The Real, True story of our trip (in several parts)

[CapnK]

Now, on to the real, TRUE story...

Connie mentioned I was tired, and had been sick with a bug, and drove all night to get down to her dock. Well, lemme say this - when I told her I wasn't feeling good, she said "Well, you'd better not let that get in the way of MY vacation! Buck up, wimp, and get down here NOW, or you're gonna arrive and find an empty dock!!!". Then she slammed the phone down in my ear. So I disconnected my IV, changed out of the hospital gown and checked out (against the advisement of the team of doctors who were working to keep me alive), and got in my car for the 12 hour drive to get to Florida on time. Pushing through the night, I arrived shortly after 7AM, and was glad to see Pixie Dust still at the dock. However, there was no Connie about and around, so I strolled down the dock an announced myself...

Well, after announcing myself about 3 more times with increasing volume, and finally resorting to knocking on the side of the hull, a sleepy voice came out from deep within the hull, inviting me aboard. Kicking aside the several rum bottles and Solo Cups in the cockpit, I went below. There was Connie, up in the vberth on her superfoamy mattress, obviously just barely awakened, bleary-eyed, whiskey-voiced.

It seems that while I was driving through the night, "Miss PD" was entertaining one of the boys from the local boatyard (no doubt in an effort to get cheap or free work done on her boat). They'd drunk *all* of the rum which had been aboard, and which was supposed to be for the trip, and now she whined and moaned about feeling bad from her excesses of the night before. I just decided to let it go, and not make a big deal of it, since we had to spend the next week in close quarters, and did my best to subtly get her (Connie) underway, so that we could get Pixie Dust underway. Several hours later (gee, what was the big hurry for me to get there?), we *finally* untied PD from the dock and slipped out through Watsons Bayou onto East Bay, headed for St Andrews pass, out of Panama City Beach. I don't remember much of the transit, as I was dog-tired, yet kept busy by the commands of the skipper who had me cleaning and organizing supplies and what-not which had been flung and strewn about the cabin, evidently during the previous nights alcohol-infused debauchery.

Finally, at last, we made it to the Gulf, and set sail. Well, we *tried* to set sail. The roller snarler, true to expectation, wrapped itself up so that it wouldn't open properly. (Connie tried to fob this off as her own fault, not the snarlers', but we all know the truth about that particular gadget...) After being made to go forward to bring the roller snarler into submission so that it would work properly, we did set sail. Winds were (as noted) light and westerly, coming from the direction we needed to go. We spent the afternoon moving along at 3.5-5 knots, making short tacks out and longer ones back in; the breeze slightly favored port tack, so I used the footers to gain westing. During this time, I discovered that, as well as being deckhand, gopher, swab, and rum-less during this trip, I was also having to wear my instructors hat, teaching Connie about some of the gadgetry on her boat, about what sail trimming lines did what, etc etc... I was exhausted, but she wouldn't let me sleep, even resorting to whacking me with a winch handle on the knee one time when my eyelids drooped below halfmast. Much of this time is a blur to me now, as I'd been awake over 24 hours.

Finally, the sun set, and Connie, in her hungover-ness, started to get tired shortly after. I "volunteered" to take the first watch (is it "volunteering" when you really have no other choice?), and Connie went belowdecks around 9:30PM to sleep in her fluffy, soft v-berth, after I told her I'd wake her in 3 hours. I poked some coffee grounds into the corners of my eyes (besides making it difficult to shut the eyelids, the pain also serves as a stimulant to keep you awake), and sailed Pixie Dust on into the night, accompanied by the whisper of the hull through the water, and the snores resonating out from forward and below...

Still in the blur of weakness from my recent sickness and lack of sleep due to hurrying down to Florida (hurrying for some reason unbeknownst to me...), I stayed at the helm for the next 4 hours, tacking 2 or 3 times as needed as we stood in to shore and then off again. Finally, around 1:15AM, I just couldn't stay awake any longer, and so, as gently and as subserviently as possible, I woke Connie.

I learned then that it is best to wake her from a distance, perhaps with the gentle nudge of a boat hook from 4 feet (or more). Perhaps it was delirium from my having been awake about 36 hours or so at this point, but I could have swore that I saw her eyes blaze red, and the tips of fangs, when I shook her shoulder. I jumped back in time to avoid bloodloss, and scurried back to the cockpit.

