The question is: where will we be next summer? We were trying to find a workamping position (in which we work at the campground) somewhere in New England and right now the most likely place is a campground in northern Vermont, on Lake Champlain. It is not a done deal and is a bit further from Boston than we would have liked, but it is acceptable. And it will put us into a place where neither of us have ever been. That makes it an adventure.
Houseboating – Days 6 and 7
So Plan B was to find a place to tie up near Blue Spring State Park and possibly take the jon boat there to look around. So our target was an island just south of the park, at the Snake Creek Cutoff – an intimidating name, but it didn’t deter us.
We left about 20 minutes after the departure of our neighbors, a group of octogenarians who were also first-time houseboaters, led by Roy and Millicent, a lovely couple that stopped by for a chat Thursday morning. We were traveling at 1800 rpms, which I regarded as a slow cruise, but soon caught up to them. As we passed them I was tempted to yell out “You’re blinker is on!” but held my tongue.
They were out of sight by the time we reached a smaller island just north of the park and swung into the inlet there to scope out the docking opportunities (there were none), then had to turn around when the water became too shallow. We re-entered the channel just as Roy, Millicent, et al, were passing. They were amused to see us again.
We followed them south to the second island and this time found a good docking opportunity. Not on the island, which was posted No Trespassing, but on the mainland. It wasn’t as pretty as Lungren, but was easy to tie up to two conveniently-spaced trees, and provided good, dry ground for walking Rusty. After exploring the site a bit we hunkered down (e.g., moved the jon boat to the side, to protect it from wind and passing tour boats) because the weather was deteriorating. Rain began a couple of hours after we arrived, turned heavy and didn’t relent until after midnight. So we had a cozy day on the houseboat, playing cards, reading, watching TV and looking for manatees (didn’t see any).
The tour boats – St Johns River Tours – left from Blue Spring and seemed to be filled with groups that were traveling together. Bus tours of central Florida, probably. In any case, I heard enough of their spiel that I knew there were almost certainly manatees in the area. But well-hidden, apparently. We did see some interesting birds, including what I think was a variety of eagle. No alligators. Which was fine by me.
Every time I took Rusty for a walk I kept an eye out for a lurking alligator. I think Rusty would have looked pretty delectable to a hungry gator.
Before the rain began I took the jon boat out to investigate the island and the inlet. It was a quiet, serene place, except for the occasional tour boat and some distant channel boating noise. I shut off the motor and drifted for a bit just to feel the serenity.
On Friday we headed south for about 2 hours, to marker 101. There was another recommended docking spot there which we checked out (very nice) but didn’t stop. Then back to the marina at a leisurely pace, with the current but against the wind, which again had whipped up. We passed three people in a canoe at the entrance to Lake Beresford who looked like they were struggling to make headway and to avoid getting swamped. It was certainly not a nice day for canoeing.
Jett took the wheel, briefly, on the way back, just to prove to her kids that she had driven a houseboat.I docked without a problem – I was an expert by then. The staff was surprised to hear that we had not seen any manatees. They said they had seen some swimming by the marina earlier that day. The best news came when they checked out the boat and declared that we had done no harm, so there were no additional charges.
We dined out that night – the last night of our houseboating vacation – at JC’s Lobster Pot, a local recommended fish joint. I had the “Fish Trio” – salmon, mahi mahi and “catch of the day” (some kind of whitefish) which was very good. Jett opted for the prime rib which she judged to be good but not great. But the prices were very reasonable and a nice meal out seemed like a good way to end the vacation.
The trip back was boring. I tried to avoid the Orlando traffic but probably made things worse by avoiding the toll road that runs along the western edge of Disney World. We spent over 40 minutes on local streets, snaking our way to I-4. Then, when we got within 10 miles of home, the rains began. Again. So I had to unload in a steady rain while Jett went to pick up Grace.
Grace seemed healthy and relatively happy to see us. But once Rusty tells her all about the adventures she missed she will likely never forgive us.
Houseboating – Days 3, 4 and 5
I intended to blog every day during our week on the houseboat, but, alas… too much time driving, playing cards and having fun. Plus our wifi connectivity was not stellar. So it is being compressed into 3 posts.
