sunday september 2,2007 (fort myers,fl)

Today we did four things:
 

- Slept until noon

- Ate at one of the 565 thousand Perkins... seems to be one on every corner  

- Made ourselves a long list of to-do’s

- Went to Comp-USA and set our laptop up to secure this internet connection

monday september 3,2007 (fort myers,fl)

We are focusing on three top boats right now.  We had two of them lined up before we left Vancouver, so have been able to do loads of homework comparing asking prices, what equipment they come with, general condition, etc. The third boat is a bit of a dark horse; a virtual unknown to us.

We were at West Marine today (it’s kind of like Wal-Mart for boaters) drooling over all kinds of fancy and expensive equipment that we would probably never need, at least that’s what we told ourselves. We had to buy something so settled on a book. It’s Jack London telling the story of his own Pacific crossing, “The cruise of the Snark” (what a great name for a boat). On the way out we started chatting with the clerk. He probably spent 10 minutes giving us directions, contacts, tips, and recommendations. A really nice guy. After he drastically discounted the book (by about 90 percent!) we paid and were on the way out the door when he handed us a copy of “The Florida Mariner”, local classifieds filled with ads for used boats.

You have to remember that we had done a ton of research before leaving Vancouver, have been scanning all the usual sources on line since we’ve been here, and have a couple of brokers keeping in touch with us. There wasn’t a used boat in Florida that we didn’t know about, or so we thought.  I promise to pick this story line back up in another post, but right now there are a couple of important matters to discuss:

First, we are aware of the painful lack of photographic evidence in these posts to illustrate our stories and keep you amused. We here at slapdash intend to resolve this as quickly as possible but have encountered a barrage of frustrating technical difficulties that nearly cost our laptop it’s life on more than one occasion. Bear with us and you will be rewarded with many colorful shots of me modeling the eight pack of speedos I picked up from Target (they should look pretty sweet with the “one pack” of abs I picked up from Molsons).

Second, this page automatically puts the newest posts at the top. Maybe it’s just me, but I find that completely annoying. We read from top to bottom, so it seems dumb that you start at an entry (like today for example), read it and then scroll up page to see what happenes on the next day. You should be able to start where you left off and just read down the page until you get to the last (most recently added) post. Simple right? Wrong. I have been led to believe that arranging your posts in a descending chronological order has roughly the technological equivalent of putting men on Mars. Frankly, I don’t see what the big deal is there either but we’ll stick to sailing for now and leave interplanetary travel to the NASA nerds. Now scroll "up" the page and read the next post.  

tuesday september 4,2007 (port charlotte,fl)

Did you know that Henry Ford and Thomas Edison both had summer homes in Fort Myers? Neither did I, but that’s what we learned on our way to Port Charlotte this morning. It was 7:30 in the morning. I was driving, Jaime was navigating. In between giving me directions, she referenced little tidbits like these ones from the tourist map we have been using to find our way around. You know the kind. There’s a bunch of useless trivia, a whole section of coupons that could save you a dollar if you decided to join Bubba for one of his “world famous” Swamp Buggy tours, and a cartoon style map which annoyingly shows the location of every business that sponsored the printing costs (in this case Perkins) at 10 times the size of anything useful on the map, like road names and landmarks.2007-09-11

So it’s about an hour to Port Charlotte. We were going there to meet a broker who was going to show us a really well equipped 2002 Gemini at a reasonable price. I had been happily sipping on a Grande breakfast blend the whole way, quite proud of the fact that I got up early enough to iron the white shirt that I was wearing, certain that this would make a great first impression. Although I could now tell you where Tom and Henry’s vacation homes were, I was completely unenlightened in other matters, such as the relationship between liquids, gravity, and time. It seems that my cup had sprung a slow leak. Slow enough to escape detection, but substantial enough to completely cover the front of my still wrinkle free, formerly white shirt in breakfast blend (trust me on that one, the picture really doesn't do it justice). It was too early for any stores to be open, so a new shirt was not an option. Jaime called the broker to tell him that we would be late. We tore open the boxes that were still in our trunk hoping to find a replacement. No luck. What would you have done? I hit the bathroom at the Circle K, stripped off my shirt, held it under the tap and started scrubbing it with that pink restroom soap. This process had the added benefit of giving the shirt a pinkish hue to offset the coffee stains, and at the same time managed to totally soak the front of my shorts in restroom tap over-spray. Cool. Now after being immediately labeled a complete slob by anyone who met me, they would also get to wonder in silent disgust about the suspicious looking wet spot on my crotch. I wrung the shirt out as best I could and let the dripping wet, slightly pink, coffee stained thing sag off of me. We drove the rest of the way, windows rolled down, while Jaime tried to convince me that it wasn’t that bad. She couldn’t even keep a straight face. We finally met the broker a half hour late.

