Blue Grace

West End, Grand Bahama Island

2007-09-14T10:06:00.000-07:00

I spent three weeks at the marina, wandering about the deserted Jack Tar Village, which was creepy.

It was a full resort completely deserted and I took to going out spearfishing in the mornings to catch my days food, which was abundant. The challenge was getting fresh water, milk and bread so I found a taxi service which would take me into a local village where people baked fresh bread daily, but milk was a problem.

These are things I had not fully considered upon leaving. Just how difficult getting daily sustenance would become and while romantically, it was ideal, practically, it was a daily challenge to get what I needed to simply eat.

And my personality of always considering where my money was coming from really bothered me to continually be using money that was in my savings account. I think, more than anything, that was the underlying issue for me and it made me realize how naive I had been to think I could simply sail off to the Caribbean to become a sailboat charter operator.

Crossing over to The Bahamas.

2007-09-14T09:53:00.000-07:00

On Christmas Day, 1991, I decided to test my navigational skills and make the crossing to the Bahamas from West Palm Beach.

With a couple of freinds on board, I awoke at 2:45 am ready to go.

I checked and double checked my course and set off and by 4 am was out into the Gulf Stream.

It's odd sailing at night... you see nothing, except for one Cruise Ship, which looked like a lit-up city roaming the oceans at night. As the sun began to rise, I felt better.

During the last couple of hours, I doubted my navigation as I had expected to arrive at 1300 but was right on target.

At 1445, I sighted three towers on Grand Bahama Island and set course for the Xanadu Resort and Marina and checked into the Bahamas.

After a day or two of relaxing in the marina, I set off for the west end of the island and the Jack Tar Village Marina and arrived after an exhilarting sail along the coast of the island, with dolphins follwing us along the way. The photo above is Blue Grace docked at the marina and me beginning to do some varnishing on my deck boards.

St. Augustine to Stuart

2007-09-13T22:01:00.000-07:00

Of note. If visiting St. Augustine, take the time to visit Marineland. Great dolphin shows.

After passing through St. Augustine, the trip south was uneventful as I was sailing through the Intracoastal Waterway, so basically, I was making miles towards Stuart, where I would dock for the winter and take my Navigation License before crossing to the Bahamas.

Lots of bridges to pass under and lots of boat traffic during the days and very few places protected enough to drop anchor for the night.

The second evening of passing down Florida, I anchored outsie New Smyrna Beach (which, oddly enough became my home for a year three years later). I dinghied ashore and went to the library and spent the next day just reading about the area. It was a very nice library.

The next two days were basically motoring down towards Stuart and I finally arrived at slip B-217 for my winter in Florida.

The next morning, I got to work checking the boat over and cleaning it up after a long voyage of some 10 weeks and sent off my bike, which had arrived by courier to the marina, to be assembled so I would be mobile.

Coming in to St. Augustine, Florida

2007-09-13T21:41:00.000-07:00

Coming in to St. Augustine, Florida, a voice came over the radio asking me to change course as we were on a collision course.

I heard the call from below and picked up the handheld at the helm. I couldn't see anyone near me, let alone on a collision course when the water strated to burble and up came this nuclear submarine.

Very neat.

Towards Savannah

2007-03-01T20:38:00.000-08:00

October 1991

While waiting for parts to arrive, I decided to go for a walk. Since I was kind of in the middle of nowhere, I really didn't quite know where to walk to and I was feeling a little low waiting for parts to arrive.

But the facilities had a pay per use bathtub and I figured I'd invest $2.00 and soak my worries away.

After a long, relaxing bath, I found out my parts arrived and I spent the rest of the afternoon replacing my water pump and turned in for an early start.

It was easy to tell I had changed environments. There were alligators or crocodiles resting along the shorebanks now, and turtles out sunning themselves on logs. This was the most realxing days I had had to date. There were eagles flying overhead and I was cruising down the intracoastal waterway, auto pilot set and wandering around the topsides, watching the goings on.

Around sunset, I dropped anchor for a nice relaxing evening tucked into the edge of the marshes just outside of Harbour River.

The next morning while lifting anchor, six or seven dolphins popped their heads up and seemed to follow me for hours in the morning.

Albemarle Sound to North Carolina

2007-01-28T19:44:00.000-08:00

October 12, 1991

The next morning, I headed towards The Intracoastal Waterway and passed through the Great Bridge Lock at 11 am. The trip is extremely quiet and uneventful and I write in my log that I enjoyed having Blue Grace on Lake Champlain much more than this.

