Our days at anchor in the beautiful North Channel islands are drawing to a close. Many boaters have already headed back to their home ports and casual conversations now include the question, “When are you hauling out?” The days are getting shorter and it’s a little cooler at night so Mother Nature is also preparing us for a transition.
As I sit here at anchor on a late August afternoon, I want to drink in my surroundings and send it like a postcard to myself in the other season. I want my senses to absorb and remember the soft sway of the boat gliding back and forth, traveling from one impressive vista to another; the waves gently lapping against the hull and as the wind increases, pounding harder letting you know it is a force to be reckoned with; the call of the loon, the morning cry of the morning dove, the soaring wings of the eagle and the countless other voices making the woods come alive as well as the deep green forest stenciled between the blue sky with its dancing clouds and the shimmering water below. All of these visceral elements have the contradictory power to hypnotize you into a Zen state or supercharge you with an adrenaline rush. I want to box them all up and take them home.
I wake up every morning in my floating water bed as the first light pokes through my small V-berth window. I hear the anchor rode yawning as it has been awake all night telegraphing with little taps that we are safe and holding. We have not needed our large quilt for warmth yet, but it is at the ready, lumped large between us like a body that we now call “Fred.”
I embrace the day with yoga as the moving water challenges me to find a balance point. I love the daily rituals of anchor life, like making coffee on my propane stove. If it’s cold outside, I fire up the oven to make something delicious. You can’t beat the combination of instant heat and something great to eat.
Our Border terrier puppy, Mollie, watches me from her crate and is in absolutely no hurry to get up before 8 a.m. As she hears me opening cereal bags, her food alarm must engage and she finally stretches outside her crate. She wiggles a greeting to Bob and I while also sniffing around for any remnants of late night snacking—there are no food secrets from her. Mollie always wants to play, have fun and live in the moment. Dogs teach us so much that way.
While listening to the Cruisers’ Net on Channel 71 every morning, I do the spider walk around the boat. Armed with a mop dipped in lake water, I collect their nets and the nightly bug carnage. I am amazed at how clean the boat is this year compared to our travels though salt water and the dirty locks on the Great Circle Loop. We have dog hair now to chase around and I have a non-electrical way to collect it—the FlopMastr which is a flip flop that I rake over the rugs and settees. I just might Trademark this but I wanted to share it with you first.
With feet up on our his and hers settees, Bob and I talk about plans for the day, actually plans sound too definite, how about “floating possibilities.” If a wind shift occurs and we have to leave an anchorage, we discuss a list of anchorages with better protection. If we’re staying put, the agenda is which hike and dinghy ride to do first. There are no wrong choices.
Afternoons at anchor are tailor-made for reading. We each have 20+ books on board, not including cruising books. It would be simpler if we shared a taste in books but I’m a sucker for anything that’s won an award; Bob finds these too plodding, without plot and craves more action. There is nothing more enjoyable than whiling away an afternoon reading a good book with your puppy cuddled on your lap as the world revolves around you on the hook. This might lead to a little nap—all the better.
Sharing an anchorage is an easy way to meet other boaters. It’s so easy to dinghy or kayak over, introduce yourself and amazing conversations ensue. There are so many “It’s a small world” moments as we find how we’re all connected though mutual friends or places we’ve been. We get noticed with our name of Baby Grand as boaters often wonder where is the grand piano. We’re part of the North Channel cruising community now thanks to the Cruisers' Net and the hospitality seasoned boaters have shown us. We were even befriended by a Rosborough trawler couple from VT who looked to us for “expert” advice on anchoring as we’ve been here 3 more weeks than them. A Canadian cottager approached us the other night telling us there was a price for anchoring in front of his property—mandatory attendance at Happy Hour at 5p.m. on his dock.
Mealtime is savored at anchor and I love cooking in my small galley kitchen. It takes a little planning and an ability to grasp exactly what all is stuffed inside our small fridge and its tiny freezer. I like the challenge of this and with 3 towns each less than 20 miles away, provisioning is way easier than on the Loop or in the Bahamas. Bob is always appreciative of my efforts but I did burn his Norwegian taste buds lately with too much cayenne pepper.
Bob and I have been retired now for exactly 3 years and have spent 23 of those months on Baby Grand. We’ve been married for 42 years and it seems like all the work before is for the best now. We are older versions of our younger selves who dreamed of days like this. There is nothing better than ending the day together at anchor with a 360 degree surround view, watching a sunset, moon rise or stars. It puts life in perspective and the small stuff fades away.
