CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY FOUR: ON THE HARD AND ON THE ROAD

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY FOUR: ON THE HARD AND ON THE ROAD

I’m writing from Slow Motion’s “perch” on top of blocks and spindly legged tripods in the boatyard of Spring Cove Marina. We are “on the Hard”, which is to say, Slow Motion was hauled out of the water way back on June 4 and placed in this precarious position to have her bottom painted and propellers removed and reconditioned. It is now Saturday, June 21, and we’re still here on dry land (except for the occasional thunderstorm puddles). So what went wrong? Actually, “What didn’t go wrong?” is the better question. First, the propellers were removed and taken to Miller’s Island Propeller in Baltimore. We had high hopes that they could be reconditioned. Those hopes were dashed when Don, the Spring Cove Boatyard Manager, reported to us on Friday, June 5, that one of the two propellers was too damaged to save. At first we decided to have the other propeller reconditioned – but wait – this was a matched set. What were we going to do for a second propeller? Don told us that we could have a new one in just 6 weeks for a mere $2600. Yikes! I don’t know which was worse, the prediction of a six week wait “on the hard” or the sticker shock of several thousand dollars for one propeller.

The Admiral went to work doing what he does best – research on the internet for propellers that could be delivered in days, not weeks. And as we thought some more about trying to match an old re-conditioned prop with a shiny brand new prop, we decided we had to shop for two new propellers that we knew would match and work well together. Propellers are tricky – if they don’t work well together, the boat shimmies, and the bigger the shimmy the greater the loss of fuel efficiency. Not that 3 miles per gallon will ever be considered fuel efficient, but within big boat parameters, we want to maximize our fuel efficiency. Propellers are sometimes called the “wheels” of a boat, and the analogy works to a certain extent. Just as you want a matched set of tires for the front or back of your car – the same make, model, tread with equal wear and tear, so do you want a matched set of propellers driving your boat. Now before you start doing the math – two times $2600 – the Admiral found some appreciably better prices on line. After hours of searching all the propeller websites across the United States, he found a manufacturer in Florida that could make us a matched set of propellers for $2100 per prop, including all the shipping costs. Each propeller weighs about 75 pounds, so the shipping costs are hefty. AND, this Florida business could deliver the new propellers in less than a week. We Broke Out Another couple Thousand, and we are now the proud owners of two completely new propellers, which arrived on Thursday, June 19.

For the past two years we have been carrying a set of “spare” propellers in a storage space in the cockpit. Before we sprang for two brand new ones, we wanted to see if the spares could save us. The first major disappointment was that the spares did not even fit on Slow Motion’s propeller shafts. Undaunted, we thought we could get some money toward the purchase of new props, if we could sell the spares to a boat they would fit. So we sent the spares to Miller’s in Baltimore for their evaluation as to seaworthiness. The second major disappointment was that, while these props could be reconditioned, the holes in them had been bored too large for their size, so few boats could use them. Gosh, I wonder if the guy who sold us Slow Motion (nee Lady Leigh) knew the story of these spare props. Surely, you don’t keep 150 pounds of misfit props on your boat just for the halibut. Or maybe you do, using them as a “selling point” to the unsuspecting buyer. Unfazed by this setback, the Admiral asked me to call a scrap metal yard to see what they would pay for the so-called spare props. Turns out they will give us $1.50 per pound, so it’s not a total loss. And we can keep our original props as emergency spares. They may not be in the greatest shape, but they fit and they work!

In the meantime, the Admiral put new zincs on the propeller shafts. Then we moved on to the rusty anchor chain, which is only rusty for the first 100 feet. That’s the good news. The bad news is that two of the chain links near the anchor were about ready to disintegrate. A very good observation by the Admiral. We don’t want to lose our anchor next time we reel it out. So it was back to Ace Hardware to get some strong new links. And while we were at it, why not paint the rusty part of the anchor chain? My job was to scrape all the dirt, sand and grime off the links with a metal brush, and the Admiral followed me with a fast-drying primer coat. Oh, I also swept out the hold for the anchor chain and cleaned up the rust particles around the anchor pulley on the bow of the boat. That anchor hold is rasty, and it’s cleverly hidden behind some lovely mirrors at the head of the bed in the guest cabin. Hey! What am I complaining about? I’m still sleeping atop the reserve diesel tanks in the master cabin. In a house, you’re just not so close to the “guts” of the various systems – heating, hot water, electric, fuel. So you have the illusion of gracious living. On a boat, you are never far away from its working parts – it’s humbling to lift our mattress to check the level of diesel fuel in the reserve tanks. And if I never have to open the looking glass to clean out the anchor chain hold again, it would still be too soon.

