Where am I?

I’m off on another, shorter adventure, but I’ll be back to working on projects at home again soon.

I started writing a blog post two weeks ago about my third trip to the Ranger Tugs/Cutwater Rendezvous at Roche Harbor. I had to put it aside because I got busy doing other things, as I seem to do quite often these days. It’s sitting in the app I use to compose and publish my blog posts. Who knows? Maybe I’ll get to it later today. (Note: I finished it this morning after this post. I’m just waiting for someone to turn on their StarLink so I can post them both. Two posts in one day!)

What’s keeping me busy right now is cruising around the San Juan Islands and beyond. After the Rendezvous and a quick trip home to drop off my boat trailer, I returned to my boat, Do It Now, which was waiting for me at Anacortes. I provisioned up and fueled up and headed back out.

You see, my boat does not actually have a “home port” — a place where it lives when I’m not on it. It’s a wanderer, like I’ve become. So unless I wanted to pay a marina $50 to $100 per night for it to sit idle in the water, I needed to take it cruising. That’s what I did.

Where I’ve Been

I explored the San Juan Islands for more than a week, picking up friends for day trips along the way. I visited:

  • Dungeness Crabs
    I caught Dungeness crabs at Roche Harbor and Suchia Island. These are from Suchia.

    San Juan Island. That’s where the Rendezvous was held. I stayed at the wonderful Roche Harbor Resort, which I believe is one of the best-run marinas I’ve ever visited.

  • Stuart Island. I took my friend Liz and her dog Suki to Stuart from San Juan Island where she lives. We squeezed onto the dock in Reid Harbor, where I ran into other Ranger Tug owners, including Glen, who has given me tons of advice about my boat. (He has the same model.)
  • Lopez Island. I spent the night tied to a mooring ball at Spencer Spit, getting my first taste of the convenience of Washington State’s marine parks.
  • Fidalgo Island. That’s where Anacortes is. I spent one night there, then offloaded a bunch of stuff off the boat, got a one-way rental car to Des Moines (where my truck and trailer were parked), and went home for a few nights. By that time, my summer house-sitter had moved out, leaving the place remarkably clean, and it was a real pleasure to sleep under my own roof. I left just before my current house-sitter arrived and returned to the boat.
  • Suchia Island. I got a mooring ball in Echo Bay, which quickly filled up with other boats that Friday evening. I caught two Dungeness crabs in a trap I set from my boat’s swim platform.
  • Point Roberts. While not an island, it’s a weird little Washington State community that can only be reached by boat or by driving through Canada. I picked up a friend and his family there for a day trip to…
  • Patos Island
    Do It Now at the mooring ball at Patos Island.

    Patos Island. There was one mooring ball in Active Cove and we grabbed it. We went for a long hike on the island and my dogs got a good chance to run. My friend found a geocache, completing his goal of finding at least one geocache in every Washington State county. (San Juan County was the last.) I also cooked up and shared those Dungeness crabs I’d brought in that morning.

  • Matia Island. I managed to squeeze into the dock with three other boats at Rolfe Cove. Dogs are not allowed on the trails there, so we didn’t do any hiking. But it was a nice quiet place to spend the night.
  • James Island. I took another friend and his wife from Anacortes to James Island for a little day trip. More hiking and running for my pups. A great cheese and fresh bread — thanks, Greg! — lunch at a picnic table before a peek at Deception Pass. We saw dolphins or porpoises along the way. One of these days I’ll learn to identify all the marine life around here.

    James Island
    Looking back down at Do It Now from our hike on James Island.

  • Saddlebag Island. I tried anchoring at Saddlebag Island but didn’t like the conditions so I left.
  • Guemes Island. I also tried anchoring at Boat Harbor anchorage but again, didn’t like the conditions so I left. (This gave me a real appreciation for mooring balls out on the islands.)
  • Cypress Island. I picked up a mooring ball at Cypress Head. I went for a nice hike on the head with my pups and rested up from a busy weekend.
  • Blackberries
    I picked enough blackberries for three breakfasts.

