Every Eden

It’s a Sunday, two days after the big storm that kept us anchored to home. I wake up late and stumble into the main cabin. There are tools and containers full of nuts and bolts strewn all over the inside of the boat, along with much of our gear that can’t be stowed until the tools have been put away. In my sleepiness, I somehow can’t quite place myself in this scene. Rick sees my bewilderment, borne of heat and fatigue, and says, “We need to leave today.”

Tired of our slip, we anchored just outside the marina last night. A crab has climbed up the anchor chain this morning and is holding on tight. I hope this is not a bad omen for another false start!

We spend the better part of the day wrapping up odd jobs around the boat, doing a final load of laundry and making last minute visits to the store. The gear is now stowed, the tools are put away and the boat feels ready for an extended voyage. It’s almost seven in the evening when we finally leave the slip, but we’re happy at the prospect of getting underway, even if our first stop is only a few miles down the Patapsco.

Good-bye Baltimore!

There isn’t much wind, but just enough to test out the new sail, and all is well (thank God). Rick is thrilled with how the boat handles, which is another good sign. Even though he hadn’t actually “sailed” the boat before buying it, he had done quite a bit of research online and the Southern Cross 35 is supposed to be a fast boat and good in light wind. Thankfully, this boat is living up to her reputation.

As we approach the Key Bridge we are both aware of our previous failed attempt to leave Baltimore. Sailing under that bridge feels like a real accomplishment, and kind of a marker of sorts; whatever calamities might befall us from here on out, we are not turning back.

We head over to Rock Creek to spend the night, passing White Rocks (could the name be any more imaginative?) on the way. The water is of better quality now that we are out of the Baltimore Harbor and we take advantage of this by taking a quick swim. Rick has installed a cockpit shower to use for quick rinse-offs and when we try it out the water runs extremely hot. This is not supposed to happen. Pretty soon the water sputters and runs dry completely. Is the tank empty? Rick is befuddled at this latest problem.  “ I just filled the tanks - there should be plenty of water in there!"

The water pump is new, so probably that’s fine. It could be that the ancient hot water heater is malfunctioning somehow. Rick just can’t figure it out. We now have a choice – we can forge on ahead and make do with our four gallon jugs of bottled water, possibly replumbing the system to bypass the hot water heater, or that dreaded possibility – we go back to Baltimore. We decide to make some dinner and then sleep on it. Maybe things will be clearer in the morning.

I have a fitful sleep, but one advantage of not sleeping well is you get to catch the sunrise – and it’s a spectacular one this morning. When Rick gets up, he sets about solving this latest water problem, and what do you know, it’s working! We still don’t know what the problem was – overheating from the engine? That doesn’t make sense…  - but we are inclined to keep going along with our journey now that we have water. Hopefully, we will figure out what happened as we go along. We fill up a couple of empty gallon jugs with tank water, just in case.

We have a marvelous day of sailing! The wind is just right and Valkyrie really flies. It is gratifying to see Rick so happy. He has worked so hard to get this boat ready, and with so many problems, I had begun to worry that he would be sorry he had ventured away from his tried-and-true Alberg and bought this bucket of misery. But the sailingis what it’s about after all, and he’s overjoyed that he has chosen such a fantastic boat.

As we pull in to the Sassafras River for the night, Rick wants to tack and get just a few additional moments of sailing before turning on the engine. He comments to me that he has never tacked with a cutter rig like this one before. A “tack” is what happens when you go from one point of sail to another, placing the wind on the the starboard (right) side instead of the port (left) side for instance. When you tack, the sails have to transfer over to the other side of your boat. I am suddenly worried about ripping that newly repaired sail, but Rick laughs off my trepidation and says it’ll all be fine. He lets out the sail lines, we turn to port and pull in the sheets (lines) on the other side. The sail is fine, but to our horror the lines attached to the boom (the boom vang) catch on the open cabin hatch cover. The pressure of the line builds and before we can jump to release it - oh noooo! - the hatch is torn half out of the deck!

Doh!

Rick is remarkably cool about this latest development; I think he has now crossed some sort of calamity threshold and he’s starting to see our situation as more humorous than anything else.

"Every Eden needs a snake."