No. The week before Matthew upset plans up and down the east coast--from anglers to hikers to festival-goers--we discovered some dramatics leaks aboard our boat, Echo II. Pope considerately shouldered the burden of finding and sealing them; after all, it is his "project" boat. (For the uninitiated, buying a "project" boat is like buying an "as-is" house.")
On a "project" boat, most of the holds are filled with tool boxes rather than normal vacation gear such as snorkel masks, beach towels, and margarita mix
Alas, the sources proved mysteriously elusive. In other words, we couldn't find where the damn water was coming in. During a heavy rain last week, a couple of gallons flowed into a dishpan beneath the galley stove, located roughly in the middle of the cabin, from who-knows-where. A few more liters flowed down from somewhere deep in the ceiling onto the nav table, soaking our marine charts and operating manuals. So,z after consulting with several boatyards who laughed and said "come back in February," Pope set about removing, repacking, and replacing every screw, bolt, nail, and rivet on the deck--by himself.
Un-bolting, re-packing, and re-bolting every hatch, window, trim, and track
"No, only dozens," was his calm reply.
You may recall, a few months ago, my blog post about how a sailboat cruise to the islands--and owning a sailboat at all--is more work than play. I'm experiencing a sense of deja vu here.
While Pope grunts mightily to conquer rusty threads and rotted caulking, I am addressing other preparations. I wish I could claim that I am preparing margarita mix to store in the galley, or perusing the library book sales for intriguing novels. No. Instead, I am: holding the socket wrench on the nuts while he struggled with bolts on the other side; attacking black mold with Tilex and Borax; making mosquito nets; and sewing an over-the-boom awning for shade against the intense sun of the islands.
Making a very big mosquito screen--our companionway is too big for any of the ready-made screens available for purchase; that makes it easy for both people and flying critters to get in and out!
Unlike Pope, however, I insist on mixing some play in with my work. Such as gym workouts, Toastmasters meetings, and playing and singing music around town. After all, the boat trip is not my singular goal like it is Pope's, and I sorely need to prepare my body and mind for extreme withdrawal from routine DC-based activity.
Singing Cajun at the Dew Drop Inn in Brookland, with the Capitol Hillbillies
After 7 days of intense labor on board Echo II, I became concerned about Pope's sanity and dragged him to the Richmond Folk Festival, where the festival grounds were inundated by several inches of rain and mud of the hip-boot variety. Slightly damper than our boat. Despite the downpour, I enjoyed some zydeco dancing under a tent while Pope fretted about whether the boat would stay afloat without him.
People showed up for the music in vinyl ponchos and rubber boots, on a soggy day
Phil and colleagues wowed the discriminating audience
Mike T. knew how to 'strip' the interior cabin features to gain access to the remaining bolts through the top deck
His emailed reply: "Still 4 staunchions to go and a few other small fittings but the hardest part (genoa tracks with 62 damaged bolts) is all done. I am striving for 0 deck leaks. If not, I am determined to search and destroy each and every remaining one no matter how small before going into North Carolina."
We were also surprised by the first solid news about boating conditions on the ICW. In short, damaged and, in a few places, dismal. Many sections of the canals and rivers closed to navigation for a while. Marinas and docks are damaged and in a few places, boats are piled up like blocks.
Hilton Head marinas were ravaged (photo from Greenville News)
Even the homes of people we are planning to visit along the way are drying out and smelling like fish.
Drying out at a friend's home in St. Augustine (photo from Lynn Healy)
Pope is willing to tackle the ocean, so there's a good chance he'll finish the deck and want to leave in a week or so. Personally, I don't think our boat is ocean-worthy (or maybe I'm not), so I may ask him to line up other crew for the offshore passage. I would be happy to fly down the coast to meet him in Florida in November--or whenever the marinas' docks, boater lounges, and hot showers are restored.