Looking back at our year on Katahdin as we circumnavigated America's Great Loop, some themes and experiences definitely stand out. You may find some of these obvious; others perhaps not so much. I'd welcome your thoughts, comments and questions and am happy to engage in dialogue whether you're contemplating a voyage yourself or merely enjoying dreaming about one from the coziness of your sofa.
The Comfort of Routine and the Challenge of New Waters: In one of my earlier blogs, I wrote about the routine tasks involved each day in preparing to get underway and casting off. A few times I messed up that routine. Once I forgot to put the cover back on the starboard engine cooling water strainer which led to an engine heat warning alarm. Another time, I forgot to turn the breakers back on for the air conditioning after cleaning
that water intake strainer. A third time we neglected to disconnect the shore power before casting off. All three of these incidents made the Admiral cross.
That said, I generally found the routine and its numerous steps surprisingly comforting. Why? First, I suppose, completing these tasks conveyed a sense that all is well. Engine and gear oil levels are fine; water will flow and cool what it's supposed to; fuel filters are clean; there's no water in the fuel/water separators; antifreeze levels are ok; shore power and water are disconnected; mooring lines are readjusted so that they can be cast off without getting off and on the boat.
But in addition to all that, completing the normal routines comfortably juxtaposed with the reality that, once those were done, we would set off onto new waters every single time we left the dock or hauled the anchor. Most boaters boat in home waters that they know well and have dozens of tracks on their chartplotters showing where they have traveled safely before. In our journey on the loop, we navigated new waters almost every minute of everyday underway. Sometimes that was very straightforward and others we held our breath as we figured out where to go, weaved through shoals, navigated around rocks or reefs, traversed narrow, twisty channels, and found our way into new harbors and marinas. Exciting--yes. Challenging--definitely. Rewarding at the end of the day--you bet. But nice to have some regular things to do, too.
The Beauty of North America: In roughly 280 days on board, we cruised 6600 miles: across Lake Michigan, up the Cumberland River to Nashville, down the inland rivers to Mobile Bay, along the Gulf of Mexico and then across it to Florida's west coast, through the Okeechobee Waterway to the east coast intracoastal waterway, Chesapeake and Delaware Bays, the New Jersey shore, the Hudson River, Lake Champlain, the St. Lawrence, the Ottawa River, the Rideau Canal, the Trent-Severn Waterway, Georgian Bay, the North Channel, the Macinac Straits, and down the east coast of Lake Michigan to complete the Loop. In all that time and across all those miles, natural beauty graced us; and, around most corners, day after day, one of us would turn in awe to the other and say, "Look at that!". Hills, sand dunes, evergreen forests, hardwood forests, coastal wetlands, grasslands, freshwater swamps, big sky, blue sky, dark ominous scary clouds, calm sparkling waters, white caps, 5 foot seas, sunrises, sunsets, white puffy clouds, moonrise, moonset, orange sun, moon and sky from forest fire smoke--all simply gorgeous and frequently seemingly magical. The American west claims credit for our continent's majesty--credit it richly deserves. But that credit cannot take away from the beauty of the eastern, central and southern regions of America. They are exquisite!
Bird Life: Speaking of beauty, boy did we enjoy observing the birds. Out there with them every day all day, we traveled through their habitats, their homes where we only visited. And watching them throughout four seasons added real joy to our trip. Looking back over our log, most but not all of the birds we saw were familiar to us as they also live in habitats surrounding our homes in Maine and Key West. And some seemed to travel with us as we headed south down the inland rivers in the fall, east along the Gulf Coast and across the Okeechobee Waterway, during the winter, north along the east coast Intracoastal Waterway in the spring, and west across Quebec and Ontario in summer. White pelicans provided perhaps the biggest surprise. We first encountered them on the inland rivers and they did move south with us to their wintering areas in Mobile Bay and other parts of the Gulf. Expecting them to behave like the more familiar to us, brown pelicans, the Admiral worried that they were not feeding. It turns out that unlike brown pelicans which dive bomb fish even in shallow water, white pelicans gulp minnows, perch, etc. as they swim and even work together to "herd" fish into shallow water where they can dine on them more effectively.
Around the entire loop, we saw a surprising number of bald eagles and osprey, hanging out in the fall and winter, nesting in the spring, and fledging young in the summer. Numerous osprey nesting on navigation buoys tolerated our passage even when only a few feet of water separated the boat from the buoy.