You may have noticed that a picture of Baby Grand accompanies every blog entry. With her perfectly proportioned lines and classic look, she captures the beauty, the essence and the feel of boating for us. She has been a major player in all of our adventures and she will continue to be our island home for years to come.
As I sit here at anchor on a late August afternoon, I want to drink in my surroundings and send it like a postcard to myself in the other season. I want my senses to absorb and remember the soft sway of the boat gliding back and forth, traveling from one impressive vista to another; the waves gently lapping against the hull and as the wind increases, pounding harder letting you know it is a force to be reckoned with; the call of the loon, the morning cry of the morning dove, the soaring wings of the eagle and the countless other voices making the woods come alive as well as the deep green forest stenciled between the blue sky with its dancing clouds and the shimmering water below. All of these visceral elements have the contradictory power to hypnotize you into a Zen state or supercharge you with an adrenaline rush. I want to box them all up and take them home.
I wake up every morning in my floating water bed as the first light pokes through my small V-berth window. I hear the anchor rode yawning as it has been awake all night telegraphing with little taps that we are safe and holding. We have not needed our large quilt for warmth yet, but it is at the ready, lumped large between us like a body that we now call “Fred.”
I embrace the day with yoga as the moving water challenges me to find a balance point. I love the daily rituals of anchor life, like making coffee on my propane stove. If it’s cold outside, I fire up the oven to make something delicious. You can’t beat the combination of instant heat and something great to eat.
Our Border terrier puppy, Mollie, watches me from her crate and is in absolutely no hurry to get up before 8 a.m. As she hears me opening cereal bags, her food alarm must engage and she finally stretches outside her crate. She wiggles a greeting to Bob and I while also sniffing around for any remnants of late night snacking—there are no food secrets from her. Mollie always wants to play, have fun and live in the moment. Dogs teach us so much that way.
While listening to the Cruisers’ Net on Channel 71 every morning, I do the spider walk around the boat. Armed with a mop dipped in lake water, I collect their nets and the nightly bug carnage. I am amazed at how clean the boat is this year compared to our travels though salt water and the dirty locks on the Great Circle Loop. We have dog hair now to chase around and I have a non-electrical way to collect it—the FlopMastr which is a flip flop that I rake over the rugs and settees. I just might Trademark this but I wanted to share it with you first.
With feet up on our his and hers settees, Bob and I talk about plans for the day, actually plans sound too definite, how about “floating possibilities.” If a wind shift occurs and we have to leave an anchorage, we discuss a list of anchorages with better protection. If we’re staying put, the agenda is which hike and dinghy ride to do first. There are no wrong choices.
Afternoons at anchor are tailor-made for reading. We each have 20+ books on board, not including cruising books. It would be simpler if we shared a taste in books but I’m a sucker for anything that’s won an award; Bob finds these too plodding, without plot and craves more action. There is nothing more enjoyable than whiling away an afternoon reading a good book with your puppy cuddled on your lap as the world revolves around you on the hook. This might lead to a little nap—all the better.
Sharing an anchorage is an easy way to meet other boaters. It’s so easy to dinghy or kayak over, introduce yourself and amazing conversations ensue. There are so many “It’s a small world” moments as we find how we’re all connected though mutual friends or places we’ve been. We get noticed with our name of Baby Grand as boaters often wonder where is the grand piano. We’re part of the North Channel cruising community now thanks to the Cruisers' Net and the hospitality seasoned boaters have shown us. We were even befriended by a Rosborough trawler couple from VT who looked to us for “expert” advice on anchoring as we’ve been here 3 more weeks than them. A Canadian cottager approached us the other night telling us there was a price for anchoring in front of his property—mandatory attendance at Happy Hour at 5p.m. on his dock.
Mealtime is savored at anchor and I love cooking in my small galley kitchen. It takes a little planning and an ability to grasp exactly what all is stuffed inside our small fridge and its tiny freezer. I like the challenge of this and with 3 towns each less than 20 miles away, provisioning is way easier than on the Loop or in the Bahamas. Bob is always appreciative of my efforts but I did burn his Norwegian taste buds lately with too much cayenne pepper.
Bob and I have been retired now for exactly 3 years and have spent 23 of those months on Baby Grand. We’ve been married for 42 years and it seems like all the work before is for the best now. We are older versions of our younger selves who dreamed of days like this. There is nothing better than ending the day together at anchor with a 360 degree surround view, watching a sunset, moon rise or stars. It puts life in perspective and the small stuff fades away.
You may have noticed that a picture of Baby Grand accompanies every blog entry. With her perfectly proportioned lines and classic look, she captures the beauty, the essence and the feel of boating for us. She has been a major player in all of our adventures and she will continue to be our island home for years to come.