Our plan for Monday was to travel up to the Silver Glen Spring Run recreation area on the west bank of Lake George, the second largest lake in Florida (170 square miles). But the weather forecast for Tuesday (80 degrees and sunny) was better than for Monday (75 degrees and mostly cloudy), so we decided to just hang out for the day at our private little island – Lungren Island, near Astor. Florida. So Day 3 was all about Lungren Island, Day 4 was about our (disappointing) trip to and from Lake George and Day 5 was about our trip back to the marina.
First, Lungren Island. We loved this place! As previously mentioned, it was tiny – just a few hundred feet wide and maybe a hundred feet across. But it was beautifully wooded and really felt like it was our private little enclave. Rusty loved it, too. The photo is of Rusty on the island, investigating smells near the mysterious stump with the shoot on top. Jett called it “Wilson” after Tom Hanks’ soccer ball in Cast Away. The photo also shows the campfire area left by the earlier squatter. The other side of the island had two rope swings (which we didn’t use).
It was a beautiful, serene place, except for the occasional outboard motor noises. I spent some time on the upper deck, grabbing some sun and reading. The photo is from our second docking, on the channel side of the island (more on that in a bit). I also took the jon boat out for a spin early in the morning, then took it out again in the afternoon, with Jett along for the ride. I got some nice photos of the houseboat from the river and saw some interesting birds. I also spotted two white-tailed deer on shore, but wasn’t quick enough with the camera to get their picture. With Jett along we tried to find the deer again, but failed. We did, however, spot an alligator. Or at least we thought we did. Turned out to be a rock which we immediately dubbed “Alligator Rock.” But we continued on downstream a bit, then crossed to the other side where we did, indeed, see an alligator. Probably about 8 feet long and pretty chubby. Well fed, I guess. One thing I didn’t mention to Jett: the large (and, fortunately, dead) spider that I found in the jon boat. It was about 3 inches and scary. I don’t want to find any live ones.We grilled bratwurst and burgers for dinner and enjoyed a second very quiet night at Lungren.
On Tuesday we woke to dense fog which, fortunately, burned off by 10am. We undocked and traveled north to Lake George and then did our best to find the entrance to the Silver Glen lagoon, which was more difficult than I expected. The lake is so large that we could barely see the shore and had only a general heading to find the (small) entrance. I actually used the GPS on my cell phone to assist in the navigation. We did, eventually, find it, but later than expected. We probably would have had only an hour or so to explore.Which turned out to be a moot point because I was intimidated by the shallow water (less than 3 feet a quarter of mile from shore) and had visions of grounding dancing in my head. It was obvious that the only way we were going to get into the inlet would be to anchor the houseboat and use the jon boat. But as we had no experience with anchoring, we feared that we would return to find the houseboat grounded somewhere.
So we gave up, turned around and headed home – back to Lungren. We had the same navigation problem finding the river entrance and I had to consult my phone again. The issue with heading east on the lake was that missing the channel and going too far east would put us into a naval target bombing area. As much as we disliked getting grounded, we disliked the idea of getting bombed even more.
But we found the river without being bombed and made our way back to Lungren for a third night. This time, for variety, we tied up on the channel side of the island, below the two rope swings (see the upper deck photo above). This docking area was tighter than the other side and, coupled with a brisker wind and a stronger current, presented more of a challenge. I made it, but only after several tries and several bumps into the roots and branches of the downstream tree.All in all, it was a difficult day of navigation and a disappointing day in that we never got to our intended destination. I treated myself to a couple of beers and watched the sun set in the west. Then Jett, Rusty and I had a quiet third night at Lungren.
Day 5 was mostly cloudy and very windy. We fought our way – against both the wind and the current, back upstream to the marina. We had some thought of staying on the river overnight, at a recommended mooring location just north of the drawbridge, but four attempts to nose into shore to tie up failed miserably as I was unable to stabilize the boat to get a rope around a tree. After banging into a tree pretty hard, I gave up and headed back to the marina.I felt better after Charlie, our marina dock hand, banged the houseboat pretty hard into a piling as he tried to dock it. The wind and the current were pretty tough for him, too.
The good thing about a night in the marina is that we were tied to shore power and didn’t have to use the generator. That made the evening quieter and allowed us to stay up late playing cards and watching TV. Just like being in a RV, but with more rocking.