20 minutes or so later, she finally came on deck, and I made her aware of our position, weather status, boat speed, and other things I thought she might need to know about to be situationally aware. Not too much later, after cleaning up the mess she'd made in the galley after waking, and agreeing to take watch again in 3 hours ("after you get fully rested, so I can go back to sleep", as she put it) I collapsed onto the port settee and fell into a dreamless sleep.

I woke at dawn, to find that Connie obviously had full intentions of taking Pixie Dust to Cozumel, maybe there to sell me into the slave trade to fund her further cruising plans. We were far offshore, out of sight of land, and on a course taking us just west of due south. I kiboshed those plans quickly, and after a brief physical struggle with Connie that I barely won, put Pixie Dust back on a westerly heading. Had I not been woken by the sunlight on my face from the port, I might even now be writing this in Spanish, using a broken bedspring to scratch my tale into the stone walls of my cell...

Anyway, I kept a closer eye on or course through the rest of the day. We exchanged turns at the helm, and though I nodded off in exhaustion from time to time (always to awake and find us headed south, not west), I managed to make sure that we were headed for a landfall in our own, English-speaking country. Winds remained generally light and westerly. For an hour or so we had to motor, genoa furled, main sheeted in tight to avoid slatting. By late afternoon the breeze filled back in, and we were able to stop the clamor of dead dinosaurs which issued from belowdecks, and be sailing within sight of land again.

Shortly after sunset, Connie went back to "sleep", but in the cockpit this time. No doubt she was acting, hoping that I'd pass out so she could wrest control of our course again, but I'd secreted a handful of coffee grounds into my pocket when cleaning the galley up earlier, and so was able to stay awake and on guard for any sneak attacks. Finally, she must have given up on her nefarious ideas, and become resigned to the fact that we were going to Pensacola, and so fell asleep. I'd piloted Pixie Dust in to Pensacola Pass before she came out of her slumber.

So we did indeed follow a barge through the narrow cut (one of the few true facts in *her* account), and then turned out of the channel to find our anchorage.

I wanted to stay a little east, but Connie was urging a more westerly approach, and thus we ran aground briefly (sunshine the next day showed that if we'd gone in the direction *I* wanted to go, we'd have slipped inbetween two shoals easily). It was a sand bottom and a light touch, so I used my piloting skills to come unstuck, and thus we had no harm done. It was a little harder than it sounds, due to the fact that Connie was yelling in my ear, and crying the whole time. At least she didn't hit me this time. We proceeded in to anchor in a mere 10' of water, yet even so Connie forced me to wrest another, 35# anchor and rode out of the cockpit locker, and set it off the bow as "insurance". Finally assured that there was no way she could sneak me to Mexico without my knowledge, I fell asleep in the cockpit for the rest of the night.

Nonetheless, I slept with my hand positioned conveniently close to a winch handle, just in case...

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More to come

[CapnK]

So, I awoke from almost 5 hours of sleep just after dawn on Day 3, hearing the sounds of the wind, the water, and Connie demanding that I get my "lazy ass up" and make her some coffee. This I did, as much from the fact that I needed the coffee as from the fact that she was making me do it. Daylight revealed (beside the fact that I was headed to the right spot the night before, and we'd suffered an unnecessary grounding at Connies westerly insistences the night before) that we were anchored just outside of the 'real' anchorage, marginally in the "channel". Well, Connie couldn't have that, and she made me shift the rodes around so that we were more off to the side. Being in the channel, we had boats go by close from time to time, but all went slow, and there was more of a breeze out there besides.

We wound up staying where we were; this day was mostly just work aboard (tasks dictated for me to do by Connie), and periods of rest for Her Highness. When she put down her book and slumped into sleep on her cockpit cushions from time to time, I managed to catch a few winks, too. By afternoon, I'd come up with a plan. I acted nice to Connie, and brought her booze, and this worked like a charm. In her buzzyness, she even allowed me to have a few libations of my own. The workload even lightened, although she did make me blow up and launch my inflatable dinghy.

By sunset, she was mellow enough that I didn't worry any longer about having to overpower her if she decided to up-anchor and take me south, and so night came on with Eric Stone playing on the radio, while we sipped drinks in the cockpit. This was *much* more like the "cruising lifestyle" I've heard others talk about, I thought. Eventually the beer acted on Connie enough that she crawled belowdecks and ensconced herself into her foamy vberth and blankets, and I fell asleep myself out under the stars, under cover of a thin cotton sheet.


