just shy of 70˚ and I think we might stay here for a couple of days before heading over to Ocracoke. I can't wait…<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Just anchored in West Bay</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We sat in the cockpit and watched the beautiful sunset</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The calm and misty morning</td></tr>
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Monique http://www.blogger.com/profile/14770266910367787588noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4948300976287438539.post-50094668563740620872012-11-18T23:37:00.000-05:002013-10-23T16:16:21.598-04:00Like a phoenix rising<h2>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; font-weight: normal;">Listening to "Swallowed In The Sea" by Coldplay</span></h2>
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I sit here, in our slip in the marina, bathed in a new calm and with a smile lingering in the corner of my lips. After four long months on the hard, plus the year before that filled with countless tasks, Paragon has become a sailboat once again. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcZkFH_q7gJoxH85-xj6yZRq9BArQbNz8JoYKf4cICbpajfL5caVyxY1bZhvKw6-aGs45JcX9x5D_NGk-1ls7-kc8Xn20Zd0tlYt199PdTis6yU4tLeJTbFDpwQi-MBh5pXyxiyCMjSXIN/s1600/IMG_2500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcZkFH_q7gJoxH85-xj6yZRq9BArQbNz8JoYKf4cICbpajfL5caVyxY1bZhvKw6-aGs45JcX9x5D_NGk-1ls7-kc8Xn20Zd0tlYt199PdTis6yU4tLeJTbFDpwQi-MBh5pXyxiyCMjSXIN/s640/IMG_2500.jpg" width="425" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A most beautiful, and long awaited, sight</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Going back into the water made me breathless. There were honestly times while we were living on the hard that I felt there was no way we were EVER going to finish the list that allowed us to get back into the water, and that my sanity was going to be one of the casualties of this whole process. It was the combination of the million little inconveniences that made it unbearable. Perhaps if you have to deal with just one (no toilets, living in a work zone covered in fiberglass and toxic grot, twenty foot ladder, insane summer heat, etc) then it would be possible to tackle this task cheerfully, but with it all piled together I felt such despair of ever finishing. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Now, however, I can once again see that illusive light at the end of the tunnel. Drake and I spent a couple of days in a slip at the Sailcraft Boatyard while Mark the rigger installed our new staysail and we worked on stowing and cleaning the disaster that Paragon had become. It's amazing how much you accumulate if you remain the slightest bit sedentary, and accumulate we did. It took us almost three full days, and many trips to the local consignment store, to whip the boat back into sailing shape, or rather close to sailing shape. We were not ready for an offshore passage, but a four day sail around the Neuse River was just what the doctor ordered.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The morning of the day we left was spent gathering laundry, stowing the bikes, and a quick trip to the local Town & Country grocery store for some provisioning. Oh yes, and a jaunt up the mast. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Even though we still did not have the mainsail on, we needed to attach the topping lift which meant Drake was going to get a chance to test out those new mast steps as I belayed from below. Besides one step that is rather awkwardly placed (a shroud crosses in an inopportune place) everything held and, I heard, the view was spectacular from such a height. In hindsight I should have given him a camera to take to the top, eh?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> It was early afternoon by the time we were finally ready to go, but a quick check of the tide table brought us back to a rather somber reality. We were on a rising tide just past low tide, and with all of the shoaling left over from Hurricane Irene it meant that getting out of the creek with our almost six foot draft could be tricky if not done at the optimal time.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We both sat down with disappointment and decided to get up early the next morning and take off with the high tide and calm early morning conditions. An hour went by, then two, when Drake suddenly jumped up and said we were leaving. Even if we ran aground we were on a rising tide and that could only work in our favour. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">He turned on the engine (started on the first try!), friends helped with lines, and we were off. For the first time in almost two years Paragon was going out to sail and anchor. We actually did end up running aground (sorry my beautiful bottom paint), but Drake was motoring at such a slow pace that he quickly ungrounded us and we continued our journey. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNy1Bexz47TvKponurPRMdu5To9MwtHOkTWtnvjToKOFKSpLHR-oaj0hOiuFZ1Qel5SFNQFpubaY9QaGp_79lcM2oSf_FZLDCCVkfihBQFrJptnn3D86q5GXIVBuhZjSceBbc9S1kTpF_M/s1600/IMG_2412.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNy1Bexz47TvKponurPRMdu5To9MwtHOkTWtnvjToKOFKSpLHR-oaj0hOiuFZ1Qel5SFNQFpubaY9QaGp_79lcM2oSf_FZLDCCVkfihBQFrJptnn3D86q5GXIVBuhZjSceBbc9S1kTpF_M/s400/IMG_2412.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">serious</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsE6wMwMQJpxm0p3qzZ63fu43weOl1NCCNo2dSxVSITmnCKI9sbacLj59R_TsvBTAmR8SLYivkczd36hBv9LqF7_WvNtaIrFXEYuApLta87xJ-xQRKo4S15rOhiT-C2D6MijGrrT2voeWT/s1600/IMG_2413.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsE6wMwMQJpxm0p3qzZ63fu43weOl1NCCNo2dSxVSITmnCKI9sbacLj59R_TsvBTAmR8SLYivkczd36hBv9LqF7_WvNtaIrFXEYuApLta87xJ-xQRKo4S15rOhiT-C2D6MijGrrT2voeWT/s400/IMG_2413.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">not so serious and glad to be out of the channel</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We ended up spending four beautiful days and three nights in a lovely anchorage called South River. We raised anchor the second day to go sailing, but returned to the same lovely spot that evening to enjoy the solitude. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBoXeiSkkuTR-6MuLdR17-Tr4PmgGA2sU02_WJdtjcFy09mKjNy5JN7KLkwF876z0FYmc8PS4n2k1jMC55GJ-h-IMR6B89q3N-40uPB8oCMnF1-47KF6rooNbuTxpVkMRaI13hGe7ehd9L/s1600/IMG_2483.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBoXeiSkkuTR-6MuLdR17-Tr4PmgGA2sU02_WJdtjcFy09mKjNy5JN7KLkwF876z0FYmc8PS4n2k1jMC55GJ-h-IMR6B89q3N-40uPB8oCMnF1-47KF6rooNbuTxpVkMRaI13hGe7ehd9L/s400/IMG_2483.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">first time out at anchor in over two years</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6QohYRpzUVbcgwfyMvppfDKDEaTQb2mFOcZEpb0jSOf298Wfonomb8c4V4kNvcXCRw-uJHPU4RsiAuwnhg4nMwVswhO9TSpWcJsq-O-hwtpLH9jUGMdFY2_71Buho7an_cWiGYtJi6gdz/s1600/IMG_2479.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6QohYRpzUVbcgwfyMvppfDKDEaTQb2mFOcZEpb0jSOf298Wfonomb8c4V4kNvcXCRw-uJHPU4RsiAuwnhg4nMwVswhO9TSpWcJsq-O-hwtpLH9jUGMdFY2_71Buho7an_cWiGYtJi6gdz/s640/IMG_2479.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">our first sunset could not have been more beautiful</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We knew that a storm was rolling in, and we could have cut our trip short by a day, but instead decided to stay in our anchorage and weather the rain for the third and fourth day. The time before the nor'easter hit was truly the calm before the storm, but winds quickly picked up to 20-25 knots with gusts up to thirty and remained through the night and next day. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid8U2wuFTIcJ4gS0QfEOpGSF6F2keUDtX8LZONaeqQoywPgEJI7eTcFYXwzr1xYObhLwlOI9x_0XH3Cs2bmUwXXc_CwKRS2FQBZ3qHYzPpZ4_qvshI9Rxo33vwAPGar6U09wWy7GDC5pRn/s1600/IMG_2551.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid8U2wuFTIcJ4gS0QfEOpGSF6F2keUDtX8LZONaeqQoywPgEJI7eTcFYXwzr1xYObhLwlOI9x_0XH3Cs2bmUwXXc_CwKRS2FQBZ3qHYzPpZ4_qvshI9Rxo33vwAPGar6U09wWy7GDC5pRn/s640/IMG_2551.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">this storm blew across in no time at all</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I can't begin to explain how absolutely cozy this time was with the storm raging outside, but the two of us snuggled inside a warm cabin while munching on popcorn and watching movies. The anchor held, the rig held, and it made all of this work so, so worth it. It also gave me a renewed sense of purpose. This is what it is all about. The sweat, the frayed nerves, the worrying, and the work all fade as you get out on the water headed to the next anchorage. I cannot wait for the next voyage. I cannot wait...</span></div>
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Monique http://www.blogger.com/profile/14770266910367787588noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4948300976287438539.post-79464456246166605642012-11-01T17:57:00.001-04:002012-11-02T14:16:46.814-04:00Trick…or the best treat ever!<h2>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Listening to "The Commander Thinks Aloud" by The Long Winters</span></span></h2>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I was sitting at the airport the other day waiting for my flight to be called when I heard a final boarding call for Springfield. Suddenly, I had the most incredible urge to grab a group of friends, dress up like the Simpsons, and show up at that gate. I imagine they must get that a lot…</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN2MEZIyHE7pR-4ao10mdZFA70hB47WdXNO_D86AVYW1-VCBjC0FRsLqmsIjVzoeCM9v6lwYBaZgaxDMZErmQSo44FESPaDULtLx0byxVxCJmoaM3Wv-qiHT8m2HgTt8ir4VJtEbIMy1ta/s1600/IMG_2259.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN2MEZIyHE7pR-4ao10mdZFA70hB47WdXNO_D86AVYW1-VCBjC0FRsLqmsIjVzoeCM9v6lwYBaZgaxDMZErmQSo44FESPaDULtLx0byxVxCJmoaM3Wv-qiHT8m2HgTt8ir4VJtEbIMy1ta/s400/IMG_2259.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yes, that is a cemetery behind the ghost.