Tag: north carolina

Oyster Season

February 7, 2013 / renchapman

Honor the Lord with your wealth and with the best part of everything you produce.
Then he will fill your barns with grain, and your vats will overflow with good wine
-Proverbs 3:9-10

Oysters! Oysters were what Ren and I had on our minds as we waited to board our plane from Deadman’s Cay to Florida. We were both in need of some good old, slimy, snotty, NC oysters, which are a staple of the cold weather holiday season back home. In NC the measure of Winter is not made by the thermometer alone but by the opening of oyster season. When the water in NC gets cold, well, by our thin skin standards, the march smells a certain way. The smell goes from a nice healthy rotten egg, sulfur odor that permeates the air during warmer weather to a green, fresh smell. The air and water are both crisp with a chill. The water becomes super clear as the last mud settles from the summer boating season and the algae stops growing. This is oyster season. This is the season for locals only as all the tourists have left, heading back to their inland homes in Raleigh and Charlotte. This is the season where the local folk get into their single motor boats…or john boats even, slowly putting along to each bank of every shallow, unnamed creek in the marsh for sharp, pointy, projections clustered together and sticking up out of the mud.

Once an oyster bed or accumulation of these bivalves has been spotted the Carolinian slowly lowers his hook (anchor) into the water and steps out into the quicksand mud in white, calf-high rubber boots. These boots are affectionately called Sneads Ferry Sneakers, after a small fishing town just north of Wilmington. If you ever find yourself lost in coastal NC and you spot a big burly man with chest waders and these tell tale white rubber boots, do not be afraid to approach. Although he may have a distinct and intimidating Duck Dynasty look, you have found a friend, this man is one of our people.

The oyster harvester steps cautiously through the muck leaving big symmetrical, horizontal lines in the sand with each footprint. He is careful not to disturb anything other than his target catch. The not-so-wily oyster. Once he spots a cluster of these tasty little animals, he uses a big long screwdriver or a piece of available scrap metal to carefully pry or knock off undersized oysters from the cluster. Alas, the oyster man is left with the ever coveted “single”. Bring a bushel of these “singles” over to a buddy’s house for an oyster roast and people will be serving you up oyster shooters all night. The “single” oyster is a sure sign that the harvester has taken good care of the animal during the harvest. The oyster was further respected through the act of knocking off the undersized oysters from the cluster. In this way the population can be conserved. Only the regulation 3” oyster makes it to the table.

Oh and what a table it will make! Oysters are best enjoyed with a crowd of folk. Wear warm clothes, invite your friends and family and gather around a burn barrel until the oysters are ready to eat. Add a couple of beers, oyster shooters, a pot of chili, cornbread and a few chocolate chip cookies (because they are my favorite) and you have got yourself a good time. You have got yourself a bon-a-fide south eastern oyster roast.

Summers are special. The weather is warm and we humans come out of our Winter hibernations with pale skin and extra fluff around the mid section. We look forward to enjoying the outdoors and moving again, being active. Winter, if played properly, can be just as inviting as warm Summer. Get outside, but stay next to the fire. Enjoy a mosquito free evening with friends. Of course, this is being said from the warm embrace of the Caribbean aboard Nila Girl. It is easy to look back fondly on Winter when it does not have it’s cold fingers wrapped around your throat.

For pictures from an oyster harvest and oyster roast this past December visit Ren’s Facebook album. Don’t forget to “Like” Evolve Freediving on Facebook.

Check out video instructions on how to harvest oysters on Ren’s YouTube channel.

The Chapman’s friend, Dave Benson, collecting oysters in the marsh near the Scotts Hill area in NC.

Perfect Cornbread
Preheat oven to 375 degrees.
2 cups ground yellow cornmeal
3/4 cup self rising flour*
1/2 cup fresh chopped jalapenos**
2 cans sweet cream style corn
2 tblsp. vegetable oil
Milk to taste and to consistency
Place vegetable oil in the bottom of a 12”x9”x2” pyrex baking dish. Put oiled pan into oven. Meanwhile mix the dry ingredients in a large bowl. Chop the jalapenos in small cubes and de-seed as needed. Add the sweet corn and jalapenos to the dry mix. Don’t be scared of the jalapenos…they are what is going to make the cornbread gooood! MIx ingredients together and slowly add milk to consistency. Not to dry but not watery either. Once oven is preheated and oil and pan are scalding hot, pour batter into pan. If more than 1/4” of oil pools in the corners of the pan us a baster to decant some it off. Put the pan in the oven and bake for 30 min.
NOTES:
*Use 1tsp. of baking powder if not using self rising flour.
**De-seed to taste. We like things spicy so we use 5 jalapenos and only de-seed two of the five.
When done, eat warm! The oil will add a fried element to the bottom of the bread making it perfect.
Enjoy!
Oyster Shooters
An oyster roast favorite. Imbibe with caution!
1/2 pint bloody mary mix
1/2 pint vodka
1/2 cup freshly grated horseradish root
10 shakes of hot sauce
4 shakes of worcestershire sauce
Mix all ingredients above and shake vigorously in a screw-top container. Pour into shot glass, add hot steamed oyster and…Cheers!
Enjoy!

Who doesn't love pizza? Especially aboard Pavana.

Nila Girl’s “Gourmet” Galley #2

February 25, 2012 / renchapman

Pizza on Pavana
A spoonful of inspiration.
Pizza made with a mahi Banff harvested baked in Pavana’s oven, served with a salad on the side.

It seems that of all the foods we crave while adventuring on Nila Girl, which are many, pizza is at the top of the list. It’s hard to find descent pizza in the Bahamas and if you do, it’s not likely to be worth the pretty penny you would spend on it. Ren and I crave Antonio’s Commentatore pie from back home. Lots of sauce, garlic, eggplant, basil and two cheeses perfectly melted on top with just the right amount of cheese grease drip when you fold a slice in half. We miss ordering out a Commentatore and drinking one beer each while we wait for the pizza to be ready for pick up. We pick up the pie and eat it with lots of crushed red pepper while taking in a movie projected on a king sized sheet in our old living room. Next year, we’re bringing the projector with us on our cruise.

