I want to take a short break from writing about our cruising adventures to tell you the story of another 'adventure.' This one involves my sister Kathy who has been battling ovarian cancer for the past several years. I don't get a chance to take my hat off to her very often but I thought this might be a good time to do it.

A few weeks ago, she invited Kim and me to join her and her husband Robby on a 'cancer walk'. It was a fund raiser for research efforts to find a cure for this awful disease.

I had never been to one of these walks. I will tell you that there seems to be a lot of 'walks' nowadays and I wasn't sure what to expect. My first reaction to this was that is was just another fund raiser... which was great but what I found was that it was much more than that. What I was expecting was a solemn procession of friends, family and supporters out for an important cause. The cold and rain of that morning certainly reinforced that mindset.

What I found was totally the opposite of what I had expected. What this was in reality was a

celebration. It was a celebration for life and perserverance, for hope and support and for love and compassion. The sight of all of the survivors gathered around by their family and friends was truly inspiring.

There were lots of tents and food. There were little speeches given and recognition to those who were fighting the battle. (Kathy got the honor of being one of those who had been fighting the longest... 24 years, and let me tell you that it has been a fight.) They had lots of giveaways and raffles. There was a silent auction and even a local celebrity showed up. Of course there were the T-shirts and 'the ribbon'. But, what I discovered was that all the fru-fru was just background noise. The real event was being with your loved one and acknowledging their struggle in an outward and public way. That was what the day was about.

So, at the appointed time we took off on our way around the three mile course. It was really neat seeing all of the people out for the walk. Kids, dogs, bikers and wagons peppered the trail as we made our way around Lunken Airport. It was great.

As we neared the end of the walk, I noticed that the clouds had begun breaking up and that the sun was beginning to shine. A more prophetic sign I cannot think of.

With apologies to John Steinbeck, I would have to say that in many ways, this has been the 'Summer of my Discontent.' Seems that every time I headed down to the boat I came back with some kind of injury. If it wasn't a jellyfish sting it was some barnacle scrapes. If it wasn't a bonk on the head, it was a cut on the leg. Throw in various bruises and sprains and the list gets pretty long. This last trip added to that list and as usual, the injury was self inflicted.

As you may remember from reading about our pump out experience, the boat owner is responsible for dumping the sanitary holding tanks on his boat. The procedure is not for the faint of heart as you have to handle the nasty stuff we rarely discuss.

The last time we finished pumping out, I noticed that the gauge that measures the level of our holding tank still read half full. Hmmm. That was odd. We were quite sure the tank was empty. Why didn't the gauge agree? For most people, a discrepancy like that would be meaningless. In their minds, the gauge read wrong and all that was needed was to make the mental adjustment that a 'half full' indication really mean 'empty'. No big deal.

Well, whoever said that 'idle hands are the devil's playthings,' was thinking of me. I just can't sleep at night knowing that we have a bad gauge. So one quiet Tuesday afternoon, I decided to investigate this phenomenon. My first thought was just to look around the tank for loose wires or anything else that was an easy fix. Everything looked good however and I wasn't going to get off that easily. My second thought was to simply tighten up all the clamps and hoses thinking that it could be a vacuum issue. It wasn't. Finally, the least desirable option was to open up the tank and remove and clean the gauge sensor itself. That wasn't going to be fun.

Now I have never owned a septic tank and no nothing about them except that I am glad we have a city sewer system at our house. Without going into a lot of detail, its just plain nasty. The holding tank is a substantial unit and it is closed up pretty tight. There are all kinds of seals and rubber rings that keep the bad stuff locked up tight. In order to get to the sensor however, I had to break open one of those seals.

After removing the last of several screws that held the inspection plate in place, I took a deep breath, held my nose and lifted the cover. I was expecting to be hit with the foul stench of human byproducts but instead was sprayed with a voluminous amount of 'effluence' (that is the scientific word for potty water). I still don't know how or why this happened but in a nanosecond I was covered with this smelly green fluid.