The automatic bilge pump has stopped working and I am trying to rrepair it. The floorboards begin to float and I am working faster trying to find a solution.

What seems like hours later, I round a corner into the vast expanse of Albemarle Sound, and anchor aways from another couple who have retired and spend time cruising. Everyone we have met to date is retired and taking their time going places. My mind begins to wonder whether I should have waited to retirement, but looking back now, these were all the training experiences needed to make a qualified decision about this lifestyle.

I dinghied over to this couples boat with a bottle of wine and had a pleasant dinner, finding out that the two on board are connected with the navy and that the owner had been a sea captain with the navy all his life. This is his retirement. It is obvious inside their boat that they have been planning this for several years. Their bookshelves are crammed with books, their bicycles are stored within the boat and they have central heating, hot and cold running water and a huge galley, with an island in the center for cooking. It's a well thought out home and has taken them years to build. It is their lifestyle.

The next morning, I left Albemarle Sound and headed to Grassy Point, then towards Belhaven, Adams Creek and onwards to Beaufort. Mile 200 on the Intracoastal.

Stuart is mile 1,000. It dawns on me that I am doing nothing more than getting someplace as fast as I can go.

No different than being in a car trying to get somewhere as fast as it will take you. This is certainly not what I had in mind when I left. Being in a hurry was what I was trying to get away from, not continue doing.

At Pelican Point Marina, I stopped because the water pump broke and I had to. Upon docking, I discovered that my particular pump is not in stock, naturally, and that I will have to wait a day for it to be sent in from out of state. The marina manager lends me his truck and I headed off into town to buy groceries.

I went for an early morning walk and returned to find my parts waiting. After installing the new pump, I left Pelican Point and headed towards Hague Point Marina, which was one of the prettier spots along the route. The facilities were quite rundown but the location was beautiful.

I am now in North Carolina.

Norfolk and heading off alone...

2007-01-27T22:01:00.000-08:00

As we begin our descent towards the inner city, we are confronted with the Naval Station at Norfolk, the largest in the World.

Towers upon towers of grey war machines are almost an assault to the eyes. Everywhere, seemimgly for miles, are rows and rows of battleships. nuclear submarines, frigates and more.

My face became an open mask of disgust. I could not hide my feelings, and Louise looks at me and questions my looks. “What is wrong with you ?’’ and I almost yell at her, so appalled am I at the amount of money this country spends in military force.

The feelings begin to reside as we cruise on by, obviously interested now. You cannot help but be intrigued by such an awesome display.

Happily, we begin to slowly ease by this dramatic site and begin towards the town square, where we once again play show off and tie up right in the carnival grounds, where everyone can clearly see us and jump off, making our way with enthusiasm towards the Town Fair.

I stop at The Cousteau Society booth and chat with the volunteers, who tell us many people simply cannot take the intensity of working with the society, that it is grueling dedication. One could naturally assume no less from such an organization. Their work is staggering and necessary. Still, one cannot help but wonder why such an organization should have any difficulty with funding, especially in light of the military spending we has just encountered.

Later on in the afternoon, I cruised over to the town docks, which were still free to overnight on and tied up.

When I got off Blue Grace, I met the owners of several other boats travelling south who were to become our companions off and on for the next few weeks. "Lady Pearl" a homemade 28 foot wooden boat from St. Jean, Quebec, that was constantly under repair, or in the throws of another breakdown.The couple aboard had worked for eight years building this boat at a cost of over $45,000.

When I told them that I had only paid $53,000. for Blue Grace, they were not pleased.

The other boats were a 24 foot O'Day named "Wanderlust" from Toronto, Ontario, and a very nice homemade 36 foot aft-cabin ketch named "Horizon III", who were originally from Holland. All these people were interesting, but the couple on Wanderlust were hilarious. They lived in squlor, drunk every evening and telling filthy jokes about their sex lives constantly. The dutch folks on Horizon III were an odd, and I believe, unwilling member of this troupe.

My log book recalls that I began to find this life a bit of a cop-out, perhaps telling me that my dedication to cruising was too hurried and that cutting out of society at 34 was not exactly what I had expected.

Early the next morning, John, Louise and Patrick all headed to the bus station for Montreal and I headed on south.

Towards Norfolk, Virginia

2007-01-27T21:54:00.000-08:00

September 28, 1991

Early the next morning, we raised anchor under sail and pointed towards Oxford.