As Banff of Pavana, Ren and I perused the grocery aisles in Spanish Wells, Eleuthera, we brainstormed about the night’s supper. Within minutes, and almost jokingly, Ren sighed, “Pizza would be good.” I groaned and immediately started pouting, knowing that this wasn’t an option until Banff, a beacon of light on our grim pizza situation, said, “Alright, let’s do the pizza thing.” Banff already had the whole wheat flour and yeast needed to make the dough, which was really the only limiting factor. Pavana was also adequately overstocked with everything we would need for the top of the pizza or anything else your culinary heart desired. In short, Pavana was like a floating grocery store, but not Food Lion. Pavana was a Whole Foods or Fresh Market, complete with organic selections and vegan options. I think I spent a total of $40 shopping at ‘Groceries a la Pavana’. Anyway, Banff already had pizza sauce, soy cheese, jalapenos and mahi to be grilled and added to the top. Nila Girl isn’t exactly shabbily stocked herself. She was to contribute fresh parmesan, straight off the block (thanks to a little Italian ancestry) and a nice big salad with all the fixings. We picked up some mushrooms to add to the top, payed out and met Oreo at the grocery store sliding doors where he was keeping a close eye on the golf cart we rented.

Eager to get back to the boat and start the dough, we finished our uneventful self-guided golf cart tour of Spanish Wells and hopped back into Banff’s dinghy to head back to the strong ships…

Digression:

Spanish Wells was uneventful if you consider I stayed up half the night researching the small island and it’s history of inbreeding. It is safe to say that I became momentarily obsessed with the history of Spanish Wells, which includes Anglo-Saxon settlers, racial pride, and a long line of inbreeding. I searched the internet for pictures of the people and family trees with branches intertwining like the trunk of a ficus. Needless to say, I was disappointed when we got there. First, the long history of inbreeding was not readily apparent in the people. They looked normal, just with a backwoods sense of style. Second, the place reminded me of my hometown of Richlands, NC but Richlands about 30 years ago. Industrious people with a big red streak in a mostly white town. Nothing unusual about Spanish Wells if you are already from the rural south.

We needed to shower, feed Oreo and pack our “supper time bag” (a waterproof bag made of recycled sailcloth by Ella Vicker’s Recycled Sailcloth Collection, perfect for keeping food items dry on the wet floor of a dinghy) for Pavana. Snapping photos of the locals while heading out of the harbor area, I spotted something strikingly red floating in the water. so red, it reminded me of that scene from the book, The Giver, where the young giver gets his first glimpse of color in an otherwise black and white world. The color he saw was red and the imagery was powerful. We approached the bobbing red objects with caution until…holy geez! The floating red balls were bright ripe tomatoes with the occasional red bell pepper sprinkled in. Apparently a box of fresh tomatoes and peppers had fallen off the dock right into the dinghy’s path, and nobody was claiming them. Guess what goes surprisingly great on pizza…yep! Tomatoes and red bell peppers.

Banff weaved in and out of the crimson gates as Ren and I stretched to retrieve very piece of valuable food we could. Trust me, if retrieving floating food with a dinghy was an olympic sport, we would be representing Team USA. A local, who was working on his boat engine nearby (I told you they were industrious people), noticed us scrambling and joined in on the aqua-harvest. He relinquished his bounty to us poor sailors and we greedily grabbed the goodies. Besides being on a budget, we were Team USA of the Aqua-Harvest event, not him. He should check himself! Ah but the pizza was looking better and better. We wiped the drool from our mouths with our sleeves and continued on to the boats.

The four of us, Oreo was always welcomed on Pavana, met back up on Banff’s boat around 6:30 or 7:00, all freshly showered and hungry. Banff had already let the dough rise and it was time for the art to begin. Ren saddled up on the settee with a cold Budweiser and watched the magic happen. Oreo sat right between my feet and waited for me to drop some magic on the floor. Banff worked on shaping the whole wheat dough and grilling the fish while I threw together the salad and prepped the toppings for the pizza. Cucumbers, chopped spinach, grated parmesan, tomatoes, squash, zucchini and some basil colorfully lit up the stainless steel mixing bowl the salad was contained in. For a dressing, I mixed together olive oil and pear infused balsamic vinaigrette. Banff opted for Amy’s Goddess dressing (a noble choice). When the pizza dough was sculpted, Banff added jarred tomato sauce and swirled in spoonfuls of my Nannie’s homemade pesto, which I will be bringing a lot more of for our next cruise. Pesto is good for a lot more than just pizza and pasta, folks. The base of the pizza was painted perfectly with the sauces before flaked bits of lightly seasoned, grilled mahi were sprinkled in. The already radiant pizza required some more green so chopped spinach and jalapenos were thrown on top. The tomatoes and red bel peppers we found were sliced and delicately arranged on the bed of spinach, offsetting the green. A few sliced mushrooms, the yellow soy cheese and white parmesan…voila! The beauty of the meshing pizza ingredients made the raw colors palatable.

Banff popped our canvas into the oven and the three of us started giggling in anticipation. Oreo did not giggle. In fact, he was pretty pissed that I had prepared my share of the meal without dropping a single slice of anything. Don’t worry, he always gets his share of, well, everything that we cook. So that we didn’t start gnawing our fingers off, we passed the pizza cooking time in the most painless way possible. Ren and I cracked open a couple of beers and the crew settled in for two episodes of the hilarious TV series, 30 Rock. The laughter was the only thing strong enough to distract our appetites. Of course, we checked on the pizza no less than four times while watching. The hardest ten minutes of the evening came when the pizza was taken out of the oven and placed on the counter to cool. Who’s idea was it to let food cool anyway? We stared at the pie and suffered through the last ten minutes of our second episode.

Finally, the moment arrived. The pizza was judiciously served in even amounts to prevent WWIII. Since I am an athlete in training, i got a fair share of the pie too, despite being of the fairer sex. The salad was dispersed, a mere afterthought lying next to the pizza. A fluffy side dish to keep our slices comfortable before we devoured them. We ate, savoring every bite, while watching a third episode of 30 Rock. If you haven’t seen the show yet, you’re walking backwards. We shared a solitary tear when supper was finished and the dishes were licked clean. Banff took Nila Girl’s crew back to our boat and we said our goodbyes. You see, homemade pizza was the perfect last supper to share with our new friend on Pavana. We parted ways with a good taste left in our mouths, already eager for our next encounter with Banff.