The good news is that the boat is not what we were looking for. Funny how something can sound magnificent on paper, but when you see it in person it’s a whole different story. The previous owners were clearly the do-it-yourself types. Nothing against that. We are too, but unfortunately they weren’t very good at it. Imagine taking an expensive boat that you just bought brand new (they were the original owners) and then decide that you could probably improve upon the original design by modeling your own add-ons out of plywood. Not good.

On the way home we met up with the owner of the second boat we were looking at. This boat was beautiful. A 2005, and well equipped. All the installations were done professionally (not made from plywood) and this was the third Gemini that he had owned. As you can imagine he knew the boat inside out and it was meticulously maintained. He had just bought another brand new boat, which was the only reason this one was up for sale. Sounds perfect? It did to us, except for the price. We decided to make an offer on the boat anyway. We were extending ourselves financially and we knew it. This was quickly justified by convincing ourselves that it would be worth it to have a better than new, safe, reliable, and totally equipped boat. In the end we couldn’t meet on a price, and the deal fell through. Funny thing is that neither of us were disappointed. Our reaction actually surprised us a little; we were both relieved. Maybe it’s true that we wouldn’t have had to worry about the condition of the boat at all, but what good is that if you are worried about how you are going to pay for it?

If we learned anything today it was to make damned sure that you don’t have a defective lid on your large coffee. We also learned that the old saying “you get what you pay for” is true in most cases.

wednesday september 5,2007 (marathon,fl)

We basked in momentary relief brought on by a realization that we would not have to set up a meth lab in our hotel room to pay for a boat we couldn’t afford. Probably a good thing anyway, I’m sure that our neighbors already have enough competition (have I mentioned how nice our hotel is?). The relief faded when we realized that we still didn’t have a boat, and the runner up was the Red Green plywood and duct tape special. It was at this moment that we finally decided to open up that issue of the Florida Mariner we got from the guy at West Marine.

More out of boredom that any real purpose, I casually flipped through the pages. As expected, we named off all the boats listed in there that we already knew about including the two we had just looked at. Then, on the second to last page there was a sharp looking 2002 at a reasonable price previously unknown to us. This was the aforementioned dark horse. After a quick phone call Jaime confirmed that the boat was still available. It was only a 4 hour drive away in the Florida Keys (Marathon), and listed only in this one publication and nowhere else.

We were up early again and within 12 hours of spotting the ad we were back in the car with the lid securely attached to my coffee, radio tuned into “Bob FM” (the Floridian equivalent of Jack FM), with Jaime keeping a sharp eye out for Alligators. The Alligators, much to her dismay, were impervious to her high pitched and relentless “Alligator call’ which I had the good fortune of hearing every 10 minutes for the next 4 hours. So this is how we rolled, full of optimism and excited to be headed back to the Keys. Jaime and I had a great dive trip to Key Largo a couple years ago and she has been back since with her Mom. We loved the place, and were glad that there was a boat there to provide us with the good excuse we needed to go back.

The boat was nearly perfect. My first sight of her was through a crack in the fence that I was peeing behind. We had pulled up to the boatyard wondering how we were ever going to find it amongst the hundreds sitting there. I needed a pee break before we started anything that ambitious, so Jaime pulled over in an inconspicuous spot behind a fence. It was risky, but necessary. I was carefully scanning for intruders through the gap in the fence when I focused in on a nice looking catamaran up on blocks with the hulls being prepped for painting. Sure enough the name matched. This was our boat. It was love at first pee, er… sight.