The winds were gusting to twenty knots and Blue Grace really came into her own with these winds.

As we rounded the tip of the St. Michaels river, we tacked many times, with everyone really getting the big boat feeling of sailing that they were hoping for. As we reached as close to the wind as possible, the water began to break over the rails, and with each tack, we headed up to a course that would allow us the same feeling.

Later that evening, anchored off Oxford, John decided it was time for him to take control of the social desk and called out, "Let's go Crabbing"

What this involves is taking a piece of string, tying a piece of chicken around it and simply dropping it over the side and waiting. Highly stimulating, but the excitement starts when you catch the first crab.

We were skeptical at first, but after John pulled up two in five minutes, Patrick and I quickly jumped in to play. And the contest was on.

By dinner, we had netted sixteen good sized, soft shell crabs and decided they would be included in the meal so I dropped the crabs into a bucket of boiling water and "Voila", we had a fresh seafood dinner.

Early, very early this morning, we lifted anchor and set sail towards Norfolk.

As we entered the Chesapeake Bay again, now in the daylight, we realized how close we were to the Chesapeake Tunnel, which only the night before was simply a series of lights, seemingly much closer.

The fishermen are out already and more coming by the minute. We pass quite close to several and exchange pleasantries. "Good Mornings", you know.

We are entering Norfolk and as we pass within city limits, we see a group of Naval Cadets in training, their boat going very slowly in less than 5 knots of breeze.

Again, we wave, and I realize that we will soon be stopping for a two day rest. Time to visit Norfolk.

Annapolis

2007-01-27T21:41:00.000-08:00

As we sailed into historic Annapolis, I was excited by being there. I was one day early.

The very next day, my next charter guests were due; John and Louise. When they arrived, we got them all settled in and had a drink, as we discussed the coming weeks sailing.

The next morning, we set out to provision the boat and later in the afternoon, took a tour of Annapolis. There is a phenomanal little canal in Annapolis called "Show Off Alley" which runs right into the center of town to a set of traffic lights. Along both sides of this canal are outdoor cafes and restaurants where everyone sits and watches the boats come and go. Hence, the name. Naturally, we had to take this route at leat twice. Now we're ready to go first thing in the morning.

We sailed out of Annapolis and into the Cheseapeake Bay at the same time the naval academy was preparing for a race.

Naturally, the wind died completely and we watched with some humour as the fleet of racing boats desperately tried to avoid one another as the wind collapsed their sails.

Of course, no wind was not much fun for us either, so we motored to the historic port of St. Michaels. We dropped anchor and all climbed into the dinghy, where we wandered through the town and had soft shell crab.

St. Michaels is a typical sleepy little tourist town, mostly visited by Yachtsmen and Cruisers, and boat people. I use the term 'boat people' rather derogatorially as there are three breeds of sailors. The boat people are the campers of the bunch. Usually underfunded.

The sunset was a spectacular red.The heat was causing the whole sky to turn Crimson Red.

Delaware Bay to Annapolis

2007-01-27T19:56:00.000-08:00

September 24, 1991.

Breakfast finished and the dishes stored, we begin motoring towards The Delaware Bay. Within minutes, we are confronted with our first fixed bridge, a height of fifty -five feet clearance. The mast on Blue Grace is fifty-four feet, so we circled the bridge and went below to check the tide tables. If we are at low ride, we should have about three feet of clearance. Sure enough, low tide, and off we went, carefully watching the bottom of the bridge , like we would be able to do something about it if we did hit it anyway.

As we enter the Delaware Bay, the winds are inconsistent and after an hour of attempting to sail, we decide to motor.

We began our deviation towards Cohansey Cove for the evening and as we cut through the shallow waters, our eyes were on the depth guage constantly. 10 feet, 8.5 then 7.5.

Blue Grace drew 6'2" and we slowly manoeuvered our way through the shoals that formed at the entrance to the cove. 6.6, 6.5, 6.7, 6.9, 7.2, 8.5, 7.2, and then. suddenly, 12 feet, 16 feet, 24 feet then 66 feet.

Through. As we entered this cove, the depth was startling. We could almost touch land on the inside, but as we came in...caution was the key.

According to my logs, I slept like a baby on this night and awoke the next morning late and prepared a big breakfast before weighing anchor. We had a 2 or 3 hour motor and sail towards the Chesapeake and Delaware Canal.