Mahi Pizza (Pavana Style)
Preheat oven to 425 degrees.
Ingredients:
1 grilled Mahi steak, lightly seasoned
1 cup cheddar or cheese substitute
1/2 cup parmesan (NO substitutes)
1/2 cup canned pizza sauce
1/4 cup pesto
Our Pizza Toppings:
spinach
tomatoes
jalapenos
red bell peppers
mushrooms
*Get creative with your toppings. Include on your pizza anything that is on the verge of spoiling. This avoids food waste and makes the pizza interesting.
Dough:
1 cup warm water
1/2 cup seawater
1 tblsp powdered yeast
1 tblsp sugar (we use agave nectar)
4 cups unbleached flour or wheat flour
Combine yeast warm water sugar and seawater and let stand 5 minutes. Mix in flour and let stand until dough doubles in volume. When dough has doubled, punch down and knead. Let rise again by 50%. Punch and knead again. Take out 1/3 of the dough for the pizza crust. Bake the rest as bread!
Mix “pizza herbs” into the dough (basil, parsley, etc). Spread the dough out on the cooking surface (foil works well on the boat). Cover the dough with pizza sauce and add half the cheese. Let the toppings begin. Add your toppings and cover with the remaining cheese to hold it all together.
Bake at 425 degrees for 25-30 minutes. Let the pizza cool on a cooling rack for at least 10 minutes before cutting.
Enjoy!
NOTE: I never measure amounts when I cook and guessed all the ratios in the recipe above.

The flags of Nila Girl. Ren cut and sewed each flag to spell Ashley and Ren using nautical flags.

Passing By-By Ren

February 7, 2012 / renchapman / 0 Comments

“Set your course by the stars, not by the lights of every passing ship.”
-Omar Bradley

Ren and Ashley, smiling despite the beard.

Ashley and I have been on this trip now for over two months and really the only regret I have is passing by places we have yet to explore. It’s easy to have someone tell us “Hey you should go there or here or….” wherever it might be and pass all these wonderful places. The land is one thing but what about what we are missing beneath us? I have been on this lobster kick and for good reason. We don’t really get to eat lobster much back in NC. One of the reasons we came on this trip to begin with was to eat from the sea and here we are passing by an amazingly rich area of seafood only to arrive in a port of overcrowded, overfished areas all for what seems to be a good internet connection or a place where other cruisers will be. Not that this is a bad thing because it’s not. There really is not much better then meeting new people and hearing their stories of how they arrived in the same crowded port and their experiences along the way. But as I look back on it I still think about everything we passed in the night. Every hidden ledge under our keel with an army of lobsters in its crevice. “We will come back to it later” is how we justify it. “We are on a timeline” we mutter. It’s true, we are on a timeline and there is only so much you can see. I guess that is true with life in general. I feel like one of the most important things in life is to see and to meet and to explore as many things and people and places as you can in order to understand and appreciate and even under-appreciate these things. If you have never seen it or experienced it or never met he or she then how can you judge it? I guess you can take another person’s word for it but that is not giving it justice.

As I write this we are anchored in Harbor Island, Eleuthera. Not really my kind of place. A Bahamian island with a Hamptons, NY flare. The super wealthy have ruined it’s small island charm bringing their money and causing prices to rise which in turn has increased crime by the locals probably trying to keep up. It’s kind of not right. Green Turtle Cay is the opposite. No apparent crazy money, no crime, no problem. The funny thing is that they really have no idea how great they have it on Green Turtle. No one is hungry, no one appears to be on drugs…..

However, they are all hoping now that their boat will come in with the “High Class” folks with dollars to spend. “I just wish enough people would come to keep the restaurants in business” says Julie Farrington of Island Properties Management. So where do you draw the line. Unfortunately I think it is inevitable. The ultra wealthy or their extremely fortunate children will arrive and poison it with their over complicated, over ambitious homes and boats and things that really just don’t matter. Along with an attitude of total disregard of those things that do matter. Let me tell you what matters. People matter. The environment matters. If you have to step on any of these things to obtain something, then to me, you don’t matter.

So why do I feel like I’m missing something on this trip? Mainly because I haven’t eaten enough lobster. And here I am, 6 miles as the crow flies, from the commercial lobstering capital of the Caribbean, Spanish Wells. This place is where Red Lobster gets all there crayfish. No wonder I’m striking out. Time to move on down the road to a place where living is more simple and people are more simple and life takes on an old meaning and at the same time a new one. Ashley and I are so very fortunate.

Key West

January 6, 2012 / renchapman / 0 Comments

“Once you’ve ruined your reputation, you can live quite freely.”
-Amigos

The Western Union with full sails up.

Ren and I had to traveled to Key West once before to teach a freediving course with PFI. At that time we spent two days diving the Vandenburg and filming, Defending the Vandenburg. If you haven’t seen it yet scroll right back over the title right now and click on it! Ren worked hard to make a spur of the moment video shoot turn into something close to golden. The short video won 1st place in the amateur division at the North Sea Film Festival. We spent a couple days diving for fun with our PFI buds, then transitioned into instructor mode and taught an Intermediate level course. We try to squeeze every bit of possible fun out of the moment when we’re hanging with PFI, who we don’t get to see often enough. We tramped around Key West drinking and people watching. All in all I got a particular impression of the small key, Duval Street, debauchery and homelessness. We never saw the waterfront or Hemmingway’s place. We didn’t get to hang out with salty sailors or check out the huge Schooners at Schooner Warf. We didn’t even eat Cuban food or Key Lime Pie. I left, satisfied having spent time with our friends but without a dying urge to go back to the place where people go to “drop out of society”.

