If it was easy .... Part II

Yet another sunset ...

I gave myself a twinge the other day when I posted yet another beautiful sunset picture on Facebook. It felt like I was committing a lie of omission. I really was enjoying the sunset, however, I don’t want to leave the impression that everything in my boat life is peachy keen either. Eventually, I’d like this blog to be a rather honest portrayal of one man’s escape into the life he wanted. By keeping it honest, I think that I can show that anyone can find their passion and escape from the mundane existence that has them bogged down. To stay in that spirit, I will add some details to my boat report about the condition of Emma and the work to be done. The following will occasionally sound like a bitch session, but that is not my intention. I hope to illustrate that while l have learned to pause and soak up the occasion sunset, there is still a lot of work to be done. I intend to show that by force of will, doing my own work as much as is feasible, and by being too stubborn to quit, that a fairly humble man can create the life he dreams of. Further, my current goal is to get the boat ready, to be able to wander. This is not an end point, a destination, rather this goal is the point of departure for another set of goals; the wandering itself.

I am bogged down right now with the electrics of the boat. All I really need is running lights and a radio to sail her from Miami to Fort Pierce. To accomplish that, however, I had to replace the battery bank. And because of the unpredictability of my previous schedule, I had purchased new batteries a month ago, but just got them to the boat. Once there, I realized the ‘kitbash’ nature of the wiring on the boat. There is Romex house wire in a couple places; which is really bad on a boat. Worse yet, the majority of the wiring is old school quad phone station wire, probably pulled out of a dumpster and repurposed. Anything more than a small light bulb at the end of such thin wire is a fire hazard. I am just rewiring now what I have to in order to move the boat, and will end up taking all the wiring out and redoing it from scratch.

Two of the three solar panels aboard are from a Miami company with a less-than-stellar reputation for either selling good panels or standing behind them; according to my Googling anyway. Occasionally, their panels are grounded differently than everyone else’s. Yet I have three panels all wired together. None of which was connected to the charge controller or battery bank. Further, the panels are wired together in what looks like a great mess of gooey, old school electricians tape. I have yet to tackle that. I don’t know if this wiring mess was working at one time or was slapped together and then abandoned without ever being tested.

There is a VHF radio onboard, but no antenna on the masthead. If anyone has pressed the transmit button on the mic without the antenna, the radio is probably blown. I have a handheld radio that will suffice, but really wanted the stronger reach of a full size radio. I may attach an antenna to the stern pulpit to see if it will work.  Cheap enough redundancy again.

The rig is OK to get to Fort Pierce, but I will replace it rather than trust it any further than that. In the photos, Emma obviously had a wooden boomkin and bowsprit. However, they are not the original, but a home constructed replacement. I was going to replace them with the stainless steel versions anyway. The bowsprit is fairly loose right now. The bobstay is chain which is not as stable as cable. The whisker stays are also loose, and I hope that they will tighten before the turnbuckles bottom out. The forestay needs tightening but will have to be balanced with the backstay to keep the mast plum.  The stainless steel chainplates are rust stained on the outside. I dread seeing the inside but will replace them during the refit. Various hardware at attachment points for the the stays on the bowsprit and the boomkin are not appropriately sized. Luckily, most of them are too big, but occasionally that is causing some scarring on the hull.  

The running rigging has been baking in the sun for some time. I hope it will get me to Fort Pierce. This will all be tested a little more before I leave. I haven’t raised all the sails to get a look at them yet. At that time, I can evaluate the halyards and sheets.

The depthsounder that is so elegantly installed in the companionway will not likely work. The transponder is unceremoniously glued inside the hull with a great blob of what is likely 3M 5200.

W.T.F.?

When Alex and I painstakingly installed an inside-the-hull transducer on his W42, complete with the oil filled PVC pipe, the hull was too thick to get a signal through. I can hang the transducer off the stern as we did on Eleanor, but the readings of depth right behind the boat are far less valuable than a reading right under the boat, for obvious reasons.