    Orcas Island. I anchored at Eastsound one night and got a slip at Deer Harbor the next night. I really liked Eastsound and need to go back when I have a whole day to explore the town. The highlight of Deer Harbor was the friendly people, the barbecue place, and picking wild blackberries on a walk.

I ended up on September 20 at Bellingham, where I got a slip courtesy of the folks at San Juan Sailing. That’s where I would begin the cruise I’m on now.

I should point out that most of my stops along the way were at marine parks that were either free or just $15 for the night. Cruising in the San Juans is very affordable if you don’t need a marina. Even then, the marinas I stayed at — notably Cap Sante (in Anacortes) and Deer Harbor (at Orcas) — were reasonably priced.

My Current Adventure

On September 21, I set out as part of a flotilla of six boats cruising from Bellingham to Desolation Sound in British Columbia and back. I’m typing this from an anchorage called Melanie Cove off the BC mainland. So far, we’ve been to:

  • South Pender Island. We stayed at the Poet’s Cove Marina in Bedwell Harbor, which is where we checked into Canada. There’s a nice resort there with hot springs and hiking trails.
  • Nanaimo. We stayed at the port there, mostly so we could provision at the supermarket. (Canada limits what you can bring in as far as fresh foods are concerned.) I spent some time visiting shops in town before hitting the supermarket.
  • Hospital Bay. After an unpleasant crossing of the Strait of Georgia, we spent a night at the wonderfully sheltered John Henry’s Marina.
  • Cortes Island. Our longest cruise took us up Malaspina Strait (in dense fog) and then up the Strait of Georgia (in much more favorable conditions) to Gorge Harbor in Whaletown. Along the way, we saw colonies of harbor seals and humpback whales.

    Cruising in the Fog
    Two of the flotilla’s boats, both American Tugs, cruising in the fog.

  • Octopus Islands
    Here we are, rafted at the Octopus Islands. My boat is the smallest one (as usual) but I have no trouble keeping up. (In fact, I’m faster than all of them.)

    Octopus Islands. We anchored and rafted a small bay in the Octopus Islands off Quadra Island. We spent two nights there with a very rainy day between them. Highlights included catching some red rock crabs and visiting the “art cabin,” which was full of boat souvenirs and other artwork.

  • Quadra Island. We spent one night at Taku Resort in Drew Harbor. I’d been there at an anchorage years before with the folks on the David B, but I didn’t remember seeing any marinas. I got some sad news while I was there, which I’ll address in another post, but also bought some provisions and picked some wild blackberries while walking with my dogs and two other boaters.
  • Prideaux Haven. That’s where we are now, at Melanie Cove, anchored and rafted again. We went for a group hike into the mountains yesterday on what became a picture-perfect day.

    Melanie Cove
    I flew my drone to capture a few images of a picture-perfect day at Melanie Cove. Our boats are rafted in the lower right corner of the image.

But we’re not done yet! Destinations lie ahead:

  • Texada Island. We’ll stay at at Sturt Bay.
  • Gabriola Island. We’ll stay at a resort marina at Silva Bay.
  • Saltspring Island. We’ll stay at a marina at Ganges Harbor.
  • Lummi Island. Back in the US, we’ll spend a last night at anchor at Inati Bay.

The trip ends on October 4 at Bellingham, where we started. By that time, I should have a long year of cruising out of my system and be ready for a rest.

And That’s My Excuse

This cruising schedule is my excuse for not blogging as much as I’d really like to. I don’t write as quickly as I used to — I’m so easily distracted these days. (Who isn’t?) I want to spend more of my time enjoying the things I do instead of writing about them.

But I have a lot of writing and video production ahead of me — did I mention that I’ve been recording video footage nearly every cruising day? I’ve decided to spend this winter at home for the first time since moving to Washington — sorry, John*! — and to fill my days catching up on content creation, making new jewelry inventory, and exploring new craft hobbies, including paper making, paper marbling, and bookbinding.

And, of course, prepping Do It Now for another season of cruising in the Pacific Northwest. April is only six months away.