Thank doggy paws that we had the opportunity to get back, by sailboat, which is the preferable method of transportation to anywhere, especially Key West. As we entered the harbor entrance we pulled up just outside of Key West Bight and dropped the hook at about 3:00pm. After a hot cruise with the wind in your hair, but not in the romantic “blowing in the wind” kind of way, in a continuously wrapping itself around your mouth and turning your hair into something resembling greasy pasta noodles, it was time for a quick swim around the boat. Nothing dries up the grease like a little salt water. I jumped into the water and swam around the boat a few times, daring Oreo to jump in. Which he didn’t. He would never jump in, he would definitely bypass jump and go straight to stumble and fall.

We stayed in that night and most of the next day, finally deciding even Key West would be a welcome diversion from the cramped quarters of Nila Girl’s cockpit. Plus, Oreo really appreciates it when he doesn’t have to pee (or poo) on the boat, please see earlier post titled, “Two Humans and an Oreo Boy”. Once on land he will, however, pee on everything short of people’s feet, and this is only avoided by having him tethered to a leash where Ren and I can yank him away from feet and bags. Not without a fight though! We loaded up Dinky with a dry bag full of provisions we wouldn’t really need, a leash, a bailing cup and a flashlight and headed for Key West to meet up with our new buddy, Jay.

Confession. Before, while we were still in Big Pine Key, we had traveled to Key West on a day trip with our friends aboard Ohana. Check out their blog. Through our bud’s Tony and Ella aboard Ohana, and their new baby, Mellia, we met some new people and had drinks on the beach. Here we hooked up with a guy named Jay who is an aspiring freediver and strangely enough graduated with the same major as myself, from UNCW and plays ultimate frisbee. This was my kind of new friend!

Hanging out with new friends in the salon of NIla Girl.

Amigos! Best people watching in Key West. That’s saying a lot!

So we met up with Jay at a bar in Mallory Square, which proved to be a really neat, eclectic part of Key West that I didn’t even know existed. A few beers later, we made our way down to the waterfront where everyone relieved themselves of the beer we just drank. I squatted behind a rock and went while keeping a close eye on the homeless guy lingering on the other side of the dock. Ah, Key West! After the pee break it was time to trek on over to Amigos. Amigos, the home of the square taco, burritos and plastic souvenir cups! Also, the best spot in the Keys for people watching. Jay’s girlfriend, Rachel, works there and was happy to have at least one familiar face take up part of her section for a little while. Since a lot of bars and restaurants in Key West are open air, Oreo was pretty welcome almost everywhere we went. We stuffed our faces with tex-mex style cuisine and Dos Equis Amber, although I prefer the Lager. If you ever happen to find yourself down in Key West, I highly recommend bellying up to the Amigos food bar, which faces out to the street and check out the commotion. The streets are filled with drinkers, some dressed in costume (pirates mostly), some hardly dressed at all (females mostly). Enjoy the hedonism for a minute and remember to wipe the guacamole from your mouth..

Having achieved a pretty nice buzz it was time to part ways. It was essential to get back to the boat before we blew our allowance on alcohol. Besides that, the sailboat is not the most hospitable place to battle a hangover. Ren and I limped back to the boat and serenaded each other with sloppy guitar.

The next day, needing some fresh air, we headed back over towards Key West Bight. Along the way, we “rescued” a fellow dinghy captain whose engine had quit (Sidenote: later, on our way back through Key West from the Dry Tortugas we heard report of a flare being fired near the bight. We monitored the USCG station 22A and learned that a dinghy had sunk and the pilot fired a flare. We later learned that the sunk dinghy pilot was the same guy we “rescued”. Small community I guess). This captain, Troy, imparted a HUGE pieces of helpful information to us. There is a dinghy dock in Key West. All dinghies use this dock, they don’t just tie up underneath a restaurant dock, hoping not to get caught like we did the night before. Well, news to us! We followed his directions to the dinghy dock where we observed a rugged sight. We fought our way through over 50 dinghies in varying stages of dilapidation. Some were bright grey, just off the West Marine shelves. Some you could only see because a tattered grey line hung the bow of the dinghy like a noose to the dock cleat. Other’s were dressed in bits of weather worn denim, canvas and other pieces of cloth, I assume for sun protection, these ‘quilted’ dinghies were hideous. Dinky pushed and pulled through the crowd to an acceptable dockage space. We tied off, departed ways with the hapless Captain Troy, and sauntered down to Schooner Warf taking this quiet, Oreo-less opportunity to have some “grown up time” and check out the mammoth schooners of Key West, including but not limited to, Key West’s flagship schooner, Western Union.

You wouldn’t think we would be this excited to be on another boat.

Haul away Ren!

Western Union is nestled between a couple of other schooners but is unmistakable by her sheer size. Her whitewashed hull and wooden masts draw you in as you stare at her massive stern with big gold letters running across, “Western Union”. The Western Union is an original, old vessel (with some renovations of course) that was used to run cable throughout the Keys to Cuba. She is a floating museum that is run by a non-profit organization which offers a variety of services, most interesting to us, sunset cruises. Now you would think that after all this time on a boat the last thing we would want to do for entertainment is take a boat ride, you are mistaken! When confronted with a vessel of this size and beauty you become a bit nostalgic (for a time when you didn’t even exist). Pirates dance around your head and songs like, “Yo Ho Ho and a bottle of rum” echo in your brain. We gawked until drool started dripping from our mouths. To our rescue came a guy with a blue collard shirt and an embroidered “Western Union” on the left breast. He kindly took the time to wipe the drool from our mouths with a napkin, saving us further embarrassment. The man smiled at us and asked us about the little black and white beast he saw us walking around with yesterday. He has noticed Oreo (who couldn’t?). We told him it was grown up time and that the little guy was back on Nila Girl, on pirate watch. Captain Lynn, as we would come to know him started right in with chit chat about sailboats (go figure), our boat in particular and our sailing itinerary. We enjoyed the conversation and were surprised and elated when he invited us to join him and the crew on the sunset sail, departing in 15 minutes! We jumped out of our pants, landed, put our pants back on and hopped aboard the historic vessel. Derrick, the first mate who happened to be from NC (all the best people have roots in NC, although I may be bias), informed us that the bar was open, wink wink. The proverbial icing on the cake was an open bar to complement our complimentary sail! Holy crap, maybe good things to happen to those who can’t afford to go on the boat ride without a little charity.

