One year ago today. (Ele Joy in rewind.)

One year ago today my logbook says:

Wind NW 5-10, big swells coming into to Point Judith 8-10 ft. long periods, not breaking. Once out on the sound 4-6 ft swells with the occasional 8 footer.  Cold and damp in the upper 30s, drizzling.  Foggy.  Sailed and motored all day to New London, CT.  Fast leak in the engine’s raw water system, maybe 3 or 4 gallons an hour?  Broken seal in pump?  Replace ASAP.

There are a few things you never do when you go boating, we were warned by not-less-than-a-few dockmasters / lock-keepers on our trip:

1) Never plan past noon.
2) Never buy a wooden boat.
3) Never travel with family.

My brother, sister, and I always tended to looked around sheepishly — and our fourth honorary-sibling-friend Nicole would then snort: “Guess that’s three strikes!”  Since Maine I’ve shouldered this frequent advice as best I can, but will say now, without apology, that the second two rules must be bullshit.  The first rule is definitely true however: long-term planning is the luxury of the sedentary.  But traveling with family and fixing a wooden boat were definitely worth all the stresses and foolishness-es, hands-down.

Whatever fool’s luck I’ve had the chance to live by, it appears that I can’t ever seem to pick the easy way to learn, nor the easy way to travel.  Last winter (why winter?!) I cruised down the east coast of the North Atlantic with three lifelong friends, two of whom (brother and sister) broke boating-rule number three.

We left South Bristol, Maine on November 25th and — after 1,520 nautical miles (about 1,750 statute/regular miles) — arrived in Brunswick, Georgia on March 29.  We had 48 days on the water (3 overnights, 2 false-starts, 4 days of harbor shuffles) and 160 days living dockside in ports or at anchor.  After many tribulations, the Ele Joy crew and I have returned to Maine as many of you have now supposed.

Why the radio silence?

It was wicked hard.  Cold.  The frost and mildew, the weather, the constant severance from my girlfriend at the time, not having money, on and on.  Even though it was difficult to decide to leave the boat and come back to Maine — I’m so glad I did come back.  Cruising, I realized, for me, is all about sharing interesting places with people I love.  A lot of those interesting places are closer to home than you might expect; and I think those people you share it with are often not on the other side of the world, but they are actually just staring you in the face.

There are/were many, many stories, difficulties, family and personal reasons for the abrupt change in returning to the Maine mother-land, but none of these bear an easy or quick telling.  I hope that as we catch up with friends (boating and landlubber alike), we can share with you what was for us four (and sometimes three), far and away the most challenging and rewarding trip we’ve ever taken.

Monday I’m headed to do a short cruise on Ele Joy with my brother.  Around the world?  Probably not right now.  But definitely — well… let’s just say that Ele Joy is not coming back north yet.

Check out the video (below) and map (even further below) of our first big trip.

Cheers,  Ben.

 

Here’s a beautiful map made by Emily Meader in tandem with Rhumb Line Maps:

A Brief Interlude From An Epic Journey

Emily back in Maine (Photo credit John Meader)

The more observant of you, may have noticed that the little dot that represents the Eleanor Joyce hasn’t moved in about a month. Have they run aground? Is the trip over? NO! No need to think the worst you naysayers! We simply took a brief hiatus from the nautical realm, to visit with family and friends back in Maine.

My personal journey took me from Charleston, South Carolina back to Portland, Maine in a matter of hours. The entire distance we sailed over months time, took only a hop, skip and a jump by plane. I found myself back in familiar and incredibly snowy territory. The snow banks were much larger than I remembered from years past, which was a novelty it seemed, for only me.

After my first week back in Maine at my mother’s house, I started realizing how much my lifestyle had changed since I had left. At the house I could go to the bathroom any time I wanted, do my laundry and take a shower at any time of day. I was sleeping on a spring mattress and had constant access to the internet and electricity sources. Yet even with all of these modern-day marvels, I still missed my little bunk on the boat. It solidified my feeling that the boat really is my home.

Pelican welcomes us back to South Carolina

The Eleanor Joyce had a brief and well deserved rest of her own. She got to laze about in a very secure facility that gave her the company of other boats similar to herself so she was never lonely. Even though she liked her rest, she was incredibly joyous at the return of the Meaders three.

Now that the three have reconvened, we are yet again ready to make that little dot that is our tracking system, move once again.

Carolina Livin’!

