Back River Shag

Back to our million-dollar view. Our new digs are much preferable to our old ones.  The boat was safe enough through the winter at Boston Yacht Haven, but everything else sucked.  From the ridiculous price – misquoted to us with no consideration given when we showed up – through the grinding, squeaking aluminum gangplanks, unexpected lockouts due to them resetting our keys, all the way to the bathrooms that started out filthy and degraded to freezing when the heaters broke…and then stayed that way for months, with only a small space heater for the one room in the world we absolutely had to be naked in during minus degree weather, well, we’re happy to be gone. Just as the toilet seats went above zero degrees, we left. Our second sail of the year took us out of the inner harbor as a light ebb and easy 8 knot breeze made beating to windward a pleasure for a change.  The only hijinks occurred directly in front of the landing strip for Boston Logan Airport.  The planes were lined up one after another, with a minute or two between.  As we passed the strip, a Boeing 777 flew over us and hit the throttle.  Perhaps they were coming in too low.  It certainly seemed so to us.  As they approached, the wind increased and our heel became startlingly extreme.  As they passed over, the wind backed and sent us over the other way in a crashing pop that freaked us both out but did no damage. So that’s what jet wash feels like on a sailboat! The rest of the trip was absolutely perfect.  The wind gently switched angles as our course changed and we could broaden our point of sail for easiest motion.  As we approached the Back River, the ferry[…]

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Filling the Gaps

It’s fair to say we’ve been hibernating.  Winter hit hard and late, then left reluctantly. There’s not much desire to look back this far, so just one more.  I can’t resist this image. We haven’t stayed home the whole time.  James’ birthday, for example. We went to Maine, trying to book slideshows and storytelling extravaganzas.  Slow going at that, though lots of positive response.  We loved Maine. Here’s the Sheepscot River. And we found a cute little town between MA and Portland that knows what low tide means.  Name that town. Also, my book is in the Harvard Book Store.  Check me out.  This is a two-parter – outside and in. Okay, one last snow pic, just because it was so great to see the snow start melting. What’s that growing out of my head?  Is it a thought-bubble?  No… Bonus pics: I’m always looking for the perfect compass rose for a tattoo.  I’ve found some stellar examples of the art, but the next issue is this: where will my skin stay put well enough that a geometrically precise image won’t stretch and skew?   Next, the last few days of newness.

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