The sail started and despite wimpy winds, the many huge sails on Western Union managed to pull us out of the bight and into the big open waters. The sail is accompanied by a stellar crew, Captain Lynn and Derrick as I mentioned, Brian the bartender/doom metal guy from Tampa, and the two brothers who were really interested in our adventure. Good people all around. We were serenaded with live music, which included a hammered dulcimer and some fun “Haul Away” songs which Ren and I still sing even though we can only remember four words. The sun began to set, sans green flash, and we fired the canon, twice! Whether or not a cannon was really loaded into the gun we will never know. Captain Lynn assured us we hit a boat though. It must have gone down fast because no one else saw it. The trip was concluded with a stargaze. A pointing flash light was used to point out different planets, constellations, etc. Super cool stuff! $10,000 was promised to whoever could find the first satellite. Ren, of course, with his x-ray vision found it. We are checking our accounts daily looking for the deposit. Haven’t seen it yet but probably will soon.

The end to a perfect evening, Amigos one more time and a nightcap down at the Schooner Warf Restaurant/Bar. We collected our Coors Lights (with lemon of course, because we are classy) and headed over to a not so quite corner where we found, who else, the crew of Western Union. Man, if we didn’t like this crew before we really did now! We clinked Coors Lights and Bud heavies and chatted about real life (they were all living one).

On our return from the Dry Tortugas, days later, we stopped back by the Western Union while in Key West to say hey to our friends one more time before heading back north. We never saw them again but will be sure to look them up next time we’re in Conch Country.

New Years in The Dry Tortugas Part1

January 4, 2012 / renchapman / 0 Comments

“Isn’t she lovely?”
-Stevie Wonder

Meeting up with the Filer’s was a huge treat!

Leaving Big PIne Key, we set our sights, and sails, for Key West. That place was an adventure in itself and I will come back to that. All you need to know for now is that we got our fill of beer there, and liquor, and wine. Key West was just a stopping point between Big Pine and our real goal, the Dry Tortugas. With some luck, we’d even make it to the Dry Tortugas just in time to intercept some Wilmington friends who were planning a day trip to the small Key.

Nila Girl and her inhabitants (Ren, myself, Oreo and possibly a small rat, who may have stowed away in Big Pine) raised sail early morning on December 29th. Since Tay Filer and family were going to be in the Dry Tortugas on December 30th we were really pushing it, in true Ashley/Ren fashion. Why get somewhere on time maybe even with time to spare when you can get there by the skin of your teeth, often inconveniencing family and friends who are more punctual than you? It is a flaw I hope we can correct in the future. Too late for this trip though. So we sailed all day and through the night. The wind was down so we fired up the engine for a few hours, technically on December 30th. Our original plan, on leaving NC, was to never run the engine unless coming into port or if emergency requires. This plan is only valid if you are not sailing on a schedule. Something we still have not accomplished except for a few days at a time. The sails were up and the engine roared until about 5:00 am. We cut the engine and silently advanced. Stealth like, but not really with Dinky (our inflatable dinghy. Our car essentially) flapping around behind us! Quiet Dinky, damn you! Garden Key of the Dry Tortugas is home to Ft. Jefferson. An old Civil War era fort which looks particularly menacing in the middle of nowhere, just standing there, cannons pointing right at you. Union soldiers ready to board your boat, raping and pillaging. I digress, it is easy to let your imagination get carried away in the lee of the fort. So, like I said, Quiet Mr. Dink!

Nila Girl had the Dry Tortugas to herself.

Approaching a shoaled complex such as the Dry Tortugas at night is not an easy feat. It’s hard on the nerves. This was evident on our boat by the presence of all three crew members on deck. One armed with a Q-beam (me), another at the helm (Ren) and another licking his crotch in anticipation of landfall (Ren…I mean Oreo). Daylight began to break which was a welcomed friend! Not to mention a breathtaking sight as the red-orange sky rose on the east side of the fort, illuminating the ancient red bricks. The fort is dotted with open air windows from which watch was kept and cannons were aimed. The dawn poured out through these spaces and reflected on Nila Girl and our grateful faces. It is funny how much a sunset, sunrise or blue moon come to mean to you when you’re living on a boat. Without DVDs, Netflix, or anything but books and some writing and chores, the sky becomes an awesome form of entertainment. I have managed to see three green flashes on our adventure during sunset. Before this trip my grand total of green flash sightings came to a whopping zero, in fact, I kind of doubted their existence.

We picked up the channel markers and easily sailed to the east side of the fort where we dropped anchor (silently of course, who knows who’s in the fort watching). A few anchor dropping chores were done. These chores include putting the engine on Dinky and taking Oreo to land ASAP. He deserves a trip to land whenever we are somewhere to manage it. Ren is in charge or Oreo and I’m in charge of getting everyone’s breakfast ready. Did it, ate, then decided to lay down for a nap since we had sailed through the night. But. However. Captain Ren was banging about the cockpit getting all his dive gear ready. At our first sight of “Caribbean Blue” water since leaving NC, he was not about to pass up a dive for a much needed nap. Truth be known, neither was I. It didn’t take much to rouse me and before I knew it, Oreo was cashing in on the nap and Ren and I were in the water, swimming with a ~200 lbs. goliath grouper! I can sleep later!

Dinky was ready for action so we decided to crawl in and go exploring while we were still brimming with excitement. We soon realized that it was terribly hard to pick out an appropriate dive spot. To remedy this situation, we got out of the dinghy and drug it behind us. First stop, underneath a sport fishing boat that was anchored near us. Underneath that boat, seven goliath groupers! These groupers were the puppy dogs of Garden Key. They chilled underneath boats looking for handouts, and who didn’t have the heart to give some to them? Not us! A guy from the boat we were hanging with the groupers under gave us a little jack he had caught earlier. I attempted to, ahem, feed the grouper but chickened out. The mouth on that thing was pretty huge and who knew if he had good eye sight or not. Like an old dog, he may misjudge the end of his treat and the end of your hand. Confusing where one begins and the other ends, the dog chomps your hand a bit. I didn’t want to risk this from a 200 lbs animal. But Ren did. Before Ren knew it, the grouper skillfully chomped the fish, and looking down we realized, he left Ren’s hand. Phew!

