…’cause we’re still out here, and apparently my brain is on Vacay mode. I can’t think of anything coherent to say, but I can show you.
At the Edmonds fuel dock, where we discovered that our fuel fill can only tolerate a certain speed of delivery. A lack of attention to this previously unknown detail resulted in a pink geyser of diesel, covering Greg & I thoroughly. Being a team player, I managed to take the brunt of it in the face. Nothing a good buffered eye wash won’t cure, of course. It probably wasn’t nearly as much as it seemed as we mopped the deck with absorbent pads, but still, it was a taste I won’t soon forget. Of course if my mother is reading this, I’m just kidding ~ nothing of the sort happened.
This was the salon, immediately after one of the more “exciting” experiences I’ve had boating thus far. Here’s how it happened:
The equation is as follows:
90 degree turn as you’re leaving the fuel dock + rough seas and wind + waves hitting boat abeam + boat that’s at the upper limit of size for this marina (IMHO) = Jamie has a new understanding of the phrase “Items Securely Stowed”
I must say, Nity and S2B handled it marvelously well. During the whole harrowing experience (yes, I know that people have experienced much worse than this ~ must I remind you that this is MY blog?), I yelled a running monologue to the kids of “Everything is fine, sweethearts, just hold on!” and “This will be over in just a moment; hang on!” and other such cheerful encouragement. Of course, one child was in the aft cabin and the other was in the front, so I stayed in between so they could both hear me as I watched everything flying about the salon. The fridge flew open and most of the food came tumbling out, the microwave was sliding all over the place, my laptop took a header; it was eye-opening for me, to say the least. Greg did an unbelievably competent job of getting us out of there & I was quite proud of him (I had visions of being dashed upon the rocks and rather wished I were the fainting sort so that I could wake up when it was over, but no luck there). I discovered Natalie perched on her bunk, one foot braced against the ladder, one foot on the opposing wall, and both hands gripping the ceiling beams, and told her brightly “This, my dear, is what they call an adventure!” She even remembered to latch her door as she was heading back upstairs. The girl will be a sailor yet!
The rest of the trip has been blissful, so I can’t complain at all. Greg and S2B are seen here, performing their anchor magic. We’ve had great anchorages both nights so far, except for one thing. Apparently my equilibrium depends quite a bit on knowing where North is (Thanks, Grandma! Those midwest farming genes are alive and healthy.) and one can’t really know it when the boat turns at night around the anchor. I find it quite disorienting ~ I’m hoping to find a compass I can install upside down above our berth.
This photo is for you, Dad. We’ve crossed many a ferry path and I’ve been thinking about how much you would enjoy the whole thing. I promise we’ll take her out when you’re here next.
We’ve dropped the kids off with their dad today, but decided to extend the trip for ourselves (personally, I don’t ever want to come home ~ isn’t there a way we could make a living gunkholing?). We’ll be off again in the morning for a new little harbor and will probably work our way back to Seattle for the New Year’s fireworks from the Space Needle, with Carolyn, Nancy, and Julie (Greg’s family) along. Sweet dreams, everyone!