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Last night was Halloween and I suppose I have the Simpsons on the brain because I downloaded their Halloween special and watched "Treehouse of Horror" which is about as scary as I can tolerate. Oh, that and Sleepy Hollow. I mean, what is this time of year without a Tim Burton film, right? Anyway, I am a total wimp when it comes to scary things in general. Guess who was sooooo scared by 'House on Haunted Hill' (not even the original, but the remake) that she spent the entire time peeking through her fingers and desperately trying not to hear what was going on in various scenes. I'll give you a hint. It was NOT my friend's ten year old daughter who didn't realize there would be two shows that evening. The "lame" movie (her words, not mine. I favoured terrifying) and her mother's wimpy friend. I blame this on an extremely active imagination coupled with a prolific story teller for a mother. While other children were getting Sesame Street and Fat Albert, I was regaled with wild tales of Ali Baba, The Brother's Grimm, and the various haunted houses my mother was forced to live in as a child. Punctuate this with frequent family picnics <span style="text-decoration: underline;">at the cemetery</span> (a long story) and perhaps you can empathize. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I spent the rest of the evening hanging out with friends in town while they gave out infinitely more treats than tricks and admired the various costumes. Riding my bike home with a pocketful of candy for Drake I gave the little cemetery a piercing glance as I passed, everything appeared to be in order, and arrived at Paragon to find the best treat ever. Drake informed me that after four long months we are *drum roll please* GOING BACK IN THE WATER! </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Yes, my friends, we are finally getting Paragon back into the water. Now comes the interesting part. We will be put in the travel lift tomorrow later in the afternoon, but instead of being lowered right into the water we are going to stay in the lift over the weekend. Why, you might ask? </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1FeKpFTJL07nFjRHSJkS_432yEj0qn0gYLEHjaF1dDIlo_KFQqhztKJgKPhGkYz_bXaL_uZm0xFFO2xYqMebpm7T03gGw-4srjBKecZvGNN-M3YEKlQiXhUHuFvghiA1YxXYFiac1te5F/s1600/IMG_2253.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1FeKpFTJL07nFjRHSJkS_432yEj0qn0gYLEHjaF1dDIlo_KFQqhztKJgKPhGkYz_bXaL_uZm0xFFO2xYqMebpm7T03gGw-4srjBKecZvGNN-M3YEKlQiXhUHuFvghiA1YxXYFiac1te5F/s400/IMG_2253.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">These areas concealed by the wood will be painted this weekend.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Paragon has many jack stands supporting the hull on both sides, but on the bottom she is resting on wooden logs in two different places. We were able to paint the hull and switch out jack stands to paint the areas that were covered by the old stands, but we haven't been able to scrape and paint those areas concealed by the wood. This way, while hanging in the travel lift over the weekend, we will be able to scrape those areas and put three coats of bottom paint on those last sections of the keel.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So, when people ask what I plan to do this weekend, I can honestly say:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Oh, ya know. Just hangin'..."</span></div>
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Monique http://www.blogger.com/profile/14770266910367787588noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4948300976287438539.post-88922690291372540322012-10-30T18:45:00.002-04:002012-11-02T14:19:26.989-04:00Hurricane Sandy<h2>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Listening to "Muddy Waters" by The Seldom Scene</span></span></h2>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It is with much relief that I sit here on the porch of the marina clubhouse, wrapped in a blanket to ward off the cold, and thank the powers that be that Sandy spared us her wrath. I had just flown back to North Carolina and had yet to unpack my bags when I heard the rumblings of "that hurricane" everyone was keeping a wary eye on. Perhaps it was because I had been out of town, but it felt as though this entire storm system crept up out nowhere...or maybe it was because so many were talking about heading south or had, in fact, already left for destinations south. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The entire marina was a buzz of activity with people removing jibs and staysails, securing mains, checking lines, and putting out extra fenders. Cars, trailered boats, bicycles, and other miscellaneous items were moved to higher ground while dinghy's were moved to the rack and tied down. Everyone was studiously working to prepare for the worst (and hope for the best), but it certainly lacked some of the urgency of last year when Irene was headed in our direction. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Last year's direct hit, and the ensuing 12ft storm surge and winds, left a trail of devastation that many are still recovering from both here and beyond. The Pamlico County Middle School suffered so much damage it took a little over eight months to reopen, and others are still dealing with the million little headaches involved in repairing or rebuilding their homes.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Sandy was forecast to graze us as she passed and that is exactly what happened. Here at the marina winds topped out at just over 40mph and the surge was between three and four feet. Drake was particularly concerned because, though Paragon's mast and rigging is in place, she has yet to be tuned. He spent some time tightening the stays and shrouds to make sure a particularly vicious puff didn't bring the rig down. We also made sure the deck was cleared of all random gear and put last minute items in the cockpit or below. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">All that being done we went below and hunkered down with good food, drink, and company (!) and waited out the storm. Now, as we uncurl from our two day hiatus and begin work again, we look to the north. We've started to hear the reports of Sandy's landfall and send all of our best wishes to those now dealing with the aftermath of this powerful hurricane. We wish you a safe and speedy recovery!</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUTO73FYb7O0lR0rLhucVZkYvMIFjyRu5iZgBaXUOWIAdKQ2-dyJmTh6ubi6d6Tcqd6FJSq5R8gh06afDFMaf-s1qGL7AS-BRPWg61DeKgIhHnmRnUU1iKyLPMT5F5pMd6T1EbZ1-8mzes/s1600/IMG_3967.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUTO73FYb7O0lR0rLhucVZkYvMIFjyRu5iZgBaXUOWIAdKQ2-dyJmTh6ubi6d6Tcqd6FJSq5R8gh06afDFMaf-s1qGL7AS-BRPWg61DeKgIhHnmRnUU1iKyLPMT5F5pMd6T1EbZ1-8mzes/s400/IMG_3967.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">water just a breath below the dock</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3EPQBbehPvTQqwWkxS9ptMw7HkefVq69B0r1j0iUbkv1AeE9-MttiQ8UQS96hAX7ZK3VrthoW-RVZC7VSxPFE1FVXzY72KrTiz7qOwlUNf6q5Fu-KkyvnjE-eDcZBwZomyZqtXg9QB5gi/s1600/IMG_3972.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3EPQBbehPvTQqwWkxS9ptMw7HkefVq69B0r1j0iUbkv1AeE9-MttiQ8UQS96hAX7ZK3VrthoW-RVZC7VSxPFE1FVXzY72KrTiz7qOwlUNf6q5Fu-KkyvnjE-eDcZBwZomyZqtXg9QB5gi/s400/IMG_3972.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">flooding under the marina clubhouse</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOejrQMhm2qmuK30P4K6_A3qVC_kf36Ys9JBlYJTC_wjibo3VyEeYWf47a00D3I2WY1UmFB2GlUR0FNPyny8GbpH4quW4brMoLraLTWVwsz2V2_f9BZMS2O6pWHGkLsXOT2YelQwIkEBvm/s1600/IMG_3980.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOejrQMhm2qmuK30P4K6_A3qVC_kf36Ys9JBlYJTC_wjibo3VyEeYWf47a00D3I2WY1UmFB2GlUR0FNPyny8GbpH4quW4brMoLraLTWVwsz2V2_f9BZMS2O6pWHGkLsXOT2YelQwIkEBvm/s400/IMG_3980.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hark! I see land! Though it's usually right here under me…?</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ-6IlcHsOWA__HH0C32c4gRM363Ma8O2xBu72sz3goXNIDPViNovuiKrobPbN2Ma7o0xvkN0Oj2hVoXj78GCxQAILqF3NQXZTk8PGIyhyNMstM_MFlcHm94QesWj4jabiz4uoYYi-CHnj/s1600/IMG_2224.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ-6IlcHsOWA__HH0C32c4gRM363Ma8O2xBu72sz3goXNIDPViNovuiKrobPbN2Ma7o0xvkN0Oj2hVoXj78GCxQAILqF3NQXZTk8PGIyhyNMstM_MFlcHm94QesWj4jabiz4uoYYi-CHnj/s400/IMG_2224.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Flood waters have receded and we're back to normal</td></tr>
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Monique http://www.blogger.com/profile/14770266910367787588noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4948300976287438539.post-47361969154108317192012-10-17T20:51:00.001-04:002012-11-02T14:31:28.636-04:00The insulation conundrum <h2>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Tick tock. Tick tock. As the time slips away we work on the seemingly endless projects. At times it feels as though we are almost there, but then realize that what we thought would take a day or two suddenly has stretched into a week or more. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnJIj2uS6sqboUJeBbAlJOfdHQPsbEw_Y-I3lcbfRCMvcX_sQsq35UVJSxHO9WQbeNZCGCOGKlrAuSB8WuRFdxRFJbkX_EXbfqyf_43yYvVffiCEMlpfMEAfPpa8xlxFAVskoiyaCozkT5/s1600/IMG_3841.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnJIj2uS6sqboUJeBbAlJOfdHQPsbEw_Y-I3lcbfRCMvcX_sQsq35UVJSxHO9WQbeNZCGCOGKlrAuSB8WuRFdxRFJbkX_EXbfqyf_43yYvVffiCEMlpfMEAfPpa8xlxFAVskoiyaCozkT5/s400/IMG_3841.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I draped the salon in plastic sheets and Drake installed a base support for our new, beautiful batteries. This included the unavoidable task of attaching and grinding fiberglass inside the boat which is...awful. There is no other way to describe the task. I'm sure those of you who have had the delightful experience of dealing with fiberglass know how it can, seemingly, invade every area of your space and feel like a thousand little daggers in your skin. We tried to minimize particles as much as possible, but still managed to get flecks in some unlikely places. However, we now have a lovely and stable resting place for these extremely heavy batteries. I believe we're installing some side brackets and top straps and then we'll be done. Maybe. *grin* </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgIOAql82B73GtI_dTmZX90Ft1UEzvpHXa7ptCzypplSNgwFzhP_CKm7_JGxCd3b3Zy-RL-wxjKfRN1mwh0MBTbfxXVc4H8lZnj0cFChO11qsoq-4AcuWi6RHr89obxeOmPIIMUM4-eP3v/s1600/IMG_3837.