We entered the canal and stopped along the way for a shower, lunch and a quick fill-up of our water and fuel tanks,

The entrance to the Chesapeake Bay is supposed to be one of the most beautiful entrances to a bay anywhere in the world, as long as you are not entering on a day when visibility is being restricted and the rain is beginning to fall.

Nonetheless, our views were enough so that the rumours could be confirmed true and that we were indeed, at last, into the Chesapeake Bay. The colours were beginning to change the leaves to their brightly burning autumn colours and we revelled in the limited views we were being treated to.

The kind of sight that is soft with the wetness of moisture filling the air.

As we entered the bay, we began to plot our course for the Sassafrass River and motored on, with the rain getting harder and fog beginning to roll in.

With the fog getting thicker by the minute and Blue Grace heading down an unknown river, I got on the radio to call for some help. A cruiser in the vicinity came back who was about two miles in front of us and talked us through the winding river, which had shoals of less than six feet in places. As we rounded what they and the charts described as the last bend before a comfortable anchorage, we still could not see any boats and Patrick decided to stand at the bow on watch as we slowly eased forward. The depth was shifting quickly.

"Boat", came the cry from the bow, and suddenly, we could see other boats and shoreline. We steered our way to a position we felt comfortable with and dropped anchor, and happily, went below to get out of our wet clothes.

The next morning found us in a pretty little bay surrounded by boats, and we made our way up on deck and lifted anchor, heading off towards Annapolis. It rained the entire way.

Brielle Marina, NJ to Cape May

2007-01-27T19:44:00.000-08:00

We were sailing in the Atlantic Ocean. Blue Grace had made it.

We reached down the coastline and late in the afternoon, stopped at Brielle Marina, Manasquan Inlet in New Jersey. We tied up at the dock and wandered ashore for showers and dinner. We went to do groceries and caught a taxi back. I was exhausted and turned in early and while Bill, Sue and Patrick headed out for drinks and dinner.

The next morning was beautiful. Clear and sunny. High 70's. The winds were blowing gently out of the north. Sailing out of Brielle Marina was uneventful. As we sailed farther and farther into the ocean, we could make out the coast of Atlantic City, our destination for the night. The fabled Trump Towers beckoned. Being out on the sea that day was not magical. Although we spotted Atlantic City from some twenty miles away, we wanted nothing more than to get to shore.

Late that afternoon, we docked at the Trump Castle and secured Blue Grace before jumping ship and headed in to the showers.

After finishing, we set for the Gambling Casinos. We all were fortunate enough to come away with slightly more than we entered with and decided to splurge it on a dinner.

We wandered back to Blue Grace and settled in for the night. Tomorrow. with Bill and Sue gone, I would be on my own, and would have to teach Patrick what I knew about sailing. Before leaving, Bill asked me to call every week, collect, and report on the progress. I thanked him for all his help and he and Sue wandered down the docks. Again, wondering when we would again see each other.

The following morning we slept in and started the day slowly with a leisurely breakfast and a stroll around the docks, looking at the yachts and admiring some of the pieces of equipment we coveted.

We fueled up around noon and motored out two miles before raising the sails. A close reach course kept us on a steady course straight out to sea, next land, Bermuda, about 700 miles. We decide to fall off on a broad reach towards the Cape May Inlet, which is where we really wanted to go.

The sun has set and we are slowly sailing in as over the radio we heard a warning to Blue Grace come in loud and clear. I rushed below to hail repeat and the U.S. Oceanographic Research Vessel charting the area was informing us that we are in her path and she has limited maneuverability. We confirm the message and head back up on deck to look for her.

She is approximately 2 miles astern of Blue Grace, still out in the ocean.

By the time she overtakes us, we are anchored and sitting on the deck, preparing dinner . We watch as they pass less than 1,000 feet from us, electronic equipment whirring and spinning. The evening passes in peace and we go below decks to plot the next days course towards the Delaware Bay.

Sandy Hook, New Jersey.

2007-01-24T21:58:00.001-08:00

September 1991.

The next morning, our new passenger Patrick arrived, settled in and stowed our food and clothing, untied the lines and headed off for Sandy Point, where we would anchor for the night, before heading out into the Atlantic Ocean and down the coast.

This day was to be one of the most trying and memorable of the trip as we sailed right up to the Statue of Liberty, under The Brooklyn Bridge and around The Battery of New York City before reaching off to Sandy Point.

