The spider rumor isn’t true

Several years ago, when I first gave notion to buying a boat and living aboard, I began to pick up books on the subject; especially those written by women, or specifically with the female liveaboard in mind.  One of the first books I began to read started off with the paragraph, “If you have a fear of spiders, then living aboard a boat IS NOT for you!”

Apparently, according to this woman writer, spiders love living aboard more than people do.  I have to admit that since I have an intense dislike for spiders, I came close to giving up the idea of ever living aboard… or at least if I was that intent on the lifestyle, then I would need to seek out a specialist who deals with phobias of arachnids.

I continued reading more books, never once coming across another mention of spiders loving the sailing life.  So I pretty much put that notion (or fear) out of my head.  I’ve dealt with spiders before, in more ways than I care to go into here.  Mainly out of embarassment for the ways and means of dealing with them, not to mention the time spent trying to rid of a few of them in the past.

Well, today I am here to dispell the rumor that one woman attempted to spread by starting off her book with the notion of spiders.  I have lived aboard for 14 months now, and today is the first encounter with a spider on my boat.  He was a tiny one, and fortunately not of the jumping variety.  I handled him in one fell swoop of a piece of toilet paper.  And since it’s only a day away from Halloween, I figure he was probably a ‘seasonal’ or ‘holiday’ spider.  I can easily live with a ratio of one spider to every 14 months spent aboard.

 

Catching up

It’s been awhile since I’ve posted.  Not for lack of something to write about, but probably just plain laziness. 

So, what’s new?  Let’s see.  ‘Creepy guy’ returned from the flatlands and hung around for a couple of weeks.  Labor Day Weekend he took off for Alaska.  His name is Gary, and he actually turned out to be a pretty funny guy in his own way.  We had many conversations as I passed by his boat.  Of course, he always stayed in the wheelhouse as we talked, but he had some interesting things to say about the sea.

Scott and Glenn learned to sail in the bay and up the Yaquina River.  Without any ocean experience though, they set sails for Portland a week ago.  They ran into rough seas and had to pull in to two different bays on the way up, but they finally made it without incident.  I’m going to miss those guys. They were a lot of fun, good drinking buddies, and Scott knew more Irish drinking songs than anyone I’ve ever known.

The bilge pump went out at the same time the engine blower took a dive.  I had both replaced at the same time by a guy named Steve, who does great work for a reasonable price; and he turned out to be a new poker buddy, introducing me to the Knights of Columbus weekly poker group.  All men, but they don’t seem to mind a girl in the mix.

Summer is over and people are hauling out their boats for the winter.  It’s quiet once again on the docks, and even the sea lions have been relatively quiet this year.  Someone told me it’s because the old wooden platforms they used to hang out on all day and night were removed, so now they’re limited to the rocks of the jetty near the bayfront.

I haven’t been out much. There’s something going on with the gas tank not accepting gas, and the engine not running at full power when under load.  Steve will look into it as soon as I have the extra funds to fix whatever the problem is.

Days are shorter. Summer was never really here, since it only hit the low 70′s maybe three times.  The Caribbean is looking very inviting… even during hurricane season.

The renaming ceremony

The day has finally arrived! The official renaming ceremony of the Irish Wake. The old name has been scraped off both sides of the boat, and the surface has been sanded. The invitations were sent out. It had to be a limited crowd, based on the size of the boat and the number of life jackets available.  Kathleen, Margie, Jim, Dee and Dave arrived at 11am. Sandy wasn’t able to make it due to family commitments in Portland.

Celtic heart knot

I hand-tied and presented each participant in the ceremony with a Celtic heart knot bracelet. The ceremony began with the ringing of the ship’s bell. We cast off from the slip and headed to the bay. The first bottle of champagne was opened and poured into the Scottish quaich Kathleen brought for the occasion. At the proper moment we would each sip the champagne from the quaich.

I began to read:

“In the name of all who have sailed aboard this ship in the past, and in the name of all who may sail aboard her in the future, we invoke the ancient gods of the wind and the sea to favor us with their blessing today. Mighty Neptune, king of all that moves in or on the waves; and mighty Aeolus, guardian of the winds and all that blows before them: We offer you our thanks for the protection you have afforded this vessel in the past. We voice our gratitude that she has always found shelter from tempest and storm and enjoyed safe passage to port. Now, wherefore, we submit this supplication, that the name whereby this vessel has hitherto been known the Bokini, be struck and removed from your records. Further, we ask that when she is again presented for blessing with another name, she shall be recognized and shall be accorded once again the selfsame privileges she previously enjoyed. In return for which, we rededicate this vessel to your domain in full knowledge that she shall be subject as always to the immutable laws of the gods of the wind and the sea. In consequence whereof, and in good faith, we seal this pact with a libation offered according to the hallowed ritual of the sea”.

I took the small piece of metal with the name Bokini engraved on it and tossed it into the sea.

“For thousands of years, we have gone to sea. We have crafted vessels to carry us and we have called them by name. These ships will nurture and care for us through perilous seas, and so we affectionately call them “she”. To them we toast, and ask to celebrate the Irish Wake”.