We both had a really good feeling as we approached her. This feeling only got stronger as we met the owner and toured the boat. They are fixing everything, and it will be like new by the time they are finished. I was trying to keep it cool and hem and haw while we were shown around, but there was no point. Jaime loved it. If you have ever seen Jaime when in the presence of something she’s really excited about; her bike, candy etc, you will know exactly what I am getting at. Let’s just say that she would probably be a lousy poker player. Normally this might put you in a tough position when you are trying to negotiate the purchase of a boat, but in this case it seemed to work out perfectly. I think the owner was genuinely happy to see someone really excited about the boat, and we were left with the impression that it was going to be tough for her to see the boat go. So who buys her boat would be nearly as important as the business side of the deal.

thursday september 6,2007 (fort myers,fl)

We didn’t have a great sleep last night. It may be the anxiety of not knowing when, where, or which boat we will end up in. Then again it may have been the Latino girl pounding on the window right next to ours in a murderous rage at 3 AM. She was screaming over and over again at the top of her lungs, “WHO YOU GOT UP IN THERE CHRIS??”

Did I mention what a nice hotel we were staying at?  In retrospect, we could have anticipated some domestic disputes like the one put on by our neighbors last night. When we checked in there was a big sign at the front desk that read, “SECURITY DEPOSIT REQUIRED FOR LOCALS ONLY. $100 CASH”. Being that we were from out of town, the $100 cash security deposit was not required. When questioned on this disparity, the rather large and ill humored front desk lady just raised her eyebrow, as if to say, “you had best not ask about such things boy” and then went back to reviewing the contract with us. Her left hand pointed out the places that needed my initials. You know, typical stuff like “we will not hold the hotel liable for any death or dismemberment that may occur on the premises”. We were both distracted by the hot pink 2 inch long nails. Her right hand remained beneath the counter. It was probably hovering over a panic button, or much more likely, a large firearm of some description. She looked as if she could handle us herself quite easily, without much use from a panic button or firearm. She had likely seen much tougher customers. Even so our stay was almost uneventful. Until last night.

The pounding and screaming continued until Jaime and I were both awake but still disoriented. The commotion sounded as if it were taking place at the foot of our bed. I wasn’t sure what to expect, but even in the moment had the sense to realize that it was a very good thing my name was not “Chris”. Regardless I took the typical precautions of someone who’s been threatened in the middle of the night and unsure of what was happening. I put on a pair of shorts and armed myself with some random household item. In this case it was an empty wine bottle. When I peaked through the door I thought for sure that I was about to learn first hand why locals were required to leave a $100 cash deposit. We still don’t know who Chris “had up in there”, but whoever it was he was determined to keep him, her or them hidden from the murderous Latino girl. To my complete surprise, at that moment Chris actually came out of the room. Chris was a suave looking young black guy. He could have been 20, but was 22 at the most. He was as disoriented as we were and clearly terrified. I don’t blame him. The murderous Latino girl immediately tried to shove past him. Chris blocked her and quickly closed the door behind him, in doing so certainly saved the life of whoever still occupied the room. For the next several minutes we watched as Chris tried to cover the 6-8 feet from the hotel room door to his vehicle. The girl was probably 5’3 and 100 pounds but she unloaded on this guy. It was kind of like watching a murderous Latino girl version of Bruce Lee after 6 cans of Red Bull and a handful of amphetamines. Chris finally made the truck and somehow managed to get the keys out of his pocket and into the ignition while he used his free hand to fend off .023% of the blows. He couldn’t shut the door because she was standing there punching him of course. Chris started the truck and started to drive away anyway. Of course murderous Latino Bruce Lee amphetamine girl was not about to just let Chris roll away and leave her there in the parking lot. No, she actually hung from the side of the truck with both hands and repeatedly bicycle kicked Chris in the ribs through the open door while he slowly drove towards the highway.

Initially I hated them both for waking us up. Now I watched them slowly leave the parking lot. A white late model Chevy Blazer going about 5 MPH with the drivers side door wide open. A heartbroken murderous Latino Bruce Lee amphetamine girl clinging desperately to the side, her rapid fire feet pounding away at poor Chris in a blind fury. It was impossible to decide who to root for but one thing was clear; they truly deserved each other.

The next morning, we checked out of the Howard Johnson and drove to Miami Beach.

friday september 7,2007 (miami beach,fl)

We packed up and moved base camp to Miami today. We’ve put over a thousand miles on the rental car now so pretty much consider ourselves experts on driving in Florida. Here are some things that we have learned. First, rest stops here must be very dangerous places. They actually advertise which ones have security on the premises and which ones do not. Not sure if this has anything to do with alligators but it seems odd that you would pick a place to take a leak based on the level of security available.