The winds were strong, and easily gusted into the 30’s that day, where Patrick was quickly introduced to heeling on the boat and the wetness of sailing. I secured myself to the foredeck with lifelines and as Bill tacked Blue Grace from port to starboard, I did final adjustments on the shrouds to allow for pressure for either tack.

We headed into Sandy Point under 25 knots of wind, looking for a protected place to set anchor and as we approached our chosen spot, I proceeded to run Blue Grace aground... but managed to motor her off, as again Bill had more ammunition to humiliate me with... but it did not end there.

When we had chosen our “spot”, we prepared the anchor and tossed it overboard, whereupon we drifted around the line and wrapped it around the keel, disabling Blue Grace and not securing us for the night. Now we had a problem... winds of twenty-five knots would surely blow us loose and someone had to dive under the boat to untangle the lines. Bill, a Master Scuba Instructor for twenty five years did not have any gear and Patrick, a Certified Divemaster, neither had equipment.

So here I was, with Rescue Diver credentials , the chosen one. I donned my gear and Bill secured a line around me so that the current from the ocean flowing into the Hudson River as the tides changed would not sweep me away, I stepped down the swim ladder into the pitch black waters with a flashlight and cautiously submerged myself under the water.

Once I located the line from the anchor, I followed it blindly and began to force the line down the 6’2" keel. As it cleared the keel, Blue Grace began to swing around to her true position and I held fast to the line as I knew I was going with her whether I liked it or not. Twenty feet under the water and in pitch black, I trusted that Bill and Patrick had a grip on that rope which secured me.

While Blue Grace swung around on her anchor line, the light I was holding repeatedly swung around and glared into my eyes, disorienting me further. Within two minutes, it was all over, but it was one of those experiences that seem to be taking a lifetime in your mind... and a couple of minutes later, I was being helped into the cockpit. I was exhausted and quickly fell asleep.

We awoke with excitement the following morning and could not wait to get under way. The Atlantic Ocean beckoned and we wanted to see her in all her expanse. Although winds were still heavy, and had kicked up a substantial swell, off we went under motor. I remember standing at the helm with Patrick beside me as the first wave broke over the boat.

Then the next and they began to build, the closer we came to the open seas. At one point, one wave broke over the bow and engulfed the first fifteen feet of Blue Grace and the cockpit filled with water. I had one of those silly grins on my face, when you know that this isn’t somebody else's idea of fun, but you are making something happen that you never really dreamed would be happening.

Sailing into New York City

2007-01-24T21:57:00.001-08:00

September 1991.

Early the next morning, we set off towards New York City, and sailed under the Tappanzee Bridge late in the afternoon. Along the way, we re-wired the mast and reset the compass in the Autohelm, which is a small gyrocompass inside, which had fallen off it's balance point during a rough time.

Then the George Washington bridge... before we spotted Alpine Marina, New Jersey, and I said to Admiral Bill, “It’s my turn to dock her, it’s my boat”, and he guffawed and handed me the helm.

We pulled up to the marina and I commanded everyone to their stations to prepare lines, and motored Blue Grace gently into the dock, Bill jumped off and secured the bow and I simply stepped off to secure the bow, confident that my docking was much more elegant than the Admirals.

“Why is she still moving?”, I wondered aloud, and the realization that she had been left in gear dawned on me and I jumped back on board to put her in neutral. This went over big with Bill, my chance to be promoted to Admiral of my own boat had been blown.

The marina was closed and we were not allowed to stay on it's dock, so we headed out to an anchorage that looked promising, dropped anchor in The Hudson River and started to prepare dinner. We barbecued steaks and corn, opened champagne and celebrated late into the evening on the New Jersey coastline with the New York City skyline and the Empire State Building on one side and the park land of New Jersey to our backs. Temperature in the ninety’s were breaking records in New England and I slept on the deck that night, waking up to the sights I mentioned previously.

In the morning, we hoisted anchor. My previously clean white lines had become permanently stained a deep brown from the grunge on the bottom of the Hudson River.

We headed off just a ways down the river where we had planned on meeting Patrick Clune the following day. We were totally unprepared for the Marina we had chosen, and as we rounded the breakwater of The Lincoln Harbour Yacht Club, we were confronted with yachts 120' plus with owners named Forbes, Trump et al. Dockboys calling us “Sir” and “Ma’am” certainly buoyed our self-respect and we luxuriated in the feeling.

