Bon Voyage Lowena

Tony and Jenny on Lowena on departure day

Tony and Jenny are British. She hails from the south, he from the north. While the differences in the UK are different from our regional differences in the US, the dynamic is similar. Tony bought Lowena, a Hans Christian 43, last fall. She extends every bit of fifty feet with her prominent bowsprit. After months of repairing 2000 blisters, Tony painted her, re-rigged her and had a new set of sails made. He refinished all of her teak and commissioned a stunning stainless steel Samson post to replace the original stout wooden one that the previous owner thought too big to keep when he added a new windlass.

Personally, I lusted after the granny bars with thole pins and the boom gallows, original to Lowena but practical additions to any boat.

Tony has several solo transatlantics behind him as well as one steel boat. He often wondered what possessed him to trade the steel boat for a plastic one, even as sturdy as Lowena is. Yes, sailing with Jenny influenced his new desire for a certain level of comfort and livability. Together, they even have glass wine glasses and bottles (instead of bags) of wine. We try to be soft and plastic all the way even though glass is much nicer.

Lowena was re-powered with a Beta that purrs softly when turned on. After a few months in Whittaker Creek, they moved the boat onto the hard at Sailcraft where Jenny schlepped laundry, groceries, beer and wine up the 12 foot ladder. For months while Tony attacked the blisters. Finally, in early summer, they moved Lowena to Oriental Harbor Marina, just a half dozen slips out from us. When Cameron caught their line on arrival, they had just completed their first trip since buying the boat, a journey of no more than two miles. It would be another two months or so before they would be able to actually sail her. And that would come after Hurricane Irene.

As H. Irene approached, all of us discussed our storm strategies. You may recall that I tried to have Wild Haggis hauled out, but ended up in the protected marina at River Dunes quaintly named Grace Harbor. Tony and Jenny decided to ride it out in a creek off South River. The ride over to South River, a place they had never been, was the second time they had the boat "at sea". It was more than eight months since they had moved onto the boat.

Hurricane behind them, they took Lowena for a real sail with her new canvas. After several hours on the river, the two of them returned to the marina all smiles. As much as they believed that they knew how she would handle, it was a relief to have their beliefs confirmed in reality.

I visited with them quite regularly, in part because I enjoyed their company and learned a lot (I picked Tony's brain as I had last year picked Steve's), in part because Tony was always generous with his cold, cold beer. We had dinners together, listened to their stories of Libya, Portugal, Spain, the eastern Med and laughed into the night. They introduced us to simple and flavor-filled Thai dishes like Green Thai Curry, Red Thai Curry and Laksa. Jenny mentioned eating Beans on Toast for breakfast in England, and we teased her mercilessly.

As cruisers will, they introduced us to their friends, something we always appreciate, especially since good people know other good people.

With autumn coming on, boat projects diminished in size and number. The two of them began to itch for a departure. When the Atlantic was quiet, Jenny wanted to believe what she knew was not so, namely that hurricane season might have ended already. They stuck to their plan of a November start. The weather soured early this year, however. The weather windows, such as they were, shrank to less than 48 hours between small nor'easters howling ashore. Outside, in open ocean, waves were often 20 feet plus under gale force winds. No place to be at sea if you do not have to be. November seemed to shrink all too quickly.

So they waited. A window would begin to open, they would set a departure date, and we would have a farewell dinner for Tony and Jenny with our other slip mates, Pat and Judy. The window would close and the whole procedure would repeat itself, including another farewell dinner.Tony and Jenny were embarrassed, but we along with Pat and Judy thought it great fun to have a celebratory dinner but then still have the two of them around.

Finally, last week, a broader window appeared. And held (if we ignored the tropical disturbance several hundred miles northeast of the Leeward Islands, which we did since it seemed to be headed north). Tony and Jenny treated us to dinner Friday night and embarked early Saturday morning on the voyage that will take them around the world over the next several years. They are wonderful people and dear friends. We wish them fair winds and gentle seas.

Farewell to friends

At last! a jubilant Tony waves from the cockpit

A perfect day to set off around the world

The Southern Migration

Cocktails in our cockpit. Bill (arm only to left), Steve, Kim, Taylor and Cameron (almost)

As with monarch butterflies, ducks, geese and wandering manatees, autumn is the season for cruisers moving south for the winter. Over the past few weeks, boats from all over have been arriving in Oriental heading south, mostly for The Bahamas. Flags from Switzerland, England, Scotland, France and, of course, Canada.

