Lake Barkley to Clarksville, TN

  We've been MIA for a few days and there is good reason. Our friends Brett and Christine Thompson, along with 'Tines parents Madge and Jerry Koerner, keep their boats at Green Turtle Bay on Lake Barkley, just a canal away from Kentucky Lake.

  When we were resting after a long trip last Friday in Shedds Creek on Kentucky Lake, Brett brought a dinghy over and we caught up on gossip and then met him over at Green Turtle Bay where Madge and Brett helped us into the dock. Jerry was on his way and Christine needed to be picked up in Nashville, so we spent the evening with Madge and Jerry at the Club at Green Turtle Bay and had a blast.

  On Saturday morning, Christine took Rosie to the local IGA where she stocked us back up on stuff we might not see in a while, one of the items being cabbage that Rosie thought was iceberg lettuce. It made for an interesting salad.

  We also got to tour Madge and Jerry's 480 Sea Ray. It is absolutely gorgeous and Madge keeps this boat spotless.

  Brett and Christine's 42 foot convertible Silverton is a beautiful boat too. The layout is very efficient and the best thing is that the previous owner opted for an additional refrigerator in the galley instead of an oven. Brett uses it for beer only. There is a reason we are friends.

 

  When we got back to Swing Set, parked for a few hours in a slip, we threw rocks at it, our friends boats are that nice.

  On Saturday afternoon we took Swing Set and followed Blonde Moment to the rock quarry on Kentucky Lake. It's the local party cove and we did the place justice, even though it was cold and rainy. Brett and Christine's friends Allan and Agada came by in their 340 Sea Ray and we were troopers and made an afternoon of it.

  If that wasn't enough, we cruised back to the dock by dusk and we dropped Swing Set off, said goodbye to Holly, and jumped aboard Blonde Moment with Brett, Christine, Allan, Agada, and two more friends of theirs, Dave and Wendy, to motor up to Buzzard Rock to have dinner. I can attest to the fact that life is not complete without several orders of "Buzzard Balls", and some other dishes that are usually found on the floor somewhere, but taste like heaven.

 

  This is the dock that we visited at Green Turtle Bay and this is only about 3/4s of it. Don't forget anything in the car; it's a long walk back. Almost every slip has a patio area and it's a non-stop flow of boaters coming back and forth and everyone is friendly and offers a hello or two.

  Sunday was overcast and nasty and we joined everyone is some non-productive lounging until Brett and Christine had to cast off for St.Louis. Rosie and I shared a cocktail or two with Madge and Jerry and were happy when they let us join them at the club again on Sunday night.

  The club at Green Turtle Bay sets on stilts and is very nice inside. On Sunday night, Terry the bartender holds court and it's an event that shouldn't be missed. Some of the staff comes by and Terry and them usually have some good natured ribbing to dispense with during the course of the evening. It turns out that Terry is also from St. Louis and we had quite a few mutual acquaintances, some of them that actually stayed out of prison or didn't get blown up.

  Here's me, Rosie, Madge and Jerry having a real good time. Right after this, I tried to take Terry's picture and he politely declined having his picture taken. In fact, he declined so politely I was lucky to get a beer afterwards. It was a fun evening and we were the last to leave.

  Rosie and I got a slow start on Monday morning and headed up the Cumberland River on a very dismal morning. We didn't know how far or where we would wind up on Monday evening, but we quickly found out that the advice we got from some savvy captains at Green Turtle Bay about staying in the channel on Lake Barkley was true. From what I could tell, the lake was about 6 feet below normal. I began to wonder about where we were going to be able to drop a hook for the night.

  I saw some promising spots late in the afternoon and made an approach to one at Devil's Elbow and didn't like what the depth finder was reporting, so we pressed on. I saw another spot on the chartplotter that had some secondary markers, indicating a place to anchor off the channel, but others like it looked pretty skinny to me. I called a marina at Bumpus Mills, Tennessee and the nice lady told me to come on in but don't stray from the marked channel. I asked about a place to anchor and she said there were plenty of them, even knowing we wouldn't wind up as customers because they didn't serve diesel.

  We followed the markers in, but I wasn't sure of where to drop the hook when an older fella in a bass boat told us to follow him and he took us right to a perfect anchorage where we spent the night.