The double crested cormorant also accompanied most of our trip. At times we saw them just one or two at time but we also encountered really nasty smelling islands that thousands congregated on for communal breeding and feeding.
We also found great blue herons along most of the loop and great egrets on the
southern sections--both sometimes flying but more often standing silently and waiting to ambush prey. Common loons, mallard ducks, and gulls and terns of various species also seemed omnipresent while we more occasionally saw green herons, night herons, buffleheads, scoters, coots, and various hawks.
We definitely learned how Canadian geese got their name. According to Canadian wildlife officials, the waters of Quebec and Ontario support about two million of them. Yes, they're pretty birds but I may never walk on grass again without carefully placing each step. A Canadian goose poops about two pounds a day; imagine what flocks of dozens or hundreds do!
On the Trent-Severn Waterway, thousands of invasive mute swans raising their young surprised us. Interestingly, we would first see one or two pairs, then more, and finally groupings of hundreds if not thousands. After that, we would see smaller numbers, then a pair or two. We recorded this phenomenon several times over the course of the 240 mile Waterway.
I've saved my last bird call out for the belted kingfisher, one of my favorite birds, that always put a smile on my face when it undulated across a river or stream or along a lake shore in front of or beside the boat.
In addition to birds, we also enjoyed seeing hundreds of dolphins , especially along the Gulf coast, the west coast of Florida, the Okeechobee waterway, and the more southerly portions of the Atlantic ICW. A deer swam across the Cumberland River in front of Katahdin; two different racoons cleaned their breakfast on the side of the Mississippi River as we floated by, and twice river otter swam across in front of us.
More Undeveloped Shorefront than Expected but Heavy Development, Too: Talking about the beauty of North America and describing some of the bird life we saw reminds me of another impression. We saw many hundreds of miles of undeveloped shorefront as well as hundreds of miles that were developed beyond any reasonable standard.
The amount of undeveloped shorefront along the inland rivers really surprised us; think the Illinois, the Mississippi, the Cumberland, the Tennessee, the Tombigbee, the Black
Warrior, the Mobile Rivers. Each had the occasional industrial element with its appurtenant dock--grain elevators, quarries, coal facilities, power plants along with even more occasional cities and small towns. But, you could travel for miles through riverine wilderness. It dawned on us that flooding is a serious foe of development and locals clearly understood the futility of building much more than a duck blind close to those river banks.
Along the Gulf Coast, while there was plenty of development, national seashores also dominated the islands and you could travel for miles with homes and commercial facilities on one side and completely undeveloped islands and beaches on the other. We hope to go back this winter and take more advantage of this pleasant juxtaposition.
The Okeechobee Waterway proved another big surprise. Running east from Fort Myers and Cape Coral to the lake, itself, and then from the lake to the ICW at Stuart, it offered miles of undeveloped shoreline on both sides along with superabundant bird life as mentioned above. Unexpectedly, it became one of our best memories of the trip.
Moving up the Atlantic ICW, we encountered a wide variety of landscapes, from undeveloped and wild to heavily urbanized with a lot in between. Florida's east coast national seashores, also mostly on islands, offered miles of wonderful contrast to the cities, towns, and rows of second homes on the mainland. And through Georgia and
South Carolina, especially though not only south of Charleston, thousands of square miles of completely wild coastal wetlands and grass lands simply delighted us--gorgeous. North Carolina on the other hand, at least what we saw of it, was way too heavily developed. Along much of the waterway, you couldn't fit your hand between the houses and could barely see the banks for the docks that lined them. And the barrier islands there were jam packed with high rises so that the only way to get to the beach was to go through the buildings. Ugh.
Moving north, Chesapeake and Delaware Bays and the Hudson River have a mix of developed and undeveloped waterfront weighted perhaps a bit more toward the developed while the Champlain Canal, Lake Champlain, and the Chambly Canal also have a mix but lean more to the less developed.
Canada, too, was a land of contrasts. Generally, we found the Ottawa River, the Rideau Canal, and the Trent-Severn Waterway more developed than we expected. There were some very exclusive waterfront homes, small villages, and hundreds (thousands) of rickety waterfront cabins and shacks. Georgian Bay and the North Channel of Lake Huron, however, consisted mostly of back country and wilderness. By the time we got there, the Admiral was ready to get home and no longer had the patience to spend days exploring and nights in a remote anchorage. In another life, I'll spend more time in what many describe as the best freshwater cruising locale in the world.