Perhaps the ICW is more like the “A.T. for boaters” in the summertime.  We’ve had a good run of it, but since we left Maine we have seen THREE other cruisers, total, only one of which was under sail while we were.  Why did we leave so late?  Why has it taken us so long?  Why haven’t we gone on the outside since Virginia?  Well, after seeing some of the winter New England is having now, I have to say I am glad we headed south.  If only the paint had dried sooner.  Yes, at 25 – 30 nautical miles per day on top of trying to work … it takes time.  Lots of time.  As for motoring down the ditch as opposed to sailing offshore?  There’s a reason some people call Cape Hatteras the “Horn of the North Atlantic” — not long after cruising through Albemerle Sound we heard tell of a de-masted boat out there, and we shivered as we thought of how cold and windy it was even in the canals.  My own experience offshore was marred by a gulf-stream experience of 15+ foot waves.  We’re noobies!  So we’re playing it safe and waiting and motoring south instead.  The ICW is somewhat like a cold highway in the wintertime, but occasionally we see dolphins!

An ex-schooner captain I know gave me some sage advice: “It is true what they say, discretion is the better part of valor — don’t be afraid to turn back and limp on in to the same port you came from.”  Yesterday Natty, Emily, and I were set to do an overnight from Charleston to Jacksonville.  The wind was right, northwest shifting to north overnight, everything seemed in place.  But after making barely 3 knots all morning into choppy seas, gusty winds, and biting cold; having only made 10 miles from Charleston Harbor’s mouth; and after hearing on our VHF that the wind chill would bring the temperature (from the “balmy” 25 degrees we’re used to) down to near zero; we decided to return to Charleston.

So we’re back!

I’m not sure how long we’ll be here, but for now warmth matters more than miles.  I wish all of my friends in the northeast the best of luck with what I’m sure will be a long slog with shovel and snowblower.

For now, here’s an update and some video from the past month or so.

And Then There Were 2

I find it interesting every time someone departs or joins our crew, how the tone on the boat and mood of the people on it shift. The change isn’t always good, or bad, it’s just different. I know that this happens with all groups and their dynamics, but it is slightly more extreme when you take that group, put them all in a ‘small box’ and send it out to sea. Every person that boards the boat brings their own personality and moods with them and those consequentially affect everyone because of the very small environment we have chosen to live in. I know I have found it personally difficult to contain emotions that I have in order not to spread them to everyone else. Just because I’m having a bad day one day doesn’t mean everyone has to as well.

The boys

Thankfully everyone that I have traveled with so far I have gotten along with, and everyone has been very considerate of how everyone else is feeling. We all bring our traits with us. Nicole brought her goofiness and her determination, Ben brought his goofiness and his romanticism, Forrest brought his goofiness and his sarcastic sensibilities, and I brought my goofiness and my obvious wit and charm. The ability to be goofy on the boat is mandatory.

Ben making breakfast

I think on this now because we have gone through multiple stages with our crew. We started with four: me, Ben, Forrest and Nicole. It was a wonderful way to start the trip. We braved the cold and snow together, learned how to work out our dynamic and our roles. Ben our leader and captain set the stage and showed us how to operate his new home. Forrest was first mate and was key in showing Nicole and I the basics of boating and sailing since we were less experienced. Nicole was our resident systems engineer and electrician, heading most of the small projects that helped turn the boat into a happier and more comfortable place to live. She also was ‘The Lady of Light‘ who stood on the bow with the spotlight when we came in after dark. I took it upon myself to become the group photographer, tiller girl, and ready and willing learner.

In Virginia, Nicole had to leave us for a while to return to Maine, dubbed her ski-bbatical. The dynamic changed. I took over ‘The Lady of Light’ responsibilities and tried to head more projects to make us all more comfortable. We all had to adjust, which had the up of having a bit more space, but the down of no Nicole. It was strange at first not to have Nicole on the boat. If she had been with us this entire time, I have no doubt that mini projects on the interior of the boat would make the cabin look completely different than it does now. She is a wonderful and powerful ally to the Meaders! We miss her greatly and will be excited for her return.

Nicole on the bow

Down to just us two!

Then it was the Meaders three. Anyone who knows us, have most likely found out that we are an odd trio We have a tendency to be a bit weird and silly and sometimes talk in inside jokes when we are all together. We were a bit worried that if we spent too much time just the three of us out at sea, that we would return to the mainland speaking only in our own made up language and would no longer be able to communicate with the outside world. This so far hasn’t happened. I’m not going to say that it won’t, but it hasn’t happened YET. I won’t lie, there are days that most of what is being spoken is said through Star Wars and Lord of the Rings quotes with the occasional references to The Dark Tower. For a while there, we thought we might be the weirdest ones on the water. HOWEVER, once we started to meet other sailors on our journey, we found that this was simply … not true. It helps to keep your sanity in check when you meet someone who was just out on the water hallucinating for three days and had to be saved by the coast guard. We may be crazy but we haven’t seen “trees floating upright in the Gulf of Maine” … !

We have grown comfortable in our dynamic, but Forrest decided he was going to go away for a couple of days. This leaves just Ben and me. Forrest has only been gone one day so we haven’t yet fully adapted. The absence of his continuously jocular tone and silliness is already very noticeable. He will not be gone for long but while he is I am first mate! Jobs are being redistributed and Ben and I successfully moved the boat the two of us. Ben and I will surely find our own stride just in time for his return.