PostScript

I finished this blog post shortly after 5 AM this morning. (I wake up very early.) It was still dark outside so I went up to Do It Now‘s command bridge. One of the great things about these remote anchorages out in the islands is how dark they are. Other than the anchor lights of boats, there are no ground lights to foul the sky. I sat for a few moments, waiting for my eyes to adjust. I saw the bright stars right away; the brightest thing in the sky right now is Jupiter which was almost straight up. Then I saw the dimmer stars and familiar constellations such as Orion. I saw the Milky Way, which I hadn’t seen well in over a month. And I saw satellites and a shooting star.

I love my home, but the nearby glow of Wenatchee makes it unsuitable for serious star gazing. It’s nice to get out and away from all those lights. When I’m done with my boat travels, I’m going to settle down back in the desert, away from city lights, and look up at the stars any time I can.


* John is my ever-faithful winter house-sitter who has been watching over my place for most winters since around 2016. He’s at my place now and I don’t think he’s happy about hitting the road in about a week.

The Ranger Tug Rendezvous, 2024 Edition

The event that got me to drive 4200 miles with covid.

I’m not what you’d consider a very social person. I like spending time alone, doing things I enjoy doing.

But I do like to meet up with people who share common interests, especially if I can learn something from them. That’s what appeals most to me about the annual Ranger Tug/Cutwater Rendezvous hosted by Fluid Motion, LLC, maker of Ranger Tug, Cutwater, and Solara boats. By gathering together hundreds of Ranger Tug and Cutwater boat owners with their boats and providing manufacturer seminars and support opportunities, Fluid Motions has made it impossible to attend without learning something of value — meeting lots of great people along the way.

Best of all, this Rendezvous isn’t an obvious money grab by an organization in the business of cashing in on people’s desire for information. (Great Loop Cruisers might know an organization like that.) The cost is just $90/person and includes a nice bag of swag and lots of games, contests, and social events, with food and even alcoholic beverages. Fluid Motions isn’t making money on this event. It’s giving its customers an opportunity to gather, show off their boats, and learn.

Once I became a Ranger Tug owner, it made sense to attend the Rendezvous whenever possible. In fact, since it was so close to where I lived, it would be kind of dumb to miss it.

The Backstory

In early September 2022, I took delivery of my 2019 Ranger Tug R-29 CB, which I named Do It Now. My very first trip with it was a cruise to the Ranger Tug/Cutwater Rendezvous at Roche Harbor on San Juan Island. It was a long trip from Olympia to Roche Harbor and I did half of it solo. But I had an excellent time at the Rendezvous, where I met some great people and learned a ton.

In 2023, I was home for the summer — I hadn’t retired yet — and my boat was on the hard on Kent Island near Annapolis in Maryland. I still went to the Rendezvous. My work season was over and I’d decided to stay home until the end of September so I could blow out my irrigation lines before heading back to my boat. I took my Honda S2000 to Anacortes, drove it onto the ferry, and drove off at Friday Harbor. I stayed at a friend’s place on the island with my pups and drove to the Rendezvous every day. Most of my friends from the previous year were there and we had a good time. I participated more in social events and even did pretty well in the Scavenger Hunt.

Fast forward to 2024. From the very beginning of the year, when I was cruising in Florida, I knew I wanted to return to the Rendezvous with Do It Now. That desire basically set a deadline for my completion of the Great Loop: I needed to be done by mid-August to have enough time to haul the boat back to Washington State before the event, which is held at the end of Labor Day week. Heck, by that time I’d probably feel done with the Loop anyway. (Spoiler alert: I sure did.)

Roche Harbor Resort & Marina

I should mention here that Roche Harbor is one of those marinas that gets everything right. They have a large, well-trained staff of dockhands to help boaters in. The cost of power and water is including in the dock price — I am so tired of paying extra for power! — and they even set up power extension cords to reach the boats at the end of the dock, like mine. The floating docks are in very good condition. There are garbage and recycling bins in multiple places right on the docks and they are never allowed to fill, let alone overflow. The restrooms are clean, although you do have to feed quarters into the showers. In-slip pumpout, courtesy of the Fecal Freak pumpout boat, is free. There are several restaurants and a very well stocked grocery store that handles everything from milk and fresh veggies to wine and fishing gear. (Amazingly, the prices are fair.) Their evening Colors ceremony, which plays music as each flag is lowered, is a heart-warming end to the day. Of course, the marina isn’t cheap, but I’ve paid a lot more for a lot less during my Great Loop travels.