The second thing we’ve learned is that Floridian drivers are incredibly courteous. Seriously. No tail gating, no middle fingers, they let you in when you signal. Maybe we were just jaded being from Vancouver. On the other hand it could be because 90% of the drivers here are retired. Either way the driving experience here is not the inherently dangerous sport that we’re used to. In fact we haven’t even heard (or used) the horn since we’ve been here.

Lastly, bring cash. Jaime and I have subsidized at least one restroom security guard’s salary; in the last 3 days we have passed through 14 toll booths! No exaggeration. This is a factual and documented figure. After we passed through the 4^th one (which was exactly 10 miles after we passed through the 3^rd one) we couldn’t believe it ourselves, so started to keep track. We are up to 14 right now and sure that the figure will climb. 

On to the reason that we’re here; to find a boat. Gemini’s must be fantastic catamarans. Nobody that has one seems to want to sell it. It’s like some kind of cult. We are currently dealing with the 3^rd set of reluctant Gemini sellers. Yesterday these owners started up with the all too familiar “not sure that we want to sell it” spiel. I don’t know why they even bother advertising them. One lady actually changed her mind and decided to keep her boat for one more sailing season while Jaime was on the phone with her! This is actually the reason we are in Miami right now. Fort Myers was a 4.5 hour drive away from the latest boat we’re hot on. We felt a little helpless being in South West Florida, while they were over in the Keys fixing up “our” boat (this is the same boat we told you about a couple days ago). It’s located in Marathon, so we decided to position ourselves within striking distance. Miami Beach is sort of a half way point, so tomorrow we will head for the Keys. We need to be there so that when in a moment of weakness they finally decide to sell, we can pounce. Tomorrow we will check out, find a hotel in Key Largo, Marathon, or maybe Key West, and plan our next move from there.

saturday september 8,2007 (florida city,fl)

Not for sale! Unbelievable. So we had packed up, moved across the state to position ourselves for this sale only to find out that when these people were writing their ad, they should have placed the word “not” right before the words, “for sale”.

We found a hotel though, one that Chris and the murderous Latino Bruce Lee amphetamine girl would enjoy. We are getting really good at loading and unloading our 9 stupid “kitchen appliance” pieces of luggage (as described in the August 31^st post). But hey, a small price to pay to get your hands on the boat that will put your dreams in motion right? I mean, this is supposed to be a 4-5 year world circumnavigation. What’s swapping out a rental cars, a half dozen toll booths and several hours squished in the in the car again? All part of the ride. These are the things that we were trying to convince each other of when we were sweating in the third crappy hotel of the trip. Then the phone rang. Jaime was chatting away with somebody. I assumed it was the sellers. It was a seller all right, but not the seller we had come all this way to see. This particular seller was a lady from Myrtle Beach South Carolina, and she was telling Jaime that our boat was no longer on the market! Imagine our surprise.

We had driven from Ft Myers to Marathon to look at their boat day before yesterday. We spent a half a day with the alleged seller. We made our intentions clear. We drove back to Fort Myers. We packed up our stuff. We drove back across the state (3^rd time) to be in position to close on the deal. Now after all of that a lady 2 states and 750 miles to the North calls to tell us that the boat isn’t on the market anymore. Huh?

The sellers turned out to be keepers. Imposters. We called the keepers, and the Myrtle Beach ladies’ story checked out; they had actually decided not to sell their boat. I’m not sure when they were going to let us in on this little scandal. After all, it certainly wasn’t the worlds best kept secret. Apparently this was all common freaking knowledge to the citizens of Myrtle Beach South Carolina!

Even so, we don’t think this was malicious. It was probably just another sad case of “Gemini-keep-acosis”. A condition we are becoming all too familiar with. Apparently it only effects potential catamaran sellers, and is dormant until their boat is advertised for sale. This extremely frustrating disease can be aggravated when qualified and/or motivated buyers go to great lengths to purchase their boat. Apparently symptoms include but are not limited to; uncertainty, indecisiveness, posturing and other wishy-washy type behaviors. I wish that this disease could be treated with some kind of bodily harm, but apparently all you can do is walk away. Besides, turns out that bodily harm is mostly illegal in the state of Florida. So is peeing in public, but that’s another story. It’s not a contagious disease though, because if you can’t buy a catamaran you have no chance of owning one. If you don’t own one you are obviously immune to Gemini-keep-acosis.