Just a cool shot.

Moving on we dove a few more spots. Colorful angel fish and tangs swarmed the huge coral colonies that littered the rocky bottom. We picked out two huge NC sized lobster and three lionfish (which are delicious to eat and make great ceviche). The lobster were hanging out in front of their rock crevices. Not in the holes, outside catching some rays I guess. One reached his antenna out as if to shake my hand. They were not afraid of us, that was for certain. As we were on a reconnaissance dive we did not bring our animal harvesting gear so the spot was mentally marked. We were to return later after a visit to the fort to collect our lunch. Good thing we decided on a recon mission first because later when we reached the fort, and had an interview with the park ranger, who bum rushed us as soon as we got off our dinghy, it came to light that spearfishing and lobstering are strictly prohibited in the Dry Tortugas. In fact, you are only allowed to hook and line fish within a mile radius of Garden Key. There goes lunch, and dinner, and breakfast the next day…

We had collected Oreo after our dive, changed clothes and planned on making an afternoon out of land exploration. Our buds were supposed to be arriving by seaplane sometime that day. We had already seen two seaplanes come and go and the ferry arrive with a horde of people. No sign of any other North Carolinians. This place was also the first place where we found a nice beach to hang out on. Taking advantage of this fact the three of us spotted a nice place in the sand and relaxed, letting the warm sun burn our poor little bodies (which I wish it was doing right this minute. A cold front moved in and I’m freezing right now!). After a few hours we got hungry and decided to go back to the Nila Girl and rustle up some grub. But wait! What’s that noise…a seaplane! Leaning against the dock, we waited in anticipation to see if our buds would emerge from the awesome plane. The plane circled around the fort and touched down in the water between the same channel markers Nila Girl navigated early that morning. We watched the pilot run across the water and back the plane up right next to the beach. This guy was good. The small plane swung open her doors and people began pouring out. We saw three children, two girls and a boy, jump to the sand. Uh oh, our friends have two girls and a boy. We saw a slightly chubby guy handing bags to the kids. Ren pointed to the guy and said, “That’s him. That’s Tay. I can hear him from here”. Now Tay works out a good bit. I see him often at the UNCW pool swimming laps with Mr. Bob Berger. This is how I got to know Tay. I took one look at the gut of the man Ren pointed to and said, “Nope. Give Tay some credit will ya?” Underneath the plane were two more man legs. Also, I saw the legs with a stance just like Tay’s! Yeppers, our friend’s arrived.

They only had two hours to check the place out, not enough time, but we ran through the fort, reading this, questioning that. The children earned their junior ranger badges (they will thank their Mom later for making them do that at all the national parks they visit). The visit ended with a quick snorkel. Ren and I got to spend some time with some NC-ians and also left with one cold can on Lipton iced tea, a blueberry muffin and two, one serving sized containers of cream cheese. Who scored? We did!

After their visit, it was back to the boat for some three hour late lunch and that nap I thought about earlier in the day. The Dry Tortugas proved to be a place where we decided to stay three whole days.

Any Last Words?

December 1, 2011 / renchapman / 0 Comments

“But what shall I do with my furniture?” My gay butterfly is tangled in a spider’s web then. Even those who seem for a long while not to have any, if you inquire more narrowly you will find have some stored in somebody’s barn.”
-Thoreau

We cast off the dock around 11:00pm on Wednesday, November 23. Already exhausted from three days of all work, no sleep (it’s more work than you may think to get your affairs in order, get a boat in order, and provision a boat for a seven month tour!) we had to take advantage of the weather window. Down the dark northeast Cape Fear we went, on our way to downtown Wilmington. It was cold as ice and a bit windy, what can you do? We put on more clothes and tried to get excited about our adventure. The moment I was hoping for, the elation after leaving the dock, was pretty understated. It turns out I wouldn’t feel that ‘moment’ for another three days.

Ren taking the opportunity for a little nap.

I tried not to let doubt creep in as I patiently waited for something to happen. Anything really. Anything sign to justify our decision to quit our jobs, sell our stuff (all of our stuff), move on a boat, and leave our families behind. I waited, not so patiently, for a white dove to land on our bimini top, a shooting star to spell out my name in the sky, Oreo to get up and start dancing a jig, or even Ren to just tell me everything is going to be alright. In his exhausted state, he was not in a position to offer support to a needy wife. I shouldn’t have been in the position to feel so needy. I mean come on, how many people take a chance like we were taking? How lucky are we to not be paralyzed by fear. Fear stopping us from our dreams! But I was paralyzed, not literally of course, but with fear. That too would pass, but it is still taking time.

Ashley keeping warm in nice sailing conditions.

As we approached downtown Wilmington I called my brother, at 3;00am, half hoping he would still be out and about ready to meet us for a beer. I knew that even if he answered we wouldn’t be stopping for that beer. It’s kind of like taking off a band-aid. You gotta rip it off, you can’t slowly pull, one arm hair at a time, until the thing is off. We had to keep on going. We had already said our goodbyes.

We left the Cape Fear river behind us around 7:00 am on Thanksgiving Day. Our first ocean passage was narrowing in on us. Once you leap from the precipice, there is no turning back. The leap off our edge was painless, we landed in water. The sailing on the first day was good. The wind was up, and we were able to sail at a nice beam reach.

Let me digress. Ren has worked extremely hard to learn all systems on the boat. Since we do not have the option of throwing and endless supply of money every one of Nila Girl’s whims one of us had to learn to be resourceful so that most every repair could be made by us. Two words, “Not it!”. Because of Ren’s capabilities as primary captain, engineer, mechanic, husband, etc. he decided to engineer a wheel adapter for our self steering wind vane. A manufactured wheel adapter, $500.00. Ren’s wheel adapter, $50.00. Knowing ahead of time when to buy the real thing, Priceless. As we were getting ready to settle in, on the same side of the cockpit of course, and let our trusty Windpilot take over for us for a while, we learned that the wheel adapter Ren created just wouldn’t work quite right. Damn! I guess that’s what you get when you are rushing the boat for a weather window, not to mention, you quit your job and have to dodge town ASAP in order to stop spending money out of your newly fixed income.

