I Bit. Now It’s Time to Chew

Here we are, a third of the way through the month of June, and I’m still in Annapolis. Not that that’s a bad thing — Annapolis is a great town and I enjoy being here. But the plan has always been to take Further and head back home to Plum Island for the summer, and to sail on the Atlantic as opposed to the Chesapeake. So why am I still here?

Well, a couple of reasons. And in the spirit of open honesty, I’m here to admit that those reasons are procrastination and fear.

I’m still checking off items on Further’s to-do list, and a lot of those things I really should have — and certainly could have — taken care of over the winter. But some of that procrastination was based on misguided faith in the boat and systems that I purchased.

For instance: I was under the impression that the dinghy that came with Further was in decent shape and just needed a few patches. But I couldn’t make those fixes during the cold weather of the winter so I waited until spring, at which point I realized I was not having success fixing the dinghy. I took it to the folks at Annapolis Inflatables who let me know that no, the dinghy was in sad shape. So finding a decent used dinghy took a while (and thanks to Jesse at Fawcett Marine who hooked me up with an Apex inflatable in great shape).

Similar situations arose with many other to-do items, and compounding my procrastination was the island-time mentality in the sailing community here in Naptown. Seriously, if you want to get that “mañana” or “soon come, mon” vibe without going to the tropics, just come to Annapolis and get involved with the boating industry. “I’ll be able to look at it this week” means they’ll get to it in two-plus weeks. And even the seemingly honest accounts — “We won’t get to it for three weeks” — means you have to chase them down after three-plus weeks so they’ll look at it. A lot of this is due to the fact that the marine-related companies around here are swamped with work, but some of it is definitely due to a laid-back attitude that surprised even laid-back me.

The other factor delaying my trip north is the challenge in finding experienced crew able to make the journey. And that has actually raised some very ominous specters for my longer-term dreams.

I have every belief that I could take Further north by myself, but for a first journey offshore in several years (for both boat and me), going solo is not especially smart. Simply keeping watch for the entirety of the trip — much of which is spent crossing the shipping lanes going into and out of New York City — would be an exercise in ultramarathon endurance. And it would be a hell of a lot smarter and safer to have others aboard to help with sail trim, steering, navigating, anchoring/mooring and so forth.

I’ve sent out a couple of group emails to friends who are experienced sailors but no one’s schedule permits them to make the run. And I have some fear — or rather, a nervousness — about making the journey home on my own. I’m nervous about the seasickness I always feel on my first evening at sea after a long time ashore. I’m nervous about crossing all those shipping lanes. I’m nervous about dealing with the tidal currents in the Delaware Bay and the Cape Cod Canal. I’m nervous about dealing with the mouth of the Merrimack River and the currents upstream in Newburyport where Further’s summer mooring awaits. I’m nervous about dealing with all of the systems on board Further when (not if) issues arise. And I’m especially nervous about dealing with all of them alone. Sure, plenty of people sail around the world solo in all sorts of contraptions. Sure, I know what I’m doing and Further is strong, solid boat that can cross oceans without batting an eye. But I’m still nervous. I’d like to have some help along the way.

There. I said it: I’m scared/nervous/fearful.

And going forward from a few-day trip back to Massachusetts, I’m nervous that I’m SO close to my dream but won’t be able to realize it because I can’t (or don’t want to) do all of this on my own. I’m wondering now if maybe I’ve bitten off more than I can chew with regard to the whole cruising dream. Is Further too much boat? Can I really go and chase those adventures I’ve dreamed about since I was a teenager? I always figured I might have to go solo for stretches, but I was optimistic friends would want to join up for some of the fun parts; indeed, that’s one of the reasons I wanted a boat with two separate cabins. I also figured I’d meet similarly minded people along the way (and I may yet) but now I’m not so sure. And I’m now grappling with the fact that as much as this has been my dream, and as much as I’ve wanted to do this — even solo — for so long, now I’m thinking that maybe doing it solo isn’t really what I want. That maybe even this curmudgeonly old loner might prefer a little more people time than he likes to admit.

I’m confident that I just need this one trip under my belt and everything will fall into place: my sea legs will come back, I’ll rediscover that joy I feel when I’m offshore, my adventure-lust will come back full force and my deal-with-it attitude will enable me to address anything that might arise on board in the future.

It turns out the procrastination was the easy part; that just meant a delay. No big deal. But the fear, well, that’s created a big obstacle to a short trip and a lifelong journey. I’m dealing with that every single day right now. Stay tuned.

(Note: This post also appears over at my site dedicated to Further and my adventures in boat ownership.)

Navel Gazing, Ocean Fun, Personal, , ,

Why Further?

The rites have been performed, the gods appeased. The ceremony is complete. The boat is now mine. And her name is Further.

I actually declared her name when I announced my purchase back in November. But the cold weather prevented the local graphics folks here in Annapolis from doing the work until just this past Tuesday. And once they applied the actual vinyl, protocol demanded keeping the name under wraps until a proper renaming ceremony could be performed. That meant as soon as possible because I couldn’t take the boat out (and it has been warm enough lately that the cove and creek leading to Chesapeake Bay have finally thawed) until the old name was exorcised and the new one christened. That the weather forecast for today, four days later, was nice — sunny and high 50s — sealed the deal.

Then I posted a photo of the covered-over transom on Facebook in an announcement of the impending renaming and friends started speculating about what the new name might (or should) be. Some suggested silly names that had been internet memes (Boaty McBoatface…really?!) while many suggested something referencing my late dog, Spooner. One friend remembered my earlier declaration and asked about the name; the showman in me quickly deleted his comment to keep the speculation going.

But Further it is. And Further it shall be. Why?

Well, for starters, I’ve had the name in mind ever since I started daydreaming as a kid about my future boat. When I thought about what I might call her, I kept coming back to what I wanted my boat to do: transport me — physically, spiritually, intellectually — to new adventures, new worlds, new lives. I realized Ken Kesey and the Merry Pranksters had the same goal in mind when they named their psychedelically painted school bus “Further” and made that the bus’ destination sign.

Bob Weir of the Grateful Dead (house band for the Merry Pranksters’ Acid Test parties) sings:
“The bus come by and I got on, that’s when it all began
There was Cowboy Neal at the wheel of a bus to Never Ever Land.”
The song refers to Neal Cassady, legendary inspiration for Jack Kerouac and the Beats, now leading Bobby, the Dead and the Pranksters as they sought the next level of human consciousness. And they sought it on board Further. Well now I’ve found my bus and with her I hope to seek out MY next level, through the grace of Mother Ocean rather than any man-made drugs. (I can assure you: music will be a big part of the journey on Further, and a lot of that music will be Grateful Dead.)

As the Pranksters hoped LSD and their bus would do for them in the ‘60s, so I hope my Further will take me to faraway realms and bring me back safe and sound in the 21st century. And I hope you, my friends, will join me in the coming years in exploring this watery planet. I WILL need crew; I WILL need help. I can’t do it alone. Stay tuned for more details as they shake out, but stage one on the journey is to finish sorting out Further and get my sailing legs back while here on the Chesapeake. In May, we’ll return home to New England: I’ve reserved a mooring on the Merrimack River in Newburyport. I’ll go back to living at home on Plum Island and do a lot of daysails and short cruises in Massachusetts, New Hampshire and Maine (maybe even Nova Scotia). And then, next fall, well, you’ll just have to tune in and see. Or better yet, come along on the ride to Never Ever Land.

Note: Special thanks to Chris and the folks at Accent Graphics in Annapolis. I showed Chris a photo of the bus, Further, with its destination plate and he created the font for the graphic used on the boat, Further.

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Should I Stay or Should I Go?

Sunrise from Further at the dock

Annapolis, Maryland, is a neat little city. Its downtown core — home to the U.S. Naval Academy, the state capitol and the city’s waterfront — reminds me a lot of Newburyport, Mass. Both cities share a rich maritime history, both are laid out in red brick and both have great ice cream stores (well, Newburyport used to).

The only difference is that Annapolis is much bigger. That, and the ocean is a two-plus-hour drive from here (many, many hours by boat), unlike Newburyport which is right on the Atlantic. If Naptown (as it’s known) was on the ocean, I’d have moved here a while ago. Why? Well, Annapolis is also the yachting capital of the country. Newport, R.I., sometimes makes that claim due to having hosted the America’s Cup for so many decades, but there is so much more sailing-focused business and activity here in Annapolis that Newport might as well be in a field in Kansas.

The same view that evening

Annapolis is also where my boat, Further, and I are currently located. And it’s my location that is the major quandary perplexing my brain these days.

I purchased Further in mid-November, too late to take her back to New England since all the marinas had already pulled in their docks and packed every square inch of land with boats on stands for the winter. That didn’t bother me too much since it’s just an 7.5-hour drive between Naptown and Plum Island and I could get back and forth relatively easily (although I will say that I am WAY over that drive at this point). I figured I could leave the boat in the water, head back and forth often, and work on the boat AND get my sea legs back. Or I could live aboard in Naptown and maybe get a part-time job locally through the winter. Either way, I’d spend the winter getting my and Further’s acts back together before next spring when we’ll head back to New England.

My view upon waking up

There’s another possibility that is tugging at me a bit, however: I’m thinking I could take the boat down the Intracoastal Waterway to someplace warmer — Florida, perhaps — for the winter. It’s been nippy enough waking up aboard Further the last few mornings that America’s third-world country down south seems quite appealing.

But I’m in an area of Annapolis that is really appealing. Eastport, known as the Maritime Republic of Eastport, is the funky section of town, home to great pubs and restaurants, a lot of boating businesses and a funky crew of locals that have a vivid joie de vivre. And I’m currently living in the funkiest part of Eastport — Stella’s Stern and Keel Marina — which I’m really enjoying. My neighbors have returned following Thanksgiving and they’re all really nice, really interesting people. It’s been great settling into the neighborhood.

Twilight in June’s Cove

That funkiness does come with a price, however. Up here in June’s Cove, the water is thin. When we get a big storm that blows all the water out of Chesapeake Bay (as happened the first weekend I was at Stella’s), Further’s keel sits on the muddy bottom at low tide. It’s not damaging the boat but it does make me wary and it means Further can’t get in or out until the water rises again.

And then there’s the aforementioned distance to the ocean and the chilly nights. Maryland DOES get winter so I’m expecting true cold and even some snow later in the season. It’s still only November.

So I’m really in a fix right now as I wrestle with the possibilities. I will definitely head north next spring, but what to do for the next four to six months? How much sailing/motoring would I really do here over the winter? What if conditions are good but the water level has me stuck at the dock? But am I ready enough to even consider heading down the ICW for Florida at this point? And if I’m not in New England for the winter, what will I do about hockey? (Yes, as trivial as it may sound to you, hockey is a big part of my life so it IS a factor.)

I blame this poster…

Among the things that tipped me over the edge into buying Further was the image I use as my laptop’s wallpaper. It reads: “Life will only change when you become more committed to your dreams than you are to your comfort zone.” Hockey and Plum Island are right in the wheelhouse of my comfort zone, so maybe stepping away from both of them is a good idea, an impetus for growth. To be honest, the hockey this fall has been great but I’ve been stagnating at the island, with nothing really going on other than helping my brother with projects around the house. Even if I’m not doing much down here in Naptown or any farther south, at least I’m making progress with Further and pushing that dream along. So it seems as though prioritizing a life that enables me to work on the boat is the way to go. From there, as detailed above, the questions arise.

Well…stay tuned, I guess.

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