I immediately started spitting profusely while keeping my eyes tightly shut. Feeling my way back to the galley, I found the sink and got to scrubbing the junk off of my face. Oh, the humanity! I sincerely hope that those antibacterial soaps really do work. I think I used a whole bottle. Anyway, it was off to the shower after that for a Phisohex rinse, a hydrogen peroxide gargle and a clorox spritz.

Being sanitized on the outside, I began to wonder what my insides were like. I am sure I got my mouth closed in time but I wasn't so sure about my eyes. You really can't close your nose, but I don't think the stuff got that far up there to do any damage. But for sure I thought, I should get some answers. A quick call to my doc back in Cincinnati confirmed that I should run, not walk to the nearest ER or urgent care center to get a Hep B and tetanus shot along with antibiotics for my eyes.

The girls at the Urgent Care center had a lot of fun with me that afternoon. They kept calling me 'potty mouth' and the 'creature from the green lagoon'. The doc said it was a good thing I came in because if I had waited until morning, my eyes would have been swollen shut with infection. All in all, it was an interesting way to spend an afternoon.

The good news is that I fixed the gauge. It reads empty like it should. Now I can get some sleep.

The last thing we did before we left Maya to come home was to prepare her for the worst...a hurricane. Of all the challenges a boater can face, this is the biggest.

We are not 'liveaboards' and most likely would not be physically present when and if the National Weather Service posted a hurricane warning. With that in mind, we had to prepare Maya with the assumption that during our absence, she might be caught in the crosshairs of one of these storms.

We all know that hurricanes can produce winds in excess of 150 miles per hour and dump several feet of rain in the space of a few hours. On top of that, the storm surge and tidal fluctuations can raise the water levels in excess of 15 feet above normal. Ironically however, the greatest danger to your vessel is not mother nature's wrath. The greatest danger comes from the guy in the boat next to you.

That's right. Depending how well your buddy next door (or in a slip across the way) prepares his boat, your chances of coming out of the storm unscathed increases dramatically. You see, most boats are damaged because another boat wasn't tied down properly and gets loose during the storm. At that point, the wayward ship becomes a 20 ton projectile, careening around the marina like a bull in a china shop. If you are unlucky enough that his boat puts a hole in yours, you are sunk. Literally.

I have heard that the safest place for your boat during a big 'blow' is to be anchored out at sea. That way, you don't have to worry about being slammed into by another ship. I cannot imagine little Maya being whipped around out in open waters, much less with Kim and me onboard. That is why we buy insurance... so we can sit it out in front of the Weather Channel at home in our living room.

That being said, there are some other things you can do to minimize the collateral damage. In a hurricane, the rain comes from all directions...above, below and sideways. If there is a crack or a seam that is open to the elements, water will get in. Additionally, the strong winds will blow anything that is not tied down into the next county. We spent the better part of a day taping up the spaces between the doors and the jambs, electrical outlets, windows and anywhere else we thought water might like to penetrate.

We also took down the bimini top that keeps us shaded up on the flybridge. That project caused me some worry. Maya has a very wonderful canvas bimini. It covers almost the entire length of the flybridge. You also can completely enclose the area with screening so you can sit outside at night, uptop, without being eaten alive by the bugs. It is fashioned together with literally hundreds of snaps, clips and zippers, none of which are marked. Apart, the bimini consists of 10 sections... all very large and bulky. Think of a giant jigsaw puzzle and you will get my drift.

About half way through the dismantling, it dawned on me that putting this thing back up was not going to be so easy. I am not really sure where to begin. Its like a Rubik's cube and sudoku rolled into one. All I know is that it will definitely be a two person affair and that communication and temper management will be key. I promise to have my video camera ready to record the event and I will post it later on YouTube for all to see. It will be for your entertainment and my protection.

One of the less glamourous aspects of living on a trawler is dealing with everyday sanitation issues. Washing dishes and showering uses a lot of water and it all has to go somewhere. Thankfully, this 'gray' water is pumped harmlessly overboard as it poses no threat to the environment (unless you are a fish that doesn't want jojoba or styling mousse passing through its gills). We use about 30 gallons of water every day we are onboard and if we had to process this water before sending it into the ocean, it would severely hamper the operation.