--------------------------------


Day 4 - I awoke again to the sunrise cries of "I need my coffee NOW, swab - and be quick about it!". Once I'd gotten that out of the way, and things were quiet again up in the vberth area, I got out my hammock, hoping for a few restful moments of my own with coffee, slung over the foredeck, admiring the morning. It wasn't to be.

Apparently, she heard my movements overhead, and so snuck out of her vberth in time to catch me just as I lay down in the now-hung hammock. I fully enjoyed all of the 15 or so seconds I lay there, before she ran me out and took it over for herself. I spent most of the rest of the morning ferrying her coffee cup up to her in the hammock, and taking the pictures she wanted me to take of her relaxing in splendor aboard her boat.

Later, when she was full of caffeinated energy, she made me winch her to the top of the mast, apparently just so she could enjoy a different view. While she was aloft, I had visions that now was the perfect time for me to take control of the boat and the situation, through a little slip of the halyard. However, I didn't know where she'd hidden the boat papers, so instead of possibly having to deal with a sticky situation if stopped by the Coast Guard or DNR, I decided to bide my time and await another opportunity ot gain freedom...

The day was hot enough that, afterwards, when she saw me standing in the puddle of my sweat from these exertions, she let me swim for a while. The water was wonderful, perfect temp, and almost as clear as glass; I could see the line she'd tied to my ankle droop almost to the bottom when I treaded water. After a couple minutes of this, she hauled me back aboard and put me to work fixing the cabin sole boards and scrubbing the bilges. Conditions were improving; she appreciated this enough to allow me to have some beer and hardtack when the work was done.

Later, she made me take her in the dinghy over to land so that she could stretch her legs and hunt for shells. As this was an island, there was really nowhere for me to go, so I stayed near enough to her that if she sprinted for the dinghy, I'd be able to get there close enough to her to avoid being left behind. We went back to the boat around sunset, and, as it had been the day before, the booze I'd plied her with throughout the afternoon made her plenty mellow, putting her to sleep within a couple of hours of nightfall.


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Day 5 - After the now-usual morning tasks and coffee-ferrying up to the hammock, I effected my "booze plan" early in the day, since it seemed to work to my benefit. It worked, and this day was the easiest yet; the tasks fairly menial. Mostly just cleaning, cooking, organizing, and getting her whatever she wanted when she wanted it.

She'd said we were going to up anchor this day, but that didn't happen. I think the earlier-than-usual beerfest had something to do with this.

By early afternoon she was approaching cordiality with me, I could tell from the jokes she made about my mother that she was in a good mood. I let "sleeping dogs lie", and fetched beer whenever it was called for (often, very). After preparing and serving her nightly dinner, she was asleep early, and I actually got to spend some  quality time relaxing myself at last, reading a bit from a sailing book before falling asleep under the starlit sky...

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More to come...

[CapnK]

Day 6 - Starts as usual. By now, I am conditioned such that, before she even finishes yelling her first demands of the day, I am heading belowdecks to start the coffee almost by instinct. It makes my life so much pleasanter.

While she sips the first cup of coffee I deliver to her in the v-berth, she informs me that I need to get the boat shipshape and quickly, since she wants to be underway and headed west inside of an hour. This I do, although it leaves me no time to make and drink some coffee of my own; I content myself by sucking on some dry coffee grounds as I ready the dinghy for towing, get the engine going, and haul up the anchor tackle. We are underway in an hour or so, and so I successfully avoid a tongue-lashing. Connie lays in the hammock over the foredeck, coffee in one hand, book in the other, while I pilot us onto the ICW. Before even the first turn a few miles down the ICW, I find myself having to let the autopilot steer while I carry cold beer forward for someone who is disinclined to leave 'their' comfortable perch in order to serve themselves. Little do I realize just how often I'll be doing this throughout the next few hours...

So I spend the rest of the morning, and then the early afternoon, alternately piloting and serving beer as we head towards Alabama and the infamous "Pirates Cove" marina and restaurant. Boat traffic was heavy, so my dashes forward and aft to do my jobs had to be timed just right. After about 3 hours of this, tragedy struck - I discovered that the beer supply was running low! Thumbing through the ICW Cruising Guide, and consulting maps, I find a marina not too far ahead, and we pull in to hopefully resupply. After docking and tying the boat up (to some loudly voiced 'suggestions' from within the folds of the hammock), we find that there is a store there, but it is closed. We go into the small sandwich shop, and are told of a store that is only a few thousand feet away which *is* open. While Connie sits in the a/c, sipping on her cold beer and eating the grilled shrimp she ordered, I jogged through the Florida heat to the store to buy some beer.