Finally, the east coast of Lake Michigan surprised us. Literally miles and miles of sand dunes and beaches abut the lake and the only harbors are completely man made. Not surprisingly, the towns and villages surround these widely spaced harbors and though there are a few second homes scattered here and there, the amount of undeveloped shoreline was amazing.
Fisherfolk Everywhere: Along with the omnipresent bird life, fishermen and sometimes fisherwomen dotted the water and lined the shore almost everywhere we went. The wealthy go to sea (or to the Great Lakes) in 40 foot, 50 foot or even larger vessels with dozens of rods, downriggers, etc. while those with lesser means line the shores, the locks, bridges, and breakwaters with a rod or two, a pail, and maybe a cooler. In between and in even greater numbers, you find folks in small tin boats, fast, special purpose bass boats, center consoles and a wide variety of other vessels equipped to fish.
On the inland rivers, we kept a sharp lookout for folks in camouflage clothing, often in camouflage boats who lay along the edge of rivers hoping to lure a fish out of a hole near the bank. We did our very best not to "wake" them, primarily for safety and courtesy. However, especially on the Tennessee Tombigbee Waterway, some have a reputation for claiming damage to their boat and fishing gear from passing loopers who "wake" them and then having their friend, the sheriff, stop you at the next lock to collect damages or more. We never encountered this even though we would occasionally rock someone pretty hard when we didn't see them until too late. We did hear stories though. We had the most interaction with the river fishermen at Bird Song Creek where two mornings about 40 bass boats participating in a fishing tournament left at 06:30 and returned for their weigh in at 15:30. Proud, God-fearing bubbas, they recited the Lord's Prayer and Pledge of Allegiance before setting off eacn morning. Very polite and pleasant folks to chat with, I'm guessing 90% were Trumpers and the other 10% wouldn't tell you if they weren't.
Not surprisingly, along the Gulf coast, Florida, and the east coast ICW, we saw hundreds of large, expensive vessels equipped to go offshore to capture the biggies and often encountered them running fast into and out of harbors and inlets. As you would expect, many of these were charter boats but the number of privately owned vessels astounded us. In these regions, along with countless smaller fishing boats, we also saw a lot of folks fishing from bridges, banks, etc., --typically black men and boys but frequently young white boys as well.
Along the Canadian canals and locks, we encountered a different demographic. There, numerous Asian women, sometimes alone but often with a child, occupied the fishing spots along the route. In some cases, it looked like they might really need the fish. In others we hypothesized that recently arrived immigrants were either trying to reproduce experiences that they'd had in their home countries or trying to acculturate to their new one--perhaps both. We also occasionally saw black families camping with fishing gear and a few times oriental folk also camping. Lest you get a misimpression, it's also true that larger and better equipped offshore fishing boats than I would have expected crowded the wharves and moorings of all Great Lakes harbors.
Girls, Girls, and More Girls: All around the loop and particularly in Canada, the number of young women serving as dockhands, lock masters, and lock staff astounded both the Admiral and me. Welcoming, competent, knowledgeable about both boats and the local scene, personable and friendly, they did a terrific job. While many were summer employees who would head back to school in the fall, more than a few, especially in more southerly portions of the loop, served as full time employees. But where were the boys? We asked a number of the young women. "Home playing video games, I guess," was the common answer. That does not bode well.
The Demise of Main Street: Speaking of not boding well, around the entire loop we visited small towns with dead main streets. In way too many cases in both the US and Canada, two out of every three store fronts were boarded up and it did not seem likely that they would be reoccupied anytime soon. Some of these towns offered more vibrant strips on the main drag at the edge of town or beyond. Other towns just seemed well along in the process of closing up. Are Walmart, Home Depot, Lowes, large grocery chains really our friends?
Trains: In our parts of the world, Maine and Key West, trains have pretty much faded into history and numerous railroad rights of way have been converted to bike/ped trails. And, in the case of the Overseas Railroad to Key West, converted into US Route 1. Not so in many of the other parts of the US and Canada that we traveled through. Of course, river and lake shores have often provided the easiest corridors for rail development and the shores of the Great Loop are no exception. In many places, freight trains passed us nearly every hour and some were so long they seemed almost endless--especially when
we had to wait for them to pass for a bridge to open. We also enjoyed watching passenger trains roll by on many parts of the loop, especially during the commuting times of day.