So, you ask, what happens to the 'other stuff'. Appropriately called 'black water', these are the substances you cannot just dump overboard.* You have to keep it somewhere until you are in a position to dispose of it properly. There are a couple of ways to do this. Some boats have a sanitation system that processes and treats the sewage much like our city run sanitation department does. With the push of a button, it takes the effluent and grinds it up, kills all the bad things and sends it overboard. It supposedly makes the discharge so clean you can drink it and be safe. I am not so sure that I would ever want to be in a position that I would have to test that theory so lets take their word for it and move on.

If you don't have one of those super-dooper systems then you will just have to hold it.

Well, not in the literal sense. You have to keep your black water in holding tanks until you are at such a time and place where you can discharge it safely. Maya comes with two holding tanks and each tank can hold about 30 gallons of "stuff." Under normal ops, this capacity should last us about a week to ten days before the tanks are full. So far, our record is four days. I am not sure what is going on here but eventually we are going to get to the bottom of it.

So what happens when the holding tanks are full? Well first off, we have some neat gauges that tell us when we are getting close to being full. I don't think you ever want to be at max capacity, figuratively or literally. So when you see you are getting near that point, you have to find a marina that has the ability to 'pump' you 'out'. This process involves a long hose and giant vacuum cleaner type pump. The attendant (Kim) wearing heavy rubber gloves, attaches the hose to an outlet on the outside of the boat. This outlet connects to the holding tanks. The administrator (me) heads down to the engine room to configure the valves and hoses..... its all very complicated....really complicated. When she is ready, the attendant has the dock hand start the motor to the pump and the sucking out process begins.

I am not sure why they call this procedure a 'pump out.' It is really more like a 'suction out.' Anyway, the attendant keeps pressure on the hose while at the same time watching a small clear window on the nozzle. This window allows you to see your progress. When 'stuff' stops going by the window, you know the tank is empty. See, I told you it was glamourous.

It is hard to engage the dock hand in small talk or idle chit chat while this process in underway. The whole thing is rather undignified and I think everyone involved feels a lot happier when the pump out is over. So as soon as she sees that the suctioning is complete, Kim hands the 'magic wand' (as I call it) back to the dock hand. He smartly replaces it in a covered compartment away from view. You don't want that thing hanging around in plain view. It is like the tools the dentist uses on you while you are in the chair. He keeps them covered until you are lying back and can't see them. You know they are there, but you don't want to see them.

Here you can see how they sanitize things after each use.

So when the process is complete and the appropriate gratuities have been dispersed, we button her up and head on our way. I don't know how or why but for some reason, the boat just feels better after a pump out.

*There is a third option for dealing with black water and we don't use it very much. It involves a big black pump down in the engine room called a macerator. Macerator is a nice word for the grinder pump. If you are three miles or more off shore, you can turn on this big pump and discharge your tanks directly into the ocean. There are no hoses or gloves involved. No dock hands or clear windows to watch. Just push the button and the tanks empty out overboard. The only things affected are those marine critters, who by now have lots of jojoba and mousse in their systems.

Next time....fishing for dinner. Not.

So, we are parked at Lookout Point off the coast of North Carolina.  Our good fortune has continued as the weather is spectacular.  Fair skies and calm seas has been our story thus far.

This particular anchorage is the deepest water we have ever 'dropped the hook'.  The distance from the keel down to the sea bed was 26 feet and the water was so clear, you could see all the way to the bottom. 

This whole boating experience has been somewhat like a marriage.  We have gone through the courtship phase where we took Maya out a few times before making any commitments.  We met her parents, the previous owners.  We got to know her 'family' by looking at other Defevers and talking to their owners.  We made a proposal and got accepted.  The 'wedding' ceremony itself was a bit of a blur.  It, like our own wedding, was over in a blink of an eye and before we knew it, we were a couple.

While we were 'dating' Maya, we were just awestruck with her beauty.  From stem to stern and from top to bottom, she was a ten.  We weren't interested in seeing any other boats after we met Maya.  She was 'the one'.  Oh, there were a few brokers who tried to get us to go out on their boats, but in our hearts we knew no other could compare.