  I BBQ'd some pork steaks and then we sat on the deck to watch the sunset. You've seen sunsets, but you haven't seen Holly hold still like this for a picture. No sunset, just this shot.

  I tried to write the blog but cell service was poor. We played dominoes and turned in before 10 P.M. We woke after a delightful nights sleep to a soupy fog that lifted shortly after we had breakfast and Rosie was able to get a million bugs off the boat only using several buckets of Cumberland River water. I offered moral support because Rosie insisted on going it alone.

  We headed up the Cumberland River and set our sights for Clarksville, Tennessee, knowing that we could arrive around 5 P.M. doing our customary 7 miles per hour. I did find out that I had to be judicious about my union breaks with Rosie at the helm. She mistook a guy in a red tee shirt for a starboard marker: Understandable until you find out that he was in a jon boat with three other fellas.

  The Cumberland today was a slow, lazy river, not much bigger than the Meramec back home. The crystal clear water soon gave way to a murky debris field due to some recent rains, but it wasn't too bad.

  I checked earlier in the day on Active Captain for anchorages but didn't find any, but did see a courtesy dock at Clarksville. They offer free electricity, but no water. There is no charge at all. Ding ding ding. We're in.

  

  Here's Swing Set at the city dock at Clarksville where we left her and Holly. We walked up the hill to a neat little district lined with bars and restaurants. We picked out a place called Kelly's and met with some of the locals and had a nice time.

  Another vessel was at the dock when we got back and they were headed back the way we had come. We traded information and were both glad to get it. I know where the best place to get fuel is now in Old Hickory Lake, and he knows where to toss his anchor tomorrow night at Bumpus Mills.

  We plan on locking through at the Cheatham Lock tomorrow but are in no hurry. We're less than 70 miles away from Nashville and really don't want to get there until Friday or Saturday night. I hope tomorrow we can find a place to set the hook and spend a day and do nothing. We'll let you know how it goes.

Cape Girardeau to Kentucky Lake

  It wasn't as dark as this photo indicates when we finally finished dinner and took hot showers before relaxing with some wine; one of our parting gifts from Duck Club friends Sonny and Neecie Robbins. I'm keeping a firm hand on Holly, as having her on my lap only wearing a robe is....dangerous, with the sharp claws and all.
  We slept so well in the Diversion Canal that we missed our early wake up time but as it turned out, we should have slept in longer. The sky was clear in the canal, lots of dew on the boat, as we hauled up both anchors with some difficulty. That Missouri muck didn't want to let us go.

  As we pulled into the Mississippi channel we were met with some wispy fog skating across the river surface and buoys were hard to see, but not impossible. I motored up to our now comfortable speed of 12 miles per hour at 1100 R.P.M., slipped on my sunglasses and sipped my second cup of coffee as we stole what warmth we could from the sun behind the welcome isinglass on the bridge.

  We came around a sharp bend in the river and was met with very thick fog, as the channel entered into a section of the river protected on the east by a tall bluff. Coming in our direction was what seemed to be a large house floating above the mist. Of course it was a towboat, but was far enough to my port to be of no concern. I hailed him on the VHF to let him know that I saw him and he said he saw us too, even better. He said the fog was thick as soup approaching the bridge, but was starting to clear up. I said I would slow down to let the sun do it's job and clear up the smoke. I also turned on the radar to help see the channel markers and by the time we reached the bridge, we could see the buoys just fine so we gave the radar a rest.
  The rest of the 50 odd miles down to the mouth of the Ohio River was uneventful except for a tow that felt a need to exert his authority over little old us and hogged our side of the river. I heard someone mumble something about a "pleasure craft" over the radio, so I answered back with something along the lines of "Are you hailing us?", to which he replied, "You're on a pleasure craft ain't you?"
  My answer was, "I sure hope so."
  He passed us on our port about a bass boat length away with our starboard nearly against the bank. We gave a friendly wave but really wanted to give a Sicilian Salute.
  The Ohio River was a welcome sight but our speed dropped off naturally as we started heading back upstream. I bumped the CATS up to 1400 RPM to keep us at a slow, but progressive 7 miles per hour. The still murky water of the Ohio looked like the Caribbean Sea compared to the Mississippi and was flat as my wallet.