Nevertheless, I am super happy with the composting head that I installed. And I have cooked aboard on my single burner swing stove. There is lots of work ahead, but, hell, life is good. A bad day on the boat still beats a good day at the office.

I wouldn't have it any other way.

Epilogue: Whatever is going on with you, take time to pause and really enjoy a sunset when you catch a good one. Then get back at it, and make your life your own.

Reflecting on Swiss Time

Hiking with the kids and Presley.

Long before I found the boat, long before I found the Florida job, my brother and his family invited me to visit them in Switzerland. It was great fun to hang out with them and hike around the Alps. Of course, going from sea level to hiking at 6000 feet can almost kill a crusty old truck driver. Besides hiking, we went to a water park in the Italian part of Switzerland, went to a park with rope bridges and various swinging things on a trail through the trees, went to a concert, and I ate more cheese and chocolate in a week than I had in the previous couple years. Thanks, DT’s!!

It was also good to finally be able to take a deep breath and evaluate what was going on in my life. Nine hours each way in a plane will help you do that. When I came to Florida I had a new-to-me boat in Miami, a storage unit and a seasonal job hauling sod in Fort Pierce, where I wanted to eventually keep the boat. It all seemed to fit together so well.  

Crewing on Alex’s W42 down the East Coast last spring, we ended up at the Riverside Marina in Fort Pierce. Ironically, I had picked out that very marina on the web. My original plan with the Michigan boat was to sail out and down the coast to spend a few months in the Bahamas, and then backtrack to Florida and Riverside Marina(!) to find a job and do some boatwork. Riverside Marina is where I hope to keep Emma, my Westsail 32; as soon as I can get her there.

So, I’ve been here since mid February, hip deep in ‘sod season’ and running so hard that I’ve only seen my boat a few times. I bought new batteries, an inflatable dinghy and an outboard engine. The batteries finally made it to Emma - just two weekends ago. Hopefully, they haven’t completely self discharged. Twice I drove more than two hours to Miami just to pay for my mooring ball and peak at the boat from the bayfront.

Truthfully, I always have a Plan B. And even though the sod company might have kept me on, I had been keeping track of employment opportunities in Fort Pierce, and in Miami where the boat still lies. When I found a trucking gig that was 7 days on and 7 off, I simply had to take the opportunity.  Staying true to my boat project occasionally means making tough decisions. I was working for a good little company, but I never intended to get pulled into a six days a week schedule. There was no malice and I have no hard feelings but, just the same, it is an unforgivable sin that I haven’t been able to work on my boat.  

I started the new gig last Monday.

The Long Awaited Boat Report

The long awaited boat report:

[Click on Pictures for bigger image]

It’s sod season in Florida and I’ve been really busy at work. Of course, that means I haven’t had as much time to work on Emma as I’d like. This morning, I’m nursing a sore shoulder and decided to write the “Long Awaited Boat Report” rather than go to Miami for the day and wrestle four 60 pound batteries onto the boat and down below.

I bought Emma, sight unseen, from Michigan. The Westsail 32 was exactly the boat that I wanted. I’d been looking at all types of heavy displacement, full keel boats, but what I really wanted was a Westsail. I found Emma on the Miami Craigslist, through the Westsail group on Facebook. That story is here.   For $6000, I was really just buying the hull. Having worked on Eleanor, a Westsail 42, I knew the quality of construction and the seakindliness of the Westsails. Anything else that was in good working order, beyond the ‘bulletproof’ hull, was gravy.

I admit to having the rose-colored glasses of a dreamer. The interior was a little rougher than I had dreamed up, but there are no heartaches. There is nothing that some sweat equity won’t fix.  Two previous owners back had painted the interior a stange green color. I imagine he found a good deal on some paint that happened to be green. It’s not bad, it’s just not for me. The most recent previous owner was painting some of the interior panels white. White panels with dark-stained trim is a classic Herreshoff interior and looks good on an old school boat like Emma.

Original Floor

The original planked floor is just below the companionway steps. The rest of the interior floor has been replaced with plywood. It’s in good shape, and is stained, but I would like more and easier access to the bilges. I’ll work on that.  

