18 April, 2007
With great frustration, I am thwarted again. Wi-fi is hard to find and expensive in Baltimore. I finally bit the bullet and paid $7 for a day of wi-fi only to be disconnected and left thoroughly dismayed. Instead of some work I really need to do, I get the opportunity to write for a short spell.
I had a successful provisioning trip today, aloft on the squeaky green bicycle that someone gave us. I borrow Mike's bike chain which is a heavy and industrial length of chain that hangs around my waist. My backpack from the Appalachian Trail and the bright red market basket that my mother gave me for my birthday dangling from the handlebars. I strategically loaded the eggplant and banana on top of the basket so that everyone who passed would smile and think to themselves; 'What a cunning little basket of fruit that delectable young lady is carrying. It's too bad that she has that twenty lb. steel chain at swinging distance and a saucy look in her eye or I would propose marriage here and now!' (I know that's what they were thinking. There was a perfect feng shui to the arrangement of banana and tomato and eggplant.)
One day soon this computer will feel wi-fi coursing through her like a freight train and she will be fulfilled in her purpose, which is to load these silly journals for my family to see. Also, as an addendum; I poked fun at Ryan this morning and mentioned that I have put down the brief details of the swimming captain and the jumpy dockline in words. He looked rather stricken and horrified, so I'll ask that if you know him to please use your best judgment in harassing him. He bought Captain Bradley a very dear and rare bottle of something that heats the center of a man. I don't know much about such things except that upon seeing Ryan's gift of penance, our other captain, Captain Miles told Ryan that if that bottle of fiery magic was par for the course, he could push him overboard any day of the week.
Thursday, April 19, 2007
The Blustery Day
Monday, 16 April, 2007
Gusting over 60 here in the Inner Harbor of Baltimore, the crew of Pride II merely looked each other with mutual sympathy and shouldered into a day of working aloft. Both the fore and main masts were oiled down, crewmembers slowly lowered down from the topmost, the wind blowing all words away. I rode my bike over to the Pride of Baltimore I memorial and huddled behind the granite to do some menu planning while waiting for Charlie and Sarah. We slowly hoisted Sarah to the very top of that sad mast set in granite, wind blowing tears from our eyes and Sarah just setting her chin against the bitterness of it all.
Leaving there, I cycled to the grocery store and bought way too much food, loading my hiking backpack with well over 50 lbs. of potatoes, carrots, apples, oranges, banana, onions, milk and cheese. Bags hung from both handlebars and weighing as much as a european car, I tried to push off on the bike. I was not born for the circus. While still in the parking lot I turned ever so slightly in front of a car and the bike squirted out from under me like a watermelon seed. There I was with groceries all around me and the car sitting there and my bike all tangled in my legs. My pants had lost the knee and my knee had lost some blood. A kind man in a 'Secular Humanist' and 'Challenge Belief' bumper sticker bedecked car offered to take my groceries. Deposited at the waterfront, I called Ryan who brought the small boat (that we affectionately call 'Fat Rita') over to rescue me. Whitecaps across the harbor and remember the winds, no wonder Ryan seemed rather sullen and quiet. I was in a foul mood myself and we shivered and loaded Fat Rita up. Back to the boat. Lunch made. A breath taken and a settled mind. I then heard what had happened while I was away, which answered why Ryan was sulking, Mike was talking slurred and the Captain was wearing someone else's clothes. Mike our 2nd mate stabbed himself in the face while hanging out on the bowsprit. He didn't want to go to the Emergency Room because they would make him shave his mustache off to deal with it, instead, the boys super-glued it together. This was shortly after the catastrophe of the swimming captain. Remember the wind blowing like stink. The crew were doubling and snugging up the docklines and Captain Bradley was standing on one of the lines to stretch it out. For brevity of the story, all of a sudden there was no captain. The line that
Ryan had just made off had jumped off the cavel cleat and dropped from beneath Captain Bradley, dumping him in the cold waters of the Inner Harbor. I wasn't there to watch the hubbub but I saw the shame on the Ryan's face. Actually, not until I made bratwurst the next day did his countenance start to lift. Captain Bradley swam around to the front of the pier and hoisted himself out. He has been nothing but gracious to us all. I can only imagine what would have happened if we dropped Captain Miles overboard. We would have seen the shilleleigh for sure. I'm not sure how to wrap this all up. Perhaps just to say that the wind blew less today and the crew will sleep well tonight. Hopefully that is all behind us and we will have less of the swimming captain action and more of the smooth sailing action Pride is so known for. As for me, I have a few days before I need to go on my next provisioning adventure that will no doubt still involve a bike, a boat and a story to tell. Be well everyone.
Gusting over 60 here in the Inner Harbor of Baltimore, the crew of Pride II merely looked each other with mutual sympathy and shouldered into a day of working aloft. Both the fore and main masts were oiled down, crewmembers slowly lowered down from the topmost, the wind blowing all words away. I rode my bike over to the Pride of Baltimore I memorial and huddled behind the granite to do some menu planning while waiting for Charlie and Sarah. We slowly hoisted Sarah to the very top of that sad mast set in granite, wind blowing tears from our eyes and Sarah just setting her chin against the bitterness of it all.
