May Days...

Cape May house (from our visit two years ago)

Cape May. Quaint little beach town with lovely Victorian houses. Yeah, that’s what I think of too, but our visit to Cape May this year included nary a wrap-around porch, nor sand in our shoes. What we got instead was one long day of torrential downpour, and another devoted to an exhaustingly extensive hatch-cover fix.  On the plus side, we made a couple of great new friends.

So what does one do on a boat when a storm is raging outside? Well, the first order of business is to try and keep dry – not an easy task when the main cabin hatch is lashed on with a few lines and a trash bag. In desperation, Rick lays his rain jacket over the top but predictably, we still get a steady drip, drip, drip inside the cabin.

Aside from the dryness issue, the main challenge is trying to distract yourself from the fact that you are confined to a very small space. I pull out my hand-cranked sewing machine and work on piecing together a quilt. Rick does the scholarly thing and reads.

The next day is sunny and hot, but instead of heading for the beach, we spend the day trying to fix that blasted hatch cover. The thing about cruising is that when things inevitably go wrong, you have to try and fix them with whatever you’ve managed to bring on board. I’m reminded all day of the crew of Apollo Thirteen who had to literally fit a square peg into a round hole using only what they had inside their little spacecraft. Rick rigs up a number of do-it-yourself solutions using block and tackle, lines, winches and who knows what all, in an effort to bend that hatch frame back to an accurate square.

Things are definitely improved by our efforts, but we are going to have to enlist outside help. We rent bikes and ride with the frame over to the West Marine store, where they let us use their vise. Unfortunately, the vise itself is missing some nuts and bolts and requires more do-it-yourself action. 

Once repaired, Rick is able to use the vise to twist the frame a bit, but actually has more luck with a simple hammer. Back on the boat, we go for more Rube Goldberg applications until finally, that frame is good to go.

Rick puts the hatch cover back in facing aft this time. We’re both pretty sure that the original design had it this way, and even though we might sacrifice a little air circulation inside the cabin, this puts the hatch out of the way of the boom vang. No way do we want to risk ripping it out a third time!

On one of our dinghy trips to shore, we meet Chris and Gretchen whose boat is anchored next to ours, and we compare notes about the previous day’s storm. Looking to be in their late thirties to early forties, they turn out to be live-aboards who two years ago quit their jobs, sold their house, and sojourned to the Caribbean with their two cats. Yes, CATS! They are making their way north to enjoy a summer in Maine, and they have many questions for us, as do we for them. They invite us over for drinks, and then we all climb into their sizable dinghy and go to shore for dinner at a bar called The Lucky Bones.

We have a great time comparing notes with these two; our hope is to sail to the Caribbean ourselves a few years from now when Rick has his sabbatical year at Loyola. While neither of us would consider permanently leaving our respective jobs, it seems like a move that would take a great deal of courage, and I for one can’t help admiring them for it. We talk about what such a change in lifestyle can do to a relationship, and we also exchange funny stories of disasters that have befallen our boats.

Leaving very early the next morning, we are sorry to see our new friends' boat disappear in the mist. Let's hope we meet up again soon, somewhere off the coast of Maine.

Chris and Gretchen's boat "Alchemy"