There is a silver lining to this crazy story. Turns out that the lady who called us also had a Gemini for sale. She said it was better than the one we were looking at, and that all of their Gemini-keep-acosis inoculations were up to date.

Hmm, could have potential?

wednesday september 12,2007 (myrtle beach,south carolina)

Here’s what the slapdash scorecard looks like:

Rental Cars rented : 4

Miles Traveled: 2000+

Fast food meals: 24

Toll booths paid: 23

Crappy Hotels slept in: 4

US states traveled through: 3

Boats looked at: 6

Offers made: 2

Boats that we own: 0

Sunday was a day of decisions. We had no reason to stay in Florida City, the boat we were there to buy was no longer on the market. There were 3 boats left on our list; the duct tape and plywood special, one in Crystal River that 3 people had warned us about (apparently it was in really rough condition), and the Myrtle Beach ladies’ boat.

You know that fortune cookie, something like; in times of crisis opportunity can be found? (in bed) Well, we exchanged some emails with the owners of the Myrtle Beach boat. It started sounding better and better. Only 3 years old, lots of upgrades, meticulously maintained, and a price that was nearly within reach. The downside? It was 2 states away. That’s a pretty big commitment; a 24 hour roundtrip plus expenses. That’s a lot to take on just to have a look at a boat. We were torn between making a low ball offer on one of the Florida boats, and setting our sites high on another boat that was a stretch both geographically and financially. We decided not to make the trip unless we had an accepted offer. So on Sunday night we made one. Then we waited… and waited… and waited. Nothing.

On Sunday night the last thing I did before I went to bed was check the email for a response to our offer. Nothing. When I woke up Monday morning I repeated the process. Nothing. Check-out time was 10:30 AM. We left hotmail open and refreshed the page every 10 minutes. Shower, get dressed, refresh the page; nothing. We packed our bags, refresh the page; nothing. Load the car, refresh the page; nothing. We lingered, fidgeted, lollygagged and stalled. Finally we went down to the front desk to settle up our bill. When we got back to our room, the only thing we hadn’t packed was the laptop. It was still sitting there on the table, plugged in, hotmail open. So we refreshed the page. Nothing.

We left the Hotel and were headed West. We had set our sights on the duct tape and plywood special. It was in Port Charlotte and this would be our 4^th trip across Florida. We were going to have a second look and planned to convince ourselves that this was probably the best thing anyway. We had renovated a couple of condos before leaving Vancouver to save money for the trip, so maybe we could do the same thing with this boat. Then the phone rang and 10 minutes later we were headed North on the I-95 towards Myrtle Beach South Carolina.

Our car couldn’t leave the state. Actually it could, but Alamo would charge us $1000.00 USD. Can you say extortion? We drove to the Miami International Airport, gave the gangsters their car back and took one from an agency across the street. The good guys charged us $121.57 USD (including tax) for the same trip. It cost us 2 hours but saved us $878.43 USD. After that fiasco, and 9 unavoidable toll booths we were on our way. It was 3:30PM, which would mean that if we were able to stay awake we would be in Myrtle Beach by about 4:00AM.

We passed Fort Lauderdale, West Palm Beach, Daytona Beach, Disney World, and The Kennedy Space center at Cape Canaveral. We followed in the tracks of Bo and Luke Duke through the state of Georgia. Fortunately Rosco P. Coltrane had the night off because we drove it like a rental. The cruise control must have been set at 90 MPH for at least 8 hours straight. We took turns driving and put Georgia behind us without incident. We rolled into South Carolina sometime in the wee hours Monday morning. We arrived almost exactly as planned at 4:00AM. We were up at 8:00AM, and met our latest “sellers” at 9:30AM.