  As we settled in for a three hour cruise to the first lock, Rosie went down below and left Holly on the flybridge with me to co-pilot. She was more interested in napping and was miffed that I woke her for this photo.
  Now my next few comments will give the more prepared captain the shivers, but is an indication of how much I prepare in the way of plotting our course, which in short, is minimal.
  So far, to navigate we're using our Navionics App on our iPad and a Quimby's Guide. Not bad until you learn that the Quimby's Guide is 12 years old. How I feel about it is this; any older chart or guide may not show a new bridge or lock, but a brand new chart or guide can't show you logs or other boats either. So you just have to pay attention. Sometimes you have a pleasant surprise.
  In my last post I mentioned three locks we had to negotiate before locking into Lake Barkley or Kentucky Lake. My old Quimby's Guide mentions Olmstead lock but no information, and then Lock and Dam 53 just two miles upstream. Even I know that the Corps of Engineers isn't going to put a lock and dam two miles apart, so I figured the Olmstead lock was going to replace the older lock two miles away. We could see some major construction up ahead and knew it was the Olmstead Lock, but didn't know at what stage the construction was in. I called channel 13, the supposed contact channel for locks on the Ohio, and got no one. I then called the phone number listed for Lock and Dam 53 and a sweet old lady told me to just call Lock and Dam 53 on channel 13 and they could direct me.
  As I was trying to hail someone on channel 13, we got closer to the Olmstead Lock and realized that we could idle through the construction zone on the Kentucky side of the river, so we just peeled our eyes for Lock 53 and the impending delay. We passed a pretty building on the Illinois side of the river at the point where Lock 53 used to be, now just a memory. Something tells me that the nice lady I talked to on the phone must be the great aunt of the current Colonel of the Corps of Engineers and no one bothered to tell her that Lock 53 has been demolished. They also didn't tell her that Lock 52 was demolished either, because the same pretty building was present where the Lock and Dam 52 was supposed to be. Still present was plenty of flags flying and dozens of cars parked outside of the official looking building. Our tax dollars at work, but we were happy about not having to lock through.
  My impression of the lower Ohio River was mixed due to this little misunderstanding on my part, but because two locks have come up missing and the third yet to be built, the members of the Corps who place the navigation buoys seem to have to supervision. In fact, the buoys on the last 50-60 miles of the Ohio River seem to be place with the aid of a B-1 bomber, with no rhyme or reason to where they go. Either this is the case, or the Corps folks are in cahoots with the fuel suppliers, because the sail line bounces from bank to back like a pinball.
  I was dutifully following my red buoys on the right when I crossed under the Brookport Bridge and the buoys disappeared. I saw a towboat way over on my starboard side coming our way and hailed him to ask if he had a preference on which side we were to pass, hoping he could give me some clue as to what side of the river I was supposed to be on. I wasn't too worried, because the depth finder always over rules a possible errant marker, but I try to gather my intelligence where I can.
  I hailed the tow and the captain asked where I was. I said I was right ahead of him just coming under the Brookport Bridge. He says, "Is that you waaaay over there on the Illlinois shore?" I looked to my right. I looked to my left. I said, "No, I'm right smack in the middle of the river", to which he replied, "Just stay over there". Damn pleasure boaters.

  By late afternoon we were pulling into Paducah Harbor and needed to formulate our plan for staying the night somewhere. The entrance to the Tennessee River was fast approaching and we had to make a decision whether to head up to the Kentucky Lock, or take the Ohio upstream for a few miles to the Cumberland River and then into Lake Barkley. There was anchorage there in Paducah, but was a bit too much industrial for our tastes, and I did see spots on the chart upriver at the Cumberland River entrance where spending the night was possible, but our future was decided soon after we rounded the island that fronts the Paducah Harbor and the slough meets the mouth of the Tennessee River.
  Nearly crystal clear water was mixing with what now looked like a filthy Ohio River. We made a quick phone call to the Kentucky Lock to ask how business was and then did the math. The trip upstream on the advised Cumberland River route to avoid a delay at the Kentucky Lock meant about 20 more miles to travel, along with the accompanying fuel cost. The lockmaster at the Kentucky Lock said we could do much better by coming that evening than waiting until morning. With over three hours of daylight left, we decided to head up the pretty Tennessee River.
  The current was slower on the Tennessee, so at 1400 R.P.M.s we were making 8 miles per hour, plenty of speed to get us to the lock and a place to get on a hook to wait. As I had mentioned the water was very clear, in fact, men were bow fishing along the waterway. The only thing taking the shine off the scenery was a lot of dead fish and plenty of industry along the route. If anyone remembers the Boat At Riverbend that was moored in Alton for a few years, they would be as surprised as us to find it moored along the lower Tennessee River, destined for the scrap yard perhaps.