The lee cloth keeping Ren snuggled up on the starboard side of Nila Girl.

Back to sailing down a nice beam reach. So we were steering down a nice beam reach and decided that hand steering all night just wouldn’t do. Ren taught me something valuable at that moment. Something to store in the vault of Sailing Information in my brain. Not to be immediately discarded with other sailing lectures from him such as, “trim this sail like this blah, blah blah”, “…then release the switch, then push this button here, blah, blah, blah”, or “winch this here and tie the so and so knot to cinch blah, blah blah”. No, this advice was something I could immediately start practicing. You can actually let the boat sail itself, if you’re not downwind, and you set the sails perfect and lock the wheel in place. Holy crap! You would’ve thought I won the lottery. I was going to be able to read, in 15 minute intervals, while on watch. This was going to be A-Ok.

The wind blew all day and into the night. We kept watch in 3 hour intervals, which worked great. Ren sewed us a couple of lee cloths (I told you he was sickeningly resourceful…lucky me!) which I couldn’t imagine spending a night in the ocean without. They turned our downtime between watches from fitfully tossing around on a settee cushion that’s already a bit too small into a decent little nap. I actually became so fond of the lee cloths that when we later anchored in the ICWW I preferred to sleep on the settee cushion that still had the lee cloth up. Sleeping next to one is like being cradled in your mother’s arms. I may have just been homesick.

We survived our first day and night at sea. We didn’t kill ourselves or each other. Oreo faired well too. At first, all three of us felt a bout of sea sickness. No chunks, just nausea. Ren and I ate Gin Gins, in part because they are supposed to ease the nausea of motion sickness, in part because they are freaking delicious. Oreo tried one but didn’t like it so he fought the sickness by panting a lot.

1st Emergency And A Night Sail-By Ren and Ash

November 28, 2011 / renchapman / 0 Comments

It only took 6 years!

Well we were finally on our way and we were approaching our first obstacle, the 42 foot tall bridge. We had already leaned the mast back so all that was required was to pull the engine back and ease her through. So we did. And as soon as we pulled it back the engine went dead! Luckily the wind was behind us and we drifted under the bridge and dropped anchor on the other side to assess the problem. I bled the engine several times and tried time after time to restart. After throwing the wrench at it we decided to reset the mast and then come back to the engine. If all else fails we could sail downwind to a marina at Dragon Point, which is where the Banana river meets the Indian river at the Intracoastal Waterway (ICWW). So we got the mast back in place and started back on the engine to no avail.

This is where I first realized how helpless sailing can make you feel. Ren is wrenching on the engine and cussing for me to bring him tools. I’m cussing for him to hurry up! Losing your cool makes engine wrenching in rough weather pretty difficult. In the meantime, it’s raining outside. I understand, even at this early moment in our cruising careers, that this emergency is probably a level 1 on a scale of 1 to 10. This reality check makes me think we need more practice, at least communicating effectively under pressure.

As I’m contemplating our situation I realize that we are drifting back towards the bridge. My default reaction is to trust that Ren knows exactly what’s going on all the time. I watch the sweat drip down his butt crack and think, nah, he has no clue that we’re drifting. I dramatically scream out, “The anchor is slipping!” We both rush on deck. Ren begins pulling the anchor up until the rusty end of the anchor chain slips past the bow pulpit. Where’s the anchor you ask? Hell if we know! It’s about 30 feet on the south side of that 42’ bridge we mentioned. Probably creating an artificial reef for some pinfish. Good thing the boat was already equipped with two anchors up front and one in the back. We quickly dropped a second hook and continued arguing.

We contacted the closest marina and the draw bridge, both to our south and informed them of our predicament. For the first time we were under sail in our new boat! Just as if we were back home sailing our 18’ Hobie Cat, we maneuvered our 35 footer perfectly into the slip under sail, dousing the main and then the jib at the perfect moment to the amazement of the dockmaster who had been awaiting our arrival.

Back in our comfort zone, the arguing subsides and we are immediately in love again. At this moment, during our first sail in our new boat, I remember that I want to marry Ren more than anything else in the world and this new adventure we are dreaming about has become the ONLY option. No more sitting in traffic on my way home from the office. No more Ren working in the heat, coming home with bloody knuckles from manual labor (or so I think). No more paying bills! We are going to be cruisers and every day of our lives will be like this moment, a moonrise (full moon at that), a perfect downwind breeze, warm beers and a huge stretch of water between us and everything else we are responsible for. A naive perspective, yes, but the Polyanna rose colored life perspective I had hoped sailing would bring.

We tied up and I immediately began working on the Westerbeke 4-108. Actually the engine was manufactured for Westerbeke by Perkins so in fact it is a Perkins 4-108. Westerbeke buys engines from numerous manufacturers, paints them red and does the marketing and sales under their name. Anyway, within about 30 minutes I had the thing running again.

By now it was getting dark but to stay on schedule we had to make Titusville, FL which was 35 miles to our north. The adventure had just begun and we were already sailing at night and loving it! Throughout the entire trip to North Carolina I can count on one hand the opportunities where the wind wasn’t in our faces and we could actually sail. This first night was one of them. We were on our way!

We made it that night to Titusville and woke to a gorgeous morning on the space coast. After a calm night at anchor we motored into the Titusville municipal marina and had a huge breakfast at a local diner and were back under way by 9am. We really had no idea how far we were going but we knew we wanted to try and at least do 120 miles each day.

Making The Decision-By Ren And Ash

October 31, 2011 / renchapman / 0 Comments

“Do not worry if you have built your castles in the air. They are where they should be. Now put the foundations under them.”
-Thoreau

We can’t thank Eric enough for all of the help he gave us getting things moving.

