on fits and starts.

Where to begin. I suppose the beginning is fine. It certainly gives the clearest picture of how we ended up here. And by here, I mean Racine.

We left on the night of August 10. Just Josh and myself after a long few days of preparing. We had been been home for a few days after Josh's brother's wedding and left Fozel there with my mom and Josh's parents to care for and meet up with us in Michigan. The plan had been simple. Josh and i would go up to the boat, stow all the gear we still had to drag from the condo, make some last minute adjustments, and of course, actually launch the boat. We were really hustling. But Sara and Allen came up on Tuesday and after Interlude was splashed, it all sort of happened. I should have been worried about the amount of time it took for Josh to get the engine going, but I figured, "hey, it's been up all winter, I wouldn't like to be forced to start after enduring that winter weather either." The truth is that I had enough to focus on. In any case, we both sort of ignored it.

Fast-foward to Thursday. We successfully motor sailed across the lake. We did some sailing but used the engine for more than half. It wasn't perfect wind conditions, but nothing terrible. And all was calm. We stood our watches, we slept, we ate protein bars and listened to podcasts between scanning the horizon and checking the autopilot and AIS system. We arrived safely in Muskegon around noon. Paul and Ginger met us shortly thereafter with Fozel. We hooked up to shore power, we stowed the sails and all our stuff and then we departed for the afternoon. Nothing was amiss.

Friday morning we decided to move marinas. We had been at Pointe Marine. It was fine. Sparse and they told us not to drink the spigot water. Whatever. Fine. But it was further from where Ginger and Paul would be camping that night than we'd like, so we were lucky enough to secure space at the dock at the campground. Turns out if you're camping there, you are eligible to tie up a boat at their dock, free of charge. It was buggy and didn't have any hook ups, but for one night, we didn't care!

We stayed one mosquito filled night then untied and set off to get a bit of diesel before leaving for Mackinaw. That's when we had a bit of trouble. The engine was less than thrilled to start. It was like it didn't even want to turn over. Okay. Whatever. It started.

After 6 hours of Fozel napping (um, I'm thinking that may be a seasickness symptom?) and us making very little headway north on our sail to Mackinaw, we gave up. We started the reluctant engine and pulled into White Lake, the next stop up the coast. We opted to anchor for the very first time, which was successful. It was extremely protected waters and there was no chop. I had some trouble getting the stove started so cold dinner it was. We sat in the cockpit and snuggled. It was a nice calm night.

I should also mention we didn't run any electronics that night. So it was a mystery why the battery bank was showing such low voltage. Luckily, after some coaxing and using a battery jumper box (a box you plug in that would be able to jump your car battery in an emergency) it started. It was problematic enough to give us both pause. So, it being a Sunday, of course nothing was open in the sleepy little town of Whitehall on White Lake. We motored over to South Shore Marina. Whitehall is part adorable little Michigan town, part sleazy town. The hotels were either sky high or super sketchy. Ginger and Paul stayed there that night in a $60/night hell hole. Oh well. 

So Paul and Josh got to work while Fozel and Ginger and I found a laundry mat, food, and a park. We killed a few hours while the did some trouble shooting. They thought it was the alternator and swapped out the faulty one with the extra we had and tried to take it to an Auto Zone to have it tested. No go. They were no help. We did get the name of a marine guy who would be open on Monday and might take a look. Cool. We stayed at the marina Sunday night then called the guy, dropped off the alternator and wasted the rest of the day. He told us it would be ready the next morning. We moved to a marina closer to the hotel, had the best ice cream bar of my life, and went out for pizza where Fozel met his first girlfriend, Brooklyn. She was a cute little 8 year old who allowed him to play with her giant fire engine. 

The next phase of the plan was to leave Fozel with grandma and poppa and sail to the next port, Pentwater, where they'd meet us with the fixed alternator, have dinner, then sail on to Detroit. I would sail with Josh until that point and then I'd drive back to our parents' to celebrate Fozel's birthday and then he and I would fly to meet Josh, who would be to Buffalo New York by then. So, Tuesday morning, we did it. We headed out, and made it to Pentwater. This town is much cuter but they charge an exorbitant amount to tie up for a few hours to go ashore to have dinner. It was like $16 for 3 hours. I'm sorry but, huh??