Houseboating – Days 1 and 2
We have left our RV for a week to travel the St Johns River in a 54-foot houseboat. We are doing this because (1) we have talked about houseboating for a while and this was an opportunity to try it, (2) we had a timeshare week banked with RCI that was about to expire and we could exchange it for this houseboat week (though at a price), (3) it coincided with my birthday and (4) we are certifiably insane. So I, a lifelong landlubber with almost no boating experience, am now captain of a 54-foot vessel, the “Endevour”, towing a 14-foot “jon boat” with an outboard motor.
I will mention the bad stuff first, then get to the fun part.
- It is expensive. Even after trading in our vacation week we had to plop down an additional $1100 to rent the houseboat for a week. That is $900 for training and whatnot, $100 for insurance and $100 for dogs. Actually dog, singular, because we could only bring Rusty; we had to board Grace (another $500 for a prime home). The jon boat was an additional $260. After fuel and incidentals this will run us over $2,000. Not cheap, but we had to see what it was like.
- Leaving Grace behind was difficult. The necessity to do so arose from a weight limit of 35 pounds for dogs on board. I can understand why: getting dogs on and off the boat can be difficult once off the pier. It just isn’t a real family vacation without our “grand old lady”.
- The nearly 4 hour drive was boring, for the first 3 hours. Then we hit the Saturday traffic at Disney World in Orlando and it became annoying.
- I left one bag of groceries in the car on Friday night after Jett when shopping for the trip. She discovered the bag, fortunately, before we left. But as it was a bag of meat it was a total loss and the 4 hour trip became much longer because it was filled with Jett’s how-could-you-do-that’s.
Now the good stuff from Saturday, when we got there, had dinner out and slept on the boat, and Sunday, our first day on the river.
- We had a very nice meal at a local restaurant right on the St Johns River, the Shady Oak. I had fried ponga, whatever that is (some kind of fish) and Jett had fried green tomatoes and fried cod bites. The tomatoes were mediocre but the rest was very good and the draft Rolling Rock was $1 for a mug. The local “flavor” was… interesting. We were surrounded by elderly bikers.
- The houseboat is quite comfortable. It has two real bedrooms, a bath, a kitchen and a living room with a futon. It is much like living in our RV, except for the marine head, which is a bit more complicated than our simple RV toilet. But it works and has unlimited capacity. The water and the fuel are limited, of course, but generous enough to not be a concern for a week.
- It is a rush to be called “Captain”. A half-hour into our cruise we had to call a drawbridge operator to request that the bridge be opened. That was a first for me – to have a drawbridge open at my request – and to be called “Captain” on the radio, for all the world to hear, was pretty cool.
- I think I am a natural when it comes to boats. My first attempt at docking went smooth as silk. The instructor said it was the best first attempt he had seen in weeks. Maybe I missed my calling in the Navy.
- The wildlife along the river on Sunday was very interesting. Lots and lots of cranes, egrets, hawks and vultures (who did not look at us like we were their next meal). Turtles and some alligators. I am sure we will see manatees soon.
- There is something pretty cool about pointing the houseboat straight ahead, checking for traffic (very little), the leaving the captain’s chair to go get a snack. At 5 mph danger doesn’t approach very quickly.
- We found a great place to put in for the night. Our own private island.
After my training (which took about an hour) Sunday morning, we were off. Only to return 15 minutes later because we had forgotten to hook up the jon boat. So I got a second chance to dock (also successful, though not quite as smooth). Then the drawbridge, followed soon thereafter by some practice tying up to trees on shore. That was a little awkward, but I accomplished it. We stayed tied to an overhanging branch for about 45 minutes while we had lunch.
We had two little adventures along the way. First, one of our onboard CO detectors went off about an hour into the trip, for no apparent reason. I had to call the marina on the ship-to-shore radio to get advice from the engineer. Rebooting it seems to have solved the problem, after I did it several times and then tightened the internal electrical connection.
Second, I just about ran aground once. I was cruising along on the right side of the channel in typical 12-to-17 foot depths when suddenly the clearance dropped to 5 feet, then 4, then 3. The houseboat requires 3 feet of water, so I had a moment of panic. But before I could do anything (it doesn’t exactly stop on a dime), the depth jumped back up to 8 feet. I was concerned that perhaps the sand bar (or whatever it was) might have caught the propeller ($22 per blade), but later inspection showed no damage.