 
  Here's Rosie at the helm as I stepped out onto the bow of Swing Set to enjoy the ride for awhile. The sun was trying to get below the horizon as we tried to beat it and make the Kentucky Lock before it set.

  Holly wasn't trying to do anything but stay nestled in my abandoned jacket and was disturbed just one more time for this photo. She's becoming quite at home aboard Swing Set except when we leave her below for needed potty breaks and we pass a towboat; then she hides behind the toilet until the boat stops bucking. She'll get used to it.
  We neared the Kentucky Lock and saw not one, but two tows in line to lock through. We hailed the lock and were surprised to learn that they were waiting for us to show up and would lock us through ahead of the two tows, just as soon as they got a southbound tow locked through.
  Rosie made a phone call to our friend Jen Dixon and we had dinner while we waited for less than an hour, but it was still dark by the time we entered the lock chamber. Our exit was met with the complete blackness of the vast expanse of Kentucky Lake and no moon. I had already decided where we were going to anchor for the night, but still had to find it. We employed our Navionics, the depth finder, our handheld spotlight, and the radar, along with good old eyeballs, to head over to Shedd Creek and our anchorage for the night.
  The radar was useless at our sphincter friendly speed of complete idle because it's designed for use at cruising speed, and the reflecting tape on the buoys here on Kentucky Lake seem to be the size of postage stamps. We followed the plotted course to a "T", but it was still nearly midnight before we were satisfied with the bite of our hook and turned in. I still set an anchor watch on the iPad.
  Thursday was an eighteen hour day, but we were able to wake this morning with nothing on our agenda except to write this blog and clean the bugs off the boat that did their best to find Swing Set last night, even a half mile off shore. Guess who got to write the blog.

  This was our view at 6:30 this morning looking into the back of the cove we are in. Rosie is out mopping, and as soon as this blog is published, I'll check the oil and dump the diesel we have in our jugs in the engine room into our fuel tanks. I don't know the tally on the fuel usage from Hoppies to here, but I'm guessing less than 100 gallons judging by our fuel gauges. Not bad, but you have to consider our slow speed. We don't care. We have more time than money.

From Hoppies to Cape Girardeau

  I mentioned in a comment in my last post that once we got anchored in the Meramec River last night I dropped the dinghy and Rosie and I took a ride upstream for a few miles. The river was up only due to the Mississippi backing it up, so shallow water was sure to sneak up on us and I didn't want to push my luck; it has been 14 years since I had transited that section of the river and my memory isn't that good.
  When we returned, we enjoyed a great dinner of country style pork spareribs made to perfection by Rosie in the convection/microwave along with one of my favorites, macaroni and cheese. This was not a night for rabbit food.
  We watched a little T.V. after reprogramming it for signals. This is necessary at every new anchorage, but it only takes a couple of minutes and we get over 20 channels with our converter box setup, thanks to a tip years ago from our friend Mike Vitale.
  We slept a whole lot better than the night before as there was little wind, but Rosie kept seeing the motion detector light come on and thought it was burglars. I knew the door was locked and I slept like a rock. I have plans for anyone trying to break in while I'm present.
  Up at 6:30 and weighing anchor, we called Fern at Hoppies at 7 A.M. and had our fuel topped off and still was pulling out of Hoppies by 7:30, even after hearing Fern's story about the new dike just downstream from the floating barge which is called Hoppies Marina that is causing silt to lower water levels at the docks. Not good for a marina business. Our 19 gallon top off meant over 3 miles per gallon with the strong Mississippi current pushing us along. We also got a water tank fill up; never pass up fuel or water on a trip like ours.
  The weather was beautiful today, but is was a bit windy. Luckily, for the most part the wind was at our back, blowing with the current, so the water was like a billiard table until an upriver bound tow bucked us around. We didn't encounter one tow going downriver and the only other boat we saw was a fishing boat up in a slough that we passed.