It's All Uphill from Every Marina and We Didn't Walk Up Those Hills Nearly Enough: We discovered early on in the loop that anything you wanted on land would require an uphill climb from a marina--Groceries, restaurants, boat parts, hair cuts, a cappuccino--you name it. The only questions became how steep the hill and how far up did you have to walk (or bike) to get what you wanted. When you think about it, this is a "duh". Water flows down hill, the marina lies next to the water at the bottom, and docks are typically only 1-4 feet above the water, itself..
In retrospect, we didn't walk up those hills nearly enough--In part because in many places there were more things to see that we should have taken in. But, now that we're home, both the Admiral and I realize how out of shape a year on the boat has left us. Our
routine bike rides take longer, I walk some of the hills with my bike that I never walked before, and walks that we used to think nothing of require some huffing and puffing and stopping to look at the sky.
Let's be honest: I'm closer to 76 than 75. The Admiral will always be well behind me in age but not that far really. And, let's face it: we put in a full day on the boat--going through our checks and navigation planning in the morning, getting underway, focusing for a number of hours to navigate, guide the boat, negotiate bridges and locks, keep track of other vessels, manage systems; then dock, tie up, connect power and water, shut down systems, clean decks, clean windows, clean inside. At the end of that, we felt, well, tired, though in truth we hadn't really had much exercise. Many nights we'd walk a half mile or so to a restaurant and then back. Occasionally we took an Uber. Some nights dinner on the boat just seemed easier. And far too few times we took advantage of shore line or other bike paths which offered both scenery and exercise. Did I mention that losing the weight we mysteriously gained is neither easy nor fun? Somehow, when we are on the boat again, we will walk and bike more and perhaps, just perhaps, eat a bit less.
Regional Foods: However, eating a bit less may be challenging. We loved exploring and enjoying food specialities in different regions. We started out with steak in Chicago but switched to oysters as we arrived in the lower reaches of the Black Warrior and Mobile Rivers. Along the Gulf, down Florida's west coast, and up the ICW well past Charleston, we found oysters cooked almost any way you can imagine: garlic oysters, roasted
oysters with a wide variety of different seasonings, oysters Rockefeller, fried oysters, grilled oysters, oyster chowder and on and on. Of course the oysters were mixed with all the fish our southern waters provide--snapper and grouper, our favorites, and wahoo and mahi mahi--again, all served in a wide variety of mostly delicious ways. As we neared Chesapeake Bay, we enjoyed blue crab cooked a variety of ways. And closer to New York we had accees to fresh halibut, haddock, and cod from North Atlantic waters Though we undoubtedly ate too much of many of these foods, at least they were relatively healthy. That would change as we moved into Quebec, the land of Poutine. Who doesn't like french fries with cheese and gravy? And who knew how many variations of the dish we would find as we crossed Quebec? And who knew that there would be even more varieties of Poutine in English speaking Ontario? Sadly, outside of Montreal and Ottawa, most of the restaurants we found were pub or cafe style, some with good burgers and some not so good. And, with the exception of Macinac Island, Michigan didn't offer much better. For us, though we did try them several times, it was hard to get excited about white fish and pickerel (aka Walleye). Boy, those last six weeks our food habits really hit the ropes! Now that we're home, we're paying the price.
Wonderful Weather/Seasons: Speaking of regions, we planned our loop to align with each region's best season: the inland rivers in autumn, Florida in the winter, the Atlantic Intracoastal Waterway in spring, and Canada and northern Michigan in summer. That worked terrifically well. And, with rare exception, the weather gods smiled on us for our entire journey and we enjoyed an incredibly high percentage of bright sunny days and very few rainy snotty ones.
The exceptions: On the rivers, we had to start several mornings at 06:00 in thick fog and drizzle in order to make the first lowering in a lock. One morning it was so foggy that the lock master asked if we'd like to stay tied up in the lock after he lowered us. When we said no, he told us that he would offer a prayer for our safe travel. On the Gulf coast, we endured seven days in a row with morning temperature of 24 degrees (F) or below.