Docking at the little island near Astor was a bit nerve-wracking. We did it very slowly, checking the depth constantly, but had no problem getting the nose touching the little beach. I swung the stern in, tied the boat bow and stern and hopped off to explore, with Rusty’s eager assistance. It didn’t take long because the island was perhaps 100 feet across and 200 feet wide. But beautiful. I felt like Robinson Crusoe. There was evidence of previous camping on the island – a campfire site and a pole that was clearly used to make a lean-to. This was confirmed when we were visited by the local river police that evening who saw us docked there and just wanted to make sure that a squatter that he had run off recently had not returned.
The generator shut itself down shortly after we arrived. I figured it was due to our starboard-side docking position, where the stern was sitting in weeds, possibly clogging the intake for the generator’s cooling water. I was going to back out and come back in for a bow docking, but Jett convinced me that I could just manually reposition the boat. So I untied it, pushed the stern out, then used the bow rope to pull it over to where we wanted it. It worked! Pushing a 54-foot boat around made me feel like Hercules.We had a nice meal (cooked inside because it was very chilly), watched TV and played cards. We shut off the generator and retired to bed at midnight. With the generator off our environment became very dark. And very quiet. Eerie.
But we slept well.
More about our private island tomorrow.
Good thing it ain’t Massachusetts
I haven’t golfed in over 3 weeks, my Thursday softball game got rained out and the stream in the RV park is just about to overflow its banks.
We are going to spend next week on a houseboat. Hopefully we won’t get swept out to sea on the raging waters. But at least I won’t have to worry about pulling the boat out of the weeds – and getting eaten by leaches – like Humphrey Bogart in The African Queen.
Kiss my ring
My search for my ancestors continues. I researched my maternal grandfather’s Murray lineage back to 17th century Scotland, but got stuck on trying to figure out just which William Murray was my great-great-whatever grandfather. Scotland in the 17th century was filthy with Murrays. You couldn’t swing a caber back then without hitting one.
So I reported my results to my siblings and my sister forwarded the information to my Murray cousins. One of them recalled that her father had paid to have some genealogical research done some years ago and that she “thinks she has a book upstairs somewhere.”
Long story short: she found the book and it traced her ancestry (and mine) back to a brother of Robert the Bruce, King of the Scots, from 1306 to 1329, and son of Robert de Brus, 6th Lord of Annandale. And because he was the 6th Lord of Annandale, it was easy to trace back 5 more generations because they were all famous.
Better yet, the entire Bruce line were cousins of the Stuart line of royalty in England. Which makes me a very distant cousin to Henry I, James I and 4 other English monarchs.
When we next meet you may kiss my ring.
Genealogy
I love a good mystery. I have been an avid reader of whodunits for most of my life. I cut my teeth on The Hardy Boys. Arguably my best Christmas present ever was a set of 40-plus used Hardy Boys books when I was 10.
All of which goes to explain why I like genealogy. The search for one’s roots is a very personal kind of mystery story, as the Ancestry.com commercials are quick to note. Everyone has a story and that story is, at some point, a mystery. While some branches may be easy to trace (e.g., Jett’s paternal lineage can be traced back 17 generations, to medieval England), others – like my paternal grandmother – are surprisingly difficult. I have gotten almost nowhere on figuring out her lineage. I am suspecting that her parents were German immigrants who anglicized their name, but that is just a guess right now.
I am fascinated by the information that is available when one looks for it. For example, there are (nearly) complete passenger lists for all ships that arrived in New England prior to 1700! There is a website (finagrave.com) that not only helps locate graves of ancestors, but in many cases provides a photo of the headstone. Who has time to wander cemeteries, snapping pictures of all headstones?
As I track down my personal history – and Jett’s – I am learning a lot about early American history as well. I was under the impression, for example, that the passengers on the Mayflower were the first Europeans to set foot in what is now Massachusetts. Not so. In 1602 Bartholomew Gosnold, in his ship Concord, landed on (and named) both Cape Cod and Martha’s Vineyard. The passengers intended to establish a colony and built a camp on Martha’s Vineyard, but decided that they lacked sufficient food to last the winter and decided to return to England. But, still, the fact that European settlers were in Massachusetts some 18 years before the Pilgrims was a complete surprise to me.