  This is a bad photo of a bad place, the Illinois State Penitentiary at Menard. Rosie said the buildings looked "neat". I didn't like anything about the place, and no, I haven't been inside.
  We were enjoying our ride and about mid-day we passed an empty tow going upstream and he was cooking along. The Beatles were playing Yellow Submarine, and just as the ship's bell in the song rings, we bumped over a big towboat wake and rang our own ships bell at the same moment as the one in the song, I kid you not. I thought for a second that my stereo quality just improved dramatically for no reason until I realized it was our bell. No other towboat wake caused our ship's bell to ring at any other time during the day. This is a sign of some sort, but I don't know what.

  Traveling at 12 miles per hour doesn't get you far, but it does save money. We have more time than money, so nine hours after leaving Hoppies we passed Cape Girardeau, about 90 miles downriver. It's a pretty town, but you can't see much because a big flood wall guards most of it. We passed under the big suspension bridge linking Illinois with Missouri and soon found the LIttle River Diversion Channel, billed as a good place to stay the night.
  The entrance to the channel was chock full of logs and debris. Big logs. I decided to check out the bottom end of Marquette Island just across from the Diversion Channel, but didn't like the exposure we would have, so I returned to the channel and made a run for the junk blocking the entrance and pushed through it, hoping the depth was adequate. We left the chocolate Mississippi behind and drifted into some very clear backed up Diversion Channel water and did the advised thing and dropped two hooks; our regular bow anchor and a stern Danforth.

  This is the view from our bow. It looks much like our view last night on the Meramec River, but it's much narrower here.

  I took this shot before setting the stern anchor, looking back at the channel of the Mississippi. There's no one else in here and it's nice and quiet.
  Rosie made some sausage that our friend Steve Huebner from up on the Alton Pool gave us. Steve may cringe at our choice of leftover macaroni as a side dish, but we're living on the boat with limited refrigerator space; we'll make use of stuff we have leftover, as I've indicated in a previous post.
  Tonight we're celebrating our anniversary. We count from the time we met as far as years go, it's 36 and counting, but May 9th is the day we got married. Both times. I didn't want to ever forget the date.
  We have a big day ahead of us on Thursday. We're still over 100 miles to Kentucky Lake, and have three locks on the Ohio River, plus one to get into the lake itself. I don't know if we'll get to Kentucky Lake tomorrow or not, but we're already expected on Saturday by a few friends that think we may want to party some. I think we can make it by Saturday, and I've already given notice: Now that we're retired and have started a new phase of our lives, I'm not holding back anymore. We're gonna party like there's no tomorrow.

We're Off

  After a whole weekend of goodbyes we finished up some wash on Monday and fueled up. We headed over to Grafton Harbor to say goodbye to Joe and Jan and stocked up with more beer that someone depleted over the weekend. Joe and Jan DeSherlia have run Grafton Harbor since it began. They were happy to hear about our plan and said it was their dream to do the same some day. We lunched at the Big Kahuna and cast off in the rain to anchor near Portage Des Souix for the night.

  We pulled up anchor before sunrise and were in Alton as the sun was appearing. We called Melvin Price Lock and was directed into the auxiliary lock right away. We weren't as lucky at the canal lock and had to wait for nearly three hours, their auxiliary lock being down.

  Just as I had wanted, we were passing the arch in St. Louis on the day of my birthday. We caught a glimpse of our condo, hopefully for the last time as owners. The transit through the St. Louis Harbor is not pleasant. Lots of commercial traffic and the swift current and wind didn't help.
  The one thing about the high water condition was the fact that it would be possible to anchor overnight on the Meramec River. When we got down to the mouth of the river, we crossed from a very muddy Mississippi into a fairly clear Meramec stream with a steady 21 foot depth until we approached the first railroad bridge about a half mile up. It may have been possible to get under the bridge but there's no reason, we just want to rest for the remainder of the day, have a nice dinner and turn in. We spent over eight hours at the helm, but some of that was waiting at lock 27, but it still takes a toll.
  I called Fern at Hoppies and she'll be waiting for us in the morning so we can get fuel. The 60 miles we traveled this morning hardly put a dent in the fuel gauge, but we're getting the port tank topped off, the only one I pulled from in order to level our load some. ( All the beer is on the port side.)
  We might make more miles tomorrow, but there's no reason for that either as long as I can find a spot to throw the hook, and I bet I can. Until then.