A couple of weeks ago, as we were finishing breakfast, the phone rang. It was an out-of-state area code, so we ignored it. A voicemail popped up. It was Bill T, a solo sailor we met last spring (2010).  Bill was ringing us to see if we were available to catch his lines as he came into Bill and Sue's slip. All of us were thrilled. We had enjoyed Bill's company last year and looked forward to catching up.

Bill had not sailed to The Bahamas last year because he was renovating his mountain home. So, it had been almost 18 months since last we spoke with him. He had welcomed us to the cruising community with the gift of an LED flashlight and good conversation over a few beers. We had missed seeing him last fall and were happy to have a chance to catch up. He had already spoken with Bill and Sue, so he knew that we were in Oriental and that Taylor, whom he had not met last year, was with us. Notwithstanding the passage of time, we picked up where we left off, a great example of the best of the cruising life.

Bill does not really sail alone; he has two birds (cockatoo and small parrot), both of which talk. He introduced us to another sailor traveling solo, Alan. Both of them have Pearson 424s, ketch rigs. Over beer and wine, we settled into our cockpit one evening and his the next, trading stories and laughter, experiences good and bad, lessons learned.

Anthony arrived in a classic Grand Banks trawler.  From the dock, he asked me and Bill T if he should lock the electronics on his bridge, and we replied that that is not usually necessary in Oriental, particularly if he was not going to be gone for long. He said he would return in a few days, then asked if he could take our photos. After a quick shot of Bill in his cockpit, he asked me to lean forward so I was clear of my dodger. I did, thinking it a bit odd, but harmless. When he had departed, Bill told me that he is the retired head of state police for a big northeastern state. Ah, casual mug shot, just in case.

His crew was a guy who looked familiar, but I could not place him. He said his name is Brad Cavanagh which made him seem even more familiar, but I still could not put together the connection, if any. I said so to him, and he laughed it off, saying, "I live in New Bedford, you know, 'Call me Ishmael'". I googled him and found that he was one of two survivors of the sinking of the Trashman, a grueling tale of a sailboat going down off the North Carolina coast in a big autumn storm. The crew lost its life raft and escaped in the dinghy with no supplies. They were surrounded by sharks virtually the entire time afloat. After almost five days, one woman had died of septicemia. Two of the men had drunk salt water, lost their judgment and stepped into the ocean where they were attacked by the sharks. I have read Deborah Kiley's book (originally titled Albatross and now titled The Sinking) and have seen the re-enactment on an episode of "I Shouldn't Be Alive" in which Brad was interviewed. www.nationalgeographic.com/adventure/0111/profile.html  Brad was quite lighthearted and friendly, only anxious to return to his home, wife and children. Mark loaned Anthony his car so he could take Brad to the airport in New Bern.

The best part of the Southern Migration has been seeing old friends who live elsewhere as they pass through. Bill, Sue, Bill T. And meeting new friends like Alan, people who enliven our spirits, teach us new things and stimulate our minds. As we think about our Oriental friends who are traveling, we also think about our new friends. The weather has been challenging this fall with a series of small nor'easters rolling through every few days. That has passed now, so Tony and Jenny, who are heading to the Caribbean and literally around the world, finally have a good weather window beginning this weekend.

More cockpit cocktails aboard Wild Haggis. Happy, Pat, Jenny, Tony, Kim and Steve

Most of our friends have not been able to get offshore, so have had to endure the wagon train of boats that ply the ICW, dodging shoals, huddling in the winds and currents waiting for bridges to open and scrambling for the good anchorages before the day is too short. Still, they are happy, enjoying the warmer weather as they move south and looking forward to winter in the tropics.

It has been unusually cold here. A week ago, the temperature dropped below freezing with stiff north winds, a taste of winter. That was followed by several days of Indian summer. But tonight, temps plummet again under strong, cold north winds, the backside of a cold front that terrorized the southeast with heavy thunderstorms and tornadoes.

Tomorrow night we will bid Tony and Jenny "Bon Voyage" in the truest sense. They will cast off Saturday morning and head directly past Morehead City out Beaufort Inlet into the Atlantic Ocean bound for the Turks and Caicos

Soon the Migration will end, and we will not see many cruisers passing through. For the winter, only Pat and Judy, liveaboard friends from Colorado (from snow to sea) on a Passport 40 just down the dock from us, will remain. We will enjoy their company.



Taylor and Sue (seated on companionway hatch)

Beth, Judy, Happy and Pat