We passed the quaich and toasted, “To the sailors of old… to the Irish Wake.”

“The moods of the sea are many, from tranquil to violent. We ask that this ship be given the strength to carry on. The keel is strong and she keeps out the pressures of the sea.”

Individual glasses of champagne was poured and everyone toasted, “To the sea…to the sailors of old…to the sea!”

“Today we come to name this lady Irish Wake, and send her to sea to be cared for. We ask the sailors of old and the mood of God that is the sea to accept Irish Wake as her name, to help her through her passages, and allow her to return with her crew safely”.

Again, we raised the glasses and toasted, “To the sea…to the sailors before us…to the Irish Wake.”

Oh mighty rulers of the winds, through whose power our frail vessels traverse the wild and faceless deep, we implore you to grant this worthy vessel, the Irish Wake, the benefits and pleasures of your bounty, ensuring us of your gentle ministration according to our needs.
Facing north, I poured a generous libation of champagne from the quaich and flung to the North as I said, “Great Boreas, exalted ruler of the North Wind, grant us permission to use your mighty powers in the pursuit of our lawful endeavors, ever sparing us the overwhelming scourge of your frigid breath.”

Facing west, I poured the same amount of champagne and flung to the West, “Great Zephyrus, exalted ruler of the West Wind, grant us permission to use your mighty powers in the pursuit of our lawful endeavors, ever sparing us the overwhelming scourge of your wild breath.”

Facing east, “Great Eurus, exalted ruler of the East Wind, grant us permission to use your mighty powers in the pursuit of our lawful endeavors, ever sparing us the overwhelming scourge of your mighty breath.”

Finally, facing south, and pouring the last of the champagne from the first bottle, “Great Notus, exalted ruler of the South Wind, grant us permission to use your mighty powers in the pursuit of our lawful endeavors, ever sparing us the overwhelming scourge of your scalding breath.”

The second bottle of champagne was opened and poured. We had bagels, cream cheese, and chocolate dipped strawberries to go with it. The weather couldn’t have been better if we had ordered it special for this day. She is officially the sailing vessel known as the…

Independence Day

The docks are the place to be on the 4th of July. Boat owners who rarely visit their boats all show up for the 4th.  BBQs are lit; dogs, burgers and brauts are cooking. Neighboring liveaboards bring chocolate dipped strawberries, cherries, garlic filled olives, drinks, and other delights.  Mingling takes place between boats.  One boat owner on D Dock plays in a band.  His bandmates joined him on his boat and set up their gear, complete with entire drum kit, and provided live music. People wandering down to the area to watch the fireworks even venture onto the docks to look at the boats and listen to the music.

Dusk brings an array of illegal fireworks that surrounded all of us waiting patiently on our boats.  My boat hosted Judy, Cheryl, Glen, David and Scott. Finally when the official display began, we had a great view.  We all whistled, cheered and clapped. The weather was great, aside from the strong winds.  D Dock was the place to be.  Next year will be even better!

Sunny days means work, work, work

It’s been a couple of busy weekends packed full of work now that the sun has decided to shine for hours on end and there has been no rain.  The last Sunday in June was a milestone event, when you stop to consider that this poor little vessel hasn’t been out of the slip in almost a year!

The plan was set in place. Kathleen, Dave and Dee were due to arrive at roughly 9 am.  We would take the boat out for a bit of pleasure since the weather was cooperating. Saturday evening I fired up the engine to let it run a bit.  It sputtered and died twice after idling for about five minutes.  I figured it was warm enough and decided not to push my luck.  I wasn’t sure how much gasoline was left in the tank, and not ever seeing a gas gauge amongst the other gauges, assumed there was no gauge.

Sunday morning, 9 am, I tried to start the engine.  It gave that sound that a car engine makes when it has run out of gas.  Sure enough… the same thing happened on the boat.  All the times I had run it at idle over the winter drained the tank dry on the very day we were all set to take the boat out.  Kathleen arrived and I informed her of the slight delay.  I called Dave, in hopes he hadn’t left his house yet and might have a five gallon gas container he could bring with him, filled with unleaded.  Luck was with me and Dave was still at home.  Within half an hour Dave and Dee arrived with gas.  Our first stop would be the fuel dock to fill ‘er up.

Everyone aboard, with Dave taking care of the bow line, I put it in reverse and began to slowly back away from the slip.  That’s when the next big problem occurred.  I wasn’t in reverse.  I was drifting.  I had no reverse.  In fact, I had no forward; so it was a struggle for Dave to hang onto the line and pull hard enough to keep the boat from ending up backing into someone else’s $70,000 fishing boat.  It all happened so fast I can’t even tell you how Dave managed it.  But it involved hopping from the dock to the bow, over onto the cockpit of the little fishing boat next to mine, running around the dock… all with the line still in his hand and managing somewhat miraculously in getting my boat back to the slip and tied down again.

The next hour or more was watching Dave rip the boat apart, checking every possible linkage connecting the transmission to the engine, looking for anything that might have jammed it up keeping it from going into either forward or reverse.  He found no explanation and we had run out of answers.  The last ditch effort was to call Tony, now that he was back in town from vacation and training details that kept him out of state for awhile. The simple solution was, according to Tony, start the engine, let it warm up, then SHOVE it into gear.  Don’t be gentle about it.  We followed his directions and after a bit of shoving and prodding, we were out of the slip and underway to the fuel dock.

