Georgia Caviar

I recently made the mistake of leaving Alana's dingy in the water for about two weeks as I traveled around a bit. It had been fine in the water down in Pensacola all winter, so I assumed that a couple weeks in the warm waters of Georgia's Skidaway River couldn't hurt too much. Boy, was I wrong! I returned to find about 2inches worth of various plants and critters covering the bottom of the boat (click on the pictures for maximum revulsion). They were so heavy that I could barley lift the dingy out of the water up onto the pier to clean the gunk off. Most of the growth consisted of what I later found out are called "sea grapes" by the locals, littler round, muddy looking spheres. I at first took these to be some sort of marine plant life and didn't stress a whole lot when they would pop and spray me in the face with salty liquid as I scraped away. Closer examination however, revealed that they were actually fish eggs and that I was showering myself with fish egg whites. Mmmmmmmmmm, fish egg whites! I manged to scrape away all the eggs and other soft growth, but have so far had no luck with the round, calcified footprints left by each of the several thousand crustaceans I scraped away. Alana's bottom paint seems to be doing its job, so I'm not too worried about her, but it is clear that my dingy needs to reside above water some place.

Hold the Flowers

The condolences are appreciated, but premature. Barry lives! Not 10 minutes ago he was lying in state atop Alana's cabintop when, miraculously he sprang back to life, scaring the heck out of a couple of mourners. I'm not a believer in reincarnation, so I can only assume that this morning's shock was merely a stunner not the fatal jolt I had suspected. He's now topside climbing up and down the shrouds, seemingly without a care in the world. I have to admit that I'm happy to have him back; he's a constant trial, but he's MY trial. Welcome home Barry!

Cancel the Shelter

I'm sorry to report that Barry's unhealthy fixation with electricity has finally done him in. His opposable thumbs enabled him to get the breaker panel open this morning. He apparently amused himself licking and probing the 12-volt side, but he either deliberately or accidental strayed into the 110-volt section and now the whole boat smells of burnt monkey fur. RIP Barry.

Shock the Monkey

I took advantage of the early hour and overcast skies to do a little cleaning and polishing on deck this morning. I am finding Savannah to be oppressively hot and humid, something I'll no doubt get used to after a while. While I worked, Barry amused himself by repeatedly thrusting his tongue into an electrical socket. I wouldn't have minded particularly, but he kept tripping the breaker, causing the crucial air conditioner to shut off. I'm thinking seriously about dropping him off at a local shelter.

Fin

1,124 miles after leaving Pensacola, Alana is safely moored at Isle of Hope Marina, Savannah, GA. It is about 16 miles from here to the sea via swamps and ditches with a 10-foot tidal range and some significant currents, so I don't think we'll be doing too many spur-of-the-moment little day trips. It feels good to be here at last. I should be giving Alana a thorough washdown, but given the heat, the humidity and the fact I was up all night, she might have to be content with a quick rinse. Early mornings and late evenings look like they'll be the productive hours around here.

On the Road Again

You know it's going to be a good day when it starts out with a particularly good breakfast. I just enjoyed one of my favorites, an avocado, tomato and Marmite, open-faced sandwich on sourdough toast - mmmmmmmmmmmmm! Once this update is posted I'll start getting ready to weigh anchor around 11 o'clock. I'm eager to get going, but as there will not be much in the way of wind until this afternoon, there's no reason to rush. Once the winds do develop, all forecasts agree that the next 48 hours or so should be perfect. There should be 9-12 knots out of the east and southeast, ideal for my planned north-northeast track to Wassaw Sound.

I'm Alive!

I awoke this morning, so I can only assume that the jhadi cabbie did not behead me in my sleep. I did spend some uneasy moments before falling asleep, staring up at the open hatch above my bunk and waiting for a jambiya-wielding arm to reach down for my throat. Alana is again back in her favorite Jacksonville anchorage waiting for the weather to improve. There is virtually no wind at the moment, making things pretty hot and bug-friendly at the moment. Jacksonville is supposed to see 90 degrees today, but as we're anchored in a 77-degree river, we'll not see 90. It is now looking like Friday afternoon will produce the necessary steady winds. I'm more than ready to get going.

I met a couple of pretty cool dudes yesterday. They were delivering a 61-foot sport fisherman (down, Conor, down!) named Huntress to Hatteras, NC. They approached the marina as I sat in Alana's cockpit eating chicken wings. I assured them that fuel was available, but that nobody would be around unto 8 o'clock tomorrow, then granted them permission to tie up at the fuel dock overnight. I helped with their lines and was rewarded with a large quantity of Havana iced coffee, a product developed by the boat's owner. It packs a serious caffeine wallop, so it will be important to keep Barry out of it. I'd much rather deal with a drunken Barry than a hopped up Barry. They need to average 20 knots between here and Hatteras to meet their deadline, and given the sea state, I can only assume that Huntress is in for a beating. It must be cool to be able to just beat the crap out of a million-dollar boat.