Although I’d originally had the boat hauled out to Chicago with a boat transport company, I’d bought a boat trailer in late June 2023 and planned to haul it back myself. I was nervous about it — hauling a 14,000 pound wide load 2200 miles? But, if you’ve read my post about the the hoops I jumped through (with covid), you’ll know that it wasn’t quite as big an ordeal as I’d expected it to be. I got the boat back in time for the event.

I arrived at the Rendezvous just before sunset on Wednesday. I might have been the last boat in that day. I got a slip on the guest dock, which was packed three boats deep at most slips. I was immediately greeted by my neighbors, most of whom were having dinner. The event officially started in the morning, but Roche Harbor Resort and Marina was offering a deal where you’d pay for three nights and get the fourth for free. So just about everyone arrived on Wednesday.

Rendezvous by Drone
I sent up my drone on Thursday morning, as soon as the docks were in full sun. Ranger Tugs and Cutwater boats filled the long guest dock in the foreground. The total boat count for the event was 220.

Day 1 of the Rendezvous

I attended the Volvo seminar, which had been so good the previous two years, on Thursday. It was terrible. For some reason, they had a marketing guy do a lot of the speaking and he focused in on the IPS systems that come with the Volvo engines on the R-43. The R-43 is a $1.2 million twin engine masterpiece that only 4 people in the audience owned. How do I know this? He asked us and four people raised hands. Yet 20+ minutes of his presentation talked about the amazing features of the Volvo system for these engines, leaving the rest of us wondering whether they’d ever get to anything of interest to us. The other mistake they made was taking questions about specific issues individuals were having with their engines. More time wasted on information that didn’t apply to most of us. By the time they did get around to general Volvo Penta D4 and D6 information, there wasn’t much time left. I was disappointed.

Learning Center
The Learning Center was set up in tents on Roche Harbor’s big lawn.

I stayed at the Learning Center tent for the next presentation, which was about salmon fishing and crabbing in the San Juan Islands. Now that my boat was back on the west coast, I wanted to rig it for salmon fishing. And I’d also brought along the folding crab trap I’d bought from another rendezvous attendee the previous year and wanted to see what I could catch. The seminar was informative and I learned a lot. I also won two prizes for answering questions correctly: a downrigger clip and a lure.

I had no interest in the rest of the day’s seminars so I went back to my boat, got out my crab trap, and assembled it. A quick trip to the general store got me the weighted line, buoy, bait holder, and crab gauge I needed to set my trap. The only thing I didn’t have was bait, but the folks parked behind me generously offered me two of their cheap chicken leg/thigh pieces. I stuffed the bait holder, closed up the trap, and loaded it onto my dinghy with my pups. We motored out to a spot near the larger of the two harbor inlets where there were already a lot of crab traps. I found a spot that wasn’t too close to any of the others and lowered the trap into the water.

I went to the evening’s even, a “chip and dip.” Folks were hitting floating golf balls to a barge with a green set up on it. There was wine and beer and very light snacks. I didn’t feel like socializing — I think I was still tired from the previous day’s cruise — so I went back to my boat and made dinner. I was asleep by nine.

Crabbing

In the morning, after breakfast, I motored out to pull up my crab trap. It was heavy. I was shocked to see at least eight crabs in or on it. These are Dungeness crabs so even the small ones aren’t really that small. Most of them were either female or too small so I threw them all back. One was a keeper, but barely; I think it was about 1/8 inch larger than it had to be. Unfortunately, a very large female was stuck in the netting of my trap. The only way to get her back into the water was to cut her loose and I didn’t have a knife with me. I headed back and ran into two men pulling their own traps. One of them had a knife and I cut the net to let her loose. Then I went back to the boat with the trap and my sole keeper, feeling pretty proud of myself.

Until my neighbor brought in a bigger one.