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgIOAql82B73GtI_dTmZX90Ft1UEzvpHXa7ptCzypplSNgwFzhP_CKm7_JGxCd3b3Zy-RL-wxjKfRN1mwh0MBTbfxXVc4H8lZnj0cFChO11qsoq-4AcuWi6RHr89obxeOmPIIMUM4-eP3v/s400/IMG_3837.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">While this was going on, I was upside down in a locker under the bed in the aft cabin measuring out templates for the insulation. Many of the places we intend on visiting, especially next year, will be colder, and properly insulating the boat is a must. Has anyone out there looked at insulation? Is there something in particular that you prefer? We have looked at soooooo many different types that our heads were literally swirling with visions of, not sugar plums, but closed cell foam and such. We finally decided on Volara which is a 4lb density closed cell foam. It's flexible, has low water absorption and vapor transition, and is non-toxic among other things. We have installed this stuff in the majority of accessible areas in the boat and very much look forward to seeing how well it works. This winter will be telling. I'm especially interested in seeing how it handles the condensation; is there really any good way? It appears to be the nemesis of many a sailor and, from what I've heard so far, there doesn't seem to be any really great way to deal with the problem. I'd be interested in hearing more…</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIFHJTSmTiej72C4NmiY-yiIQu6yrTQ8QqeaLpOOuNkNehGtAP8cQIzr-lCeP33BE-7YZ4eGi8bvnZKuvYXkhe89x71355zICrU-Mun9MEVNWJrlEesYp_pgPbBbasKE7RrO8g8ylMAaNQ/s1600/IMG_3874.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIFHJTSmTiej72C4NmiY-yiIQu6yrTQ8QqeaLpOOuNkNehGtAP8cQIzr-lCeP33BE-7YZ4eGi8bvnZKuvYXkhe89x71355zICrU-Mun9MEVNWJrlEesYp_pgPbBbasKE7RrO8g8ylMAaNQ/s320/IMG_3874.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifUpuv2Gr91ZXAAeo8xjw4PerZLPPFeXJvCc5kUfaVaogQCAnt9UsUfEv6-LXoshnSYXgIpru-TWczNFlfnW4e1NXsPZ_gbsqlQfSWdIq1t4qbGIPlNgQlBMao584Ms1H_vcJ3Us-0sQo6/s1600/IMG_3878.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifUpuv2Gr91ZXAAeo8xjw4PerZLPPFeXJvCc5kUfaVaogQCAnt9UsUfEv6-LXoshnSYXgIpru-TWczNFlfnW4e1NXsPZ_gbsqlQfSWdIq1t4qbGIPlNgQlBMao584Ms1H_vcJ3Us-0sQo6/s320/IMG_3878.jpg" width="240" /></a><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">One of the benefits of making the templates is that once they were finished I was able to go outside to cut the foam which was a welcome relief from the fiberglass upside down craziness on board. I even wrote one of my favourite snippets from a poem by Edna St. Vincent Millay on the last piece of foam. Now every time we grab plumbing hose from under the bed I'll see her beautiful words and remember my afternoon. It kind of makes me want to write little quotes all over the boat as a kind of unexpected inspiration. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Now as we near the end of October, we both feel the clock ticking louder and louder. The departure date seems to be slipping further and further away. I suppose we'll see...</span></div>
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Monique http://www.blogger.com/profile/14770266910367787588noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4948300976287438539.post-43857311075635646312012-08-09T12:24:00.000-04:002013-01-26T11:38:43.610-05:00To the beach<h2>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; font-weight: normal;">Listening to "Back to Tupelo" by Mark Knopfler</span></h2>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Over the last two weeks Drake and I have been dashing around, trying to finish up various projects, starting new ones, and combating some unexpected hiccups. Some days if feels as though the end is within reach, yet other days we feel like we will be on the hard for the rest of our lives. Eileen Quinn was right when she sang that life on the hard was just hard. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">To say that we needed a break was a bit of an understatement. So, we borrowed a car late one afternoon and headed for atlantic beach. A drive, ferry ride, and some more driving got us to the beach in about an hour. By the time we had parked it was early evening which meant the crowds had thinned as everyone moved inland in search of food and a shower. We had space to move around and just breathe...</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">As our toes dug into the sand and our eyes scanned the waves crashing, we both felt such a weight lift and, suddenly, remembered why we were doing all this hard work. A dusty, dirty yard can make you forget the end goal...it becomes smudgy and difficult to see over the mountain of tasks, but breathing in that salty air our senses reawakened. It was just what we needed.