25 miles offshore, Heather @ the helm, Takara on watch, front and right of center.
Brian was reefing the main for nightfall and this shot presented itself.
Trauma: We lost Takara. Sunday, Charleston...Brian was reading in the cockpit and Heather was on the phone...Vevela was her usual sedate self and Takara had gone for a walk around the deck to check the anchor gear and whatever else that feline does unsupervised. Heather's grandfather just got a new calico kitten and she was talking about our own psycho-calico and Brian was a bit too enthralled with Mister B. Gone, Clive Barker's new book...five minutes later when Heather was off the phone and Brian had found a stop-spot the littlest member of the crew was nowhere to be found.
Lately she has been a fiend, begging for treats, she even figured out how to open the sliding pantry door and help herself, in essence she has been an addict. So when she didn't come when we shook treats, we got concerned. When the catnip container was opened and she didn't come, something was definitely amiss. We tore HP to pieces looking for her then split our forces: Brian in the dink and Heather onboard searching. Concentric circles through the anchorage found nothing but the wind was blowing 20 and there were whitecaps...we joined forces again, both onboard then both in the dink...we searched every shore, the oyster and barnacle covered pilings were getting thrashed with the waves...needless to say, we shed more than a few tears for one of our two "kids" who was now gone. Back onboard turned up nothing and another search in the dinghy only ran us aground in a weird shallow in the middle of nowhere, we were sputtering, low on gas...and both drenched. With heavy hearts we hopped onboard to get money to fill up the gas can (which meant a sopping walk to the gas station, a waste of search time...) Heather goes below and freezes.... "What?" I ask... there on the table sits Takara, cleaning herself and oblivious to the hell we've just been put through on her behalf. She walks over to the treat door and sits next to it, expecting a reward for being cute...
Drama: Yesterday morning we went in to do laundry early (0700) and noticed a new transient boat in the anchorage and a derelict boat had settled against them in the night (derelict is on at least 250 foot of line and swinging everywhere) we saw the transients on deck contemplating the dilemma as their anchor rode had wrapped... we return our laundry to HP and went to Ru'ua to see if we can assist. Over putters Valkyrie (who we met in the fall in Elizabeth City, NC and is good friends with Ru'ua... small world again.) We all try to push the derelict boat against the Charleston current to little avail....over comes another dinghy (with a boater in it) and with the 38hp between us, we swung the abandoned boat around until the lines were untangled. Good old fashioned fun before 8am.
Pasta: Charleston Farmer's Market....there is a stand with a guy and a lady selling different fresh, handmade pastas (cracked black pepper, garlic parmesan, squid ink, etc)...their special was for $8.00 you get a pound of pasta, a quart of sauce with sausage and meatballs. I wish I could remember the name of the pasta (a firmer gnocchi, half-rolls, half an inch long) but we both agree this ranks as one of the best Italian meals either of us has ever, ever, ever eaten. The meatballs were 2 inches in diameter and the sausage pieces were ping-pong ball sized... Not only that but it lasted 2 nights... so it came out to $2.00 per serving!! Holy Cannoli, Batman... Before we go offshore to Beaufort, we're going to call him up (their name and number is on the pasta bag) and see if we can get a refill...
That's it for now, we're just catching up on $ work, boat projects, and waiting for a 36-48 hour window to get offshore to Beaufort, NC.
Oh, on the domestic side...we've been making our own sourdough bread starter and later this week we'll be baking our first loaf...hopefully it's as yummy as it is fun. |