He showed me how to kill and clean them and I cooked them in a pot on my stove. (He said his wife wouldn’t let him cook them inside because they are stinky.) I delivered his cooked crab and had mine for a snack. That’s when I realized that the legal size really wasn’t that big. I’d need to catch bigger ones. And I wasn’t happy about how the netting on my trap tangled up the crabs.

Crabbing Selfie
I don’t do selfies often, but this is a pretty funny one. My dinghy is small and I barely fit in it with the new trap. In this shot, I’m motoring back out to set it.

I went to the general store and bought myself a new crab trap. I got another chicken leg/thigh, baited it up, and set it right about where the other one had been.

Day 2 of the Rendezvous

I didn’t attend any sessions that day. There was a Great Loop session done by a couple who had finished the Loop last year. I’d wanted to do a session but they had requested it before me. I thought about going but realized that if they said things I didn’t agree with — like how you had to join AGLCA to be a Looper — I’d either shoot off my mouth or get pissed off. And since so many of the folks on the Loop are sheep who just follow along with what other people tell them, I fully expected to hear that. So I skipped it.

The other sessions I skipped were about the Yamaha engine (which I did not have), ceramic coatings (which I did not want to buy), insurance (which was led by my insurance broker), and women in boating (which was basic boating info for wives).

When it all got down to it, I didn’t really do anything related to the Rendezvous that day. I didn’t even attend the evening margarita cocktail hour.

Instead, I spent most of the day writing two blog posts, one about finishing the Great Loop for my Great Loop blog and one about getting the boat back to Washington for this blog.

Day 3 of the Rendezvous

Saturday was the last day of the rendezvous. Not only would there be a few sessions in the Learning Center tent, but all of the contests that had been going on — salmon fishing, crabbing, cornhole, etc. — would wrap up.

I had a busy day, even though I didn’t attend any of the sessions.

Crabbing, Part 2

Big Crab
Now that’s a big crab.

Following my neighbor’s advice, I didn’t pull up my crab trap until morning. I did it right after breakfast. It was very heavy and, again, had at least eight crabs on board. This time, four of them were keepers: two very large ones and two that were slightly larger than legal size.

The trap still had bait so I lowered it back into the water. Then I motored back to show off my success. My neighbors were impressed. I was impressed with the very big ones. I threw the two smaller ones back into the water, put some clean water into the cooler where I was keeping the crabs, and hurried off to set up my Artisan Fair booth.

The Artisan Fair

I’m a silversmith and I make silver jewelry with gemstone cabochons and beads. I hadn’t sold much that year because I was traveling. I did have my inventory with me on the boat and I made a nice wholesale sale to the Silver Peddler on Bald Head Island. But beyond that, it was just consignment sales to the two galleries selling my work in Washington state.

I’d brought along a mini booth setup the previous year and had sold about $1000 worth of pendants, earrings, and bracelets. I was hoping to do the same that year. So I set up my booth, put on some nicer clothes, and settled down for 2 1/2 hours to show and sell my jewelry.

Artisan Fair
Here’s my table at the Artisan Fair. I put out only a small selection of pendants and earrings.

Sales were slow. I have a feeling that not many people knew about this activity. There had been a better turnout the previous year. The other “artists” were also experiencing slow sales. The woman next to me, who sold very nicely made small tables for the boat, gave out a lot of flyers but didn’t sell a single one. Even the woman across from me, who was selling t-shirts with pithy boating-related slogans on them, was having a slow sale day.

In the end, I wound up selling about $350 worth of jewelry — mostly earrings. Barely worth the effort I’d put into it.

Fish & Crabs

While sitting at my Artisan Fair table, I chatted briefly with a guy who had just come in with fish for the salmon tournament. I think he had about 10 fish ranging from 18 inches up to more than 2 feet. I jokingly asked if I could have one of the small ones. “Sure,” he said. “I’ll fillet it for you.” I also asked for some fish heads for bait in my crab traps. So that’s how I wound up with two huge fillets and three giant fish heads.

I closed up my booth and went back to my boat. I put on comfy clothes and took my two big crabs to be weighed. I didn’t really think of them as contest entries, but when they each weighed in at more than 2 pounds, I was suddenly in the running. One of them had weighed 2 pounds, 9.6 ounces — the biggest so far that day!