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">last bit of sun before the storm</td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Drake suddenly caught my attention and pointed behind me. A gigantic swirling mass of boiling black clouds was hurtling towards us. It was moving so swiftly and in such a solid line that we could see the sandy beach being whipped up as it moved in our direction. We stood and gazed at the sea as the first winds crashed into us and marveled at the few brave (crazy?) souls who grabbed their surf boards and charged into the water. As the first drops of rain began to fall, we ran for the car, feeling rejuvenated and ready to tackle another day.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">storm rolling in</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">we simply watched as it moved towards us</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">moments before the rain started</td></tr>
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Monique http://www.blogger.com/profile/14770266910367787588noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4948300976287438539.post-45414184458706965482012-07-27T23:44:00.001-04:002013-01-26T11:35:33.880-05:00Mai Tais and...bottom paint?<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; font-weight: normal;">Listening to "Social Aid and Pleasure Club" by The Subdudes</span></h2>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Add caption</td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Last saturday I spent the day cleaning and scraping the engine in preparation to paint, but after careful consideration that has been put on hold. Drake and I realized that we needed to be able to turn on the engine at various times during the process and, since we are on the hard, that is not possible right now. Fear not! I was able to transition rather smoothly into another task that was sorely needed, namely painting the hull.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Now, I have to say that when I told my friends that I was moving onto a boat most of them pictured beautiful blue water, sunsets near a lovely island paradise, and a Mai Tai always in hand. One friend even expressed concern that I would fall victim to something she referred to as "rum fatigue" and suggested we beef up my tolerance immediately. I hate to disappoint them, but my reality is quite different from that rosy facade. You are more likely to find me cleaning, scraping, sanding, or editing than lounging in the cockpit with a drink at hand. The only time I have gotten any sun lately has been while riding my bike to West Marine or scrubbing the deck. Or painting...</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIaj9khkAjS_4_gQtUvLxyJxbPTpft56u7unAS0Kp2UUQTFaKpPte1oMTYAYocJ8w4GPI-Tdl0YHAochHyZzbWrie4Qa64JEWT5bugmxyx6rPYXV0OvB46NihqUR4rTpgHsqbEYX2kpFWw/s1600/IMG_1546.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIaj9khkAjS_4_gQtUvLxyJxbPTpft56u7unAS0Kp2UUQTFaKpPte1oMTYAYocJ8w4GPI-Tdl0YHAochHyZzbWrie4Qa64JEWT5bugmxyx6rPYXV0OvB46NihqUR4rTpgHsqbEYX2kpFWw/s400/IMG_1546.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">a close up of Drake rolling on the topside paint</td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Drake and I have spent the last several days painting Paragon, and the whole process is nearing completion. Drake attacked the topsides since the rather toxic and nefarious concoction of paint and mixers freaks me out. It creates a beautiful finish, but I wouldn't want to stand in an enclosed room with this stuff unless I had a serious desire to kill off some brain cells. He also painted an initial blue coat of paint on the hull to show me where the paint needed to go while I followed with two coats of red. Weather cooperated a bit by staying at or under 90˚F/32˚C, but the heat was still overwhelming at times. As I raised the roller to apply a coat of paint I could feel rivers of sweat escaping my protective plastic gloves and running down my arms. Never before had I realized that I could sweat so profusely from my hands, however, the hard work was justified when I saw the finished product. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik37nQnhjycH1IuNEuofvl1dIZZWvLFYLkJxYpve1xEiqONevKB5WWp5vFtqImXJyjrlpeTJ5iPlalfGOSJdRQwebOVaRDpS1_eQQ98sFvHTipMbsYBINXoZ9qNAx0JxvNDvs5NCJoE5-f/s1600/IMG_1548.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik37nQnhjycH1IuNEuofvl1dIZZWvLFYLkJxYpve1xEiqONevKB5WWp5vFtqImXJyjrlpeTJ5iPlalfGOSJdRQwebOVaRDpS1_eQQ98sFvHTipMbsYBINXoZ9qNAx0JxvNDvs5NCJoE5-f/s400/IMG_1548.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">look at that reflection...</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">roll and tip...</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTBxZuQboNAnVkD_93PuNkNur3COad36Ur7a8utetgvjpPhSXKOthoq_JsmLdgT5M6k9jcsDus_z-C-fifxhGXUXQzE4Bwsm3c7F52xQge0YCYah8HdPn46QsbCdAArDe9mLA9wlSHmRk2/s1600/IMG_1558.