So far so good, but that’s all we are saying right now. Until something irrefutable happens our mouths are shut. That’s been a road well traveled, and I think there’s another fortune cookie that says something about being once bitten twice shy (in bed). Or was that an 80’s hair band?  

saturday september 22,2007 (myrtle beach,sc)

Today marks one week of boat life for Jaime and I. It is going to take some getting used to, but we are finally settling in comfortably. We feel pretty good about the gradual transition we’ve had from full fledged land lubbers to fledgling little boat lubbers. First there was our move to the tiny apartment that we rented for a few months while we wrapped things up in Vancouver. In its own way, that was a sort of preparation for us. Trying to find places for whatever stuff we had left, ridding ourselves of anything superfluous, and realizing that being in each others way almost constantly was going to be a way of life. Then we packed up that lifestyle and traded it in for the nomadic life of wandering boat shoppers. We lived in hotels, rental cars and carted around our personal belongings in a mess of bags and boxes. Now finally, we find ourselves in a boat. We speculated that the gradual transition would prepare us fittingly. We were wrong.

At last calculation I have lived in at least 10 more homes than I have fingers and toes. Jaime counted 18 when I asked her. Between us we have experienced trailers, barns, apartments, hotels, ranchers, condos and at least one chicken coop (converted of course) not to mention extended hikes requiring all possessions to be carried on our backs for a week. Nowhere in all these situations with all their diversity could we find one to compare to living on a boat. And that is what we are doing. Living on a boat. I cannot convey this scenario to you in any meaningful way other than to try and illustrate it like this.

If you are at home right now, have a look around. Take in all of the space you are surrounded by. Now examine your belongings. Necessities like pots and pans, toilette(s), and chairs. Comfort items like furniture, television, stereo and a nice big bed. You probably have art in various forms. Sentimental bits and pieces; pictures of family and maybe a gift or two from important people in your life. Not the type of gifts that you keep because you couldn’t do without them, but the type that you keep only because of the significance of the giver. We haven’t even touched the garage yet, with tools, toys, and cleaning supplies. All together it would make a pretty big pile right? Maybe 12-15 feet high, and at least the same across the base? Now imagine you had to pick the one or two most important, practical, or meaningful items from each category. After all you will need a bed, bedding, toilette, dishes and pans. You will need some treasures to remind you of home and people. You will definitely need somewhere to sit and something to keep the beer cold, and see how long you last without some important tools or a good book. The pile is a little smaller now, but it will still cast a good sized shadow. Now try to imagine taking all that stuff, all the random shapes, sizes and weights, and fitting it onto a space that measures 32 feet by 14 at its widest and furthest points. If you are an optimist, you might think that it wouldn’t be a challenge that you couldn’t whip on a Sunday afternoon. And you might be right, until I told you that the 448 square feet you have been allotted to house all of your worldly possessions was not built for housing all of your worldly possessions. No, no, no, no, no. Quite the opposite in fact, it was built to float. It’s pointy at one end. It was built to carry sail, two of them actually. Its form follows its function, and its function is to keep the ocean out, and move you safely across it. Not, as already mentioned, to store your stuff. But store it you must. So find all the nooks and crannies, the lazarettes and compartments. The space beneath your floor is not safe, you will use that too. Above your head? You have to. Stash it, stuff it, store it, stow it, shove it, hang it, and compress it. Get creative, you are competing for space with a diesel engine and all of the fluids and spare parts that it demands. That’s not all though, there’s the anchor, actually the anchors. After all there are 4, and that’s not even counting the dinghy anchor. Did I mention the dinghy? It’s 10 feet long and has an outboard engine, and a gas tank and its very own set of fluids and spares. There’s chain, lines (I’m told that’s what ropes are called when they live on a boat), bumpers, sails, sail covers, life vests, window coverings (2 sets), a solar panel, an air conditioner, a barbeque, 4 batteries each of which are bigger and heavier than the one in your car. I could keep going if you are not yet duly impressed.  Don’t believe me? Okay, there’s an EPIRB, a ditch bag, a life sling, flares, spotlights, air horns and an inverter. Charts, manuals, winch handles, and I’m just getting warmed up! Hatch covers, radar reflector, a boat pole, anchor bridle, extra mainsail cover, 2 VHF radios, and all the spare parts for your head (I’m told that this is what a toilette is named when it lives on a boat). Still a project fit for Sunday afternoon? If so, I would like to meet you. It took us 6 days and we’re not quite there yet. God forbid somebody comes for a visit. If somebody did show up right now, there’s a nice hotel near by that we would recommend.
 

