Friday, January 24, 2020

Not Elephants



Do you know what species is among elephants' closest living relatives?
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... they're gray like elephants ...
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... and big like elephants ...
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... and we've even occasionally seen some here in St Aug ...
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... I didn't say whether they lived on land or water ...
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If you guessed manatees, you got it!


I posted this question on my Facebook page and got a range of comments. See, this is what is so cool about my friends -- half of them were like, "Well, DUH, of course elephants and manatees are related;" and the other half were like "Wow, I learn the coolest things from you that I never would have guessed."

I committed in 2020 to have more adventures: go places we hadn't been before, do things we hadn't done before, and learn things we hadn't known before.  And only a week into the new year we planned the first of those adventures - a swim with manatees, in the wild.

We rented a car and drove to a section of Florida we hadn't seen before, dubbed the "Nature Coast." (All the sections of Florida's coast have these cute nicknames -- we're the "First Coast" from first settlement; Cape Canaveral area is the "Space Coast" for rocket launches, "Treasure Coast" is named for shipwrecks, etc). The area we were headed to is called the "Nature Coast" because it's so wonderfully undeveloped. We'd be visiting a spot with the poetic name Crystal River. The river's clarity comes from the thirty natural springs that add an average of 300 million gallons (1,135 million liters) of warm water to the river every day.

We booked a 1/2 day boat tour (heated, thankfully, it was a chilly January day -- but that chill was exactly what made the manatees flee the cold gulf and congregate in the warmer spring water where we saw them) and had a spectacular knowledgeable guide. Before we got in the boats to go to the not-so-secret manatee spots, we got a chance to learn some facts about these intriguing animals and their habitat. They can live in either fresh or salt water, but they like it warm. When the water gets below about 68 degrees F they seek warmth, swimming from the Gulf of Mexico up the river to the springs which are 72-74 degrees F (22C-23C) year round where we could see them in masses.  They are gentle, slow moving vegetarians, curious and with bad eyesight.  They can live to 60 years old, and generally grow to 3 meters (10 feet) long and weigh 500 kg (1,200 lb) although some have been recorded at twice that big.  But measuring them is not the same as understanding them.

"Just float," our guide and manatee whisperer José taught us. "Be quiet, let them come to you.They will be curious, they will check you out." We had just stepped off the boat and were swimming toward one edge of the warm springs where the animals liked to hang out.

At first, honestly, it was not that different from observing other fish while snorkeling or scuba diving. They did their thing, we did ours. We could observe them, but from a respectful distance. Like any aquatic creature, it was not like we could swim fast enough to catch up to them if they wanted to get away. A few members of our group did get close enough to touch the manatees. I drifted a little bit away from the group, and when I was alone, that's where the magic happened.

I swam (slowly, quietly) up to what I first thought were just big boulders on the bottom of the stream. Until I realized that boulders like that don't exist in Florida. These were mammals. Big ones, but not at all scary.

One manatee came over to figure out what I was. He slowly drifted up to me; I could see the sensitive whiskers and he put his face close to mine and looked at me with his weak, brown eye.  Another came close to me, and I lightly petted his (her?) side with a single gloved finger, almost as though he was made of glass. He rolled over, like a dog exposing his belly for a good rub - which delightedly I did. I watched a baby (well, not so small, probably a good 5 feet long!) nuzzle under its mother's left flipper to nurse.

Like many sailors, I never get tired of seeing dolphins. They have a bright, quick intelligence that is easy to anthropomorphize. They laugh, they play in the boat's wake. And I still remember the rush I felt, the first time I saw a dolphin from the dinghy instead of the boat, closer to its own eye level. But being eye to eye with the manatee in his own environment was totally different. More like meeting an old, old soul than a playful young one.  There was a slow steadiness there, and an ancient wisdom. It wasn't about whether they were more, or less, intelligent than dolphins; it was like going off in a different dimension entirely. Flailing with words, to communicate the indescribable, and things that cannot be compared directly. It was like asking which was better -- orange, seventeen, or salty? Mind=blown.

As we got back into the boat at the end of the adventure, José looked at me and said, "Your eyes look different."

"Wide with amazement?" I asked.

"They have been opened," he told me.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
(All photos courtesy of River Ventures and used with permission.)


They looked a little like rounded boulders ...


Here's one coming over to check out Dan


They are so curious!


Maybe a bit like a dog's snout?


Well hello there!


Oooh! Rub my belly!



Star Trek friends -- this was like First Contact with an alien species!

Mom and baby

Back at the shop, with our fabulous guide Jose



Saturday, January 18, 2020

Project Creep (or something like that)



There's an old story, or fable, about a woman who was an indifferent housekeeper. She was given a beautiful bouquet of lilies. But when she reached on the shelf to get a vase to put them in, she found the vase grimy and dirty. So she washed it until it sparkled, and then put the flowers in the clean vase on the table. The freshness of the flowers highlighted the dustiness of the table top. So then she dusted and polished the table -- and that one bright clean corner in turn contrasted with the rest of the dingy cluttered room, kicking off another cleaning session. And on and on, until her entire house was the envy of the village.

This could be a cautionary tale about project creep, about how one seemingly innocuous thing leads to another and another until it snowballs into a massive venture. Or perhaps it is inspirational, that the seeds that inspire greatness can be found in the smallest of simple things. You just never know how things are going to turn out until you begin them.