After seeing the multi-dollar-digit prices on the beer at this store, I jogged back, empty handed. Lucky for me, the combined effects of a/c, beer, and grilled shrimp have mellowed Connie, and with many assurances that there is another marina and store just down the way according to the Guide, Connie accedes that we can stop there and hopefully procure some cheaper-priced liquid refreshments. We get back underway, the diesel hammering away with a few hundred more RPM's than before, the better to get us to the next store ASAP, Connie says.

On approaching the dock at the next marina, I discovered that multiple beers apparently make Connie think she is part bird. This, combined perhaps with the *true* effect of several beers, results in her twisting her ankle pretty badly when she lands badly after leaping approximately 27 feet from the foredeck to the dock. I'll say this for her; she did manage to keep a grip on the line she had prepared, not dropping it despite the pain she surely felt. I was careful to avoid entangling this line in the prop as I pulled neatly alongside the dock, stopping a few short inches away from where Connie sat rubbing her ankle.

Injuries aside, we successfully procured more canned malted beverage, though not at any kind of discount over what we'd seen at the other marina. Apparently Floridians don't mind paying more than $1.25 per beer when buying 12 of them at once, all bundled in one package. Floridians must be rich, as these prices are unheard of up here in poor lil old South Carolina. After resupply, we headed out once again to our destination, in sight across this bay.

Connie was looking pretty sad and whining about her poor little twisted ankle, so I suggested she take a shower and get freshened up (and lay off the beer) while I brought us in to Pirates Cove. For once, she listened to me, and went belowdecks to do so. Just to keep her on her toes, though, I purposefully nudged the bottom a couple of times on the way into the Cove's unofficially-marked channel. This had it's intended effect, and the surprise of the boat stopping suddenly sobered her up a bit. After docking at the Cove, I too showered and cleaned up, and we went inside just at sunset for dinner.

Pirates Cove almost needs it's own story, but I'll save that for another time. Suffice to say that they serve drinks called "Bushwackers" which do, and that Connie had a bevy of young male sailors grouped about her the whole night, even after they discovered that she was "old enough to be their mom". In fact, if I'm not mistaken, this made her even more popular. I was able to drag her out of there before she inadvertantly signed on more crew. This night was the only night she didn't force me to sleep in the cockpit, since we were in a marina. It was bliss, there on the settee, sleeping on a *real* cushion for once. Even though the volume of the snoring from the v-berth was louder due to proximity, I went to sleep fast, and slept hard.

----------------

More to come...

[CapnK]

Day 7 was the only day that started without my being yelled at for the Mistress Of The Boat's coffee. This was because I was close enough that she only had to speak loudly for her demands to be heard. The usual morning chores done, and after I brought C some breakfast from the restaurant, I backed Pixie Dust out of the slip, and we motored around Pirates Cove looking at the many beautiful craft which were at anchor up in this little nook.

After leaving Pirates Cove, we checked out Ingrams Bayou (an undeveloped cove of some repute for just that reason), and headed down the Florida/Alabama border to Perdido Pass. This is an exceptionally narrow channel at places; I wouldn't want to do this run at night for the first time unless under the very best of conditions. We managed it safely, and pulled in at a marina just at the mouth to (you guessed it) buy more beer.

Connie wooed the young studly dockhand there, while I went to the store, and used the marinas facilities. After I got back on the boat, Connie saw what beer I'd bought, and went and got more. After she returned, it was difficult, and almost heartbreaking, to tear her and her young love away from their newly-blossomed romance, but I wanted to get Pixie Dust offshore again, where we could proceed without running the engine, so I just had to do it. The tears were heart-wrenching, almost.

This we did, passing somewhere along the way "The FloraBama" bar made famous in a Buffett song. Making our way out of the pass, we turned east, set the autopilot, trimmed the sails, and didn't touch the sheets again for the next 13 miles, until we made the turn in back at Pensacola. The afternoon seabreeze had kicked in well by then, and with the tide running out, it was a lumpy ride in to the mouth. We sailed up until it was no longer prudent to do so, then doused the sails and motored over past our former anchorage to another, at Redfish Point. There were about a half-dozen other sailing craft there, probably ICW transients, including a couple larger catamarans. We were hook-down and eating dinner by sunset, and Connie was mellow enough that I had, for the second time on this trip, some inkling of what the "cruising lifestyle" must be like for normal people.