We rewarded ourselves for a job well done today. We went out for beer and hot wings. There’s been this sign proclaiming to have the best wings South of Buffalo, so we tried it out. They had 32 different flavors, and cheap beer. Things were looking up. In the end, we weren’t overly impressed. We had a good time, but if those really were the best wings South of Buffalo, then we need to go further South. In 2 weeks we will do exactly that. Good thing too, and not just for the wings. Winter is setting in and it’s probably only 30 degrees today. Good thing for the pool.

One more thing that cannot escape mention today. Our tiny friends Dan and Ryleigh were married in White Rock, BC. We miss them a lot, and were looking forward to seeing them married. Initially we had planned to go back for the wedding, but boat buying thousands of miles from home being what it is, we had to wish them well from here. So to Dan and Ryleigh; congratulations, you were in our thoughts as we tried to imagine what you would be doing throughout the day. Come visit soon!

Today it’s back to the grind. There have been a few more hitches in our never ending registration process. First; in their unbounded wisdom, our delightful Canadian Government (let’s just call them bastards for short), will not accept our bill of sale. It seems that the bastards have their own form that they would like us to complete instead, which includes having the sellers’ signatures notarized. That’s something that we already did of course, but that was on the original form deemed unacceptable by the fine men and women (bastards) in Ottawa. Did I mention that the previous owners live 4 hours away? Having their signatures notarized on this document will not be an easy task.

Here’s another one; we also learned today that there is a “special” exception for catamarans in this registration process. Oh yes. We need to submit a Tonnage Survey with our paperwork. Why? I have no freaking idea why! I am not even sure what this is, but it has to be completed by a registered (of course) Tonnage Surveyor. This probably involves having our boat weighed so that the - you guessed it - “tonnage” can be accurately determined and documented… in triplicate… in two languages. Wow, special is right. I can’t tell you how good it makes us feel to have these bastards looking out for our best interests. I mean, could you imagine the implications of a bill of sale being submitted in only English, and not our other national language? Or what if our boat was registered without first paying a “documented tonnage expert” $800? That could be disastrous. I mean, it’s not like we should go around trusting the weight that the manufacturers have stamped all over the boat and detailed in the manual. What about mono-hulls you ask? Oh, they’re fine, apparently it’s just those crooked catamaran manufacturers we need to be worried about. Clearly they cannot be trusted on matters as critical as “tonnage”.

Just one last thing and I promise to move on… get this; there are no “Certified Tonnage Surveyors” in the State of South Carolina! I’m not even sure that they exist. When we ask marina people we get this really dazed look followed quickly by an expression of pity. As if to say, “there-there you poor stupid Canadians, you’ve probably just had too much sun that’s all”. Insane. Monstrous. Maddening.

Bastardly bureaucracy aside, we have a couple of small mechanical items to address. Remember the rubber boot that covers the linkage from engine to drive leg that I told you about? Well it is cracked. It had a small leak so we drained the oil out to a level just below the crack so it wouldn’t leak. We need to have that boot replaced. It is a simple procedure, but there’s always a catch. And here it is; the boot can not be replaced while the boat is in the water. This means that we need to arrange for our very first “haul out”. The marina we are staying at does not have the facilities to do this, so we have to go 15 miles North to one that does. How do you go 15 miles North when you have drained all the oil out of your drive leg? You get towed, that’s how. Our tow boat captain arrives first thing tomorrow morning. He will attach a few lines and off we go. Once we get there the boat will have a couple of straps run under the hulls and it will be lifted right out of the water and onto dry land where the stupid boot can be replaced. If it seems like a lot of work for a simple little 45 minute job, that’s because it is. At least it will make for some good pictures. Once they finish the work, they will splash us back into the water and away we go. Except this time there will be no tow boat captain, we are on our own! So stay tuned, tomorrow is a big day; towing, hoisting and our first solo trip!

Onto some website updates now, Jaime has updated the book review page in the slapmedia section. We have also updated the slapmobile page with pictures of our new boat, and speaking of pictures, as you can see we have finally managed to get some into the logs. Like the boot change tomorrow, this was another seemingly easy task that ended up being a lot of work. Also like that boot, it will be a pretty important part of the trip. After all a picture says a thousand words, so we’ll leave you with a few grand: