Rocky

Rocky, Rockyrockyrocky, Rachmaninoff. My sweet Hufflepuff of a dog, true of heart, even of temper, focused on his objective. You will be missed. 

He came to me with heartworm disease, and spent 30 long days confined to his crate during treatment. But he beat it, and became my constant companion.

I believe dogs have a strong work ethic and need to know they have a job. Rocky actually found two jobs: being with me, and foraging for food. His misspent youth as a stray had apparently led to a vow of never going hungry again, and he had a very broad definition of what could be food. A full stomach was what he wanted, and his foraging led to not only constant attacks on my kitchen garbage, but several near-death experiences involving socks, his own food supply, a knit hat swallowed whole (retrieved by the vet the way it went in, and I still wear it), and a mango pit that wedged into his intestine, requiring surgical removal. I won't add up the cumulative cost of his medical bills, but it was not trivial. He was christened "The Very Hungry Labrador" by my girl, and he had his very own tumblr blog celebrating his exploits. As his adventures in eating became more and more life threatening, I found them less amusing and the blog tapered off.

Being my companion was also a very strong motivator. He didn't need constant attention, he just wanted to be within reach. Just in case I wanted to pet him, or maybe give him a treat. When he could get on the couch, we would snuggle and share the space. Whatever room I was in, he wanted to be there, following and getting as close as he could. But for the last year, he couldn't manage the hop off the floor to the couch. 

In the garbage

He also loved walks together, so he could forage in the wild while keeping me company. After several incidents involving socks and dishcloths (how do those end up on the road?) I bought a cage muzzle for him, to save him from himself. I said to all the neighbors, "he's not vicious, he's voracious!". When the pandemic hit, I realized he was a pioneer in outdoor mask wearing, and he was cited as an example for several children.

The pandemic was good for Rocky. He loved having me around all the time. But over the last year, walks got shorter and shorter, and for the last three months, he didn't leave the yard. Rocky lost eyesight, hearing, and control over his back legs. He had a syndrome that affects old Labradors, that led to respiratory distress. Still, last month, I left the kitchen gate open and he was in the garbage in minutes. But when I got back from vacation this week, he was gasping. I quickly decided it was time.

I had gotten contact information for a couple of at-home veterinary services (that do euthanasia) a few months ago, when I saw the writing on the wall. They had a very quick response - they would have come the same day I called, but instead I scheduled it for the following (Friday) morning. I invited my girl and BIL to join me, and they came over early in the morning to be with us. In fact, my BIL made a special trip over the last evening to have more time to say goodbye. I was touched. 

We assembled on the dog bed outside in the back patio, site of many a long nap. Bixby, the little drama queen, was confined to his crate at the far end of the house because Bixby thinks everything is about him. Rocky's last meal was watermelon, peanut butter, and a can of cat food my girl brought him. He was hugged and petted as he went to sleep. My tears mostly waited until I was alone. That afternoon I had to explain to the eye doctor why my eyes were so red.

I'm so glad I have Bixby, because the house seems almost empty without my good big boy. They were not friends, but they tolerated each other and were company for each other. Now Bixby gets to follow me from room to room, and get pets with both hands, instead of one hand for each dog.

I miss him and I loved him. But there is an element of relief in what I feel now, and guilt for feeling the relief. He had lost control of his sphincter muscle and I've been cleaning dog poop constantly. (Big dogs, big poops, even when they start to lose appetite.) I have gates everywhere, and each trash basket is behind a fortress to protect it. The walls will start to come down. I've taken the huge crate out of my TV room, cleaned the rug, and rearranged the furniture. And, for the first time in years, I've put toilet paper in my bathroom on the spindle in the holder, rather than up and out of his reach. He loved to eat the paper like it was corn on the cob off the roll. So I had to hide it from him. The things we do for our beloved animals!

I'm sad, but I have no doubts I did the right thing.

Acadia

Mount Desert Island, Bar Harbor, Acadia National Park. So very lovely!

There was an article today in The NY Times about how crowded the National Parks are. Apparently we were not the only people who decided to vacation domestically when foreign travel is still so uncertain. We are staying in a recently renovated classic motel on Main Street of Bar Harbor, the center of the crowds. I’ve been here twice before - once on the last family driving vacation we took the year my brother graduated from high school, and once for a few hours off a cruise ship going from Montreal to Boston. 