Roche Crab Catch
My second crab catch that day. Most of these were small but one weighed in at 2 pounds.

I took them back to the boat, then took the dinghy out to fetch the trap. Even though it had only been out for about 4 hours, it was full of crabs again, including yet another very large one. I let all the other ones go, including at least one legal male. The new crab weighed in at exactly 2 pounds. I brought it back to the boat, borrowed my neighbor’s crab pot — my large pot was too small — killed and cleaned them, and then cooked them. I had to turn on the small outside fridge to store them in. (I would finish them off over the next few days, mostly sharing them with friends.)

Rodeo Themed Night

Cowgirl Maria
How long had it been since I wore that Jacket? I’m thinking 2013. I was surprised it still fit as well as it did.

The theme of the event was rodeo — Why ride a horse when you can drive a Ranger? — and I’d come prepared for the final evening’s event, which would grant awards for the best outfit. Blue jeans with a blank tank top, black leather cowboy boots with silver tips and heel trim, a real Resistol hat, and a deerskin jacket made for me by a friend years ago that included fringe, elkhorn buttons, and hair from my own horses. I was definitely ahead of the game compared to most other folks who just wore cowboy hats and/or boots and/or bandanas to be western. But in the end I was beat out by the man wearing true western chaps and boots, a retired rancher.

The event was held in the learning center area, which had been set up with tables and chairs. Once again, the caterers had pre-portioned our food for us, giving us “western bowls” that had a little of about six different things, none of which were healthy. They were edible, however, and I pretty much cleared my bowl. Andrew Custis, the same man who had given me a tour of the Kent factory and offered me a kickass deal on an end-of-season R-27 years ago, did a little speech thanking the folks who needed thanking. Then they gave out prizes for contest winners. I was thrilled to win another crab trap setup with a pair of $25 Amazon gift cards for the biggest crab caught on Saturday; I went from one junky one to two good ones in the span of two days. (I gave one of the gift cards to my neighbor who had given me bait for my trap and lessons on how to kill the crabs quickly.) They also raffled off a bunch of other stuff.

When that ended, they brought up a team to teach line dancing. Since I hadn’t had enough alcohol to make that something that interested me, I went back to my boat, stopping to fetch my new trap setup along the way.

My neighbors showed up a little later. Someone mentioned that they’d missed the Artisan Fair. Could I show her my jewelry. I did and she bought a bunch. Then I showed another neighbor and she bought some, too. That brought the day’s total to very close to what I’d sold the previous year. I was glad about that;

By then it was dark and I was tired. I wound up calling it a day.

Goodbyes

The event was officially over and boats started leaving as soon as it got light on Sunday morning. I was in no hurry. I was going to spend the night at Spencer Spit on Lopez island, one of the first of many anchorages and mooring fields I stay in before putting the boat to bed for the winter. Before that, I was taking my friend Liz, who lives on San Juan Island, for a day trip to nearby Stuart Island.

Not everyone else was willing to wait. Because they’d put us on the dock three deep and I was on the outside, I had to start up and move out of the way so the people closer in could get out. Soon it was a parade of Ranger Tugs and Cutwater boats heading out, some of them stopping along the way for fuel.

I called for a pumpout. One of the things I love about the PNW is that they’re so interested in keeping waste out of the water that every marina pumpout is free. They drove over with the Fecal Freak pumpout boat and took care of it while I was still in my slip. I tipped the guy, glad he was doing it for me. He even let me rinse it out once, which I appreciated.

By that time, Liz had arrived. I loaded us all up and headed out.

It had been another good event, but I sorely missed my friends, Cyndi, Joan, Tony, and Mark, from the previous two Rendezvous events. I hope I can see them all again next year.

Determination and Going it Alone

A chat with a fellow boater starts me thinking about the importance of independency.