Holly Is Getting Used to the Boating Life

 
  The previous week on the hook was very pleasant for us. We're finishing up some last minute things and seeing some friends one last time before we depart. We've officially signed up on the "Looper Locator" on the AGLCA website. I think if you type in Swing Set, you can see where we are when I update it. I'm still figuring out how it works. In the photo above, we are at anchor (on the hook) above Island 525 between the Illinois River and the Mississippi River. There are four "chutes" between the two rivers right above their confluence and the last one actually is two that run together before it joins the Mississippi. The Island between the 3rd and 4th chute is named Island 525. The 3rd chute is named Mason Chute because it is adjacent to Mason Island, so named on most charts. The Mississippi side of Island 525 is deep and a good place to anchor, but pay attention to the depths. Charts show a dike across it about midway, but it's deep in the middle. Way in the background of this photo is the pretty town of Grafton, IL.

  We spent two nights anchored here and it was very nice and we had good cell service, a condition that we have begun to consider when choosing an anchorage. In the picture, Holly is taking a break from some industrious work on her nylon bone. We also spent some time teaching her how to maneuver the flybridge stairs and introduced her to the Mississippi; the dog paddle is alive and well on Swing Set.
  About mid-day we motored up to Enterprise Island and took the dinghy over to a nice beach and spent the late afternoon with several friends that typically show up for a Thursday beach party, always a fun time.

  Before heading to the beach, Holly and Rosie posed with their matching swim wear. By late afternoon, Holly was a regular jumping bean, quite at home dashing about the cockpit. Once we open the transom door, the life jacket will come on, as she more than once almost went into the drink at the end of a Lou Brock slide toward the swim platform. We wouldn't be too worried about her getting wet, but the current is still swift and too cold for a manned rescue, me being the "manned" part.
  I'm writing this blog while in the slip at the Duck Club, for not too many more times. My dad is coming up for a visit today and we're heading to Kinder's Restaurant. If you are coming through this area, it's a place not to be missed. The docks are a bit tricky, (put out lots of fenders), but the food is "down home" good and is easy on the wallet, something us new pensioners will get used to appreciating.
  We're having a little bon voyage party with friends this weekend, a bittersweet time for sure, but we're getting lots of well wishes and "boy are we envious" comments that make us feel like we are doing the right thing, although we don't have many misgivings. Maybe a couple.
  Everyone wants to know when we are heading out. Well, Tuesday is my birthday; do you think a good birthday present would be cruising by the St. Louis arch for perhaps the last time, with a glimpse of our condo (we can see the building from the river) for maybe the last time too? I've been hesitant to tell anyone when we were officially departing and there are two reasons why: The first reason is that we don't want a big to do over it and don't want friends showing up for a big weepy goodbye. The second reason is that if we wanted a big to do over it, maybe no one would show up. :)
  The next post should be after we've left Pool 26. Some of the best people we will ever know boat up here. If you're passing through, stop and meet some of the nice folks around here.

