Annapolis weathered the worst of Sandy pretty well. Back on Peregrine. A few leaks (see Dickie on his knees moping the floor), 41 degrees but electricity is back on and we have a little heat going on–all is well. 

Annapolis: sandbags for Sandy, with Dickie getting cold in a 45 degree slanted rain.

Morning coffee, checking the weather. Dickie got me up at first light to get the dinghy on ground (the little life boat that was hanging to the back). Skipper Spangler changed the halyards yesterday–he reported they were dry rot and crumbled to dust when cut off (OMG, but then again, we go from one surprise to the next, and after a while you can’t really call them a “surprise” anymore). Changing them is a challenge: halyards reach the top of the mast, and one should not under ANY circumstance let go of them, or else becomes the monkey. Monkey as in having to climb the mast. Wind’s picking up, storm approaching with darker clouds (cumulonimbus?), ports and hatch closed tight, hauling and loose lines clattering building up. But all is nice and comfy inside Peregrine.  

When thinking of our trip, I had in mind Alison’s words “And who knows, maybe as May and Dick sail together […] and a kind and gentle breeze dances in their sails, they [will] feel the playful spirit of Stuart and the spirit of God with them on the water” (Aug 26, 2012). Those beautiful words had become my focus for the “adventure”: I was going to go and feel the breeze. Bill’s “ruah.”

Last night, it took a dip into the literal as I was laying in Peregrine and wondering if a gale could tip it off its stands: what if Sandy was The Breeze I had been looking for? Hmm, Stuart, you did not have to make it that big. [Just like your brother Ben with another hurricane].

On a practical note: Dickie made hotel reservations this morning. But I talked to the boatyard manager anyway (as e-ve-ry-bo-dy else on the dock or in town does). He confidently said they expected 60 miles/hr winds, will add reinforcements starting today, and never did a boat fall down in this yard. When I asked him about staying in the boat, his eyes grew larger, “Well, I don’t expect the boats to fall down, but, geee, they will rock.” Got to pack again.

Dickie fixed the radio: Hurricane Sandy is on its way to the Chesapeake Bay, with 4-5 feet waves which would be nothing in the ocean but choppy and dangerous here, gale type wind, rain, 30’s at night, 40’s during the day. So, we’ll stay in the boatyard until Tuesday–way cheaper than at the dock. In the boatyard, you get to walk among boats’ hulls and keels, usually hidden underwater. They have all kinds of designs, some of which clearly inspired by fish with their belly (the hull) and fins (the keel). An example:

Don’t you think this boat looks just like a shark? Now here is our Peregrine, with the same view of its stern:

Peregrine’s stern is round, instead of having a straight transom like the boat above (and most boats, really). Her hull has the fullness of, yes, the tummy of a whale. And indeed, sleeping inside Peregrine feels comfy. Now, that gives an interesting twist to the story of Jonas swallowed by a fish, but also the story of Pinnochio when he ends up in the belly of a whale: a wooden little boy inside a fleshy boat. 

Dickie once said how some whales sink boats by running into them, as if they did it on purpose (too much room in the ocean for that kind of accident). He thought they might confuse a boat for a fish. Last night, we had fun imagining how a whale might see Peregrine, come to check her out and kindly send her signals. But you see, our Peregrine would not answer the signals, and Whaly would get mad at snobby Peregrine. After a while, Whaly might become so angry for Pere to not even acknowledge her basic existence that she’d attack her. At that point, Dickie wondered if it had been such a good idea to have changed the color of Peregrine’s hull from (invisible) light blue to (stand-offish) black. If we humans normally don’t see a boat’s underwater hull, it’s the opposite for fish–that’s all they get to see of a boat. 

Meanwhile, the newly working radio is telling us again and again how cold we’ll be for the next few days—grateful for comfy Peregrine! 

Still on the hard in Annapolis, in the boat yard. A boat is a machine to live in (I see where Corbu took it from), and like a car, it has to work in its every parts before you can go. For now, it’s more like a condo. Water is working, but the gray water falls right outside on the ground, which could make us unpopular with passer-bys, and we use the shower of the Marina (well, just once so far). The fridge is supposed to be fixed today (yeah–although I got used to chips with avocado/salsa dip for dinner). Yesterday, Skipper Spangler (Dickie), gave me the task to install battery terminal protectors on the 6 batteries (exciting as it could explode if you connected the plus and minus poles), and finish paper work to register Peregrine in GA. Today, I am to re-arm the PDF (life jackets), with an internet search. Dickie is working on the “nav” station, and we are to change the halyards (lines to the top of the mast) before we can go.