After securing Blue Grace, we all decided to head to New York City and party... and we were in luck , as Little Italy was having their annual street festival that week and we drank beer, danced in the streets and played silly games. Around midnight, we headed off back to Wall Street, where our bus service was to pick us up, and took the ferry back to New Jersey.

The Mast Stepping at Troy, New York

2007-01-24T21:56:00.000-08:00

September 20, 1991.

Day five saw us heading through the Troy locks and towards Albany, where we knew a good days work awaited us in re-stepping the mast. A job none of us were looking forward to. I was very glad Bill and Sue were with me. We pulled up to Castleton On The Hudson Marina and docked for the night whereupon we immediately all went into the shower and came out to have a cold beer, then another in quick succession before beginning dinner. The owner / operator of the Marina explained to us the workings of the crane there and we decided to wait until the next morning, when he could explain it to us again and we would set about tackling the job.

“The Crane” had surely been there for forty years and consisted of a crane with two pulleys, one for raising and one for lowering, with a few old lines attached. Lots of boats used this method and we set about attaching the lines to the mast and up she went... first a foot or two, then ten and we began to position her to sit flatly into the deck stepped area that secured her. As we did this, it was necessary to slip the lines up the mast and secure her to the pressure points at the front and back of Blue Grace.

To our pleasure, we accomplished this feat in less than three hours and motored Blue Grace out into the water before repositioning her on the docks to secure the shrouds and install the boom and sails, deflate and store the dinghy and head south.

That afternoon, we found ourselves miscalculating the distance to the marinas and with the aid of our trusty spotlight, and lots of shouting and double guessing, found our way into Hidden Harbour Marina, a privately owned marina where the drinks were cheap and the showers were clean.

Passaging the Locks.

2007-01-24T21:55:00.001-08:00

September 16 - 20, 1991.

The sereneness of the location was overwhelming. The water was so flat we took several photographs of the reflection of Blue Grace. We went off exploring the local area, complete with man made water runoff and cows, found wild grapes and picked enough to have for lunch the next day, but nobody else would eat them. So, most of the grapes went overboard sometimes late next afternoon. We took photos of the crew and sat around having a good time, eating and talking about the day. We were really on our way.

Day Three started off calm and dry, but overcast and the clouds were full of water, just ready to let loose.

And let loose they did, for the next three days solid. The rain kept us under a tarpaulin and inside, which gets a little cramped with four people on board and very few games to play.

Bill and I tried to occupy ourselves with small minor repairs that were necessary and we seemed to have a lot of time available to do stuff.

The next few days were spent under a tarpaulin, cold, very wet and very tightly packed together, but fortunately, we all knew each other and got along relatively well, because during the period of three days, our excitement consisted of retrieving the dinghy when it broke loose from the back of the boat , counting the number of bridges we went under and avoiding the dams, which would be marked by a single floating buoy, that if you didn’t see, made it possible to simply sail over the dam, some of them being about a fifty foot drop.

So we watched our way carefully. The locks became less exciting but I did manage to keep some excitement in our days by once accidently getting pulled off the boat and standing on a ladder twenty feet from the top of Lock Six.

It was quite funny.

When you are passaging locks, it requires four people to work the lines that secure the boat to the wall, as the water flows into the lock, or out as the case may be, and the lines have to be continually adjusted for height. From where I was, behind the helm, Admiral Bill was at the helm and assumed that I was under control... but a knot stuck the line I was holding to the pipe at the top of the lock and I tried climbing up to untangle it... which I did but upon trying to put my feet back on the boat, I discovered that she was not there any longer.

I was not going to let anybody see me if possible, so I tried swinging back onto the boat holding the line, to no avail and I finally had to say something, “Excuse me,” I hesitantly said, “but you're leaving without me... Help.” And naturally Admiral Bill gave me one of his looks and before I knew it, I was back on Blue Grace.

Leave it to me to create excitement where none existed.

Nearing Whitehall, New York

2007-01-24T21:54:00.001-08:00

September 15, 1991.

Lake Champlain becomes very fjordlike nearing Whitehall and at one point was less than 50 feet wide with water depths of less than 9 feet and walls of 200 feet towering above on each side. A narrow passage for a boat fourteen feet wide and nearly six and a half feet deep.

Hours later, suddenly Whitehall and destiny with our first lock was minutes away. Prepare those bumpers, get out the lines and boat hooks. Prepare to fend off the dreaded cement wall.

We were all so excited, except 'The Admiral' who was characteristically stern as we approached.