---------------------------------

Day 8 we headed back east, on the inside (I don't need to mention the morning coffee thing again, do I? Y'all get the picture of how it was, right?...), going about 15 miles away to a place named Big Sabine Point, to meet up with some sailing friends of Connie's.

We arrived there early in the afternoon, short-tacked our way up to shore, and then motored the last little bit between shoals inside to the anchorage. It was good timing; the guys (yes, 3 of them - did you expect differently from Connie? By now, I knew better...) sailed in behind us, aboard David's boat, which is hilariously named "Arr 'n Arr" (I *love* that name!). These guys had done quite a bit of Bahamas and BVI cruising together, so we spent the afternoon telling sailing lies and, of course, drinking beer. These fellows were a lot older and more mature than Connie's bevy at Pirates Cove, and most importantly, all married, so I was able to relax and not worry about her leaving me stranded and sailing off into the sunset with a new love...

The fellas took their leave an hour or so before sunset, and we cooked up some sunset dinner and made preparations for the return to Panama City Beach the next day. The night was plenty gorgeous (again, as it had been all week), and the anchorage protected and wakeless. Cleaning up, I discovered that somehow, during the day, a large bag had filled up with empty beer bottles and cans, perhaps the largest quantity of such refuse in one day yet. But then, it was basically the last day, so that's probably to be expected...


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Day 9 - Morning Coffee Ritual complete, we motored west back to Pensacola Pass. Connie actually touched Pixie Dust's wheel during this time! We made it to the pass just at the slack tide,so motoring through was pretty calm and easy. Offshore, we turned straight towards PCB, and after a bit of rolling in the light air, Connie made me get out my spinnaker so that we'd go faster. This I did, and it flew for a couple of hours until the wind picked up. We sailed on a reach under the genny (which thankfully didn't snarl up again) that afternoon, and Connie let me take a nap, since she wanted to be able to sleep later that night without worrying that I might fall asleep at the helm and hit something.

Shortly before I woke that evening, the winds backed and lightened, so we broke out the spinnaker again for another hour or two until sunset, when the wind died completely. Firing up the iron genny, we proceeded east. When the sky had darkened, we could see lightning storms far off to the east, brilliantly lighting up cloud tops in the direction of where we were headed. Later, as we got closer, you could see the tops light up as the bolt shot out of them to the ground down below - it was impressive and beautiful, being as far away as it was. Closer to it, I would not have felt the same...

About 4 hours away from PCB, a small band of clouds rushed overhead, and behind them the wind came up, on the nose, eventually blowing into the upper 20's for an hour or so. This built up a confused bit of seaway, and it was good we'd battened things down, as spray occasionally came onboard. Yes, Connie slept through most of this. I woke her when we reached her home pass, and she took the helm once we were inside, since I was tired, and thought she'd know the route better.

It turns out that her chartplotter - which had decided itself to go on vacation, starting the day before - knew the route in, after dark, much better than she did. Still, wWe managed to make our way back without too much indecision and without hitting anything at all, and eventually tied up at Connie's dock just as the sky began to lighten.

It had been a great sailing vacation.

I'm glad that I am able to set the record straight about what it was *really* like, though...

;D

[Zen]

Bwaaaaaaaaaaaahahaahah ROTFL
;D ;D ;D ;D ;D ;D

It is a good thing you're home, otherwise you'd be walking the plank for sure dude!


;D ;D ;D ;D ;D ;D ;D

[AdriftAtSea]

I'd recommend that Cap'n K be careful if he's sailing with Connie anytime soon.  Women tend to have a long memory... ;) and they're very, very, very sneaky. 

