‘tween Voyages

We have been ashore for a month and have adapted to the changed lifestyle. We do realize that our family and friends that live on-the-hard year-round certainly have a different lifestyle than us.  Another month ashore like this and I may have to admit that it is a most novel way to live. Perhaps the best way to explain this is to outline what a typical day is like ashore.

We wake up at our usual time of about 0600 (6 AM). Since we are in the far north, latitude 41 north, the summer sun rises about the same time as we experience it in the islands. What is striking, however, is that most people, unless they march off to work, don’t rise until hours later. We find this odd but accept the fact that these early daylight hours are wasted waiting for the rest of the community to wake up.

Once awake, we check our e-mail, messages, text, social platforms, and news feeds to ensure that the world still exists outside the front door. We are closer to the Center of Everything yet still feel the need to connect with the “outside world”. And yes, there is an actual front door that must be transversed to enter the realm of land-based activities. No sauntering up an open companion way to meet the new day here!

What I don’t check is the National Hurricane Center, the Ocean Prediction Center, Windy, Bouyweather or the local weather station. Nor is there a VHF or a SSB radio to listen to or to log onto. In fact, the weather is essentially disregarded as it appears that it has little impact on life ashore.

Breakfast is nearly the same as aboard, modified to allow the use of local produce. This brings up the topic of food in general, groceries and their storage. Since we sail in well populated islands, groceries are not an issue unless anchored in an off-beat area or sail on  long sea passages. There are many, if not more, supermarkets here as there are in the more popular islands. The “fresh markets” that are ubiquitous on most islands can be found here as well and known as “farmers markets”. But to me they seem less utilitarian; they seem more of a marketing opportunity than part of a functional distribution system. In any case the variety and amount of available products everywhere is outstanding. The local mail boat is replaced by 18 wheelers that bring supplies on a daily basis. No need to wait a week for that bell pepper.

Storage, of course, is essentially unlimited. This includes frozen and temperature-controlled storage. One could imagine only needing to do a provision run maybe two or three times a YEAR while living ashore!

But how on earth would one transport such a load to their abode on land? Simple. The dinghy, AKA a sports utility vehicle, can easily haul a truck load of provisions and back right up to the abode’s side port for easy unloading. Clearly an advantage of living on the hard.

Navigation on the roads is as simple as using the chart plotter. The auto pilot has not been perfected yet so manual steering is still used. I still miss switching the auto pilot on as soon as I clear the berth, i.e. the driveway. What is needed however,  is an AIS system that can identify the A-holes that think they are driving an AC75 foiling monohull on a three-lane expressway. Maybe someday these land dwellers with get with the 21^st century.

Since we are living with our daughter on Long Island there is the ocean and beach nearby. Not quite like jumping in the water a few feet from the breakfast table, it does however serve the purpose of satisfying a body’s yearning for sand between the toes and saltwater bathing.

One of the many odd things I noticed was the relationship with the local flora. We spend a considerable expense each year hauling Kalunamoo out of the water to address the flora and assorted members of the subclass Cirripedia arthropod known as barnacles. As benign as they are, and the seagrass that also accumulates on the hull, they are anything but attractive. They can slow the boats progress thru the water like a flat tire on a car. To combat this the hull is painted with elements that they despise but time is on their side. Months may go by, but they eventually win out. They are physically evicted in situ which does wonders for developing your underwater skills, but is still a chore nonetheless.

Oddly, on land, it seems just the opposite. Grass is actually encouraged, fertilized and cultivated along with, admittedly, attractive foliage and flowers. This surrounds the abode but then demands attention and requires the chore of cutting, pruning and ritual “pulling of the weeds”. Encourage growth, then slaughter? Proponents of such endeavors unabashedly call this gardening. Sore backs, and bad knees seem like the only reward to me. It’s not like their abode can move any faster once all that work is accomplished. But, as they say, whatever floats your boat.

The sun sets here at an unreasonable hour in the summer, nearly at cruisers midnight. I suppose one can adapt but by then I’m ready to turn in. Lacking the gentle rocking of the cabin, dreams of grounding dominate my thoughts. I do take solace in the knowledge that we won’t drag, and I don’t worry about waking to a roll 7 level in the morning. 

Our time here has also been marked by visiting many of our favorite doctors. Their probing and prodding indicate that, given the right medicines, diets and exercise, we will return next summer. In that sense, I feel we are getting our medical insurance money’s worth. We return to Kalunamoo in a few weeks just as the summer winds down here; before the leaves turn yellow, the snow flies, and multiple layers of clothing are required. We will miss the family and friends and certainly look forward to our next visit despite their novel lifestyle. I hope the above primer helps those liveaboard cruisers to adjust to visits to shore, either their ancestral homelands or just to shake some barnacles off their memories. The photos of our summer’s ‘tween voyages include family and friends, grandkids ball games, upstate visits and other diversions.