Teak!

The Chesapeake did Carrie Rose's woodwork in. Though we enjoyed our time there and had great service from the marina, there was one problematic experience. The boat was stored outside and was to be covered but due to a project of welding several broke and bent stanchions, the cover was left partially open. 

It was a brutal winter on Maryland's Eastern shore, which was then followed by a hot and humid spring. By the time we got there the boat was covered, inside and out, with black mold. The teak's varnish had broken down and the grain was filled with black mold.

The next year we headed for Maine. On the way there, in Cape May to be exact, I took the doors off and tried to remedy the situation. It was a halfhearted attempt, which in the long run did more harm than good. This spring I began to rehab them but realized it was close to impossible while also preparing to launch the boat.

I tidied them up and once in the water sanded as best as I could - with my new Dewalt Multitool - while hanging off the side of the boat. Two coats of teak oil later they looked as good as they were going to get. Dave, from Sir Tugley Blue, graciously offered to bring them home in his Land Rover. I retrieved a tape measure and realized with careful packing they would fit in the already stuffed Honda. 

And so, they now reside in Talman Avenue's basement. I have made progress. After much research I decided to use Cetol Marine Natural Teak stain and then a final coat of Cetol Marine Gloss. I am experimenting on two small strips of teak that keep the doors from falling off the boat. Many months lay ahead before we will drive northeast again, but I want to get this done so I can start on a couple of other projects.

Carrie Rose provides a never ending series of challenges for personal growth and for the obtaining of skills to see them through. I count on these challenges to keep my neurons firing even if they are dulled by the aromatic hydrocarbons in the above mentioned substances. After all what is life without a bit of risk! 

A Few More Pics

Sea Bay, Vinalhaven, ME

Herrick Bay, ME

Swans Island, ME

Warren State Park, Islesboro, ME

Pulpit Harbor, North Haven, ME

 

De-anchoring

Needless to say, Carrie Rose wakes early. Maine is the opposite of the long summer days in the North Channel on Lake Huron’s Canadian southern shore. There the sun’s glint would last into 10 or 11 PM. Here in Maine a similar glint begins at about 4 AM and by 7:30 PM, all is dark. 

 

I mention this as an aside for my main preoccupation that morning was watching various craft ready themselves to leave Seal Bay on Vinalhaven Island. 

 

The first was a large sleek motor cruiser that resembled a McMansion. It used its crane (two stories up) to raise a large skiff onto the deck. I was temporarily distracted from the process by a swarm of jumping fish, which provided breakfast for various, seals, cormorants, and a pair of low flying osprey. But the clang of metal brought me back to the white blob of a boat and its sinewy captain raising the anchor.

 

The main engine was running and there were streams of water being pumped out of five orifices on the port rear quarter near the waterline. He hosed off the mud from the chain and let the anchor hang just below the water’s surface while exiting the bay. There was nothing untoward or exciting about it, which is the way we hope cruising will be.

 

The next boat to leave was the colorful sailboat. They raised their mainsail and began to manually pull ninety feet of chain onto the deck. The tenacious mud was washed off with bucketful’s of saltwater. No water streamed from its waterline, and the engine was not started until most of the chain was off the bottom some twenty feet below. They silently glided out of the bay Florida bound. 

 

We on Carrie Rose trend closer to the large white boat in terms of noise. Our Cummins 5.9 turbo diesel rumbles as the clanging electric windless raises the anchor. I hose off the mud and weeds from the chain and anchor with a hose directly connected to the bay’s water by a pump in the engine room. The large Bruce anchor sets in its resting place with a sharp cluck! Once in gear, we mosey out of the anchorage at four knots. 

 

At times, there can be a bit more drama. It can be windy and wavy. Another boat could have anchored over our anchor. The anchor itself can be covered with weeds or recalcitrant mud and shellfish. We try to plan for most eventualities, but as in life, there are surprises.

 

Successful anchoring is a relief. There is the satisfaction of accomplishing the goal set out, and the reward of a glass of wine and a fine dinner. De-anchoring – if that is even a word – is anticipatory. The goal is set but needs to be accomplished. There is tension in the air and a wish for a day without complications, and maybe even a glass of wine at days end.