It’s a constant game of wind, sails, emotions, and being adaptable. I am just happy that I have found great people to do it with.

First Post, Thoughts on the Trip Thus Far

It is high time that I post on this blog. As First Mate, Root Beer Quality Inspector, and Resident Warlock (see crew bios), I feel I have shirked my duties by not taking it upon myself to write yet, and I cry yer pardon, for I have forgotten the face of my father (been reading a lot of Stephen King lately).

I suppose I should begin with what this trip has done for me thus far. It has obviously been a huge change in life style; limited elelectricityclose quarters, and chronic coldness, as I’m sure you have read about in previous posts. It has been both freeing and restricting. Liberating in the sense that we live in a mobile home where we can go where we want, and sleep where we want (especially now that we have begun to figure out the fine and ancient art of anchoring). It’s a great feeling knowing that the things you have to worry about most are simply the weather, and OH MY GOSH WHAT WAS THAT NOISE?!? Oh it was just Emy sitting down. Ok maybe we’re a little paranoid. every new noise we hear we hope to god its nothing to do with the engine or running aground, or something hitting the boat, or something going wrong. I mean can you blame us? We just spent the last year and a half working on getting this thing in the water. Aside from our noise paranoia, there really is much less to worry about. Since its just the three of us (currently our engineer is on “Skibatical” back home) in a floating box, social norms go out the window. We fart, we burp, we spit, we- well I won’t go into it too far, you get the idea… All in all we lead pretty relaxed lives now. Especially now that we’re out of the north and really finally heading towards warmer weather (knock on wood). Beginning first month, or our leg to New York City, we all felt like we were in a rush. “Gotta get south! Gotta get south! Gotta get south!” Why? Because its been really freaking cold. Especially out on the ocean. We found the word “calories” to take on a whole new meaning. To most, they think “Oh, those are bad! they make you fat!” to us, we think “Oh, those! give us more! Calories mean heat!” A spoonful of peanut butter, a few snickers bars, and some cliff bars throughout the day were common place among oatmeal or eggs and bread breakfasts, mac and cheese or baked beans lunches, and whatever dinner was being made that night. Now that we are further south, its still pretty cold but its no where near as bad as sailing while its literally snowing. In so saying we’ve slowed down a bit, taking our time down the ICW, actually enjoying ourselves now.

Restricting in the obvious way of very limited electricity, and ways to reach the outside world. That said I’ve had to find other ways to entertain myself than I was used to back home in Maine. I’ve started reading more. Stephen King, The Dark Tower Book IV The Wizard And Glass is my current read, as I said in the beginning (do ya kennit?). When we reached Norfolk, my girlfriend, Lizzie Hannah (beautiful name isn’t it?), came to visit us for a week and a half. During it we read the first book in the Pendragon series. A favorite of hers from her childhood, and a series I intend to pursue. Other than that, we have been reading aloud The Princess Bride, although we have taken an extended break as the fourth of our ka-tet (see: Stephen King’s, The Dark Tower), Nicole is still in Maine, but we will finish it when she returns. Ben has read aloud some of the works of Rumi, among his other favorite poets, some passages from the bible (we aren’t exactly the most “religious” sort by any means, but it never hurts to broaden you scholarly horizons) and starting this week we have begun to read our very own fathers book, Dell Turner by John T. Meader. Learning of our families back ground has been both interesting and funny as we hear tell of how Dell apparently left his home in New Brunswick at the age of 9 (although Dad figures out he must’ve at least been 15) to start his life in the world, and the stories that he was so known for.

Well anyways its good to finally write down and broadcast my thoughts of the trip thus far. I mean to write more posts a little more regularly. But in the meantime, thankee sai (see Dark Tower) for reading my ramble.

Downs and Ups!

Living on a sailboat has its fair share of ups and downs, I have decided to share some of my highlights and some of my complaints. I wouldn’t actually categorize them as complaints per se, just general things that are harder to deal with.

To get it over with, my woes, I’ll say them first so I can end on a high note.

The COLD: the temperature aboard the boat varies considerably, and when we have Thomas (our little woodstove) going and all of us are below with blankets it can be quite pleasant. At other times the cold seems to pierce through all the layers and set up camp as it tries to bring down your core body temperature. Once it sets in, it’s hard to shake. Thank god for hand warmers, and hot snaps!

The damp is another thing that I think we all struggle with. When I filled my cubby full of my stuff at the beginning of the trip I had no idea the amount of condensation that accumulates and how much the boat sweats. I am constantly drying the walls above my bed and getting the occasional cold drops of water on me that have amassed around the inner side of the portholes. It seems to be an on going battle to try to keep things dry. I have found that electronics don’t like being in cold wet areas and therefore have to be in dry bags at all times unless in immediate use. The cold also drains batteries and our one outlet is good for charging phones but not for laptops.