Generally, those temps warmed into the 40s or low 50s as the day went on. One morning there we woke up to find 6 inches of a snow-ice mixture coating every one of the boat's horizontal surfaces. It was 14:00 hours before temps warming into the 40s enabled me to chip it off. On the Atlantic ICW, Admiral Joe Dyer and I cruised three, 100 mile days with 5 foot seas in near zero visibility fog. I had the "right" admiral with me for those days! The real Admiral and I endured a couple of rainy days with the windshield wipers broken--one as we were heading back south to Charleston to trade boats and another really annoying day with the "new" Katahdin on the Champlain Canal. And finally, our two months in Canada offered heat, humidity, and forest fire smoke--sunny, hot, hazy days that did not inspire exercise or being outside.
But, to reiterate, it would be hard to imagine having a higher percentage of fair weather hours than we had on our Loop. The weather gods bestowed almost complete goodness on us.
History: From big cities to small towns and villages, everyone wanted to tell the story of their history. We loved learning about the Chicago River and Lock. The Louis and Clark Museum in St. Charles, Missouri, is a gem. The Country Music Hall of Fame and RCA
Studio B in Nashville delighted us. The National Quilt Museum in Paducah, Kentucky, amazed us. The National Aviation Museum in Pensacola occupied us for hours. Nauticus, the Naval Museum at Hampton Roads and the Annapolis Naval Academy both told rich stories enhanced by the companionship and great stories of Admiral Dyer. The World Trade Center/9-11 Memorial commemorates one of our nation's greatest tragedies. The Canadian Museum of Nature captured the natural history of the northern reaches of the continent as well as current day denizens.
But communities' willingness to tell the darker sides of their histories often surprised us. Throughout the inland rivers, almost every community had plaques telling what had happened to the indigenous native Americans and some told the story of the role of
African American slaves in their development. As we moved to the south and south east, communities told similar stories but the balance shifted more to the stories of slavery, emancipation, and the civil rights movement though native Americans were not left out. In Pensacola, seeing the actual lunch counters where blacks held sit-ins in the early 60s while also conducting boycotts that reduced downtown stores' revenues by 80% brought home the reality of a fight that sadly, still goes on. And we really enjoyed learning about Gullah Geeche culture which spans the southeast from Florida to the
Carolinas.
Canadian towns and villages told similar stories focused primarily, though not exclusively, on the displacement of native Americans.
Canadians: We spent nearly a quarter of our actual time on the Loop in Quebec and Ontario which enabled us to take the temperature of a good many Canadians' attitudes toward Americans. First, and I can't say this loudly enough, to a person they were lovely to us: welcoming, kind, helpful, friendly, inclusive. We completely enjoyed all of our
interactions with them, even with the Ontario Provincial Police officer who stopped me for having only one license plate on our daughter's car. We quickly discovered, however, that you could no longer buy bourbon in a restaurant, bar, or liquor store and American grocery products have disappeared from even large chain store shelves. Why buy from a neighbor who's making it difficult for you to sell your products to them? But more than that, whether a real threat or an idle musing, the insult of threatening to make their sovereign nation the 51st state just rankles them. And more than a few suggested that that eventuality would only happen over their dead bodies. In our view, Canada had been and continues to be an amazingly wonderful neighbor. I hope we get back to treating them with the respect and dignity they deserve and that we recognize that fair trade with them provides part of the glue that binds us together.
Kindness: At every turn around the entire loop, we encountered kind, warm welcoming folks. Even though we bought both our boats second hand more than five years after they were built, the people at Sabre and Back Cove, especially Back Cove, could not have been more helpful. In most cases, they replied within an hour or so to questions or requests for where to source a part. I can't say enough about the quality, generosity and knowledge of their teams.
But the people we "bumped" into along the way surprised us even more. We first needed real help when, following a series of chronic electrical issues, our batteries wouldn't start the engine on a cold, 34 degree morning at Bobby's Fish Camp in Silas, Alabama. We were at the very end of a long dirt road literally 125 miles from any source of professional help or supplies. Somehow, a wonderful red-neck named Brandt heard about our problem and showed up with a massive battery charger/booster. It got the batteries cranking but did not give them enough juice to actually fire the engine. Sigh. But, then, our new acquaintances, Jake and Lina sailed by. As we had planned to be at the downstream lock at the same time, I radioed them to let them know we wouldn't be coming. Of course they asked why and after I explained, Jake said that he had two extra, brand-new batteries he could loan us. Amazing. But each battery weighed a bit north of 100 pounds. I could have lowered the new ones in but could never have gotten the old ones out first. Not a problem for Brandt. He tested and found our two (of four) weakest batteries, pulled them out, lowered the two new ones in, and then insisted on hooking them all back up. Voila, we were underway. Would he take a penny, not on your life.
