The Plane, The Plane!....Week 29

I'm jolted out of sleep by the shrill piercing sound of the fire detector as the genny is started and everything electrical comes alive. Doors opening and slamming shut, footsteps outside my door,shuffling up and down (and up and down) the hall, don't belong here.

My bedroom is right beside the kitchen so I can hear the annoying “beep” of the microwave.

The door of the walk in fridge emits a slight sound as the seal is broken and than the click of the big handle as it is shut. I hear these sounds over and over. As I lay in bed, I wonder what's cookin', for although I can hear everything not the slightest smell drifts my way, enticing me to get up. Conversation and laughter is heard from the dining room. I hear water being sprayed on dishes,the rattle of silverware being dropped in the sink. I can tell they now have their work boots on, stomp, stomp, stomp......silence. Time for me to rise and shine, well not so much shine but I do get up. An hour of coffee(s), reading, writing or on the computer, than it's time to do breakfast dishes, make another pot of coffee for the morning break, think about what to make for lunch, dinner and dessert. My days right now are not my own.

It was several weeks ago now that we were told the crew was coming in again to finish up a project that had been started in the fall. The 25^th arrived clear and calm so we knew the plane would be coming in. Up early( we had been surprised last time with an early morning email saying they were already in the air) we had everything ready and so the waiting game began.

By 2 o'clock and still no sign of the plane or an email, I packed up the lunch I had waiting just in case they were hungry. We have been here long enough that we know all the regular sounds and anything out of place is noticed instantly. “Do you hear it? That's the plane.” It surprises me everytime, just as I hear the plane, there she is touching down in the bay. It has to be almost overhead before we hear anything. It's 3:30.

An assortment of tool boxes, hoses, pipe and super sized wrenches that are all part of Brian's trade come out of the plane along with my food order. Fresh Produce!! It's been 107 days since the last plane and more than a few weeks since we've had something that hasn't come out of a can or freezer. What to eat first...a crisp apple, juicy orange, sweet melon or a banana?

My warm sunny days of last week are gone. It's turned cool again. The sun is making a feeble attempt to provide any sunshine, barely filtering through the layer of clouds that persist. At least it's not raining which is good news for the guys working outside.

The main mission accomplished on the diesel tanks and still another day to go before the plane is scheduled to return, odd jobs are found and there is always a lot of them to keep everyone busy. A pile of plywood is relocated, a new door hung, a support post is braced and the workbench put back to order with tools all neatly aligned.

Looks like a professional welder will have to be flown in to take care of some major work before the summer season begins. That means a few more days of crew in again..... and here I thought that Mike and I would go through the entire season not seeing anyone.

Tuesday is not a nice day, weather wise. Squalls charge in dashing hopes of the plane, than a batch of blue sky will peek through, lifting spirits. The waiting game begins. 

      We manage to connect around 2:30 and find an email from the airport saying that we can expect the plane around 3. “I hear the plane!” Everybody cock's their head, and listens. Yep, it's the plane! Jackets are grabbed, boots put on and out the door. All their belongings have been brought down to the heli pad ages ago. The pilot picks and chooses items, depending on size and weight, judging what should go where. Buckled in, a switch is flipped and the propeller comes alive. Mike and I are running up the dock as the light rain is turning into a heavy downpour. I look back to see the plane taxi out to the middle of the bay and than within seconds she is pushing water and is airborne.

Till next week,

Heather & Mike

The Three PPP'S

I had my head in the oven the other day, cleaning out several months of spill overs, all part of that spring cleaning gene that goes into overdrive around this time every year. I could head in that direction, of this need to clean or I could tell you a tale of an oven, a blackened turkey, threats of desertion, rallying the troops and winning the battle.

“Let me show you how to light the stove, first you pump...” ( I've gone with the stove story)

“ What do you mean , show me how to light the stove, what the f*#!* kinda stove is this?”

“ Like I said, first you pump, than prime, than pre-heat and presto your cooking with gas. Well kerosene actually.”
I'm thinking who in their right mind would buy such a thing. Someone who obviously doesn't cook.
“ I got it for next to nothing”, Mike says so proudly. I would have taken the nothing.
Being madly in love and wanting to show what a good boat person I could be, I learned to pump, prime and preheat.

Slowly making our way down the ICW, we found ourselves at St. Simon’s Island for Christmas.
Hadn't planned on that but that again hadn't planned on the storm at sea, or losing an anchor and chain, or a snowfall in Georgia, or a bilge full of used oil or a blackened turkey.
Stuck here with half a doz other boats due to the fact that the bridges weren't opening I decided to cook a turkey and invite everyone over for Christmas dinner. The 25^th brought clear blue skies and warm winds. This meant the bridges were back on schedule and everyone wanted to hit the road to make previous commitments. This left me with a 17 lb bird in the oven. Late afternoon plumes of black smoke started to waft from the oven. I'm not a expert on the workings of kerosene stoves but I don't think this is suppose to happen.