[Pixie Dust]

Oh my gosh.... What a bunch of sheck. :) That is what I get for the disclaimer in my post.  (I also noticed that the filter changed God to Gosh) I do not think the doctors have poor Kurts medication adjusted or maybe he should not drink while taking them.  Maybe his confused state comes from eating green food and drinking hot beer since returning from a boat with home cooked meals, cold beer, good rum, hot showers and a head.  Let me say that Pixie's Capt always has a smile on her face and is polite with her requests.  She does not believe in yelling or raising her voice.  That being said.....
I got a call earlier from my ex friend and sailing buddy Kurt announcing he had just posted about our trip.  I just tried to contact him to address just a *few* confused and misrepresented posted facts, however, he is not answering his phone.  Imagine that!!  :o Basically, just substitute Kurts name for mine and mine for his and we are getting a little closer to the facts.  :)  He left out the ice cream treats I would get for him; the reason I had to leap to the dock was because he was having a little problem getting PD close enough to even get the dock line on a piling and the marina closed in 15 minutes.  He was whining about almost being out of beer and ice so I took my life in my hands to make sure my "thought to be friend" would have enough beer and ice to meet his daily habit and needs.  We will not even get into the "men/boy" comments.  As for the expensive gadgets, my sweet little boat has many things not attached to a solar panel or battery or shore power.  We never once connected to shore power our whole trip.  She is not a prissy boat at all.  She is *well* thought out though.  The lead line is a good idea and I will have one made by me within the next 2 wks.  The problem even with that would be getting K to slow down enough to use one and to stay off the sandbars long enough to check out the situation prior to sitting on them.  :D  He just seemed to love the sandbar checks.  My poor keel probably does not have any paint or barnacles on the bottom few inches.    ::)
I am thinking about leaving now to drive to Georgetown to "really" put *your* friend into the white slave market.  That way, one aspect of his tale will end up having some truth to it.  I am also taking my 25 mm flare just in case he gives me any lip.   ;D   I will allow him to go through one more coffee ritual prior to removing him from Katie, since he obviously enjoyed that aspect of the trip so much.  I will post on SailFar how much I got out of him, although I probably will not be able to cruise much longer than an afternoon with the proceeds,  especially after I ring his neck and Yes, Zen, make him walk the plank with that 35# anchor attached just so I will be sure where he lands. 
Tsk tsk tsk Kurt Russell.... shame on you.  Dishonesty is not a good personality trait. 
PS-
Don't tell Kurt this... but it was a pretty funny write up, even if it was filled with 1/2 truths and wild tales.   ;)

[Skipper Dave]

Boy did I have the wrong impression of Connie.  I thought she was a very kind and likeable person.  Well I guess the true person comes out on trips like that.  Feel very sorry for you Capt'n K.

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This morning it looked so nice out I thought I'd leave it out.

S/V "Tina Marie"  Cal 2-27

[Pixie Dust]

Yes, Skipper Dave, bless his little heart.  Someone should have a talk with that mean woman about how to treat her boat guests. 
My heart goes out to him..... He will probably need therapy to help him recover from the trauma he sustained on his adventure to FL    ;D ;D ;D ;D

good thing he is 12 hours away right now.    ;D ;D ;D ;D ;D

[CapnK]

LOL!  ;D ;D ;D ;D ;D

OK, OK, maybe it wasn't quite this bad...  ::) ::) ::) ;D ;D ;D






8)

Actually, Connie was, as I stated before in the other thread, quite the gracious hostess, competent seawoman, and helpful shipmate, and I thoroughly enjoyed her company for the whole trip. And Pixie Dust was a wonderful boat. So I wrote the story up in a way that I hoped would make them laugh, and give them a tale to tell other cruisers about when they wander offshore next winter... :)

As far as the truth contained in the story, at least some of it:

I did make the coffee most mornings, but only because I usually woke first, with the sun (she *does* like to sleep in her 'cave'  :D).

There *was* a rum party aboard prior to my arrival, and it did delay our departure perhaps a little bit, but not much at all - and I didn't mind, I was tired and moving slow, since being sick had set me back a couple days on work, and I was arriving later than planned. The bad part; we did set out pretty much rumless. But,

There was quite a bit of beer to make up for that (obviously!).  :P

Connie conned the boat more than my story relates, and did a great job of it - she sure knows her boat, and vice versa.