This is our first full weekend of staying on the boat “on the hard” and working on it. Right after we were hauled out on June 4, we headed for the mountains of Western North Carolina, where we spent five days in a wood cabin outside of Murphy, NC. And when we returned to the boat on Wednesday the 11^th, we stayed but one full day and then headed to the mountains of Central Pennsylvania – the Poconos – and stayed with my brother and his wife until this Friday, June 20. Those trips to the mountains saved us from 98 degree temps and high, high humidity in the boatyard. Did I mention that we have no air conditioning “on the hard”? We simply had to go to a higher altitude and a cooler climate to survive. When we called the boatyard during the heat wave, we learned that it was even too hot some days for the Spring Cove employees to work. They went home one day because of the heat. If they live in Solomons and they still have a problem coping with the heat and humidity, then we transients have no chance of surviving these extreme conditions. So the mountains saved us – big time.

Kids, gather round, it’s time for the mountain travelogue. First, the Great Smoky and Blue Ridge Mountains. They both earned their names. Every morning we would look out our cabin floor to ceiling sliding glass doors and see “smoke” nestled in among the valleys and mountain crests, which had a bluish hue in the distance. We had a few persistent cardinals in the tall trees near the cabin who were tracking our every move and warbling territorial throw downs to each other. The humidity was low and the cotton was high – not sure about the cotton – didn’t see any, but as to the humidity, we were able to sleep without sticking to the sheets or each other and our bodies did not “glisten” as soon as we left the cabin. There were plenty of sights to be seen, so each day we headed to a different location of natural or manmade beauty. On our travel to the cabin on Saturday, we passed through the sun-dappled Nantahala Gorge, where rafters and kayakers were negotiating mild white water rapids and a trout fisherman was gutting his catch. Deep down in the Gorge was an historical (hysterical?) sign about a naturalist and author from Philadelphia, William Bartram, who met a band of Cherokee led by their chief Atakullakulla, “in May 1776 near this spot”. Close enough for government work.

On Sunday my nephew Dwight came from Atlanta for brunch – the Admiral makes wickedly tasty omelets and I created a berry beautiful fruit salad. Then we drove to the Ocoee River in Tennessee, where the white water sports were held during the 1976 Atlanta Olympics. There’s a dam on the Ocoee River, part of the TVA system, which is opened to allow tons of water to tumble over the big boulders in what is usually a very tame and nearly dry Ocoee River, thereby creating a dangerous course of rapids over and around partially covered rocks. They have videos of the Olympic kayakers trying to get through the slalom course in one piece. And we watched real kayakers and rafters, with helmets, bouncing around the rocks and trying to stay upright. The day was perfect – in the 70’s, sunny, a little breeze…and did I mention low humidity? What made it really perfect was the visit from Dwight, who was my travel buddy in California when he was 4 years old. It felt strange for him to be driving me around – I kept looking to my left to see if this was the cherubic 4 year old whom I had chauffeured to the California beaches and Dean’s Toy Store, or if he was the present day all grown up family man. One thing hasn’t changed – he still has the sweetest temperament of anyone you will ever meet.

You can’t visit any part of North Carolina without trying out a barbecue joint. Just a few miles from the cabin was Rib Country, which we noticed had beaucoup cars in its parking lot every lunch and dinner time. Their pork spare ribs did not disappoint. When the Admiral is having a dining epiphany, his eyes roll back into his head and his mouth emits sounds of pleasure. That’s what Rib Country ribs did for him. No fat, just smoked meat, and a barbecue sauce almost as good as Li’l Red’s in Ft. Lauderdale. The music was good – hits from the 50’s and 60’s – the service was excellent (lots of napkins) and the price was right.

Although the ribs were a bonus, it was the scenic wonders that kept drawing us up country roads like Violet Church Road, named for Sabina’s dainty dachshund, who has a whole cult following in these North Carolina hills called the Violet Baptist Church. We encountered this additional proof that dachshunds rule as we climbed the Hiwassee Dam Access Road to view the incredibly serene Lake Hiwassee and the immensely powerful Hiwassee Dam, built in 1940 by none other than the Tennessee Valley Authority, “the nation’s largest public power producer.”  When you are standing at the Dam site, a sign tells you: “You are now at Hiwassee Dam, a multi-purpose dam on the Hiwassee River. Water stored here helps control floods. Released water generates electricity and helps maintain navigation depths on the Tennessee. Before reaching the Ohio River the same water produces electricity at eight additional dams.” Dang! I mean, Damn! Now that’s getting the most out of every drop of water. I wish we had a public water system in Monterey, California. It doesn’t make sense for a profit-making company to have control of this vital natural resource. But every time public water advocates try to get voters to opt for  public ownership of our water, the dreaded Cal Am Water Company spends millions of dollars spreading misinformation and threatening the fires and brimstone of Revelations, if we mess with their profit-making. They over-pumped the Carmel River to the point where the State intervened with a cease and desist order. They raise their rates to pay for their failed projects or for their failure to maintain the system – like letting a dam silt up until it became useless, now charging for removal of the dam. And don’t get me started on all the legal costs for all the lawsuits they have settled on the backs of their rate payers. But I digress – back to the wonders of North Carolina. The water woes of Monterey County can wait – in fact, that’s all they do, wait for the next rate hike.