Now we are on to the honeymoon phase.  Honeymoons are an interesting phenomena.  For the most part, they can be a lot of fun.  Some people think of a honeymoon as a chance to take an exotic vacation with their newly acquired partner.  Others make their honeymoons a period of rest and relaxation after the whirlwind of excitement of the preceding months has finally come to an end.  If you haven't done that 'living together' thing prior to your nuptials, honeymoons can be a time of discovery too.

Up until now, all we saw in Maya was her beauty.  Our rose colored glasses were fixed solidly upon our heads.  Don't get me wrong, Maya is still a ten, however our honeymoon cruises exposed some flaws that we hadn't noticed before.  Lets just say there were some idiosyncrasies.  For instance, Maya looks great when she is all made up. That is, when she is clean and spotless.  After she sits in a marina for a few weeks though, she needs a lot of work to look good again.  Maya is also expensive.  I am not saying she is 'high maintenance' but there are some costs associated with having a boat that we did not anticipate.  Finally, in a few years, we are going to have to take Maya out of the water and send her to a plastic surgeon.  There are some cracks in her paint and of course she will need a bottom job.  The engines will need to be overhauled and most likely we will update her interior. 

But, we are on our honeymoon and those thoughts are miles away.  For now, we are happy as clams, enjoying getting to know each other.  We are in love.

So back to our deep water anchorage.  

Maya had been having a few problems below the water line.  Some were our fault.  Running over the top of crab traps and getting lines tangled around her running gear don't make for a smooth running boat.  Other issues were caused by little things living in the ocean.  Barnacles.

Maya has a special paint on her hull and keel that make it difficult for things to live and grow on her.  This paint is designed to wear away slowly and anything that wants to stick to it will tend to be cast off rather easily.  Barnacles love to make their homes on the bottoms of boats and Maya is no exception.  Many boat owners hire divers to swim under their boats and scrape off whatever is growing there.  It doesn't take too long but if you don't clean it regularly, the accumulation of those critters will adversely affect your performance, and could damage your craft.

This particular anchorage gave me the perfect opportunity to dive under Maya and check out the barnacle situation.  The water was clear and warm and I had nothing better to do at that particular moment.  So, I grabbed a scraper from our toolbox and jumped over the side.  All in all, Maya was in pretty good shape.  That special paint was doing a great job keeping those critters off the bottom.  What I did find was that the paint didn't work so well in keeping them off the propellers and rudders.  There were tons of them pasted all over the place.  Luckily it was easy to scrape them off but it did take a long time.

One thing about barnacles though.  They are very sharp.  They will cut you like a knife.  I found this out when I came up for a short break.  My hands were covered in blood, which unfortunately, was my own.  My hands were also covered in the blue ablative paint we have on the bottom.  I found that it also comes off when you rub against it.  Upon further inspection, my clothes, hair and skin were all covered with the paint.  I was a mess.  I looked a little like those guys from the Blue Man group, except I have more hair (for once).  

Well, Kim hauled me out of the water and fixed up my wounds.  We were able to get most of the paint off and after awhile, I was feeling good as new again.  

The honeymoon we are on is far from over, however in the short time we have been together, we have garnered a newfound respect for Maya and the sea upon which she travels.  We have found that if we take care of each other, things will be just fine.

So far, most of our cruising time has been spent in the Atlantic Intercoastal Waterway (ICW).  A little like the interstate highways that we are used to driving our cars on, the ICW allows boaters to travel up and down the eastern seaboard and gulf coast without ever having to venture out into the open waters of the Atlantic Ocean or Gulf of Mexico.  Because the ICW is inland and protected, boaters don't have to worry so much about the large waves and stormy weather you might have out on the ocean.

The ICW is essentially a mish mash of rivers, lakes and man made canals that connect to form a dedicated path from Texas to Maine.  It was started back in the 18th Century and is continually being updated and maintained by the Army Corps of Engineers.  Sometimes it is referred to as "The Ditch" as many parts were literally dug out of the landscape with bulldozers and backhoes.

We really like traveling the ICW.  There is so much to see.  Sometimes you might find yourself alone, quietly traversing a nature preserve.  A few miles later you might be among the hundreds and hundreds of multi-million dollar mansions that have been built right along the shore.  At ten miles per hour, we have plenty of time to rubber neck all the sights.  Nothing is passing us by too quickly.