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTBxZuQboNAnVkD_93PuNkNur3COad36Ur7a8utetgvjpPhSXKOthoq_JsmLdgT5M6k9jcsDus_z-C-fifxhGXUXQzE4Bwsm3c7F52xQge0YCYah8HdPn46QsbCdAArDe9mLA9wlSHmRk2/s400/IMG_1558.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">a-okay</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVrQuVpm7_SiU-t0jbI47PskpbBxbV2s5qzVmR34QXHWJ5USAqiji9rxjOxwN7avjiFBNu2jmiP75UPyS2RmimxqnKTpgIlVdAH6rV2LxY2-TVHhUISB19J7c_je46haneQdPcAeh29zGw/s1600/hull.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVrQuVpm7_SiU-t0jbI47PskpbBxbV2s5qzVmR34QXHWJ5USAqiji9rxjOxwN7avjiFBNu2jmiP75UPyS2RmimxqnKTpgIlVdAH6rV2LxY2-TVHhUISB19J7c_je46haneQdPcAeh29zGw/s400/hull.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">almost done</td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">With shiny new topsides and a demure red hull, Paragon is beginning to look like the travelin' lady I have always pictured. She is a phoenix arising from her thirty-six year old ashes and, my, what a beauty. I start preparing the boot stripe to be painted tomorrow which brings us one step closer to getting back in the water and heading north.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJyakCgGzoOEaOs69JGARiXAg4JTIvJSWsl_vB20wyQolwRKMmqhbLxCE5prOcr9fW53XuqEB3QfJ-7d0GdTqVX91CGU_pHs-nu2FqG8GmGQZp_3MRWrXuxcsiF6YP5iF6yr9DnCiXHDKS/s1600/IMG_1571.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJyakCgGzoOEaOs69JGARiXAg4JTIvJSWsl_vB20wyQolwRKMmqhbLxCE5prOcr9fW53XuqEB3QfJ-7d0GdTqVX91CGU_pHs-nu2FqG8GmGQZp_3MRWrXuxcsiF6YP5iF6yr9DnCiXHDKS/s400/IMG_1571.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">look at that finish</td></tr>
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Monique http://www.blogger.com/profile/14770266910367787588noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4948300976287438539.post-28908963700161302092012-07-23T23:34:00.000-04:002012-07-23T23:40:04.682-04:00The blank canvas<h2>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">Listening to "Death Letter" by Cassandra Wilson</span></span></h2>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">I believe napkins are forms of creative inspiration. Their blank smoothness and texture literally cradle the mind for the epiphany to come. How many great portraits, radical scientific equations, and love sonnets have been scrawled across their blank folds to capture an idea before it fades into oblivion. Their surface is never as imposing as the long, blank page of paper and, if the idea falters or is discarded, the medium can always be used to wipe the milk moustache from your lips and be tossed into the obscurity of the trash pail. One has only to look at a man's napkin to glance into the depths of his soul.</span></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">what is on your napkin?</td></tr>
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</span></div>Monique http://www.blogger.com/profile/14770266910367787588noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4948300976287438539.post-60207619788425165892012-07-21T13:45:00.000-04:002012-07-22T01:34:12.956-04:00Jolly Good Perkins!<h2>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">Listening to "Holiday in Cambodia" by The Dead Kennedys</span></span></h2>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">For some reason I imagine that, if our engine ever started to talk, it would be with a British accent. Don't ask me why it would suddenly burst into chattiness, but our Perkins 4-236 85 HP diesel engine calls to mind a rather natty British gentleman who, though silently keeping to the background, is none the less always ready to push up his sleeves and help with the task at hand. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Perkins engines are dependable. They are known the world over for their endurance, longevity, and also the ease of finding replacement parts. Well today ours is getting a new suit. Buckle up Savile Row, we're heading down! (okay, Napa Auto Parts, but that doesn't quite have the romantic ring, does it?)</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">In case you haven't already guessed, I am starting the process to paint our engine. There are so many things on Paragon that I cannot do without close instruction from Drake, or at least the promise that he will stay close at hand for consultation. Yes, I took the head apart when it stopped working and rewired the power cord, but both were only after watching Drake do similar tasks over and over.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC2JcyuyKeXTyDpj90NZlSFmSf97pjrI38UNXatHKrk03L3L1tGFTKdBBpDxfk0Cq7UW9hYMtAgXiwMao1mjlyTpAdiLkgXCkmda0l-ujdCrqMeRoG0uyMRdS_LVT7PtHfcZ6Mb1UHFBwn/s1600/engine.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC2JcyuyKeXTyDpj90NZlSFmSf97pjrI38UNXatHKrk03L3L1tGFTKdBBpDxfk0Cq7UW9hYMtAgXiwMao1mjlyTpAdiLkgXCkmda0l-ujdCrqMeRoG0uyMRdS_LVT7PtHfcZ6Mb1UHFBwn/s400/engine.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">brushed and ready to be degreased</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The galley spoon I have commandeered. Poor thing doesn't know its cushy life has ended.