Of Tamales, Zippers and AT&T

  Today is a landmark day for us. It's the first day we are without a car in a lot of years for me, and little less for Rosie. The new owner of our 12 year old Ford Explorer picked up the vehicle last night after waiting for about two months for it, the deal being struck back in early March.
  I read about people living aboard that keep a vehicle nearby, and it they travel, then they spend a lot of time shuttling the car from one location to another. I wonder if they total up how much they spend in fuel and time to shuttle the car around, just for it to sit nearby, "just in case" they need it. I admit that I cannot speak from personal experience on this subject, but I see having a car as another complication that we don't need. We intend to rent a vehicle, or hire a cab if we have to, to get somewhere we need to be. We did buy a Non-Owned Auto Policy from State Farm which covers liability for us, as well as damage to another vehicle in the event of an accident. The insurance you get from a car rental agency only covers their property, they don't have much interest in your economic health. Anyone following our blog will be the first to know if our plan works out as time goes on.
  Since broadcasting our intention to have no vehicle, the question we always get is the same one we got when we moved from the suburbs to the city, which was "How are you going to get groceries?" What is it with everyone and their obsession with the easy availability to acquire groceries at the drop of a hat? Anyone taking a second glance at me and has any doubt as to whether I'm going to not have a plan to get groceries is not looking close enough. Believe me, getting food has not been a problem.
  We mentioned our stocking up on canned goods in the last post and we found room for everything. We have one pantry on the boat, intended by the manufacturer to hold our various foodstuffs. Great for a long weekend, but we're going to be a little more prepared, even if it means sitting a bit low in the water to do it. We also have another "pantry" in the galley that we added when we built our chart room, or office. There are three nice cabinets in the salon and two of them were sub-divided and also house a few pounds of canned goods.

  I think we are good for a month or two of life on the hook, maybe more if my fishing skills develop. The way things have been going, we may have a six month supply, if our recent "tamale incident" is any indication.
  A couple of weeks ago when I was installing our water pumps and doing other necessary work, I made a can of Hypower Tamales for lunch one day. I've been making these as an easy lunch ever since I was old enough to use a can opener, and my younger days were familiar with Chef Boyardee, Hormel, and other products of dubious content. Being of the frugal variety, the "juice" left over from the tamale production was saved for future use, as I consider it as nutritionally valuable as some of the gruel that was served to us in school. This may not be a good indicator to use, but old habits die hard.
  I figured to use the tamale juice later in one of my creative dishes and once Rosie and I moved onto the boat, our second meal consisted of a can of Hormel Chili, (or so the can says) the tamale juice, some Minute Rice and shredded cheese, rolled up into some tasty burritos. I think the leftovers multiplied in the refrigerator over the next day or two and I subsequently made some scrambled egg burritos one morning with the growing supply of what I was now calling "Spanish Rice". Last night we had some grilled sirloin patties (hamburgers without buns), some asparagus, and a nice helping of our Spanish Rice. I think those little rice kernels were busy again, the spicy sauce of the chili and tamales playing their part in the mutual attraction, and I was supplied with some more of this dish just this morning as a side to a leftover bacon omelet from yesterday morning. As Rosie dished it up, she remarked as to there was still more rice left and could I eat it? "No, I will press on", with intentions to finish it up later if possible. Looks like burritos again for lunch.
  We had new zippers installed on our bimini top about a year ago, and during the storms over the weekend while we were on the hook, it appears that the wind helped in separating by a few inches, one of the main zippers holding the top onto the frame. My experience in the past with zippers that separate in the middle usually don't result in a happy ending. This time, because we are still occupying our slip at the Duck Club, our "zipper guy" is coming by this afternoon for a look see. He may be able to coax the zipper back into compliance with proper zipper code and we can be on our way. He remarked as to how the "whole top may need to come off" to repair the zipper. That is not going to happen. Mr. Zipper can stay a little unzipped until we can come up with a better option. It's a plan I've used with my Levi's over the years with mixed results.
  I did go online and found a product that repairs zippers with a zipper pull device that screws on and allows you to open or close a broken zipper by screwing on the zipper pull, doing your handiwork, and then taking the pull off to use on another repair later. The price was right and I set to order a few of them and have them shipped to Bloch Marine to pick up later this week. The online order couldn't be processed for some cyber reason or other, so my goal to repair the zipper is so close, yet so far away. This is how things go, there is always just a few bumps in any journey just to let us know that things can't go as smoothly as we'd want. Just last night I turned on the T.V. and found one of our speakers in the salon didn't work. Out came the screwdriver, and upon taking out the speaker, I found a disconnected speaker wire, pulled loose during a project earlier that morning. I wish all fixes were that easy.
  Which brings us to AT&T. Sigh. I don't want to relive the crime by telling of all of the details, but I'll make it short. A couple of weeks ago I cancelled our DSL at the condo as we were moving the computer to the boat. I was delighted up until and including the time when I published my last post on here last Friday. On Saturday morning, between the hours of 2:39 and 2:40 A.M., someone at AT&T pulled the big master switch that controls the email and Internet use of the Swing Set crew and we woke up Saturday morning with nothing but phone service. I was on the phone for over three hours with several "real" agents from AT&T, and even more robots, as my calls kept getting disconnected during the investigation. We eventually got our service back, but our billing looks goofy. Two more hours on the phone yesterday did nothing to resolve the issue. We'll see if the online billing shapes up before the next bill is due; I can believe in magic just as easily as anything else available.
  Lots of friends suggested switching to this carrier, or that carrier: It's not gonna happen. My dad is on our plan with his cell phone, plus I don't want to replace my iPhone or new iPad. It took about ten years for us to convince him of the wisdom to get a cell phone and there is no way we're going to announce a needed switch now. We'll die with this AT&T service at least until he does, and at nearly 86 years old, and factoring in the crabby quotient, I figure AT&T and him are both good for at least another ten years.