When I say the motel is a classic, I mean it is a long, two-story building set at a right angle to Main St., with room doors opening to the outside on both sides of the building and both levels. Office at the street end. Little outdoor splash pool.  I love the location, but had low expectations of the rooms, based on the 1950’s aspect of the outside. But it’s been recently renovated, and the interior, far from being mildewy, is stylish and functional. Nice big vanity in the bathroom to hold all my stuff, comfy sitting chair with footrest, enormous good bed, places to open suitcases that isn’t the bed. My travel friends booked it and did very well. I’m not thinking about the money!

We got reservations to drive up to the summit of Cadillac Mountain early in the morning, but not at sunrise. There were people there, but I wouldn’t describe it as crowded. We admired the view for a while, and returned to town for breakfast. We got used to a real breakfast in the Camden BnB, and there are cafes here to feed our habit.

Later, we rode the bus to the visitor center, and did a hike from right there. Again, there were plenty of people there, but not in a way that made it unpleasant. The hike we did, on a “carriage road” (gravel road closed to cars but open to bicycles) included a section labeled family friendly for biking, and sure enough, there were kids who are never quiet. But they were out there! Yay!

The route took us up to a series of ponds, most likely formed by beaver dams along a stream. I am drawn to intimate landscapes, and there were wild flowers, blooming water lilies, ripe low bush blueberries, creepy dead trees that had been flooded out. Very nice!

The way we did the hike also included sections with considerable elevation gains and losses. All told, it was over six miles, and I was done in by the end. My knees did not like the steep downhill at the end, and I took tiny little slow penguin steps, but I got there. And, recovery was quick, I feel fine now the next morning. 

Today is forecast very rainy as the remnants of TS Elsa pass by. We plan to do more park bus riding, and if its just drizzling, maybe try some short hikes. There is more I want to do and see - especially hiking - but I will be ready to come home soon.

Another Day, Another Schooner

View of Camden from Mount Battie

Vacation in Maine continues to be delightful. Here in Camden, the weather has turned lovely, making up for lost time. We’ve had time to explore the fun little shops in town, admire the view from Mount Battie, explore the neighboring town of Rockland, and go on a short sail on a cute little historic schooner. 

My friends I’m traveling with have friends here. A young woman they have known all her life moved here permanently (from Manhattan) last year with her husband, and she now has a brand new, month-old, baby. Her parents, also from Manhattan, rented an AirBnB whole house for six weeks because of the baby. So there has been some visiting and socializing as well. 

Camden Harbor close up

There was a Fourth of July concert, moved to Monday because of the rain, in the Camden amphitheater, an outdoor grove by the harbor. Just a community thing, barefoot kids, sailor boys in sea boots and man buns, old folks like us, all dancing on the grass to well known tunes. 

So its all very chill. We’re walking - I’m getting 12,000+ steps a day - so I feel I deserve my daily ice cream in the afternoon and a beer or cocktail in the evening. I finished a book, but have several more stacked up on the kindle and not making a lot of progress on them. Which is good.

We had lobster rolls from a hot dog cart for lunch and pizza after the boat trip, so it’s not all big fancy food, but we’re definitely eating well!

Penobscot Bay from our boat ride

Today, on to Bar Harbor!

Maine Events

 

View from Botanical Gardens

Greetings from the great state of Maine! 

I drove up Friday to Boston - well, Newton - where I checked in to the hotel my friends from Michigan were staying. They had spent a few days there already, visiting other old friends. My drive was uneventful, though annoying. I had a smooth and fast journey from home to the George Washington Bridge, pretty much with cruise control set at 72 uninterrupted, even though it was raining the whole time. I filled the tank at the last stop on the New Jersey turnpike, and things deteriorated rapidly when I arrived in New York. 

Waze, my guidance app, decided to take me on a tour of scenic byways, bless its little algorithmic heart. I’ll never know what was happening on the main roads, but from arriving in New York to arriving in Newton, I never once could set cruise control, and I averaged close to 45 mph. Luckily, I had a good book playing, which kept me alert and engaged the whole time, but I was exhausted when I got to the hotel. 

The three of us set off Saturday (yesterday) morning for Maine in another downpour. But, I was able to foist off the driving to J., and we made decent time (even though I95 was closed due to a massive police manhunt). The rain slowed and then stopped, and we made our timed entry to the Coastal Maine Botanical Gardens in Boothbay.

The gardens were fabulous. We were there a total of three hours, including a short stop to eat sandwiches from their cafe. Besides spectacular display gardens, there are some new and very intriguing large sculptures of trolls, designed and installed by Danish artist Thomas Dambo, with the help of “hundreds” of volunteers. I’ve included several of the shots because each was different and they were all huge.

Run away!

Then on to Camden, another hour up the coast. I never would have known to come here without Alice’s blog, her very enthralling writing about how lovely this place is. It truly is amazing. Yes, it is a tourist town, but hey, I’m a tourist! 

My room.
In other news, I have a new phone
with a wide-angle lens!

We’re staying in a BnB (not AIRBnB), a great Victorian mansion with each room done up so nicely. I’m staying in the The Library, the only guest room on the first floor, with my own door out to the patio and gardens. I have a four-poster bed that I need a step-stool (provided) to get into, with the loveliest, softest sheets I’ve ever slept on. They must have had a huge renovation to convert to BnB because each room has its own facilities. For my room, that translates to three separate nooks for the toilet, shower, and washbasin (which is in the main room). It’s cold and rainy here - I have a gas fire and two lovely side chairs with a table set before it. Breakfast was served on tablecloth-covered nicely set individual tables, with the menu of the day freshly printed at each place. Today we had a yogurt and blueberry confit parfait followed by a potato cheese frittata. Yum! 

It’s very walkable into town, and so far it hasn’t been pouring when we wanted to do it. For dinner last night, at the harbor, we had reservations for 7:45 - the only time available - at Fresh & Co at the harbor. I had lobster risotto with peas and sweet corn - fabulous. Just now, for a late lunch, it was pouring, so we drove six miles up to the Lobster Pound (another Alice recommendation I think) for lobster rolls with a view of the Bay. Tonight, a brew pub with small plates. Maybe I’ll have room to eat again by then.

This is all fabulously expensive, but I keep telling myself, “at least it’s cheaper than Iceland!”.

Life Aboard

Sunset, with me at the wheel

In my first post about the voyage, I gave a once-over lightly of life aboard. There may be overlap with this post, but I'm going into more detail. I did keep a few notes in a paper journal while underway, and I've got that as a reference.

The first day, after we raised the sails, had the most amount of sail handling of any day. We needed to head down the Chesapeake to the mouth, and the wind was blowing directly up the Bay. So, that meant we tacked at an angle across the Bay, and then tacked again to the other shore just before running aground. And again. About a dozen times in all.

Me and my fellow guest crew were novices, and needed a lot of help and instruction on what to do.There were eight sails up, and they needed tending to enable the tack. Not all of them were handled at once, but there was a specific sequence to be followed. There were two basic stations - one to handle the three headsails (jib, staysail, jibtop called the "JT"), and one at the mainmast to handle the remaining sails - two square sails on the foremast (foretop and fore t'gallant*), foresail, main, and maintop. I was stationed at the mainmast, and finally got into it enough to understand the sequence, where to stand to be useful, and how to move to be useful in the next move coming up. After each tack, I learned how each line needed to be coiled - there were four different methods of coiling and storing the lines, each with its own rationale. It is really important to place the lines in the right place with the right coil so that when it needed to run out, it could do so smoothly without jamming. Often, coiling involved kneeling or sitting on the deck, laying out the line in a pattern. 

Time for Nan to get to work!

It required essentially all of the crew to tack the ship, so it was only after sails were doused for the night and we started motoring directly towards the ocean that we split into our watches for the first time.

There was a cook on board, with no other normal duties. There was always coffee and hot water available. We got our three square meals a day, breakfast and dinner hot, lunch not always hot. There were also snacks - leftovers, chips, peanut butter cups, gummi bears. (The snacks didn't inspire me, but I was consuming at least a dozen ginger candies every day.) I was on duty from 4-8 am, and 4-8 pm. The way meals worked, most people ate at 7:30 (both am and pm) and then our watch ate at 8, after being dismissed. Our watch and the one going on duty at noon ate lunch at 11:30, and the ones coming off duty ate at noon. The food was set out on a buffet (with high sides to keep things from sliding off). Generally, meals lasted fifteen minutes, as folks were either getting ready to go on duty or else had just come off four hours on deck and had other needs. Breakfasts were pancakes and sausage, scrambled eggs and bacon, bagels and fried eggs, oatmeal with a side of fried eggs, things like that. There was usually fruit, and cold cereal was set out once, but there were also eggs. I dislike a breakfast that is primarily carbs, and this worked well for me. Lunches are less memorable, sandwiches, soups, mac and cheese, usually with salad veggies out and often incorporating leftovers. Dinners were terrific, meat, starch and green veggie. Pork chops, salmon, tuna, chicken, beef stew, even steaks one night (while quarantined at the dock in Bermuda). Dishwashing was self-serve. They had three sinks, each with a plastic tub: first with dish soap in water, second just fresh water, the third a very dilute bleach solution. Just scrub, dip in the second and third tubs, put in the rack. One of the professional crew was assigned each day "boat duty" that involved cleaning all the public areas and heads. Copper and bronze needed to be polished. Ships have a tradition of a high degree of tidiness and cleanliness, probably impacted by the same imperative that leads to meticulous coiling of lines.

Sail handling - I'm in the white cap

There is just one accessible deck below the open-air deck. It is divided into four compartments. From the front: the foc'sl, where seven of the crew lived and shared a head, the main salon, with the galley, the dining table, and four two-bunk cabins (the cook and engineer shared one, the six guest crew in the others) with a head, then the engine room, and finally the aft cabin where the Captain, the first and second mate live in single-bunk-cabin splendor, along with all the electronics for navigating and communicating. There were water-tight doors separating the four compartments (big metal things with big round handles like in the movies) and each compartment had its own access to the deck. When the engine was off, the doors were open and you could pass from foc'sl to nav station without going on deck. Below the deck were hatches leading to the bilges, which were also isolated from each other by watertight bulkheads. These bilges needed to be checked constantly while we were moving. The Pride is a wooden boat, and it leaks constantly. We were constantly pumping out the compartments. With the working of the ship, it might start leaking a lot more without any sign on deck. (In fact, at the dock in Bermuda the crew tracked down where a seam had split under water near the bow and were able to patch it enough to slow the leak way down.)

During the four-hour watch, I was generally at the helm for either one or two hours, coiled some lines if we had done any sail handling, and swabbed and wiped the dew off the extensive wooden brightwork varnished areas after the sun rose.

Typical sunrise

The early watch was especially magical. I laid out my clothes in advance, with a fleece for warmth. It would be pitch dark as we made our way cautiously over the bouncing deck filled with lines and blocks and other tripping hazards. The stars were magnificent - the first morning, the big dipper lay directly behind us, the first thing I noticed when I emerged and headed aft to towards the wheel. The Milky Way was bright and obvious arching across the ship from horizon to horizon. Out in the ocean, we saw bioluminescent plankton, circles and lines, dashing from the wave cut by our bow. Steering without a horizon reference meant steering by stars through the rigging (with frequent glances at the compass to make sure still on course). But very soon after we emerged the stars would fade, the north-eastern horizon would lighten, and dawn would come. It would be full light and quite a lot warmer before our watch was done. The Captain would emerge with the light, and often there was a bit of sail trimming needed during our morning watch.

I didn't go aloft, but I did go out on the bowsprit over the water

The afternoon watch was often social, with the off duty crew hanging about before dinner. We were headed east, and sunset came earlier each day, and it would be dark as we headed below for our turn at dinner. Often there would be sail handling towards the end of the watch, getting things in order for the night. 

Off duty, I tried to stay awake during the day, thinking my six hours uninterrupted at night would be enough. But I slept restlessly, and during the day fatigue would come on suddenly, and I would retreat to my bunk and fall instantly, but briefly, deeply asleep. 

As I mentioned, there wasn't a lot of physical comfort to be found for lounging. There were sights and sounds on deck: I saw flying fish, singly and in groups (is a bunch of flying fish a school or a flock?) and we marvelled at how far they could go. There were birds, and we saw the "longtailed tropic bird" - native to Bermuda - while two days out from the island. We saw the sails of the Portuguese man-o'wars, looking like bubbles on the surface, disguising the 100 feet-plus of the body and tentacles of these deadly cousins to our familiar jellyfish. I had books on the kindle and the phone (to listen to), and managed to knock off a whole science fiction trilogy I had been saving. There was a decent amount of alone time for me, on deck and in my bunk. I was as social as I wanted to be, and might give a rundown on my fellow crew in another post.

So I'll leave you with yet another sunset.

The Ship Recap of Voyage (from Facebook)

 From Pride of Baltimore's Facebook page, just the facts:

 

Sail handling requiring most of the crew

With PRIDE's lines fast in St. George's, Bermuda, we thought we would give you a little voyage recap. Additional details to be featured in an upcoming Captain's Log. 

Day 1 (Friday, June 4): PRIDE II motored to just off Annapolis & set sail right on the heels of some 50 yachts competing in the Annapolis to Newport Regatta. With the breeze coming right up the bay PRIDE II tacked (nearly a dozen tacks) her way down to the mouth of the Choptank before taking in sail. By that evening the wind was going light & with a deadline to reach Bermuda the d-sails were fired up & the ship motored down the bay (actually passing close by the boat our program coordinator was racing to Newport). 

Day 2 (Saturday, June 5): For logistical reasons & the forecast, a gentleman's agreement was come to between the skippers of 59 North Sailing ICE BEAR & PRIDE II to move the start line offshore in hopes of breaking free of the reversing currents at the mouth of the bay & finding a fresh & favorable breeze. By the end of Saturday, PRIDE II set all sail with the exception of the studding-sail & ringtail & began reaching for Bermuda making 8 knots in 10-11 knots of wind on the beam. 

Day 3 (Sunday, June 6): Light air & motor sailing most of Sunday. By mid-day, the ship struck square sails & outer jibs (not a ripple on the water & had a schedule to keep). 

Day 4 (Monday, June 7): The breeze filled in by the afternoon & the ship began to sail again. "The wind for this leg from near the Virginia beaches south of Cape Henry has been somewhat fickle. Saturday night was a good, relatively smooth, & speedy sail of around 8 knots. All sail including the square top-gallant. Sunday around 0900 the wind fell to near nothing when PRIDE reached the main part of the Gulf Stream. Smooth seas & no wind at all. Had to strike square-sails & headsails as they were blocking the breeze made by motoring. Late afternoon Sunday, having crossed The Stream, we went sailing again with the return of the southerly-southwest breeze of around 5-10 knots. We have been able to sail continuously since at boat speeds of 4-6 knots. " -- Captain Jan Miles 

Day 5 (Tuesday, June 8): Sailing under all plain sail & topgallant. "Life board is at a constant 5-10 degrees of heel. PRIDE heaves & jerks with the impact of 3 foot swells from the southeast. No one aboard is able to stand & walk without jerking around compensating with quickly shifting feet. For those of us less nimble, we have arms out to grab or brace as we move around. Since the rise of water temperature to near 80 degrees Fahrenheit with the Gulf Stream & on toward Bermuda, plus a significant rise in humidity, life down below is a swelter. Notwithstanding, ship’s cook, Ian Bova, has been keeping all aboard well fed. And there be plenty of snacks to reach for if one goes to the designated snack locker. But there is no such thing as a cool drink. No ice to be had. So the coolest a drink can be is around 80 degrees. But anyone can have as much hot drink as one wants." -- Captain Jan Miles. 

Day 6 (Wednesday, June 9): Late on Tuesday after 54 hours of continuous sailing PRIDE II began to motor again. Some 120 miles from Bermuda, the captain was estimating an arrival after sunrise on Thursday. (Note from Nan: and the wind rose and we sailed until dawn the next day)

Day 7 (Thursday, June 10): PRIDE II arrives in Bermuda 0700 EDT/0800 Bermuda Time.

Bermuda Notes

What is Bermuda like? I wouldn't know. 

Bermuda requires arrival testing, and quarantine until results. The arrival test can work for the departure test required for the airline to board passengers to the U.S. We didn't get tested for 26 hours after arrival (airline passengers are tested at the airport). Results had been running 5-8 hours. It's now been 23 hours and no results yet. If I don't have results in about half an hour I have to reschedule my flight. 

My Airbnb is lovely, and the host is working her local connections to see if she can get me what I need. Since I showed up a day late and she has no-one booked, she extended the invitation to stay overnight if it comes to that. So I'm physically comfortable, safe, and I am not likely to have to pay thousands to get out of this pickle. I have been in worse travel adventures. But I'm not pleased. 

I spent the first day on the ship and the immediately adjacent wharf. I had a lovely taxi ride the length of the island to the Airbnb. I walked to the city center for takeaway food last night (perhaps not strictly according to the rules). What a surprise - it's a big banking center! (Offshore banks, anyone?) It seems to have high-end shopping, but everything closes at 5 and I had waited till past then hoping for the results so I could sit on a sidewalk patio. It was Friday evening, and bars were packed anyway with prosperous-looking banking types. I did, however, get 11,000+ fitbit steps on my excursion. I was too disgruntled to take any pictures. 

In the middle of the night, when results still weren't there, I reached out to my ship via email to see if they were in the same situation, because misery loves company and I needed to find out if it was just me. I determined the phone number to talk to a person, and their opening time. I checked airline flights - there is a later one this afternoon with apparently seats, and flights tomorrow. I like a backup plan. I'll need to call and change soon!

EDIT/UPDATE: It wasn't just me, the whole ship was waiting for results. Possibly because of my host's interventions (just happened to know the head of the lab), my results came through on my phone just after I had picked  it up to reschedule my flight. I hung up on the airline. The taxi was there and waiting, so I threw everything in the car and off I went! Made it.