I have saved the greatest wonder for last – the John C. Campbell Folk School in Brasstown, North Carolina. This place is so cool. Even though it’s named for a man, two women founded it: Olive Dame Campbell and Marguerite Butler. And a third woman, Lillie Scroggs, ensured that they would establish the school in Brasstown by making the first land donation to the Folk School – 25 acres, with an additional 50 acres after that. The original idea was shared by Olive Dame and her husband John C., as they had studied the Danish folkehojskole movement and planned to visit Denmark to visit a number of their folk schools. The trip was scheduled for 1914, but World War I broke out and the Campbells’ trip was cancelled. Then John C. died in 1919, but Olive Dame carried their idea to fruition, with the help of Marguerite Butler. They both traveled to Denmark (and Finland, Norway, Sweden, Germany and England) in 1920 and learned what they needed to know to start a Folk School. The Danish folkehojskole was designed to provide an “education for life”, teaching rural farmers every possible folk art, as well as basics in  reading, writing and mathematics. Campbell and Butler both knew that the farmers in Appalachia would benefit from such an education for life, and they instituted a program similar to the Danes. This program started with farming, including raising poultry and growing all the crops necessary to be self-sufficient. Georg Bidstrup, a dairy farmer, came from Denmark in 1926 to manage the farming aspects of the school. In 1936 he married Marguerite Butler. (My, my, what a long courtship.) Georg ended up being the Director of the Folk School from 1967 to 1973. He loved dancing and his most memorable line was “Let’s make a big circle”. Hey, maybe it’s not the most profound statement, but it served him and the Folk School well. To this day, there are clogging and all forms of dancing at the School, where the dancers no doubt start out making a big circle.

What is so cool about this school is that, as a visitor, you can attend every class in progress. You are welcomed in the middle of whatever the class is doing: cooking lamb for dolmas (stuffed grape leaves – in Appalachia? You betcha!), knitting baby sweaters, re-caning chairs, blacksmithing, making jewelry, dancing, gardening, writing, photography, bluegrass banjo, fly fishing. These classes “provide experiences in non-competitive learning and community life that are joyful and enlivening.” Touchdown! That’s what they write on their website, and I can vouch that it’s all true. The students in each class were both joyful and enlivened by their learning experiences. And they came from everywhere. In the caning class I met a woman from Alabama who had brought her family’s rocking chair to weave a new seat for it. This was a one week class. Since there is no television anywhere in any of the dormitories, many of the students return at night to the classrooms to keep working on their projects. No television: What a concept! And you should see the brochure with the list of daily and weekly activities. It’s a dizzying array of music and dancing activities, as well as craft exhibitions and hiking opportunities. Should you need more mental challenges that the arts and crafts provide, there is a huge chessboard out on the lawn by one of the dormitories, where you can stretch your mental muscles at the same time you exercise your physical muscles moving the pieces. And if you are just going for a day, as I did, you have to visit the Craft Shop, which displays and sells the works of local artists and past and present students. The logo for the Folk School is a horse pulling a plow, guided by a person behind it. The motto is: “I sing behind the plow”. This motto comes from the following paragraph written by Mads Hansen:

 “I am just a simple farmer, downright and plain, and yet I love my modest callings, for around my little home grow blossoms fair with color and perfume. Mine is the clear spring, mine is the fresh breeze. I grew up to the song of the birds, learned a little of them, too. I sing when the impulse comes to fly light and free. I sing behind the plough and to the sound of the mowing. Hills and woods give back my song. And when I am weary with toil and day is done, my spirit is fresh, my mind at ease, I am happy and free. I would not change places with any man on earth, nor will I leave this spot in the North.”

I know we can’t all be “simple farmers”, but whatever we choose to do, at the end of the day – no matter how wearying and full of toil – we can aim for a fresh spirit, a mind that is at ease, happiness and freedom. If you love what you’re doing, you are a “simple farmer” in your soul. Godspeed!