</td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">From what I understand, painting the engine is a job that is simply going to be dirty and most likely a bit uncomfortable. I may have to do a certain amount of what I like to call "Boat Yoga". These are the Cirque du Soleil like contortions you need to do in order to reach whatever it is you are working on including, but not limited to, wedging yourself into small spaces while hanging upside down. </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I'm going in</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cleaning the pan under the engine</td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">I shouldn't complain. There are many things that are difficult to reach on Paragon, but the engine is not really one of them. Unlike most, we have an actual engine room that is quite spacious and gives us almost universal access to most sides of the Perkins. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Now I've spent the morning with a wire brush and a scraper removing any loose paint chips and other gunk from the surface. I've also cleaned up the mire in the pan underneath the engine and removed <i>*shudder*</i> all sorts of unidentifiable objects. Let's just say I am glad I was wearing gloves. Time to strap on a respirator (I'm rather fond of the brain cells I have left), spray some engine degreaser, and let that soak for a bit. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTOmgrhKGKjPLQAoS2Tj2JUZdAiS8LyKyzHQIUgpcvi1z_qqk7LahGM2zxEAzOWCWY8qN1VrOGCh8JgB93cXi9EAL2upyrkyLT6OPr4t3dMl6QWozj270GMdKGVUWDrBnx6EU2oTJZf1Uf/s1600/IMG_1434.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTOmgrhKGKjPLQAoS2Tj2JUZdAiS8LyKyzHQIUgpcvi1z_qqk7LahGM2zxEAzOWCWY8qN1VrOGCh8JgB93cXi9EAL2upyrkyLT6OPr4t3dMl6QWozj270GMdKGVUWDrBnx6EU2oTJZf1Uf/s400/IMG_1434.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Delish!</td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">To be continued...</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>Monique http://www.blogger.com/profile/14770266910367787588noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4948300976287438539.post-31336823200408416032012-07-19T13:12:00.001-04:002012-07-19T13:19:34.272-04:00This little piggy<h2>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">Listening to "Long Ride Home" by Patty Griffin</span></span></h2>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Am I perhaps watching some classic Batman? Engaging in a boatyard brawl? Unfortunately not, for both of these might be more enjoyable than the sad sad truth. No, my little toes have just been informing me, in the most painful way possible, that they are willing to take one for the team by reintroducing me to the hazards on our decks.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Let me back up a bit. We've been on the hard for a while now, and the most urgent action I take on deck is scrambling to get the clothes off the rails before the rain truly starts. Before that we were in the marina and, again, speed on deck was not critical. We were working on various projects, hauling groceries, or just ambling about and chatting with our neighbors. Because of this relaxed pace my feet have slipped into complacency and forgotten the obstacles that were once second nature. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">If you live on a boat, or any slightly uneven or confined space, then you most likely understand. I make my way into the cockpit, duck my head just enough to miss the hard dodger, swing around, and drop down onto the companionway stairs in one fluid motion that can be done without even thinking. I've done it so many times that it can be done in the dark, in squally weather...practically in my sleep. I am told, constantly, that I must prepare for the worst, and part of that is being able to move around the boat efficiently, quickly, and without causing injury. At best, a couple of good knocks on the head will let you know just how low your dodger is, but at worst you can seriously hurt yourself. A stray hand or finger left around a windlass could cause the kind of injury that forces you to abandon shoe laces in favour of velcro for the rest of your life. (My! you must be thinking...how can she go from a stubbed toe to dismemberment in three paragraphs?)</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">So the other day, while working on some time sensitive paint work, I ended up running all over the deck and ran into, quite literally, a block for the wind vane. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Many, many times...</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Now I sit here nursing my bruised toe and cracked toenail desperately hoping this is one lesson I retain. </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The offending party</td></tr>
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</span></div>Monique http://www.blogger.com/profile/14770266910367787588noreply@blogger.com0