For two weeks after the first inspection of Nila Girl we combed the web for information on buying a sailboat. What should we look for? We asked questions and asked more questions. We spoke with everyone that we knew that either owned a sailboat or had previously owned a sailboat. And then we had to find the money to buy the thing. Big problem! We thought of everything. We had a good idea the banks wouldn’t loan us any money and we were right, so we had to get creative. We had a yard sale and sold my 1982 Toyota pickup, which I didn’t drive anymore. I sold my half restored 1964 Simmon’s Sea Skiff, a really neat wooden fishing boat built by a Southeastern North Carolinian and craftsman. I had a little money in the bank to make up the difference.

After negotiating for several weeks with the broker, I drove back down to Merritt Island, FL in November of 2010 and took ownership of a 1968 Pearson 35. Polonez was now registered in Ashley’s name and from day one the work began for me. When we purchased her, the engine was not running. It worked out that the day after I got to Florida our friend Eric.

An extremely talented diesel mechanic, was headed to the Keys to visit his parents and stopped in to lend a hand. Within an hour we had the engine running and I was one happy camper! I stayed on the boat another night and left Her in Merritt Island with the intentions of returning with Ash the following weekend to bring her the first leg of the journey back to North Carolina.

A sweet little card from our first sailing buddies.

Merrit Island is about an eight hour drive from Wilmington so our goal was to finish the delivery in a few weeks doing 200 mile legs each visit south, shortening our road trips by at least 3 hours each time. We left the weekend before Thanksgiving for our first leg. The plan was to leave our car in Merritt Island, make it up to Jacksonville, FL with the boat and then rent a car in order to drive south and retrieve our car. Sounds logical enough! So after several days of prepping the boat for departure, which included the laying back of the mast, we left Merritt Island. Why would we lay the mast back you ask? Well, the only way out of the Banana River was either under a 35 foot bridge or a 42 foot bridge. The problem with this is our mast is 44 feet from the waterline. So we spent a day deriving the plan and it all worked out.

I will interject here! It wasn’t until we actually showed up at the dock that we realized we were “trapped” in the Banana River by a bridge that happened to be shorter than our mast. We had two things going for us upon assessing our condition;

1. Ms. Maria had successfully sailed Polonez over the course of 15 years, and we knew she went further than the Banana River.

2. Ren happens to be one of the most resourceful people on the planet. Nicknamed, MacGyver in high school, the man can build a 747 out of tin foil and rubber bands (not really just tin foil and rubber bands, he would require a paper clip too). So, armed with this information we did what any anxious new boat owning couple would do…we scampered back to Ms. Maria and asked for advice.

Polonez…but not for long.

We spent several hours catching up with the Ciechanskis. They told us stories, offered us some Polish cookies and went to explaining how we would accomplish getting Polonez through the bridge. As Mr. Alexander drew diagrams for Ren, explaining the feat all the while in broken English, Mrs. Maria also explained, at the same time as Mr. Alexander, over his shoulder, in better English. Confusing…yes. It became obvious that we would need to lean the mast back as opposed to de-masting the boat. The Chiechanskis, innovative immigrants as they are, constructed a special tool to aid in the process. The tool is made of two 2x2x12 pieces of pine formed like a “V” with a metal plate at either end of the “V”. The metal plates connected to either site of the boat at the chainplates. The main sheet and vang is connected to the bottom of the forestay and the top of the “V” of the tool, to the bottom of the main sheet. Using the main sheet, we slowly laid back the mast and forestay.

As Ren and our temporary neighbors, Mike and Dana (we talk more about them in a minute), worked on the project, my job was to document the process through pictures and film. The laying back of the mast was a success!

Oh, before I forget, we met some really terrific people at the Banana River Marina. Dana and Ricky and Mike. They were big help to us with preparing the boat and just filling us with the confidence to pursue our goals. Thanks a bunch guys. And Mike, thank you for the care package!

Again, I feel it is necessary to make proper mention of our new friends. Dana and Ricky are a couple who have spent most of their married lives together living on the water. The managed to raise two little girls traveling and sailing all the while. While they live on a powerboat now, an old Hatteras, they talk of finding a sailboat to take them wherever the winds might blow once again. One of their daughters actually grew up to live on a boat too with her husband, a few boats down the dock from Dana and Ricky. During their sailing years they’ve lived all over in the Caribbean including Jamaica. It was only until their daughters reached their teenage years that they flirted with the idea of moving to land. They lived this way, topside I mean, for ten years before the ocean called them back home.

While preparing our boat for travel, Ren and I frequently became agitated with each other. As we are usually team mates, partners, contemporaries in every aspect of our relationship I soon was faced with the realization that Nila Girl needed Ren MUCH more than she needed me. My feelings of uselessness were frustrating and causing me to lash out at Ren, who took no issue shouting orders at me. He thinks, I need a screwdriver. I’m curled up in the engine room like a pretzel right now and Ashley is just sitting there. I’ll ask her for a screwdriver. He says, “Ash, get me a screwdriver!” I think, I’m right in the middle of something right now. Get your own screwdriver. I don’t want to negotiate the companionway for the tenth time in the last 5 minutes. I say, “Ugh, fine! Here!” And so it begins….

Ricky provided me with a little woman to woman advise. “First rate, first mate.” Meaning, my jobs are just as necessary as his jobs, even if his jobs determine wether or not we’re leaving the dock. The work wouldn’t get done if a first rate, first mate wasn’t there to hand over screwdrivers, provide lunch, and steer the boat while the captain is down below, cussing at stuff. This is how I reassured myself anyway.

Mike was our “next door neighbor” while docked at Banana River. Mike, a long time surf friend of Dana’s from their formative years, spends his weekends aboard Tater. Yes, his dinghy’s name is Tater’s Tot! The three of them just sit back on the water, playing some guitar, drinking some beers and talk. The good life! Mike was nice enough to leave Ren and I a little care package on our “doorstep” while we were out provisioning for the upcoming haul. Who knew velcro sticky pads could be so useful! We now have them everywhere.

back to the story later….

Tag: north carolina

Oyster Season

Nila Girl’s “Gourmet” Galley #2

Passing By-By Ren

Key West

New Years in The Dry Tortugas Part1

Any Last Words?

1st Emergency And A Night Sail-By Ren and Ash

Making The Decision-By Ren And Ash

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