[Note: I wrote this post at least two weeks ago and, when I was done, I decided not to publish it. I thought it might be a bit too self-serving. But then I had an exchange with another user on Mastodon today, after my (solo, of course) cruise across Lake Michigan. You can see a screen grab of the exchange below. I decided that it was very much related to the rest of the content in this post — the elephant in the room, so to speak — so I decided to add it and publish the whole damn thing. – ML]

Lately, I’ve been meeting a lot of people on my Great Loop trip — more people than I’d met on my journeys down the inland waterways and up the ICW. People are going out of their way to meet me and chat with me. Most of them are impressed that I’ve been doing the trip (mostly) alone. These people are invariably couples and they are blown away by what they consider an amazing achievement.

A Rockstar? I don’t think so.

But it all came to a head yesterday when I was in a restaurant in Killarney, ON and a couple at a nearby table called me over as I was leaving.

They recognized my boat by its name and had seen me on it. Apparently, there’s some talk going around about me among the other Great Loop cruisers. A woman doing the Loop alone!

The wife of this couple told me I was a “rockstar” among the Loopers. That’s pretty hard to believe, since I don’t participate in any of the online forums most Loopers are drawn to. But okay, I’ll take it.

Cruising the Great Loop as a Learning Experience

We chatted for a while about cruising and the Loop and the percentage of people who jump into this 6000+ mile journey with little or no boating experience. The husband of this couple had boating experience similar to mine before buying his current boat, a Mainship: growing up around small boats and owning a few throughout his life.

But there are far too many people who start the Great Loop with little or no boating experience on a boat that’s brand new to them. Some folks even sell their boats as they’re finishing up the Loop but continue to cruise to the end, looking forward to the day they can be done and leave their boat for good. I find that mind-boggling.

I met a couple along the Trent-Severn Waterway who had begun their cruise near St. Louis and claimed they “felt done” by the time they were in Florida — not even 1/4 way through the trip! They were selling their boat the day I met them, but wouldn’t turn it over to the new owner until they got to St. Louis moths later. I’m still trying to figure out why they continued a trip they apparently weren’t enjoying. This is pleasure boating, folks; it shouldn’t feel like a chore or an ordeal.

We talked about how much experience a boater can get from a Great Loop trip — that’s actually the number one reason why this trip has meant so much to me. Simply said, it’s made me a good boat captain. How can it not? Navigating more than 7500 nautical miles (so far) on rivers, lakes (including Great Lakes), canals, the Gulf of Mexico, the Intracoastal Waterways, and the Atlantic Ocean. Dealing with locks, bridges, other boaters, and marinas. Cruising in weather from severe clear and calm to thunderstorms with hail. Resolving minor (fortunately) mechanical issues, like losing a stern thruster or having a bilge pump that won’t operate automatically. Having to find and make good stops to refuel, buy groceries, get water, dump garbage, refill propane tanks, and do laundry.

How can all this not make you a better boat captain and all around long distance cruiser?

Determination?

And then one of them said, “You must be pretty determined to do this trip by yourself.”

For a moment, I didn’t know what to say. I never thought of myself being determined to cruise the Great Loop. I just saw it as the boating world equivalent of a classic road trip, like cruising Route 66 or driving up the California Coast. I thought about the experience of visiting all the places along the way, seeing how people live, checking out the local history, eating the local foods. I thought about the challenges of planning and navigating a course, dealing with weather, and living the confined space of a boat. I thought that a boat trip that somehow started and ended in the same place without backtracking would be a great adventure — before I even knew the Great Loop existed.

The Great Loop has never been a “bucket list” item for me, something I can brag about to friends. I’m not going to hang a gold flag sold by a for-profit “club” that exists solely to separate cruisers from their money. Heck, most of my friends don’t know what the Great Loop is and, if they’re not boaters, they don’t really care.

So have I been “determined” to finish the Great Loop? For me, the goal isn’t the achievement of “crossing my wake.” It’s the journey and what I can take away from it to make me a better person.

The Solo Aspect

The Woman Thing
Here’s the exchange I had with another Mastodon user today that sums up my thoughts on the “female aspect” of my situation, which, frankly, I’m pretty fucking sick of dealing with. Read it to understand why.

It’s the solo aspect that everyone seems to focus on. This conversation really brought that point home to me.