And I have learned this all in a week, so I expect that many more revelations will follow. It should be an interesting way to spend some time in my retirement.
Close shave
Last Saturday night Jett and I were playing cards (Hand, Knee and Foot, of course) with neighbors. Showers were expected, but it was a nice evening and so we were playing outdoors, on the picnic table, under the RV awning in case of rain. Just before 7pm we all received weather alerts on our cell phones warning of a possible tornado. But we have been through this drill before and knew that if it was serious then 1) the campground would send someone through with a bullhorn advising us to take cover (in the bath house or laundry – the only rigid structures around) and 2) there would be urgent advisories on TV. I turned on the TV and, yes, the local stations were having special weather coverage but I noted that the warning was to expire in about 15 minutes and no reports of an actual tornado sighting had been received. There was also an observation that the “storm was weakening.” And it wasn’t very windy and the rain was light. So I wasn’t unduly concerned.
We continued to play cards.
The rain did soon become quite heavy, but that is pretty common here. We did finally move into the RV and watched the TV for another 15 minutes before deciding to give up the game. The rain lasted another 30 minutes.
The next morning I awoke to news of an F2 tornado in Cape Coral the night before. While we were blithely playing cards, a twister was steamrolling nearly 200 homes just 15 miles to the southwest of us. As more information arrived it became apparent that not only was a real tornado on the ground at 7pm the night before, as we played cards, but that its path would have taken it directly over us, had it stayed on the ground.
The last time we had a tornado warning our strategy was to pile the dogs into the truck and take to the roads, figuring that we could outrun any funnel cloud that we sighted. That might be a decent defense in the daytime, but at 7pm, in a storm, I doubt that I could have spotted it coming at me. Heading to the bath house probably would have been the wisest move.
Continuing to play cards in that situation is not going to get me into Mensa.
Hand, Knee and Foot
One of our favorite pastimes is playing cards and our current obsession is Hand, Knee and Foot. This is a variation on canasta which requires six decks and nimble hands capable of holding 20 cards or more. Like standard canasta, the hand initially consists of 15 cards and points are scored for canastas (7 of a kind), red threes and melded sets of 3 or more. Also, points are deducted for cards held at the end of the game. The discard pile may be picked up, with certain restrictions. All of this applies to Hand, Knee and Foot as well, but with additional hands (the Knee – a hand of 13 – and a Foot – a hand of 11). The Knee is played when the first canasta is reached and the Foot is played when all cards from the Hand and the Knee have been played. There are 5 required canastas, each with different values:
- 7’s – 5,000 points
- 5’s – 3,000 points
- wild cards (2’s and jokers) – 2,500 points
- red (a pure canasta of any value other than 5 or 7) – 500 points
- black (a canasta of any value other than 5 or 7, with 1 or 2 wild cards) – 300 points
All 5 canastas are required to finish the hand. The values of the canastas (required and bonus) are added at the end of the hand, along with 100 points for each accumulated red 3 and the point count of all played cards (5 points for 4 to 7, 10 points for 8 to K, 20 for ace and 2’s and 50 for jokers). As you might guess, the total point count for a hand is quite high – usually over 10,000 points. A game (consisting of 4 hands) usually has a winning point count of over 60,000. It is not unusual to have a difference of over 10,000 points.
Jett has been keeping a cumulative running score since January 1. She is currently ahead by over 80,000 points, due primarily to her uncanny ability to pick up 7’s. She has won 22 of the 32 hands we have played so far. I have accumulated the required set of 7 7’s in less than half of those games.
As picking up 7’s should be a matter of pure luck, I am beginning to doubt the Laws of Probability.
Despite my frustrations, it is still a fun game to play. And a cheap way to keep Jett amused.
























Parade of Light
One of the lit floats
A few of the 200,000 before darkness fell
I was underwhelmed.
Yes, there were a few floats that were nicely lit with colorful LEDs. But mostly it was just your run-of-the-mill parade, but in the dark. Bands went by carrying unreadable banners. Politicians went by, sitting up on the rear seat of an open convertible as politicians are wont to do, but were totally unrecognizable in the dark. Could have been Charles Manson or Greta Garbo. I couldn’t tell what the clowns were doing. All but two of the photos I took were unusable.
Lesson: don’t have a parade in the dark.