Naturally, the Admiral thought that if two new batteries were good, four new ones would be even better and she lined up the purchase at West Marine next to Turner Marina off Mobile Bay. Same problem though, in the awkward spot where the batteries lay, there was no way I could get the old ones out. I asked a fellow geezer who owned the boat behind us to give me a hand. Even together, the two of us failed. But, he said, "I know a guy." Turned out to be Chad who happily lifted the old batteries out and put the new ones in. Unlike Brandt, however, he left me to do the wiring and enjoyed a coffee and chat with the Admiral while I did the work. When I finished, he invited us to go to his favorite oyster restaurant in Mobile for dinner. We happily accepted, had a great intro to Gulf oysters, and then enjoyed the tour of Mobile he gave us before taking us back to the boat. He wanted to pay for dinner. Not a chance. Our treat. Nice, kind, warm, fun, generous people.
While Jake, Brandt, and Chad win the oscars for kindness, everywhere we traveled we ran into warm people. Lock keepers, bridge tenders, dock hands, waitresses, the local folks on whose small town cafes we intruded--our trip around the loop reminded us that the vast majority of folks are warm, friendly and helpful--even to bedraggled mariners just in off the sea.
Saving the best to last, I have to give huge kudos to Craig Tallberg, the owner of Coastal Carolina Yacht Sales. Craig sold us our first Katahdin in the spring of 24 and our second a year later. From the time we first met him, he has generously provided ideas, shared knowledge and solved problems for us. In the process, he's become a fast friend. Craig seldom failed to answer his phone and, on the rare occasion he did, he would immediately text letting me know when he'd be available. In the few instances when he didn't have the answer to our question, he almost immediately found someone who did. We came to trust him so much, and him us I guess, that when we bought the second Katahdin, we did it on a handshake and never had a contract until boat and money changed hands. That's trust.
Marriage: Ahh, marriage. Kim Russo, the executive director of the America's Great Loop Cruisers' Association is fond of saying, "If you have a good marriage it will be even better after the Loop and, if your marriage is rocky, you should rethink even starting out." I suspect she's right and am happy to report we'd fall in the former category.
When we first started telling people we were going to cruise the Loop, a surprising number asked what we'd talk about all that time. The underlying but seldom spoken real question was how could we stand being together in such a small space 24/7 for the better part of a year?
Really, it wasn't that hard. We generally like each other and, closing in on 45 years of marriage, we much more quickly resolve and get over tiffs than we once did. But, some other things helped too.:
Clear responsibilities:
The Admiral took responsibility for our itinerary. She decided where we'd go
Planning the Itinerary and Negotiating for Slip Space and when but usually welcomed input and checked to make sure I was on board. She chose restaurants, led our grocery expeditions, typically but not always prepared our on-board meals, determined when the sheets and towels were due for a wash, cleaned the inside of the boat, cast off and coiled lines, hauled in bumpers, etc. Often she would call a marina when we were 5-10 minutes out to learn where we would dock, whether it would be a port or starboard tie, and how high our fenders should be. She also proved an admirable deck hand passing lines to dock hands and advising them how we wanted to be secured.
Cap was in charge of mechanical, electrical and electronic systems (engines, generator, SeaKeeper, chartplotter, radar, radios) along with planning and executing navigation and the helm.
Cap's Job Was to Get Us There Four eyes are always better than two and often the Admiral would sit beside the helm double checking our course as we
Glancing Away from Our Course for Just and Instant! traveled. Given my red/green color limitations on low light days, she sometimes proved especially helpful pointing out which buoys were which much further away than I could. Cap almost always redid the lines and adjusted the bumpers once we were docked and secured. He kept the outside of the boat clean, the dinghy's and fenders inflated, and flailed away at keeping the spider population under control.
When things went wrong, we trouble shot together. Typically, Cap would be in some kind of yuck up to his elbows while the Admiral got on line or sometimes the phone and sought advice. It was fun to see who could figure out the problem first though really it typically involved a back and forth discussion as each contributed what we'd learned to the shared problem solving pot.
