Moving into a Truck

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Wire You Doing This?

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We spent our anniversary, November 13th, getting ready for sailing to the Bahamas next week. Nine long wires came out the bottom of our new mast, and they needed to be run to various parts of the boat. Only they need to go under the stove, behind the cabinet, through the wall, around the plumbing, through that hole that is not big enough, and into the fifth dimension. This required calisthenics, yoga, and the escape skills of Houdini. I found my torso trapped in a storage area door, my arms were no help because they were over my head, my legs were tight up against the nearby (too nearby) wall. I began to wonder if Cindy would cut the cabinet to pieces to get me out, or cut me into pieces to get out of sailboat maintenance. I bet Houdini could have done it underwater while handcuffed. We spent the entire day with knee pads, a hole saw, and sweat. Good thing sweaty bodies are slippery, or we might still be stuck. Whoo-hoo! We have a galley sole again!
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Over the Rode My wife, Cindy, and I are over-the-road truck drivers. We drive team. Team driving means that one of us is always driving and one of us is a lways sleeping. Over the last thirty years of criss-crossing the United States and Canada, we have accumulated a huge number of "remember when" moments. As in, "remember when we went hiking on Snoqualmie for the first time?" Or, "remember when it took five hours to cross the George Washington Bridge because of construction?" Or, "remember when the blizzard closed I-80 in Wyoming on Christmas?" As we drive now, every mile of interstate brings up memories from the hundreds of other times we have been there. We often feel sorry for the people who vacation around the United States and Canada who fly from city to city. They don't get to experience the country mile by mile like we get to. Airplane vacationers don't know that the Texas bluebonnets start blooming in the south, then wo
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Au Revoir, St Bart's. Hello Antigua!

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 We made it from St Bart's to Antigua! We anchored by the light of the waning gibbous moon at 02:00. Steep seas and close-hauled winds made for a bit of a slog, but we were not in a hurry. We watched brown booby birds fish alongside us for miles. I think we were stirring up the flying fish for them. We ended up with ten fish on the deck, but none on a fishing pole. 
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