Do I scream or cry. The term “blackened” is a method of preparing fish or chicken using a mix of spices and a extremely hot pan. My blackened turkey was just plain black. Really black. Black like soot. The only saving grace was that the turkey was cooked. Tackling the bird wearing rubber gloves, I managed to peel off all the skin, I know...this is the best part. Mike and I ate turkey all week ( no freezer on board) and the smokey taste was actually pretty good.....not that I would try to repeat this method but it wasn't a complete loss.

It is now mid April and the bloom is off the rose. I don't have to love everything about the cruising life. I have learned to live with pumping the toilet and pumping up the dinghy but I have had it up to here with pumping the stove. My views were known to all in our anchorage where we had spent the last 3 ½ months. Everyone was on my side.

“For god sakes man, get your woman a new stove, it'll be a lot harder to replace her.”
It was good to have the male team on my side.
Dania Nautical Flea Market held once a year for 3 days is a boater's heaven on earth and only a week away. Strategy was discussed, options were tossed back and forth and a game plan was formed.
Cars were rented, time, directions and pit stops confirmed. I think we were ready.
Our group of 16 were 1 – 16 in the line-up. Our anticipation grew like a group of teenagers waiting for a sighting of Justin Bieber ( well maybe not that frantic) but we were excited. Eighteen wheelers marked the perimeters of the 2 acre Jai Alai parking lot, a massive white tent marked the bull's eye( this was also the beer tent) row upon row of vendors were eagerly waiting to take our money.

Biminis, toilets, hatches, scuba gear,fishing tackle, anchors, props, rope, line, winches and hardware. Bathing suits (ohhhh bathing suits) books, charts, flags, radios, radar, roller furlings. Look beyond all this because we have a mission. We are on the hunt for a propane stove. The keeper of the gate finally stood aside and we would have put those teenyboppers to shame the way we charged in. Heading off in a dozen different directions, we had purpose. The team did good. Within half an hour a stove was found, Mike was found to inspect it, I was found to say yea or nay and a deal was struck.

I loved my new shiny stove. I loved that I could just turn the knob and a flame would appear ...like magic. No more PPP.

Mike's joy came from the fact that after he converted the natural gas jets to propane ( $20.00) he sold the 50 lb tank which came with it and in the end got the stove for next to nothing.

It's More Than Just A Shower

In my post titled “Meltdown” I made brief mention of how wonderful it was to take a real shower after 13 days of lathering up and sluicing off from a stockpot. This got me thinking of all the memorable showers I have stored in my hippocampus.

 They say this little area of the brain is shaped like a seahorse. Hmmm.... interesting...seahorse, water, memories, there's definitely a connection here. Funny the events that stay with us.....that leave a lasting memory. Other people remember a home run hit in 6 th grade, the first day of your first job, the day you proposed. Some of my brain cells have decided to set aside room for the simple shower. Of course it's more than just a shower, it's the events leading up to it.

“Sure I'm game for sailing back, it'll be fun”

I hadn't thought this one through and before I knew it was sitting in the tiny cockpit of a tiny sailboat, 2 am, on lake Ontario in October. To add to the insanity I was dressed more for the party we had been at rather than the pre-dawn sail that I had agreed too.

This being only my third experience ever on a sailboat I didn't think heeling over to the point of my elbow skimming the sea was unusual. Naivety can be a good thing.
The captain of the vessel had long since retired to his bunk, as a matter of fact only minutes after we hoisted the sails and set a course. We'd been duped.
How amusing was it when that first wave rolled down the deck, missed me and soaked Mike, not so much the second time as it arched over him and found me as it's target. Eternity is 4 hours.

 The hull barely made contact with the dock when I was up and out of there. Taking only seconds to go aboard our boat, grab a towel, jeans, t-shirt, it was up to the shower house I was headed. Scalding water for 20 minutes brought tingling feelings back to my limbs and my neck and shoulders which had been in “turtle” mode could once again relax.

Wanting to learn all about being a sailor sometimes doesn't involve water. We were on the 'hard' or in the boatyard if you not up on all your boat jargon. Our date for untieing the dock lines and beginning the journey south was in sight so it was time to do her bottom....translation, hauling out and painting the part of the boat that sits under the water. This didn't sound so bad, couple days of sanding, I like to sand, and I'll wear my new bathing suit (I think it was a birthday present) to work on my tan at the same time....multi-tasking or just plain dumb?

 From that day on I was known around the marina as “smurf”. Who knew that sanding bottom paint was such a dirty job, oh by the way the paint was blue. It was the longest shower I have ever taken, maybe the longest shower ever. Is there a category in the Guinness World Book of Records for this event?