Maiden Voyage - Annapolis MD to Martha's Vineyard MA - Aug 2012

 We left Annapolis an hour before sunset, and had a beautiful full moon sail all night long up the Chesapeake Bay. For the first voyage I had a four man crew, with four-hour watches, two crew on deck at a time to keep a lookout for shipping traffic and crab pots. It was a bit scary to turn around and see a seven-story-tall tanker silently bearing down on you in the darkness. 'Why are half the stars gone? That's not good.'

 First Mate Ian (left), who I've know since we did a wooden boat building apprenticeship in Rockport, Maine when we were eighteen. Ian is the best first mate possible - always good for a laugh, handy with the rum bottle, quick to take the helm and make breakfast pancakes, even when its rough.

 The sail from Annapolis to Cape Cod took 3.5 days, most of it spent sailing, with only 10 gallons of diesel used. Conditions were very rough on the Delaware Bay, as they often can be, with short steep waves. We then headed offshore, straight for Cape Cod, and had light to moderate winds for two days, with an ocean as calm as a lake.

 The Crew - Ian, Dave, The Cowboy, and myself (aka Captain Jack). Dave and The Cowboy were found through a Crew Wanted posting on Cruisers Net, and they worked out well, despite the very different personalities (one was extremely cautious, the other a bit reckless - so they balanced each other out nicely).

 We reached Martha's Vineyard on the evening of the third day, in the dark, in a pretty bad storm. Due to unfamiliar waters and channels, darkness and notoriously shifting sand shoals, we decided the safest course was to tack offshore all night long, waiting for first light. The wind gusted up to 45 knots, the seas tossed the boat around like it was in a washing machine, sleep was nearly impossible, and an hour at the helm, fighting waves, was exhausting. With a scrap of sail up the size of a large beach towel, Aquinnah was going her hull speed of over 7 knots. It was a very long night. The morning dawned clear and calm, and we reached Cape Cod safely, greeted with flower leis and champagne at the dock.

In the Beginning - Before I set sail on Aquinnah, I built and lived in a log cabin in the mountains of Vermont.

 Candlelight and sunset over Frost Mountain and the Green Mountain National Forest. For over 20 years I lived by candle and kerosene lamp light. It takes about 15 candles to equal one 40-watt bulb! I finally installed two solar panels myself, and was able to run 12-volt lights, a small Engel refrigerator (cold beer!), and a laptop.

 The off-the-grid (no electricity) log cabin that I hand built and lived in for over 15 years. There is also no running water, which means hauling water, heating it on the wood stove and bathing outside, even in the winter, even when it's 10 F. This was okay in my 20's, but got painful as the years passed. I finally built a little solarium/shower room off the wood shop.

 Simple pleasures - an old clawfoot bathtub turned into a wood-fired hot tub next to the swimming/trout pond. Just add water and build a fire beneath the tub for hours of outdoor bathing pleasure. For many years I had a cedar hot tub with a submersible Snorkel wood stove next to the tipi. Yes, I had no electricity or running water, but I had a hot tub outside my tipi! You can have some luxuries when you rough it. I even had a land-line phone running into the tipi, because there was no cell service. If I had to chose between electricity, running water or a phone, I'd chose a phone. The other two I can do without, but smoke signals don't work well for arranging business or keeping in touch with friends.

  The foal (Zuma) of the Percheron draft horse (Carla) that I hauled logs from the forest with to build my log cabin. Zuma grew to be a huge horse, but he was very gentle, unlike his mother, who was hot blooded. Carla actually dragged me several times, on my belly, when I was trying to teach her, and myself, how to horse log. I knew that if I let go of the driving reins and let her get away with bolting, she'd be ruined. Her third attempt was her last, and we pulled the rest of the logs without incident or injury.

 Down the Rabbit Hole - heating with wood in Vermont is a part time job. In the winter, the downstairs floor could be 38 degrees while the sleeping loft upstairs was almost 100 F. Sitting close to the. 700 degree wood stove with a good book is a favorite winter pastime, as blizzards swirl just beyond the windows.

 My cabin sits on 30 acres of old farmland surrounded by 7,000 acres of the Green Mountain National Forest. Lots of privacy, solitude and wildlife. Bear eat fallen, fermented apples in the orchard and get drunk. Moose, river otters and great blue herons visit the pond. Owls and coyotes hoot and howl at night. Porcupine chew on tool handles for salt, sounding like giant mice. Bobcat hide deep in the woods, and there are even occasional sightings of wolves and mountain lions in the area. 

 Despite all the time spent chopping firewood and carrying water, there IS a little time left over for flowers. But not much. I figure living this lifestyle is a 1/3 time job - splitting wood, hauling water and wood, keeping the fire going during long Vermont winters, growing food, taking care of horses, chickens, turkeys, cats and dogs. But it was peaceful and satisfying, for the most part. Until the urge to travel and explore start to creep in . . .

Don't Make This Mistake! Tales of a Drunken Sailor

Sunset in Beaufort, South Carolina. This is a 'Free Day Dock.' You can stay till 2 AM. When you're a drunk sailor and the bars close. We got back to the boat after 2 AM, a LOT drunker than usual, and fell into bed, thinking 'They wont kick us out at this hour. Nooooo wayyy.' At 3 AM there was loud knocking on the hull, and a strong spotlight in my eyes. A uniformed officer told us to vacate the dock IMMEDIATELY or face a $1,200 fine. Yikes, that expensive. He wasn't friendly about it, and he saw no humor in our predicament. So much for southern hospitality! Sooo, we decided to vacate, despite darkness and rumfoggy thinking. We bravely said we'd just get a very early start on the day and head further south. But we didn't make it far before we picked up an empty mooring ball and immediately fell back into bed.

Sunset at Anchor in Key West, Florida

Sailing Life at its Best. The anchorage is open to strong currents and winds, but close to the human wildlife of Duval Street. You just have to watch out for getting caught up in the local custom of starting off the morning at the Schooner Bar with a Bloody Mary. Or a Mimosa. Or having a lunchtime, fresh rolled cigar from a smiling old Cuban man who only speaks Spanish. Or evening drinks at the clothing optional rooftop bar, The Garden of Eden. Or . . . well, there are just wayyyy too many vices to pick up in Key West to list them all. You'll just have to discover them for yourself.