Leaving there, I cycled to the grocery store and bought way too much food, loading my hiking backpack with well over 50 lbs. of potatoes, carrots, apples, oranges, banana, onions, milk and cheese. Bags hung from both handlebars and weighing as much as a european car, I tried to push off on the bike. I was not born for the circus. While still in the parking lot I turned ever so slightly in front of a car and the bike squirted out from under me like a watermelon seed. There I was with groceries all around me and the car sitting there and my bike all tangled in my legs. My pants had lost the knee and my knee had lost some blood. A kind man in a 'Secular Humanist' and 'Challenge Belief' bumper sticker bedecked car offered to take my groceries. Deposited at the waterfront, I called Ryan who brought the small boat (that we affectionately call 'Fat Rita') over to rescue me. Whitecaps across the harbor and remember the winds, no wonder Ryan seemed rather sullen and quiet. I was in a foul mood myself and we shivered and loaded Fat Rita up. Back to the boat. Lunch made. A breath taken and a settled mind. I then heard what had happened while I was away, which answered why Ryan was sulking, Mike was talking slurred and the Captain was wearing someone else's clothes. Mike our 2nd mate stabbed himself in the face while hanging out on the bowsprit. He didn't want to go to the Emergency Room because they would make him shave his mustache off to deal with it, instead, the boys super-glued it together. This was shortly after the catastrophe of the swimming captain. Remember the wind blowing like stink. The crew were doubling and snugging up the docklines and Captain Bradley was standing on one of the lines to stretch it out. For brevity of the story, all of a sudden there was no captain. The line that
Ryan had just made off had jumped off the cavel cleat and dropped from beneath Captain Bradley, dumping him in the cold waters of the Inner Harbor. I wasn't there to watch the hubbub but I saw the shame on the Ryan's face. Actually, not until I made bratwurst the next day did his countenance start to lift. Captain Bradley swam around to the front of the pier and hoisted himself out. He has been nothing but gracious to us all. I can only imagine what would have happened if we dropped Captain Miles overboard. We would have seen the shilleleigh for sure. I'm not sure how to wrap this all up. Perhaps just to say that the wind blew less today and the crew will sleep well tonight. Hopefully that is all behind us and we will have less of the swimming captain action and more of the smooth sailing action Pride is so known for. As for me, I have a few days before I need to go on my next provisioning adventure that will no doubt still involve a bike, a boat and a story to tell. Be well everyone.
The Return of the Gift Fish
March 24, 2007
Creaky yawns and stumbling back to bed, the crew is not really waking up this morning. We all have earned a day off and will probably spend a significant percentage of it resting, Tomorrow the fore topmast goes up and that will be a delightfully complicated foray. We put the main topmast up this week and even the cook got to help at the crankalls. With the signature rake of Pride II's masts, I was curious how we would go about setting our tops. Except for a few carefully tended taglines, the process is the same that we used on Inland Seas where I got to be the one up on the crosstrees, waiting for Jan to tell me what to do. This time, Fiorentino and Charlie were up there, sweating bullets as Captain Bradley looked on with the seeming omniscient eye of captains. Everything seems bigger here on Pride II. It's not only the scale of physical things but the mindfulness and energy that go into every little detail. I just continue to putz about in the galley and visit with the weary boaties as they come down for tea. Sarah and her siezings, Shelly and the blasted main clew outhaul, Ryan and the precise weird cuts for this coffin-like shower that's going in to the fo'c's'l. I do believe that though tedious at times, it is the smallwork that sets a boat apart to be admired. Why else would we blush to see electrical tape on bitter ends and rusty mousings? (But I think I'm talking too much about boats, boats, boats...) As I was just finishing up from brushing my teeth, a man came to the boat asking for LuLu. What a flutter! I didn't realize how I like visitors so much. I dashed up the companionway and there was a man with two huge bags of frozen fish, all caught here in the Chesapeake Bay. I love gifts of food for our crew, even though they are not starving by any stretch of the imagination. Mmmn; fish. My stomach growls in anticipation.
Creaky yawns and stumbling back to bed, the crew is not really waking up this morning. We all have earned a day off and will probably spend a significant percentage of it resting, Tomorrow the fore topmast goes up and that will be a delightfully complicated foray. We put the main topmast up this week and even the cook got to help at the crankalls. With the signature rake of Pride II's masts, I was curious how we would go about setting our tops. Except for a few carefully tended taglines, the process is the same that we used on Inland Seas where I got to be the one up on the crosstrees, waiting for Jan to tell me what to do. This time, Fiorentino and Charlie were up there, sweating bullets as Captain Bradley looked on with the seeming omniscient eye of captains. Everything seems bigger here on Pride II. It's not only the scale of physical things but the mindfulness and energy that go into every little detail. I just continue to putz about in the galley and visit with the weary boaties as they come down for tea. Sarah and her siezings, Shelly and the blasted main clew outhaul, Ryan and the precise weird cuts for this coffin-like shower that's going in to the fo'c's'l. I do believe that though tedious at times, it is the smallwork that sets a boat apart to be admired. Why else would we blush to see electrical tape on bitter ends and rusty mousings? (But I think I'm talking too much about boats, boats, boats...) As I was just finishing up from brushing my teeth, a man came to the boat asking for LuLu. What a flutter! I didn't realize how I like visitors so much. I dashed up the companionway and there was a man with two huge bags of frozen fish, all caught here in the Chesapeake Bay. I love gifts of food for our crew, even though they are not starving by any stretch of the imagination. Mmmn; fish. My stomach growls in anticipation.
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