More Misfires and Misadventures

Ok, after a good night’s sleep everything looks a little better. Rick was easily able to fix the furling drum last night, and he found his swim mask and took a dip in the water to get that line untangled from the propeller (yes, that horrible harbor water). Thankfully the prop was undamaged. Rick consoles himself with the idea that the dinghy needed a new line anyway. All we need now is a properly repaired sail and we can get out of here. First, let’s make some coffee.

Can’t light the stove.

Perfect.

This boat has a wonderful propane system, but Rick doesn’t know anything about it because his last boat had a simple alcohol stove. We have just bought a boatload of food that will need to be cooked to be eaten – we can’t take a two month trip without a working stove. Is this trip cursed for some reason? As devastating as this latest blow is, we decide that we just can’t worry about that until after we get the sail taken care of. So off we go to Annapolis.

Bacons’ is a sailor’s dream of a store; they have harder to find equipment than at the chain marine stores, and they are obviously set up for sail repair with their long countertop table. As a sewing enthusiast, I find this store to be quite interesting. They promise to have the sail done by the end of the day, and talk Rick through his latest problem with the propane system which probably isn’t as serious as we had at first thought. We run some more errands until the sail is done, and then armed with the freshly repaired sail and a new part for the propane fix – and of course a few hundred dollars lighter in our wallet – we head back to Baltimore and the boat. Maybe we can leave tonight?

Rick has started to call Valkyrie “The Catholic Girl”. It’s a crude male analogy, but just when you think you’re getting to first base she turns around and slaps you. True to form, when we arrive back at the boat we have a new surprise waiting for us. A diesel fuel leak. After getting a whiff of diesel fuel in the cabin, we discover a horrifying little lake of fuel around the base of the spare tank. This is serious. If we can’t find the leak before it reaches the bildge we will become an EPA disaster area. I think our summer is already over. It is now after five on a Friday and we can’t raise anyone on the phone who could do a quick pump-out of the fuel tank. Rick sends me out to the store to get an armload of fuel cans and plastic tubing to pump out the tank ourselves. When I get back he has figured out – long story short - that the leak is being caused by a clogged vent, not a break in the tank and with some thorough cleaning we should be fine.

The heat has been unbearable - was it 104 degrees today? – so we decide to catch a movie and take advantage of a couple of hours of air-conditioning and diesel-fume free air. Rick thinks that the conditions are right for an intense thunderstorm, so we secure everything well before we leave. Sure enough, when we return to the marina a storm is brewing. The winds are coming up strong and the sound has a distinct screech to it – I have to admit that I’m more than a bit frightened.  We watch as the awning on one of the condos that face the water lets go with a rattle and whips around. The boat in the slip across from us is clearly in trouble; it’s furler has given way and the headsail has unrolled halfway and is flapping violently in the amazing wind. The marina seems to be deserted except for us two fools – I think it was too hot for anyone else not to stay at home – so there is no one to take care of that boat. Rick is afraid that the force of the wind in that opened sail will break the boat loose and then be a danger to all the other boats around it, including our own. He runs over in the middle of this tempest and sure enough, the cleat that the boat is attached to has pulled halfway out of the rotted dock. It would be too dangerous for Rick to board that rocking, rolling boat with the flapping sail and lightning everywhere, but he manages to secure the boat to another cleat with one of his own lines. My hero!

In the morning, we assess the damage. Valkyrie has made it through without any problems, but the neighbor’s boat has a sail that is pretty obviously beyond repair.

It turns out that the whole Baltimore Washington area was hit by a “derecho” – a rare storm that travels in a straight line instead of the usual curved trajectory. Power is out everywhere and we need to go back to the house and make sure everyone is ok. My son Dewey is there of course, and also our house sitter Rachel who is a student at the university where Rick teaches. As we approach, we can see that the entire neighborhood is littered with large tree branches that have come down in the storm. We are always worried about the big ash tree that towers over our house and the house next door. When we arrive at the house, thankfully everyone is fine including the ash, but Rachel’s friend had parked her car in Rick’s usual spot out in front of the house and a large tree branch has landed on it and smashed through her windshield!

We are obviously not sailing away today. Dewey is a little freaked out by the responsibility of the house without power (and the lack of internet).  Maybe we need to stop pushing so hard to make this thing happen and accept that we really can’t leave until things are sewn up a bit better. After moving all the large branches and sweeping up the debris, all the neighbors bring whatever they have on hand and gather at MaryEllen’s pool for an impromptu, “the-power’s-out” party. I love my neighborhood! We decide to relax and just go with it.