I did haul her aloft that one morning - in order to reave a spare/spinnaker halyard.  We also did clean out her bilges, which had roiled up a bit with our offshore passage, and I did do some fixin' on her cabin sole boards, out of neccessity - probably because the extra traffic of "me" made the wooden sole access plate supports start to fail a little sooner than they would have with only Connie aboard. So - Yes, it was a bit of a 'working vacation'. :) Just enough to be interesting. At least the head didn't fail!  ;D

Connie *did* attract a few guys at Pirates Cove - that part is true! Her flight to the dock and twisted ankle beforehand, though, was a combination of her exuberance, some beers, and the fact that I didn't get the boat quite as near the dock as claimed in the story above... :) The woman ain't scared to jump!  ;D

Any and all groundings were my fault. There were 3, but, as I explained to Connie at the time, sometimes you can use grounding as a *strategy*, and I've never been scared to do that! To my credit, we *were* in places with no reliable soundings on the chart (so I made my own!  :D)

So, having recieved phone messages that Connie is on the way here, in order to "throw me under a bus", as she so delicately puts it,  ;D I thought I'd better write this addendum to the story a little quicker than I'd intended. I was hoping to let it ride 'til tomorrow, but that may not be the best thing for my health!!!  ;D

Wish me luck!  :D ;)

[CapnK]

Oh, and Connie is a *great* cook! She did most of the food preparing, and planned some great meals!

I think I gained a few pounds on the trip, and stretched my stomach a bit... :D

[Adam]

I think your "corrections" are lies... you're just sucking up because, Stalinesque or not, she gotcher ass out on the water :)

I've been through all that area... what a great place to cruise... the ICW was GREAT, but this was 2 weeks after Ivan, so there wasn't any boat traffic.... they were all up on shore...

Hilarious reading!

[xroyal]

Sounds a mighty long, fun party to me. Maybe a keg would have saved a few dollars?

Truth is, we're all envious of you both. Thanks for sharing!  :)

[oded kishony]

Loved it...hilarious! :D


~OK

[AdriftAtSea]

Regardless of where the truth lies.... I think it was very gracious of Connie to host you for as long as she did.  I'm going to side with her for one reason only... she's cuter than you.  :D  Yes, I know this isn't very fair, but oh well....

I would also recommend running far and fast if she's got her 25mm flare gun with her.  If she gets you with the flare gun...it'll leave a mark.

[Pixie Dust]

 ;D ;D ;D :D :D
I am proud of our boy for coming clean.  He posted the *real* story just as I was checking the bus schedule for the closest route to his marina.  

Kurt was a great sport, too.  He did put me up the mast, he did clean out the bilge and he did fix my bilge cover and tune my rigging.  He also helped me clean up collected water under the setee's from healing for 39 hrs.  He also made me laugh out loud a lot!!  He gave me special lessons on topping lifts and sail setting.  I will also admit that he did bring me coffee and beer while I was in the hammock.  I think that was because he was tired of seeing me fall out of it while trying to get in it.  :D I did not have to order him to do it, he did it because.... well who knows the answer to that one.  :D I can highly recommend Capt. K for any boating or water adventure.  Fun, Fun, Fun and really knows his game.  Kurt has a standing invitation to come on Pixie Dust any time. ( he is back in my good graces  :D)  PD and I both enjoyed having him aboard (always subject to change ;) ) I really learned a lot from him.  The strategic grounding is a very valuable tool and all good sailors should practice this technique, especially when your sailing crew is taking a shower.  
As for the morning coffee...
Kurt and I were trying to decide who *would* brew the morning coffee each day.
I told him, "Kurt, you should do it because you get up first, and then we don't have to wait as long to get our coffee.
Kurt immediately said, "Connie, you are in charge of cooking around here therefore you should do it, because that is your job."
I replied, "No, you should do it, and besides, it is in the Bible that the man should do the coffee."
Kurt bristled and said, "I can't believe that, prove it to me."
So I got the Bible, and opened the New Testament and showed him at the top of several pages, that it indeed says
drumroll.......... "HEBREWS"
and from that morning on, Kurt had my coffee ready when I woke up.  What a good man.  :)
;D ;D ;D ;D  I know....... cheesy

[Zen]

 ;D ;D ;D Hebrews

good one Connie  ;D

[CapnK]

From this far away, I could barely hear her telling me what to do...

;D :D

Connie up the mast...

[CapnK]

In this pic, I caught Connie trying to "liberate" some teak for Pixie Dust from this wreck...

[Pixie Dust]

OK Gadget girl has been online again.   :D
I just ordered my double hammock for PD!!  Blue/Burgundy color combo  ;D ;D
www.coastlineadventures.com/ca1/hammocks/hammock.html
I am so excited.  Sleeping on deck is only a delivery away.  The swinging part is also really fun.  Now all I need to do is find a young cabin boy to serve me my coffee and corona.   :D