Since I got my first post up, I have already had questions about my corgi pooch, the sweet, sweet, loyal and multi-talented Diamond Lily.
Unfortunately and quite sadly, I have had to leave her on land. At 14, though spry as ever, she simply is not up for the seafaring life. She now lives with a best friend, Suzanne, her toddler, Basi, and a trembling little fox terrier named Bellaboo.
I have cried endless tears over leaving her, but the Lilster is happy with her family in Boston Harbor. At the marina store they call her by name where is known as Lily Langtree and seems to have evolved a life of her own as just another one of the colorful characters.
Speaking of colorful characters, we have met a few of them on the docks of the ports we have visited. In Eagle Harbor, Bainbridge Island we hobnobbed with the ever interesting inventor, Charlie Faddis and his wife, TJ who runs the Historic Lynnwood Theatre, and their extended family. And there was Rich, the salty live aboard on the strangest, yet most elegant ferrocement ketch I've ever seen. He had many tips on docking "a big girl." For couples he had the following advice, "You put the woman at the helm. She usually has a better driving record, and she's rarely strong enough to catch the boat on a dock. Let the more athletic man do the hard physical stuff." Good sound advice, however, I am no where near ready to drive this giant 18 ton steel womb into a marina full of fancy schmancy yachts! Hey, I'll even flash my titties (if need be) to get the dock angels to materialize and help catch our lines, but I'm not driving. Nope. Not yet anyway. In time. For now I am content to blow kisses from the bow to those who help us make it in or out without involving insurance companies. This boat seems to be a real challenge to back up. Bow thrusters, as decadent as they may have seemed to me in the past, sound a bit more reasonable with each close call.
The most delightful fellow thus far was Scotty, the seventy something grinning dock walker who appeared to expertly catch our lines and pull us in against the winds of Boston Harbor. He's a regular there, and knew of our arrival even prior to our VHF call to the marina. He claimed a girl with a couple of little doggies (Suzanne) told him to watch for a big black sailboat. Before we had finished cleating Nomadness to the dock, Steve asked if maybe we should haul her back to take up less space. You know, as a courtesy to other boaters? We didn't want to be the assholes who take up two parking spots. To this Scotty replied in his thick, melodic accent, "They mess around with the chihuahuas and move them about, but they won't mess with the Great Dane. And in this circumstance, I'd say you are the Great Dane!" And he was right. In fact when my pal, Jib, called to say he was doing a sail by, he commented, "Damn, girl, you've got the biggest mast in the Harbor!" To which I quipped, "I know."
We have a running joke about Nomadness being "The Great Dane."
Now a dachshund non sequitur.
These are Max and Teddy, companions to Steve and Tammy, a sailing couple who took their 50' ketch Skybird three quarters the way around the world. Tammy has a book out about the adventures and new blog too. They live in Boston Harbor.