To say that the first few years we had Cinderella there were many projects to be done would be an understatement. We were ruthlessly practical in what we tackled those first years, replacing the engine, leaky fuel hoses, propane sensors.  We replaced sails, installed a heavier anchor and chain, added solar power, strengthened lifelines, and many more. We had a simple litmus test for prioritization: if it didn't make the boat safer or sail faster, it fell to the bottom of the list.

But however slowly it felt we got there in the end, ultimately we did get to where the aesthetic projects could be addressed. It started two years ago as we stripped and sanded the teak trim to bare wood and painted on eight (!) coats of glossy varnish. Well, that kicked off a project cascade just like the lady and the lily, because the shiny refinished wood didn't stand out well against the patchy faded burgundy cove stripe. A good friend with Photoshop expertise helped us explore the possibilities of various colors until we settled on a deep navy blue. Two coats of primer, three coats of paint, sanding and allowing a day to cure between each coat. I got into a rhythm.

I can't paint without ruminating the same two thoughts in my mind. One came from a shipmate on the Galeon during our second year. She really enjoyed painting or oiling the teak, a task most of us dreaded as not difficult but boring; she described it as meditative. Her attitude totally changed my attitude toward the task. (Thank you for that helpful perspective, Challie.) The second thought that I always have while painting is my hydrodynamics prof in grad school explaining the concept of thixotropic fluids. The word sounds like it describes a property of a plant that grows in the Caribbean (tropic). Actually though it's a property of some fluids that change viscosity - in this case, paint that's fairly thick when you brush it on so it doesn't drip, and then actually gets more fluid as it sets, so the brush strokes fade away.

All in all, the project was tedious and I hope we don't have to do it again any time soon, although the varnish gets scuffed and recoated every six months or so. But we've gotten so many compliments since we came back to the dock. And my heart sings every time we walk toward the boat. And that, that little tune of joy in life, I learned last summer, really matters to me.
Final detail, using a small artist brush to add silvery-white metallic paint for the scrollwork on the bow.

Friday, January 17, 2020

Don't Rush Me!




About a month ago, we turned Cinderella around in the slip, bow facing north as we always do in winter. We like being in a better position to take the strong cold north winds, and let what sunshine we have available during the season light and warm our cockpit. We've done the maneuver many times before, maybe that made us a bit complacent, or maybe we needed a reminder that every trip is at least slightly different. In any case, things didn't go exactly as planned ... we had just a bit of docking drama ...

We turned at high slack tide around 7 pm (just after dusk). Bit of miscalculation and miscommunication had us in the fairway under the minimal control of a single dockline until some friends from further up the dock came by to save the day. Wow!

Later, in the cockpit with a glass of rum, we did an after action analysis as we always do after even the simplest of trips, and certainly after things went wrong, to see what we could learn. And really, this was all about knowing that things take time, and taking our time. We had gotten home late from an appointment in Jacksonville, and had it kind of locked in our heads all day that we were going to move the boat tonight at slack tide. But because we had gotten home so late, we hadn't had time to fully discuss what each of us expected of the other.  Worse, we hadn't made sure that we had all the docklines where we expected them to be! And that was the problem; I had expected there to be two docklines; one we had just placed on the piling, and one we had left opposing it on the finger pier. Which latter one Dan had unfortunately released when we left the slip. So there was nothing for me to pull on, until we handed the errant line to the friends on the dock.

We weren't as ready as we should have been, hadn't taken the time to double check that everything was where we expected it to be due to the perceived time pressure (that really wasn't there. We could have moved just a little after the exact moment of slack tide and still been okay. We could have moved the next slack tide next morning if it got to late.) We let artificial urgency make us move before we were ready. Rookie mistake!

A month later, though, and I'm typing this while the wind howls and the boat barely moves, because the wind is coming right on the bow just like it was designed to do. The whole purpose of turning around. The additional good news is that we used the "backwards" position of the boat to finish the painting project (more on that in an upcoming post). The bad news, though, is that with our stern and cockpit to the (very public) dock, we're again living in the fishbowl. We frequently overhear comments like "Look! That boat's name is Cinderella!" or "Wow, they came all the way from Michigan!" Or people will try to peer down below. Reminds us of our days on El Galeon, Dan pointed out. The galley where we took our lunch breaks was roped off but open to the main deck that the visitors were exploring, and they'd all be curious about this part of the ship that they could see into but not go into. They're not going to learn anything from it, this part of the ship is modern, but it's hard to relax while a hundred strangers are staring at you while you try to feed your face!



Wednesday, January 15, 2020

Tall Ships, Road Trips, Police Cars, Too Many Bars, Shooting Stars ...




I've loved writing Life Afloat! And it's been way too long since I've written. I haven't abandoned the project; it's just that I've been too busy out having adventures to have time to write about them. But last week I got a message from someone I didn't know, on Life Afloat's Facebook page, inviting my contribution to an article she was writing. And I put on my thinking cap and churned out some ideas and sent them off. Flatteringly, less than an hour later I had an email back from her; she loved what I had sent, it was perfect for her needs, and she wanted more!

And me? I was reminded how much fun I have writing, and how much it helps me really process what I've done and what I've learned. So I'm ready to start again. I don't think I will, or can, constrain myself to posting in chronological order as things happened. Rather, it will just be stream-of-consciousness as ideas bubble up. I even thought about joining the A to Z challenge again this year, with a theme of "playing catch up." I realized that during those challenges I felt free to write about whatever, free from my self imposed constraint of doing things in order, and it was a lot of fun. But I didn't want to wait until April for the challenge, so I'm starting now. Things will be messy and random and not in order (just like real life). But they will include stories of tall ships, and road trips, police cars, etc. And anything else that just comes up.