First Night on the Hook

  This should be a quickie post, not much to tell after our first week since moving onto the boat.
We did go back to our condo last Tuesday to pick up the last of our clothing and clean out cabinets of our personal effects and we spent the last night there.
  When we left the condo last Wednesday, our Explorer looked like Sanford and Sons but most of the stuff got dropped off with a visit to the Salvation Army and to Rosie's brother's house where we dropped off a "Hope Chest" full of I don't know what, that Rosie has had since she was a teenager. I hope her hopes have been fulfilled by now.
  Since her brother lives near an old motorcycle riding buddy of mine, we dropped by to say goodbye. Kenny Olsen and his wife Donna had been friends even before we worked together
  Rosie had a doctor visit and we paid our lawyer one last visit, we hope, to tighten up our personal affairs, before we finally made it back to the boat and loaded it up with the last of our stuff.
  We have one inch left of boot stripe and Swing Set is about to founder, as we're full of fuel, water, and canned goods. I'm eating six meals a day, justified by weight reduction on the boat, not myself. Just kidding, but why is it that when you prepare a meal, what's leftover seems to be more than what you made in the first place?
  Rosie has found a place for all of our stuff but I don't know how she did it. I heard the salon door open several times last night and I suspect that the Mississippi has laid claim to some of our more obscure belongings. Just kidding again, I can't help myself. We don't litter.
  We made it out on the hook last night for the first time this season and the wind is kicking up, keeping our wind generators at work. When the wind started up last night the generators kept braking and not making electricity and I couldn't figure it out until I discovered that the circuit breakers were off. I don't know if it was because I did it last fall when I winterized, or perhaps some high wind from a storm over the winter caused it. Anyhow, the mystery was solved and we're all happy again.
  Our WiFi signal is decent and is allowing this blog, and we checked our mail, now being sent to our Florida address. It's nice to have the contents scanned and we can shred or save as we see fit. This is better than going out in the snow to a mailbox...way better.
  I had some trouble hooking up our printer/scanner, but solved that by re-installing the driver for the scanner. The printer (same Canon unit) went into action once I installed a cable for it. I should have done that years ago because sometimes we would get bumped offline using the wifi on the Canon.
  I also was a little leery of my desktop stability even though I used plenty of Velcro and sticky tape to stick it to the desk. I added some insurance by virtue of running a cable tie from the back of the computer through the grommet on the desktop for the various wires that feed the Mac and cinching it down. I don't think it'll go anywhere, and if it does, it's probably Edmund Fitzgerald time and the computer will be the least of our troubles.
  Some storms are forecasted for this evening but we're staying out. I'll double check the hook before it gets dark but we've stayed put since yesterday afternoon. I set our anchor watch last night and we only swung with the wind, but gusts have only been in the 15 M.P.H. range so far.
  We have to go into the harbor on Monday as our vehicle will be picked up by the buyer then. I'll be without a car for the first time in 41 years, feels a little funny but every trip on the highway just leaves me in awe of all the inconsiderate drivers out on the road and we'll both be happy to minimize our travels on the land.
  We toasted the chilly morning over coffee with Rosie exclaiming "This is the life!" I sure hope so after all this planning, but so far, it sure feels like it.