And as we began to manoeuver our way towards the wall, the gateskeeper pleasantly decided to open the gates and allow the remaining waters to flow out, just as we grabbed hold of the wall.

“Hold tight!” commanded Admiral Waddell, “They’ve just opened the floodgates” And we grabbed the wall with all our might to protect Blue Grace, and hung on for life, as we gradually pulled her slowly into the wall and secured her.

“Allright!” we all yelled. And we waited for the water to settle before heading off towards the great cement opening. Once inside , we secured ourselves to the wall and waited while the water slowly lifted us up to the level of being able to motor into the Lake Champlain canal system. Some people who were watching offered to take our photo, which is a good memento.

This was the first time we had ever been inside a lock and I remember from my youth when my parents took me to the Beauheaurnois Locks, on the way to Valleyfield to watch the boats lock through, and recall that it always looked exciting to me. Watching the sailors on the bigger ships, not the workers, but the crewmen, and thinking how interesting a life travelling from distant locations to landfalls must be.

And although that feeling subsided, on this day it came to mind with ease.

While we were in the locks, we were treated to the sounds of an outdoor classical band performing on a late Saturday afternoon in the park, while we tied up for a late lunch and wandered over to feed some local horses nearby.

But this was not where we wanted to stop, now that we gotten this far and we agreed to head further south.

Valcour Island, New York to Whitehall.

2007-01-22T22:43:00.001-08:00

September 1991.

I remember the weeks before the departure date.

My heart was constantly in my throat with excitement, but I also remember the fear emotion being very close at it’s side. The feelings are so close. The weeks before were filled with the thoughts of equipping the boat. And then there was the preparation of bank accounts and storage of furniture.

Somewhere towards the end of August, Bill, Sue and myself sailed Blue Grace over to Plattsburgh Marina to have the mast stepped. The realization was beginning to settle in now very quickly. Was I prepared? Better be. I’m leaving in three weeks.

On the 13th of September, 1991, we set off towards Florida, by way off the Champlain Canal System and the Intracoastal Waterway.

On my way to the boat leaving the marina for the last time was a note pinned to the bulletin board from my friend Ian. His wife Joyce had just had their first baby. They named her Grace.

I remember clearly leaving Snug Harbour and motoring towards the village of Essex , New York. As Bill and I attempted to navigate at night, we could not make out the buoys. They were not lit. As we strained our eyes passing Four Brothers Islands, we simply could not see the navigational aids. Nor could we obtain a proper bearing to establish a fix, as it was pitch dark and we could pick up no land mass to focus on.

The depth of the water was rapidly changing, becoming much shallower. I had sailed to Essex on several other occasions, so I knew this was a sign that we were indeed close to our marker. Sue happened to say something and as I turned to acknowledge her, there was our marker... less than a dozen feet off the port.

If Sue had not said something, we simply would have sailed past and not known our position.

Such is Sailing.

As some navigational aids are so seldom maintained, a lot is accomplished through luck, which is not always the most comforting way to find things out. At ten thirty, we arrived at the sleepy little town of Essex and tied up for the evening, anxious for the morning.

Morning found me too excited to sleep and both Bill and I were up before dawn. We took a quick walk and went over to untie Blue Grace. Breakfast would be prepared underway this first morning.

While the sun broke over the majestic New England Adirondacks, Sue prepared coffee and cereal, with toast, peanut butter and orange juice. The sun quickly burned off the morning mist and the cockpit became the center of activity. There was hot food being served. The weather could not have been better and the autopilot was set as we motored our way towards the locks at the bottom of the lake.

The little towns we were passing were quaint and although I had spent a considerable amount of time in this region of New York, it certainly was never from this perspective.

My sailing for the past three and a half years was centered around the northern section of Lake Champlain.

As we continued down the lake, it naturally grew narrower as it emptied into the lock system at Whitehall and then into the Hudson River. And as the lake grew narrower, we began to pay closer attention to the depth of the water. Blue Grace drew 6’2" under the water and at this point in Lake Champlain, to hit bottom meant to become a statue.

The bottom was soft, deep mud. So reading the charts and following our course became quite important, and although my vanity has always wanted to have myself remembered as a statue, it was not for being a Lake Champlain monument.

On we went, at times relaxing to take photos of the hawks that circled overhead, hunting for fish near the surface of the water or for small animals feeding by the watersides. We wondered, at times, whether they were following us, but finally realized they were watching our wake, that we were stirring up the water and the fish.