However sometimes ten miles an hour can be a problem.  Like the drivers around here, no one likes a following a slow poke and we are definitely slow pokes.  Most of the other boats that we see on the ICW are powered ski boats and runabouts.  There are a ton of jet skiers and a fair amount of commercial barges and tows.  They like to travel at nearly twice our speed. Sometimes the ICW is fairly narrow and like a two lane road, you just have to slow down and wait until there is an opportunity for you to pass.  That's the theory anyway.

In our real life experience, that is not always the practice.

When boats are underway, they leave a wake behind them that can often be quite large. Depending on the size and speed of the boat making it, a wake can cause quite a thrill as it knocks you and your boat around.  Boaters are supposed to slow down to a 'no wake' speed as they pass one another as their wake can be quite dangerous.  In my limited experience, most boaters try to slow a little but frankly, many don't slow at all.

The other day we are making our way merrily down the Ditch just outside of Topsail Beach, North Carolina.  It was beautiful sunny day that had brought just about every boater in the county out for a day on the water.  Normally, we try to keep to the right as much as practical so we can stay out of the way of those who want to pass us.  This morning however, we found ourselves in a narrow section and had no choice but to run down the middle.  Moving over towards the side would have put us dangerously close to hitting the bottom.

Out of nowhere came this fairly large power boat... about a 24 footer I would say.  He passed us off our starboard side by about 5 feet doing easily 25 miles per hour.  Before I could even react, Maya was thrown into a 30 degree bank and heaved heavily to port.  I was able to right the ship quickly however if someone was standing near the rails or on the aft deck, they could have easily been swept overboard.  My first reaction was to catch up with that guy and give him a piece of my mind.   You know, like road rage.  That thought quickly passed as he would be back in his marina and on his way home before we could ever catch him.  I got my binoculars out and noted the name of his ship.  Ironically his boat was called the "Ding Dong".  I tried to hail him on the radio, but it was to no avail.  He was gone.

My second reaction, (which thinking back should have been my first) was, 'where was Kim?'  I thought she had gone down to the Salon as she had left the flybridge (where I was) fifteen minutes ago.  However, she could have been anywhere at the time when we were thrown by the wake.  
I couldn't leave the bridge to look for her so the first thing I did was yell.  I knew that probably wasn't going to work as the engines are noisy and you can't hear much while underway.  Even if she did hear me, I doubt if she would come running as, well.... we have been married almost 25 years and that kind of thing just doesn't happen anymore. 

The next thing I tried was blowing our horn.  The horn on MAYA is pretty loud and I thought that if Kim heard it, she might wander up to see what all the fuss was about.  If that didn't work, I was going to have to turn around and go look for her.

You know, the greatest fear I have as the pilot of the boat is that someone might fall overboard and I wouldn't know it.  I would keep on truckin' along oblivious to the event.  With only the two of us onboard, there is no one to be a lookout.  If someone went into the drink and you didn't see it, it would be dicey finding them again.  Now we have all this fancy safety equipment and unfortunately we keep it nice and safe on the couch right next to the flybridge helm where it can do absolutely no good.  If Kim had fallen in, I knew she wouldn't be wearing a floatation device as we had never put them on.  It was just plain dumb on our part.

Now this all happened in the space of about one minute, so I don't want you to think that I was speeding on down the ICW while contemplating Kim's fate.  I slowed the boat down to a stop and looked back to see if I could spot her bobbing around in the water behind us.  At ten miles per hour, if she fell in she would only be about 200 yards or so away.  Just then I heard the salon door slam and the sound of her footsteps coming up to the flybridge.  "What the h***  was that?!?" she exclaimed.  Apparently the wake had caused everything to fall out of the refrigerator and spill out onto the galley floor.  Kim had been downstairs cleaning up the mess and didn't hear my calls.

I told her about the guy in the speedboat and how his wake had made us roll like that. I think she was mad about it too, but as always she was the cooler head about these things and just let it go.  I also reached over and gave her a life jacket and said that as the captain, from now on, I am requiring all crew members to wear life jackets while underway.  That part about being the captain didn't carry much weight, however when I explained the part about her falling overboard I think she agreed with me.