Weather: We had an unspoken agreement that either of us could veto a day's journey if we didn't like the weather forecast. We typically looked at different forecasting media and brought our own info to the morning's weather discussion. Not once in 6600 miles did we disagree on the go/no go decision.
Space: I figure we had about 400 square feet on the first Katahdin and around 500 square feet on the second, both in a fairly linear arrangement. Small, yes but we did find ways to have our own space. Following Ben Franklin, I'm an early to bed, early to rise guy. That meant that the Admiral often had the main salon the last third of the evening by herself and I would have it the first couple hours of the morning. Similarly, she's a napper; I'm not so I often got some afternoon time alone too. And, the nature of our chores often took me to the engine room or up on deck while she tended out on what was down below. However, for the most part, we didn't mind being in the same space though one's feathers could get a bit ruffled when it was exactly the same space. (e.g., the space to fix dinner is the same space to fix drinks).
Finally, and I leave you with this. The two most important words in any captain-husband's vocabulary are, "Yes dear." For young bucks those words can stick in the throat. But, if mama ain't happy ain't nobody happy and, well, since this old buck likes to be happy . . . ! The one exception: As captain, I am ultimately responsible for the safety of the vessel, its occupants, and those in the waters around us. You wouldn't need the fingers on one had to count the times I had to overrule the Admiral's concerned advice but in those few I'm glad I did. Secretly, I think she's glad too.
An Ode to the Bosun, a.k.a. the Commander-in-Chief: How could we possibly post a final blog without remembering the Commander-in-Chief Some of you came to love the old boy during the first half of our Loop and those who did grieved with us when, at age 18, his kidneys failed and we lost him in Charleston. Born of a young teen-age mother and affectionately known as Rascal, he came to us as a helpless newborn when his stray mother showed up with him on our back stoop in 2006. Having only recently lost a previous cat, we took them both in. Sadly Molly, his mother, died at age 9, also of kidney failure.
Rascal undoubtedly felt uprooted and a bit dismayed when he moved to Katahdin, where he would spend his final seven months. But he immediately took charge and adapted quickly. He found well-protected spots to nestle in when the going was rough or a
stranger came to the boat. In calmer moments, he watched a world he'd never imagined go by out windows or ventured to the cockpit to catch some rays. Occasionally, he'd peer into the water from the vantage point of the swim platform. Not sure what he may have seen there.
The Commander-in-Chief had a great life. He spent most of his summers at our place on the lake and lived full time here after 2015. He thoroughly enjoyed watching chipmunks under the bird feeder either from our screen porch or hiding at the corner of the house. He took occasional strolls through the choke berry bushes along the edge of the lake. I'm happy to report that his remains made it safely home and he has a happy final resting place in those favorite spots.
What's Next? I'm writing this particular blog from our home at Cottage Point in Maine. This fall we will enjoy being here but also make up for opportunities we missed this past
year to spend time with the grand kids--more travel than we would like but so much love that has to be shared. I'm hoping an early winter offers skiing, both alpine and cross-country. We'll see.
In any case, Katahdin will travel by truck to Charleston in early November where she will have annual maintenance and other minor repairs and upgrades. We will pick her up there in mid-January and head south--for sure to Florida and hopefully to the Bahamas as well. In the spring, we'll bring her to Maine where we hope to do some downeast cruising. It's been way too long since we plied these waters on our Sabre 28 sailboat with three young children.
Then, if life allows, we're hoping to do the Downeast Loop in summer 27--Maine to NYC, up the Hudson and Lake Champlain to Montreal, Out the St. Lawrence, around the Gaspe Penninsula, Cape Breton Island, PEI, Nova Scotia and back to Maine. Of course, God laughs when you tell her you have plans. But, with luck, we'll have more adventures and there'll be more blogs. Stay tuned!
Your loop experience mirrors ours exactly. I found myelf nodding along with your fluidly written recap. It definitely made me miss it. Congratlutions to you both on an extraordinary achievement!
Congratulations on a great adventure! ❤️
Incredibly impressed by your accomplishment! And your writing! And your photography!
What an adventure! Loved every post.
Chuck, you write beautifully and your recap is a wonderful read. The best to you both. Tim
What an amazing adventure and I am so grateful you took us along for the ride. Loved hearing about the birds and wildlife and the history of so many different places. Mostly I was astonished as to how many mechanical problems you faced and even more so, your persistence to push through! Hope you enjoy your return to more rooted days in the months ahead. Again, thanks for sharing.