All goes well and we sail off from Pentwater around 9 and start standing watches pretty much right away. 3 hours on--scanning the horizon, hand steering, listening to podcasts, etc. Then three hours of rest. I have a hard time sleeping such short stints but it worked. We drank lots of water and ate too many protein bars. Around 11 am, the watch was changing. Josh thought we should fire up the engine to charge the batteries. It didn't work. Around this time the wind was dying and we were being bit by flies every 5 minutes. Oh, and did I mention we were in the middle of the lake? Equidistant from Sturgeon Bay, WI and Traverse City, MI. 

And then we broke. It had been a grueling week. New places, strange sleeping hours, stressful situations. We decided to take a step back. We would sail to Sturgeon Bay, take a few days to wait out the coming weather, and sail back to Racine. And here we are. We're calling it our shakedown cruise and regrouping. There were a few projects we had delayed and are now working on. We are here in Racine for the next month and will reassess at that point. We hope to try again this fall, but if not, we will try again in the spring. Everything is fluid at this point. We're just trying to move forward and know that shaking it off is the best way. I'm having a hard time not thinking of it as a failure, but if cruising was easy, everyone would do it.

family time.

My parents finally made it up last weekend to see Interlude! I didn't get near enough pictures. My mom was begging me not to snap too many, as both she and my sister were miserable with motion sickness, despite Dramamine. Sorry guys :-( 

Upon seeing the interior of Interlude, there were two different reactions from  my folks. My dad: "this thing seems HUGE inside", and my mom: "teeny, tiny. I could never see living in such a small space". To each his own, right? We happen to side with my dad's point of view, generally. I mean, who couldn't use more square footage? But then again, other than long term provisioning, we are pretty much living here and have everything we need with space left over (we are so proud of ourselves for being thoughtful with what we'll actually "need" as live aboards even at this juncture).

After a tour, stowing of our belongings, and trying out the kayak, we ate some Kringle (a local claim to fame), grilled up some local brats, then headed out for a sail. The wind was good but the swells were not great. I was a little queasy and I think by the end even my dad was a little sick. Must run in my family. My mom wasn't as sick as I have seen her, but Sara was barely functioning. She tried sitting on the deck, in the cockpit, and I think she even eventually went below and laid down on the settee. Poor kiddo. 

We only sailed up to the lighthouse (Windpoint) and back since we could see a front coming in. I think it was plenty for everyone. Once we got back, we tied up the sails, tidied the lines, hooked up the shore power and got below before it began pouring rain. Pouring, and pouring, oh and also? POURING. It was also blowing. Good times! My entire family, minus Josh and myself conked out in various spots in the cabin. All that fresh air really got to them, I guess! 

Eventually the rain let up and we ventured out to the Yardarm for dinner before saying our goodbyes. 

A good time was had by all, as my grandpa would say. Even though some could have had a less queasy time of it, to be sure!

top of the world.

No big deal. Just hanging around at the top of our mast while Josh looks on from below.

When we were up last week we decided we should try out the whole "hoisting-me-up-the-mast" thing for when I may need to go up and replace a bulb on the spreader lights, fasten a new line or antenna, etc. so no big deal. It was a bit windy but it was nothing major. I don't really have any issues with heights and I trust Josh like I trust no one else. Ever. In. My. Life. We worked out what I was supposed to do when it was time to come down before I was even off the ground. Ok. Fine. Cool. He starts hoisting me and I'm cool. I am concentrating on not getting tangled in any lines or accidentally loosening anything on my way up. I get to the top after a few minutes and all is well. I snap a few photos, look around and then it's time to come down. And then I can't loosen the ascender. I'm supposed to push a little latch down and back to let the rope off, only it won't come. I'm not panicked. I'm annoyed. I try one hand then the other, then both. I push this way and that and no dice. Again, I'm totally cool with being up there. Not worried just pissed by this time. Soon, the harness I was wearing was pushing on some nerves in my thighs which made my legs fall asleep. No bueno.  Luckily, there was an easy work around and Josh was able to lower me gently to safely on the deck just in time to still be able to stand upright when I was unfastened from the spinnaker halyard. All in all, an exhilarating experience. 

As I get a bit older my threshold for risky behavior gets lower, I will admit. I have no intention of letting those feelings of fear or apprehension keep me from living fully, though. Sometimes I force myself to be a little wild as long as the proper precautions have been taken. I mean, I'm not going to jump off a cliff if I have no idea what's below me, you know? 