While Dave was digging around looking for the solution to the transmission problem, he did find the gas tank and right on top of it sat the fuel gauge, reading E.  Once tied up to the fuel dock, I told the attendant to fill it up.  We had only added five gallons, and I was sure Tony said it was an 18 gallon tank.  But after pumping in only three or four gallons, it wouldn’t take anymore.

By now the wind was starting to pick up a bit and the current was a little stronger, affecting our direction.  We spent the next half hour doing some docking maneuvers, just to get the transmission moving smoothly again.  Then Dave got the call from his new candy/ice cream shop in Nye Beach. The power had gone out overnight and all of the ice cream had melted.  One mini-disaster after another that Sunday.

We headed back to the slip, backed it in so that I could remove the old Bokini name off the port side and get the new name added to the stern of the boat.  The renaming ceremony is scheduled for July 10th.

Dave, Dee and Kathleen left me with my chores for the afternoon.  After an hour or so of scraping I heard someone say hello.  I turned to see a nice looking guy, about 30-ish, who asked, “Are you Kit?”  I said I was and he introduced himself as Scott.  He had been to Bridie’s Irish Faire the day before, the same day I had been there, and Susan (the owner) told him he had to look me up.  Scott bought a 32 foot sailboat a month ago and has become a liveaboard, even though he has never sailed yet.  It turns out we’re on the same dock in the same marina.

Scott took a look aboard and noticed my Notre Dame hat.  He said he has the same hat.  His Irish ancestors would be very proud of the tattoo he showed me of the flag of Ireland circling his bicep with a little heart in the center of the flag. We talked about the new name for my boat, and other assorted Irish topics.  Scott’s friend, Glen (a Scotsman,  but we won’t hold that against him) arrived and a new common bond was formed among liveaboards. ‘Tis a grand time to be sailors!  Come back soon for the continuation… 4th of July at D Dock!

The Luck of the Irish

I’ve been meaning to stop into Bridie’s Irish Faire now that the shop has moved from the Bayfront to the Deco District on Hwy 101. Ever since the Newport Celtic Festival and Highland Games, I’ve been more inclined; especially after noticing a County Donegal flag in the front window, along with a couple of other county flags of Ireland. So Saturday afternoon I made it a point to go in and purchase the flag for the boat.

County Donegal, Ireland - the flag of my roots

Susan Spencer, the owner, greeted me and I immediately told her, “I have to have the County Donegal flag.”  Apparently I wasn’t the only one who had been into Bridie’s to ask for the flag.  Unfortunately for them, it was only there for display purposes, as Susan hadn’t bought any for her stock to sell.  Fortunately for me, Susan must have been tired of hearing people say they wanted to buy the flag, because she decided it was time to sell it, and start ordering County flags.

She said she originally bought the three flags that represent her ancestors’ counties. As we chatted over the next 45 minutes or so, we found out we had lots to talk about. Susan is a wonderful woman, very Irish indeed, and as strong and convicted in her beliefs and opinions as I am.  I could have stayed there and talked for a couple more hours, but a group of customers came in and I let her get back to business.  What I wasn’t expecting was for Susan to thank me for the conversation and present me with the County Donegal flag as her gift.  In our conversation, the boat came up and she told me she has read this blog.  I’m proud to accept her gift and fly it on this vessel.  I have a feeling Susan and her husband will be guests on the Irish Wake, and I’ll be going on one of her annual tours to Ireland in the future.  And I’ll be shopping in her Irish Faire store more frequently now. Check out her website (link above.)

“Marco” —- “Polo”

Yesterday, early in the evening, a woman was walking up and down C dock (one to the south of me) calling out, “Muriel.”  This went on for a minute or two, until she was far enough down the dock that her voice didn’t carry anymore.  Five minutes later she was on my dock, walking the length calling out, “Muriel” every five or ten seconds.  Again, her voice faded as she walked out of range.

Ten minutes later I heard the calling of “Muriel” coming from E dock to the north of me.  Once again, every few seconds the woman would call the name, as if calling a dog, or playing some weird Pacific Northwest version of Marco Polo. 

Apparently Muriel doesn’t live around here.  At least I never heard anyone answer the woman.

Tonight was a repeat of last night, except the woman began calling the name on E dock. She stopped in her tracks almost directly across from the stern of my boat, where I could see her as she turned to the north and asked, “Muriel?”, as if someone had answered her.  But she must have heard a sea lion across the bay, or a fish splash, or a seagull fart.  Whatever the case, there was no Muriel.  So the woman continued walking down the dock calling out for this phantom of hers.  A few yards further west on the dock she stopped and turned to the north again, changing her tone of calling from her original request, asking “Muriel?”

Who could she be looking for?  Who is Muriel?  And why the hell won’t Muriel answer her?  Is this woman who searches for the mysterious Muriel, by any chance, related to CG?  If so, he has ignored her too. 

Marco?