I remember, at this point, that the passage became so narrow that Bill became intense, watching the water with anxiety, and we all let him luxuriate in that state.Bill began to take control of the boat and one minute we were on a voyage and the next, we were under command.

I believe it was at this point that we christened him “Admiral Waddell”.

Off we go...

2007-01-22T22:40:00.000-08:00

August 1991.

There were evenings during the spring and summer of 1991 that I would begin to feel overwhelmed by the amount of things that were going on.

At O'Keefe, my career was gradually becoming more substantial, and more stressful. Directors of Design & Marketing always tend to grow with the company.

Often, in the evenings, I would drive for an hour and a quarter to take Blue Grace out for a sail. These were surely the nicest evenings of all. With the autopilot installed, Blue Grace could be trimmed and let loose to sail across the deep waters of Lake Champlain.

One particular evening I set the sails and went below to get a drink, turned on the spreader lights and went up to sit on the foredeck with a book. This was as good as it gets, and my mind drifted towards the book and away from the office.

Blue Grace sailed on at 4.5 knots, with very little heel. The sun was now completely set and I could feel the tension of the week flowing out. Comfortably, I leaned back and began to enjoy the ride. Port Kent was in the distance, and to quote the Caribbean, No Problem, Mon.

Suddenly Blue Grace seemed to start slowing down, until she came to a complete, slow halt. No noise, no sudden jerk, just a slow, complete halt.

Curiously, I went and peered over the side but it was now too dark to see the bottom and I went below to check out the charts. Voila! From what I could tell, the sandbar surrounding The Ausable Chasm had shifted and I was stuck in the sand.

Reverse throttle pulled Blue Grace from her sandtrap within seconds, and I was again on my way.

This was early in the summer, and my thoughts were still unclear as to what I was going to be doing come next September.

I had made the decision to leave my 'job' and sail to Florida and then over to the Bahamas and take charter guests along the way to see how I like the concept of being a charter boat captain and dive instructor. In Florida, I would complete my Navigation License and my 6 Pack Captains License.

Although I was preparing the boat to the best of my abilities, it was only that. To the best of my known abilities, but Blue Grace was beginning to be very comfortable and very safe.

I had ordered specially fitted sheets for those impossible bed shapes they insist on designing in boats, as well as installed an Alpine stereo, refrigeration and a freezer.

The weeks passed quickly and the work was steady. Blue Grace began to resemble a home more and more and gradually, I felt close to completeness in my preparation.

I planned a dinner with several friends and had garage sales. I sold a lot of furniture and began to prepare myself for a less materially oriented lifestyle.

It was a safer decision than it sounds. I had a firm job offer which would begin the following March in Bermuda, so now seemed a good time to test the idea of whether or not I would enjoy sailing as an occupation.

Cumberland Island, Georgia. October, 1991.

2007-01-22T22:32:00.000-08:00

October 1991.

Tonight, as that which always happens when the full moon rises and Blue Grace is anchored, the beauty of the calls from egrets and other marsh birds coupled with the soft winds and sounds of water, gently beating against the hull of Blue Grace, so relaxes and enchants me.

Now, an Owl.

I am alone with my feelings.

It brings me to recall moments summer holidays spent in the country, and again, an owl calls.

The air is fresh, winds cool and not quite brisk. My mother and father used to take me to Vergennes, outside Burlington, Vermont for 3 weeks each summer.

There, the cool breezes would rustle through the pine trees and my father taught me how to throw horseshoes.

This evening, nearly thirty years later, I am sitting alone on the deck of Blue Grace listening to dolphins arch through the water and take a breath off Cumberland Island in Georgia. It is truly an experience which cannot be described, only experienced.

To my mother Grace.

2007-01-14T18:50:00.000-08:00

September 1991.

To my mother, Grace, who would have come along without giving it a seconds thought. With much love and thanks for teaching me to be such a free spirit. This story is my thanks to her for her never ending love and friendship which she gave me as a child.

The boat, a Beneteau First 37.5, as it was, was perfect. Sitting in a well tended cradle at Shelburne Shipyards in Vermont, I knew the moment I saw her she was exactly what I was looking for.

Impulsively, I said, “I’ll buy it”.

The rest it what makes up this story. The name was easy.

"Grace" was my mothers name, and as she was and still is so close to me, that name was the simple part.

“Blue” came from the water and it’s deep, inviting, relaxing color.

It made for a very fitting name.