Honestly, I don’t think that doing this trip solo is a big deal. In so many ways, I think it’s better than doing it with a companion. Not only do I get to make all of the decisions — and change my mind as often as I want to — but I don’t have to deal with the pet peeves we all develop when traveling with someone else.

I like to travel alone. I’ve been doing it since the 1980s in my first corporate job and, even when I had a “life partner,” I often made trips by myself. So there’s no part of traveling alone that’s unusual to me. It’s traveling with a companion that’s odd and somewhat difficult at times.

Yes, there are additional challenges when you’re driving a boat by yourself. There’s no one else to handle the lines or put down the fenders when docking or sit at the helm while you take a pee or make a sandwich. (And no one to make a sandwich for you.)

But can’t we all rise to the challenge? Having to deal with fenders and lines while docking alone has forced me to learn how to control my boat in confined spaces — I’m basically forced to get the boat up next to the dock at a near standstill so I can step off with a line and secure it. (There is no jumping on the dock from my boat and very little tossing lines to strangers, since half of them don’t know what they’re doing.) Having no one around to take the wheel when nature calls has taught me a few tricks for leaving the helm briefly while under way without dropping an anchor. And when I know I have a long cruise ahead of me, I make lunch in the morning, before I leave, so all I have to do is fetch it out of the fridge.

It’s problem solving. How do you do the work of two people when you’re just one person? You find ways to make it work. That’s part of the challenge of cruising. That’s part of what makes it interesting to me.

And let’s be real: having a second person aboard who doesn’t know or care about helping out when “needed” is worse than being alone on board. (I’ve been in that situation and it sucks.)

The other question I get a lot is about whether I get lonely. The answer, for the most part, is no. I’ve been alone for so much of my life that I’m used to it. I keep busy. I don’t have time to be lonely. The only thing that makes me a little sad is that I can’t share this incredible adventure with someone I can talk to about it in the years to come.

I’m not the only solo cruiser out there

I also want to mention here that I am not the only person doing this trip solo. Nagui, who I met while cruising last year, completed the loop solo in his Rosborough, Boundless.

I’ve also met Matt on Seaview, Ed on Freedom, Mark on Brandywine, Michelle on Plan B, Chris on Brown Eyed Girl, Bob on Bayleaf, and Harry on a homebuilt sailboat whose name I can’t remember. (Get boat cards, folks!) My apologies to the folks I missed in this list. While not all of these people might be “doing the Loop,” they are all on long-term cruises that require them to do everything that needs doing.

Independence > Dependence

Meanwhile, I feel bad for the folks who think they can’t go it alone. The people who depend on the company of someone else to do things.

I’m not just talking about cruising, either. I’m talking about the things we do in everyday life: dining out, going to the movies, attending live events (do you know how easy it is to get an excellent seat for concerts and shows when you’re a party of one?), traveling, and participating in social activities that may include mostly couples. If you’re single and think you can’t do the things you want to do by yourself, why the hell not? Why depend on the presence or moral support of another person when you’re perfectly capable of doing things on your own? Be independent!

And the only thing worse than feeling as if you can’t do things alone is feeling that you can’t do anything without the partner you might already have, someone who simply doesn’t want to do anything you want to do. Been there, done that! Got a ball and chain? Cut it loose! Live the life you want on your terms.

The End is Near

My trip is coming to an end. I’ll be done in less than a month now. Yesterday, I spent a few hours planning the rest of my route and the stops along the way. I wanted to make sure I could finish it on time — I created a deadline when I bought plane tickets to get home. Unless there’s some crazy bad weather ahead of me when I hit Lake Michigan, I should be fine, with a handful of days to spare in case I need to change plans.

I’ve already planned my next two cruises when I get back to the Pacific Northwest. First, I’ll attend the Ranger Rendezvous, which I first attended the day after I took delivery of Do It Now in September 2022. And then I’ll join a flotilla of boats to cruise up to Desolation Sound and back in late September. There’s a chance a friend will join me for that trip, but I’m not sure right now whether I want company.

And then I’ll let Do It Now get some rest in my garage while I enjoy the comforts of my “dirt home” for a while.

I live there solo, too, and I love it.