Another very brief adventure I'll tell you about has no photographic proof unfortunately because it was extremely brief. 

I jumped in Lake Michigan. Wha?? Sounds crazy, right? What about 3 miles out in over 100 foot deep water? Crazier? Not my favorite decision, for sure. We took Interlude out on Sunday for a sail and it was hot. Steamy and sunny. I told Josh, half-jokingly, that I wanted to swim off the boat. He said we'd heave to (slow the boat to an almost imperceptible speed) once we hit 100 feet depth and I could swim. I thought he was kidding but once we hit the depth he called me out. I hemmed and hawed but eventually decided I should "man up" since I had brought it up. We hove to and the boat slowed to a crawl. He tied one of the fenders to a line and let it drag on our port side. We opened the life lines along the port side, he told me to get in, and swim toward the line/fender and follow it back along the side of the boat to the swim ladder. I had on the most awkward life jacket and my scared face. The one full of regret and indecision about whether or not I should slowly take the ladder in or just jump feet first into the inky blue water below. I almost had to have him push me, my nerve waning as the seconds ticked by. Eventually, I leapt. Into the inky blue, freezing cold depths, quickly being buoyed back to the surface by my life vest. I couldn't catch my breath, the waves were 1-2 feet and I felt myself immediately drifting toward the stern. Not the calmest of feelings overtook me and suddenly all I wanted to be was anywhere but bobbing, desperately trying to catch hold of the fender line in the icy water. As soon as I fought through the waves and hooked on to the swim ladder and I climbed up I began to breathe easily. No, not my favorite decision. Risky, sure. I was safe and it was an adventure so I'll just just count that one as one I might not try again. We'll see.

people we know.

We are boat people. Not everyone is. Being a sailor and LOVING the water is just one of those things that isn't for everyone. 

My sister, for example, is perfectly happy to come and join us on Interlude at the dock, but gets so motion sick that an afternoon sail makes her green and miserable. My momma is like that too. There are also those people who are happy to come along but don't care if they understand how to sail. They simply love being on the water, enjoying the breeze. They like having "boat friends". That's lovely too. It means there will never be a lack of pals willing to come hang, sail, drink beer, grill and have a fun easy-going time. And then, there are the boat people. People who are intensely curious about how everything works, are comfortable behind the wheel or just asking questions about different maneuvering scenarios. Maybe they've never set foot on a boat, but once they do, they're hooked. That's how both Josh and I started out. First time out and it was love.

Before we put Interlude to bed for the season, we had the distinct pleasure of hosting a couple of newbies, our friends, Conner and Christine. They brought beer and a cheery disposition and were gung-ho about the entire day. Christine pulled in sheets, trimmed sails, steered (entertaining, to say the least!), and asked lots of questions about the boat, how to maneuver, work with the wind, and why the sails were trimmed in a certain way. She and Conner both took turns learning how to tie knots. Naturals, to say the least. They were lovely company and I have to say, I think they "get it". We expect to spend lots of time out on Lake Michigan in the coming season, teaching them even more and ensuring that they make plans to come sail with us in the Caribbean.

ours at last.

Meet Interlude, the newest member of our family. She's a 1983 Union Cutter (more on cutters in an upcoming post) with gorgeous lines, a full keel and almost all the upgrades necessary for a long-term cruising lifestyle. You guys, finding a boat as well outfitted, well cared for and well loved as this boat in our price range on Lake Michigan is a one-in-a-million kind of scenario. We feel like we've hit the jackpot.

We handed over a check on Friday morning and spent the rest of the day AND the entire weekend cleaning, organizing, exploring and enjoying her. Several trips were made to Menards for all sorts of supplies and by the end of each day we were exhausted but exhilarated by the progress made in getting her in tip top shape.

Sunday afternoon we rewarded ourselves with spin around the lake on her for the first time, just the two of us. She has a wheel instead of a tiller, which will take some getting used to and some kinks need to be worked out with the sail plan and ground and tackle on her deck, but overall, she's a dream. We can NOT wait to take her on a longer journey (hopefully up to Racine, WI on Friday). 

If you're interested in the more technical aspects of Interlude, I'll be posting all the specifics under the "our boat" tab at the top of the blog.