In the future, I have to remember to replace the word 'captain' with the words "your loving husband".  If I ever fall over the side, I want her to turn around and come pick me up.

Probably the best thing about cruising is not about what you do on the boat, but rather what you do off of it. Being able to visit small waterfront towns, making new friends and getting off the beaten track is what this experience is really all about. I have had the good fortune of being able to travel my whole career and during that time, I have discovered a cornucopia of of local flavors and hidden treasures that you don't read about in guidebooks. For the most part, the really neat places were found, not by Googling a destination and planning a visit in advance, but rather by an accidental detour or last minute diversion. The scintillating aromas from a restaurant kitchen or perhaps the music and laughter from a county fair drift on soft breezes until they entice your senses enough that you just have to find out where they are coming from. When you discover these gems, you have to wonder whether it was fate or luck that brought you there. In "The King and I", Yul Brynner would have called it kismet!

Now, about the only thing ole' Yul and I have in common is our hairstyles, but I would have to agree with him that resigning yourself to destiny can often bring great fortune. The trick is to be open to all possibilities.

This cruise was highlighted by several enroute stops. While we enjoy anchoring out, it is also a lot of fun to get off the boat once in awhile and explore.

The first place we stopped was a little community called Surf City. We chose it mostly because we had heard that there was a Dairy Queen right across the street from our marina and I was craving some ice cream. (I guess that is as good a reason as any to stop!)

The marina was sorta small...a real mom and pop operation. There were only about a dozen slips but they were very nice. We arrived a little late in the afternoon and got one of the few remaining spots. Unfortunately they parked us right next to one of those obnoxious 'booze cruise' boats. You know, the kind that take tourists and their money on a two hour swing around the beach. If you like Jimmy Buffet and watered down pina coladas, you would love this thing. For most of the afternoon and early evening, there was a steady stream of party-goers lined up to get onboard. They all had to pass Maya in order to get on their ship and as a consequence, we drew the attention of many gawkers. It didn't take us long to get cleaned up and headed into town. There is nothing like having people looking in your windows as you are trying to relax.

Surf City is probably a lot like most of the smaller beachfront towns along the Atlantic Ocean. It was not overrun with fast food places (but thank goodness for the DQ) and there weren't many hotels there. It was mostly condos, local restaurants and cars with out of state license plates. We found this little bar that offered a fresh fish sandwich and ice cold beer so in we went. I like these kind of places. Nothing fancy. It was right on the beach and most of the diners there were barefoot and in their swimsuits. The food was served in a basket with plastic untensils and the napkins were from a roll of paper towels kept on your table. It was all good. The highlight of the evening though was our trip over to Dairy Queen. I think Kim was glad that we finally got there as I had been blabbering about that ice cream cone all day long. Now, at least I could shut up about it.
The next day found us in Southport, North Carolina, Maya's previous home port. Roger and Cathy Tatum, the couple from whom we purchased Maya, still live there and we took the opportunity to meet them for dinner. They are a delightful pair who still have a soft spot in their hearts for Maya. We spent the evening listening to stories of their cruising adventures. It was really a treat. Of course, I had to have some ice cream afterwards. When it is hot out, it just tastes so good.

Southport reminded me a lot of Mayberry. I half expected to see Aunt Bee out on her front porch and Goober down at the fillin' station pumping gas. It was Fourth of July weekend and the town was completely decked out in patriotic garb. There were flags and bunting everywhere. The big parade was the talk of the town and people were coming in from everywhere to see it. We would have liked to stay and seen it but the marina was booked up and they needed us out the next day. We put Southport on our list of places to visit again someday.

We wandered about the town for awhile after dinner just taking in the Americana and watching the sun go down. You could see the kids finally running out of energy after a long summer's day of play and weary parents getting ready for them to do it all over again tomorrow. I could see why the Tatum's enjoyed living here so much.

It was a short walk back to the marina where Maya bobbed patiently in her slip. Tomorrow we would leave the tranquility of small town America and head for the mayhem of Myrtle Beach. What a difference a day would make.