Looking Aft

The interior layout is the standard Westsail 32 layout. Down the companionway, the navigation station is to starboard with a U-shaped galley to port. A very interesting galvanized plumbing sculpture now occupies the counter. I think they must have been using a pail as a sink and needed the height to accommodate. There is no stove, but a good space for installing a good gimbaled stove/oven. I can’t wait to smell fresh baked bread aboard.

Galley

Forward of the galley and nav station is a dinette to port and two berths to starboard. The bottom bunk slides out to a full single. Above that is a pilot berth. I need to find or construct a dinette table. The dinette also becomes a double berth when folded down.  There are no cushions, so I’ll be hunting up foam to shape and upholster.

Dinette

Next going forward is the head where I have installed a composting head to port as discussed here. Across from the head is a nice built in cabinet to starboard. With a little clean up and stain, all the woodwork is going to be great!

The Westsail is a large boat. On most boats, the V berth is crammed into the bow and sleeps two, one on each side with their feet converging in the small space toward the anchor locker.  Emma is large enough that the V berth has a double bunk to port with a single to starboard.  And more woodwork.

V Berth

The batteries were basically killed by neglect. The four batteries, three different types, were dead enough that I bought new batteries. As mentioned above, I bought four 6V 225 Ah golf cart batteries for my battery bank. The wiring needs some attention as well. There is some Romex house wire to tear out and the battery switch and breaker panel need to be properly used.

Built In Cabinet

The sails are in decent shape. Good enough to get me to Fort Pierce. I’d really like to make a set of tan bark sails for her.   Emma is a cutter, so she has two headsails and a main. The effect is to spread the sail area over more, and smaller, sails which makes for easier handling. Still the genoa is a really big sail!  I’ve always been a hank on guy, but might have to consider roller furling to safely handle that big sail.

Nav Station

The standing rigging was done recently and has mechanical fittings rather than swage. It appears to be in good shape. The chainplates are stained a bit with rust. I'll take them off to inspect and will probably replace them. The running rigging is OK, but will be replaced during the refit. With the mast down, I will thoroughly inspect all the fittings. Further, using the "Things That Break" section of Bud Taplin's Repair Manual, I'll carefully inspect the bowsprit and boomkin fittings.

Further, Emma has no engine. The good news is that there is no old engine to take out before I can install a new one. Repowering is one of the main projects to accomplish while she is out of the water.

Toward Bowsprit

Above deck, she is a big, beautiful, old school lady. A bowsprit graces her bow and a cute little boomkin on the stern. These have been replaced and modified. I will purchase the stainless steel versions available from the Worldcruiser Yacht Company.

Toward Boomkin

Lastly, there is at least six months worth of growth on her bottom. I’m hiring a professional scuba boat cleaner to do the first hull cleaning.  Once I get the electrical system straight enough to have running lights and a radio, and get the bottom cleaned, I’ll move her to Riverside Marina[][] here in Fort Pierce. Hopefully, I’ll have her there in early May or sooner.  

Going to Hell in a Bucket, baby.

I’ve still got a couple stories to tell, but skipping ahead to today, I wanted to show that some progress is being made. There were two projects I wanted to make some headway on today; the electrical system and the composting toilet. As always there were some trials and tribulations before I could get to work, but that is one of the stories that will remain untold for now.

Humble Jumble

The electrical system is a mess. Its already better, but nowhere near the capacity to power anything. There is an awful lot of Romex wire in the mix which would be fine if this were a cabin but is no good on a boat. There are four batteries onboard in three different types.

Wiring together different types or even different ages of the same type is not a good idea. Further, all of the lights and other electronics were wired direct to the battery rather than through a fuse panel. And, par for this course, these were wired to lugs on different batteries in the bank. I’ve disconnected all the wiring and jumper cables. Most likely, I will buy a couple cheap deep cycle batteries to get by on until I really begin rewiring the whole boat. All I really need, at this moment, is enough battery power to have running lights for 48 hours and the occasional use of the VHF radio. On a plus note, the solar panels appear to be sending out power; its just not going anywhere.

The real progress was made installing the composting toilet. This will also be a temporary installation to get me to my eventual home marina where the real work will begin. For now, I need to be legal to travel these water. The boat was advertised as having a composting toilet. This was partially true. There was a home built set up for composting aboard the boat. However, it was missing the bucket and a urine diverter. I don’t know exactly how the owner, two owners back, was using the composter he designed and built, but it wasn’t all there anymore.

The Old Bucket Cabinet

I’ve been reading about composting toilets for a while and was going to put in a commercially built unit. Besides looking nicer, it was all there and instructions were be included. I bought a C-Head composting toilet and am super happy I did. Many of you know, I have a Bachelors Degree in Packaging. I was totally impressed with the well thought out packaging design when my toilet arrived. This is a small company still buying cardboard shipping boxes at Home Depot, but the care and forethought that was put into just boxing the toilet up to ship to me was incredible. Moreover, the directions are very detailed with many installation options.

Eewh, don't look in there.

My first task was to disassemble what I had. I had purchased 12v Portable Drill Driver/Impact Driver kit from Milwaukee and am really happy with the tools. Alex had bought the kit when we were working on Eleanor last spring. It seemed to do well. Back to the bucket cabinet, yes, the stir stick was still in there. Peat moss dust was everywhere. The open bucket design had its drawbacks. But I tore it down and cleaned it up. The toilet seat itself was just sitting over the hole with a lid that wasn’t even attached.

Using what wood I had, temporary install.

My C-Head went together well with an ease based on good, thorough directions. I fit it in place, marked where I wanted the brackets, drilled a couple holes for the hold-downs and in mere moments, it was installed. I had to use whatever scrap wood that was on the boat. Now I’m legal too.

The C-Head separates #1 & #2, which prevents the worst of the smells. The peat moss dessicates the solid 'product' which can either be further composted or disposed of. The liquid product is stored in cheap, ubiquitous gallon jugs or can be plumbed to a holding tank for pumpout when available. There is basically no plumbing and no need for a holding tank.

Agitation Crank handle in place

The Teak C-Head

Step One

Step Two

Ready for Action, everybody sits.

The agitator bucket loaded with peat moss

Emma G

Emma

When I first began to appreciate Anarchism, it was primarily because it felt like a finger in the eye of so many eyes that needed fingering. However, the more I read, the more it really does feel right to me. Furthermore, Anarchism is not the bomb throwing loner as cliched in movies and Saturday morning cartoons. Travelling this path, I learned about Emma Goldman. She was a radical, a feminist, and an anarchist in the early part of the 20th Century. Her writing and lectures spanned a wide variety of issues, including prisons, atheism, freedom of speech, militarism, capitalism, marriage, free love, and homosexuality. She was known for her activism, her writing and her fiery speeches.

I would have adored her for the following quote alone, but she brought such fervor and dedication to the cause, she is much more than just this. She said “If voting changed anything, they would make it illegal.”  

No one is perfect and Emma was involved in a plot to assassinate the manager of a Carnegie steel mill.  But she played a pivotal role in the development of anarchist political philosophy in North America and Europe in the first half of the 20th century. Emma was imprisoned several times in the years that followed, for "inciting to riot" and illegally distributing information about birth control. Eventually deported from the United States for her political views and activism, Emma died in her adopted home of Toronto, Ontario in 1940.

In 1908, William Marion Reedy published an article titled “Emma Goldman: The Daughter of the Dream” in the St. Louis Mirror. Emma commented that “no finer appreciation of my ideas and no greater tribute to me had ever been written by a non-anarchist before.”

An excerpt reads: “... “Freedom-absolute, unconditioned. Uninvasive freedom. That is anarchy. There shall be no constraint of law upon the soul or the body of man. There shall be no duties except one’s duty to one’s self. There shall be no modification of any right save a sense of and regard for the rights of others…There shall be no gods, no priests, no rulers, no judges, no policeman in the world she [Emma Goldman] would make over. And before the world can be made over all present institutions must be destroyed… By bombs? No. By ideas, by the new ideal of the sacred invasive privacy of man’s being.”

Another great Emma quote: "To the daring belongs the future."

I have decided to name my boat, Emma, in her honor. Emma is a sweet sounding name with a badass backstory. I can choose to whom I tell the whole story.  

If It Was Easy, Everyone Would Be Doing It

Sunday morning, I woke up in the Super 8 motel and hung around lazily until almost check out time at 11:00.  It was all part of a plan. The Dinner Key Mooring Field was full on Saturday. They told me that check out time was 3:00 pm, so I was planning to make the trek to the boat to arrive just before check out time and see if any moorings became available. They also told me they didn’t expect any open until Tuesday!  

I had a couple stops on the way. I might end up in the anchorage rather than the mooring field. If that becomes the case, I’d need to use the dinghy. In the mad rush toward buying the boat, I had no idea whether any oars came with the dinghy or if it was even set up for rowing. Hence, I was going to stop and buy some oars on the way.  Yes, I forgot to grab the pair of oars that I have in the garage in Michigan.  In addition, if I was going to dinghy back and forth to the boat, I was going to need to lock up the dinghy somewhere on shore, so a lock and some chain was on my list.

I stopped at Tractor Supply on my way out of Fort Pierce and got the lock and chain. Coconut Grove is a couple hours south of me here but the trip stretched out a bit because I stopped at the world famous Sailorman in Fort Lauderdale.  I found a pair of used oars in their veritable sailor’s candy store.  

I-95 ends and turns into US1 just before Coconut Grove. The transition space was packed with cars and it was bumper to bumper all the way in. People in Miami just might be worse drivers than those in Detroit. I’ll get back to you on that.

Consulting the map the day before, my gut reaction had been to just park at the Metro Rail station and hike in. Contrary to this good judgement, I decided to drive into the Grove and check out a couple parking areas listed on the southside of town. Forty five minutes later, I was convinced this was a really bad idea and I hadn’t seen the parking yet.  Well, I had seen people charging $25 to park on their lawn. Already, there was no lawn space for my gigantic Town Car. When I finally got to the first parking area listed on the Art Fest website it was full, of course.  And the lot consisted of about twenty spaces in a little municipal lot by the post office. A ridiculously small lot to put on the festival website!  It was time for me to get out.  

A half hour later I had gotten back to US1. There I had to battle my way into traffic on a right turn and then, in two blocks, squeeze my way over to the left hand turn lane.  Another 20 or 30 minutes and I was a half a block from the Metro Rail station. A couple cops were moving the barricade up another half a block out of the Grove, and drivers were so confused they all just stopped; we all just stopped.  

Finally, I got to the parking lot which was wide open. A sign described the procedure to pay for parking by the numbered spaces. I had to walk four spaces in each direction before I could decipher enough faded paint to decide which slot I had parked in. For about $9, I got a parking space and a day pass for either the rail or a bus. The super nice security guys showed me which bus was headed into the art fest.  

As I approached the bus with a bag of supplies and two oars over my shoulder, the bus driver stepped out and asked “Where’s the boat?” I had a nice chat with the bus driver about boats, airplanes and commercial drivers. He has a flats boat and fishes in the Bahamas with friends who have bigger boats. Several people had come by and boarded the bus, so I thought I should get a seat.

“My supervisor is talking to the cops,” the bus driver said, “They just blocked the road we need to use to get into the Grove.”  

Great ...

I sat on the bus, next to a nice kid who just started college at FIU. After exchanging all the basics, we sat there watching two bus drivers chit chat. Both were driving the same route, both now waiting at the station. The supervisor was nowhere to be seen. I decided I could have been to the sailing club already if I had walked, so I stood up and told the kid I was leaving. Twenty yards out of the bus, while I waved at Ric, the bus driver, the kid caught up with me and we hiked in together.   

The art fest was wall to wall people even outside the paid admission boundaries. Everyone who thought they were anyone was in Coconut Grove to see and be seen. I got many strange looks hiking through the crowd with a pair of oars over my shoulder; even a couple ‘aye, aye Captains.’ All the while being extra careful not to pull some Laurel and Hardy gag and swat someone with an oar.  I didn’t really know where I was going but I knew it was south and east of where I started.  I walked along the fenced off border of the fest until I finally reached a dead end.  

There was a jazz quartet playing at a hotel outside the fence and a nice volunteer standing guard at the gate. I asked if I could get into the Coconut Grove Sailing Club. She asked if I had my member I.D. I told her I had just bought a boat and that I hadn’t ever seen her yet. She smiled, looked me over and down the length of the oars on my shoulder. Figuring I wasn’t there for the fest, she let me sneak in and was nice enough to refrain from pointing out that I really didn’t fit in with the swanky South Florida crowd.  

I wandered through a kids play area and past a concert venue and finally saw the club over a hedge. The border of the kids area looped around and lead me straight to the club’s gate. A gal sat on the other side and asked for my I.D. The boat story and a name she recognized got me through that gate too.  

I was inside! I had to go up and over, through the building to get to the bayshore. This included walking through the bar carrying a pair of oars. Damn, I'm cool. I found the dock and the launch but no skipper. I put my bag down and leaned the oars against the wall. After wandering around for a few minutes, a nice member told me who to look for and to hang out right where I was. When the launch guy finally showed up he was taking a break with his girlfriend and having some art fest food.  I told him I could wait.

A bit later, we took off in the CGSC launch and I got to see my boat! She is a majestic little ship. The launch guy knew the young sailor who had owned her before the lawyer bought her and I got some inside information. She’s been to Panama and back and over to the Bahamas several times. The launch guy had been on a trip or two. He told me I had a great boat. I climbed aboard and the launch was going to check on me from time to time.
I crawled around inside the boat for a couple hours. There is a little more work than I had expected through my rose colored glasses but no heartaches. She will do nicely. When I crawled back on

Ugly green paint and weird plumbing

deck, I saw the launch buzzing back and forth; ferrying club members to and fro, their boat to the bar and back again. The bar had been full when I came through and I think the members enjoy all the hubbub of the art fest right outside their gate.  I waved at the launch a couple times, but couldn’t decide if he was really busy or just hadn’t seen me. Regardless, I hadn’t been checked on in a couple hours. [Note: a more complete boat report is coming.]

Dark clouds were rolling in off the Gulf Stream and rain spit on me for a little while.  I stood proudly on my beautiful boat, but I was pretty sure that I’d been forgotten.  I wondered if I would need to swim to shore.  The sun was going down, the sunset was beautiful, but I still had to drive more than three hours to get to Arcadia, FL where I had orientation for my new job the next day.  I called the bar a couple times, but no one answered.  I whistled loudly toward the shore, though a nearby party boat surely drowned me out. I called the harbormaster’s office and got no answer.  I was really starting to worry.  

Getting late, Still aboard

When I tried the harbormaster one more time, the launch guy finally answered.  I asked for a ride back to shore. He acted just like he’d been waiting for my call the whole time. No problem.   

Back ashore, I had to hike a mile back out to the Metro Rail station to retrieve my car. Luckily, I had already made a reservation at a motel in Arcadia. I called them to say I was running behind schedule. To get to Arcadia from Coconut Grove, I crossed Miami up to the airport and then took US27 all the way out to Lake Okeechobee. The drive is all swamp and nothing to keep a tired mind occupied, but I pressed on.

On Monday, orientation went fine. The farm in Arcadia does sod as well as citrus and cattle. The people all seem nice and orientation included a couple of the bigwigs which is a good sign. I met some of the current drivers as the early part of our meeting was a general safety meeting for the whole fleet.

The most interesting fun was learning how to drop, operate and rehang the forklift on the back of a flatbed trailer. They use two kinds; so twice I had to play it cool on a machine I had never run, each with its own unique steering system. I’ll be delivering sod daily, like fresh milk, to Lowe’s and Home Depot’s around the state of Florida. We also deliver to landscape

Yikes!

companies, nurseries and job sites. It should be fun. I’ve never strapped, tarped and pulled a flatbed trailer either.

At the end Monday, I needed to get back to Fort Pierce. I was thinking I should have my rain gear or at least a jacket with me now that I’m living in Florida. It was all in storage. As I drove across Hwy 70 toward home, of course, it started to rain. Occasionally, the rain was pretty heavy. Welcome to Florida, I haven’t been in a Florida thunderstorm in a long time. It was a welcome sight, actually.

Welcome, until I got into the edge of town and my wipers quit working. I had been having some trouble even before I left Michigan, but now they were dead. No clicks, no action, do not pass ‘Go’, you’re done. I pulled into a gas station as the rain intensified again. My defroster doesn’t work well because I don’t have the A/C charged. So I sat in a gas station with no wipers and gradually fogged up all the windows. I haven’t done that in a long time, and I don’t think I’ve ever done it by myself.  

One of the cheap motels in town, Motel 6, was about a half mile away. The rain and the dead wipers outvoted me on where to sleep that night. When the rain slowed down, I snuck over there without seeing much through the windshield. This morning, I took the car over to a shop that had good Google reviews. They discovered that it was not the switch but the wiper motor that had failed. I’ll get the car back tomorrow. I need to stop living in motels and spending boat money on the car.

If I get the car back early enough, I’ll probably try to go back down to the boat. I couldn’t move her on Sunday, but I should be able to now. Both the art fest and the boat show are done. Hopefully, a mooring ball has opened up.

Patiently, she waits for me

"If you're really from Jersey, you'd never eat Dominos."

Super 8, Fort Pierce

My original plan was to get to Miami and my boat on Saturday afternoon.  The trip had gone well, except for losing a couple hours in Georgia to construction traffic, but when I left Lake City, FL, I was already dragging my feet a little.  

I kept getting these bits of information. First, I was told the Miami International Boat Show was going on the weekend I planned to show up. However, it was on the other side of the bay. The waterways might be busy but I didn’t worry too much about the show.  More recently though, I learned the Coconut Grove Arts Festival was on the weekend as well. It was then that I knew I was in trouble. Looking into the Art Fest, the whole bayshore in the Grove was shut down.  Parking was going to be a problem, getting to the boat was going to be a problem. From 300 miles away, I knew that I would not be able to get close enough to unload anything.  

A few more phone calls and I found out the Dinner Key Marina mooring field was sold out due to the art fest and everything else. Dinner Key Marina is where I’ll be keeping the boat temporarily. There is a free anchorage nearby and I have a contact living there, but I think I want the security and the services of the mooring field. I'll sort that out when I actually get there.

By the time I turned onto the Florida Turnpike I had decided that I wasn’t going to go all the way to Miami on Saturday. It was going to be nigh on impossible to get to the boat and my preferred option to move her to was unavailable.

I ended up stopping in Fort Pierce, where I’ll be living, and starting the process of moving into town.  I poked around for a weekly rental as I already have a job in Fort Pierce, but won’t have my boat here for a month or so. Nearly all my worldly possessions were travelling around with me in the car, so I rented a storage unit to unload some the stuff I won’t be using for a while. And I wandered around town taking stock of my new neighborhood.

After taking care of some set-up-for-living tasks, I decided to find a place to sleep. Imagine trying to find a motel room on the Saturday evening before Valentine’s Day.  Ha! Damn romantics.  When I finally found a motel with a room, guess what?!??  I spent more than I had planned just to be able to sleep.  

Worse yet for my once healthy body, I discovered that Dominos now has sandwiches and other stuff. Road weary and famished, I ordered a veggie sandwich and a chicken thing, both ended up with way more cheese than I anticipated. Just as I heard a knock on the door, my neighbors offered to buy my ‘pizza’ from the delivery guy.  

“I heard that,” I said.

“Hey, I came all the way from Jersey, I’m hungry!” said the disembodied voice from the open door down the balcony; with an accent that proved his pedigree beyond a doubt.

Right in front of the poor delivery guy from Dominos, I said, “If you’re really from Jersey you would never eat Dominos!”

All I heard was a mumbled “that’s a fact” but the next morning we exchanged pleasantries with an extra width of smile.