Most recently I experienced what it is like to be very sick aboard the boat. I had a cold/flu that turned into bronchitis, which was difficult to over come. To top it all off, I was sick when we saw our FIRST WHALE! I have seen whales before but I have been dying to see one while underway on the Eleanor Joyce. I had kept telling my brothers that this was the longest whale watch I had ever been on. I was below deck with my contacts out and a fever when Forrest called up to me that there was a whale. I peeked my head out and could kind of see a blurry grey spot in the water but felt so terrible I had to quickly retire back to my sleeping bag. I am hoping that another whale will be in the cards for us in the near future to witness when I am in a better state.

My highlights are numerous. I would say my favorite times would have to be when we are under way, the sun is out and I’m outside singing with my brothers. During the Dismal Swamp, Ben and I got to spend a lot of time together singing songs and talking about the Silmarillion. We drank tea and coffee as we slowly motored through the canal, which looked more suited for a canoe than a sailboat. Meanwhile Forrest and his girlfriend happily took turns reading out loud.

The people we’ve met along the way have also been great. In Portsmouth we made multiple friends. Nicole and her beautiful husky had us over to see her boat and made us dinner, and our new friend Mike had us over with a bunch of his friends for tacos. People have been very open and giving to us along the way.

I love that our main light source at the moment are Christmas lights which give the cabin a charming and festive glow at night which makes it feel warmer. I also like the more I am on the boat, the more I understand it’s quirks and the more it feels like home.

Another highlight would have to be at night everyone cozying up and watching a movie on a laptop. The Court Jester was our latest movie-night choice; it was perfect for the Meader children while we were all in goofy moods.

So far being on the ICW is much different than being on the Ocean, I miss sailing and can’t wait to get back to it but motoring slowly and going under bridges has been fun and interesting. Every time we go under a bridge I find it slightly amusing that we are causing a giant traffic jam on both sides of the bridge and that everyone has to stop what they are doing so our little boat can pass by.

I’m sure the adventures will only continue as we head South into warmer weather, I don’t know much about the southern states but so far all I can say is: I like it.

-Em

Cruising cold, singing songs.

Why haven’t I written a blog post since I left?

It has been cold.  I’ve been busy putting my damp, cold, smelly pants on everyday and figuring out which tide and wind are best for the next leg.  Except this isn’t really a trip anymore, it is just normal life now — where is the next affordable marina to fill our water tanks?  Where is it easiest to sidle along down the coast?  Where can we anchor and actually get some sleep?  When will I go offshore?  Where is there WiFi to get some work done?

Beautiful sky and a sun dog reward us for the cold.

I’m not in the Navy.  I’m not a tuna fisherman or a lobsterman.  I don’t work on a trawler or container ship or an oil tanker.  I’m not even a “yachstman”, really.  I don’t have roller-reefing or self-tailing winches, I don’t have a permanent mooring or a yacht-club membership.  I don’t have a “real” reason to be on the ocean, do I?  But I do have a boat and a destination, and I guess that’s enough for now.  Sometimes I get frustrated, feel judged for looking vagrant, feel distant from loved ones, and want a warm place to sleep — but all it takes is a good breeze and a beam reach at 5 or 6 knots and it seems like I don’t need anything else.  Just a couple of laughs with my sibs, a good friend, a song, and the promise of warm weather soon.

So what do I write about?  So many wonderful people, a lot of exciting days of sailing, and a lot of patient days waiting for weather.  I don’t always know how or what to write, but I can show you a couple of videos.  My loyal crew has been doing a great job with the words, so I’ll stick, for now, to the moving image.

This one goes to Natty and company at Youth Traditional Song weekend — I’m so jealous and wish I could be there.  Keep singing, wherever you are!

 

Overnight on the Jersey Shore

How to tackle the Jersey Shore had been troubling us for a while. Between Point Pleasant/Manasquan, where we spent Christmas waiting for a storm to blow through, and Cape May, 80 nautical miles away, easily accessible harbors were limited. We hit the water early on the 26th and found we were making good time in a favorable wind. With our last good harbor to starboard at 11 am and a clear night ahead of us, we decided to go for it – our first sailing overnight.

We started four-hour shifts that afternoon and dutifully rotated through them all night. My first shift was 10 pm – 2 am with Ben, so I tried and managed to get a little sleep that evening in preparation. At 10, I chowed down some chili from the dinner I had missed and sent Emmy off to bed. The night was crisp and bright, though Atlantic City provided a low glow on shore. The wind had shifted, so we were forced to tack every few hours, making plenty of miles over ground but few toward our destination of Cape May. Of course every mile we did make was one more than we would have had we been sleeping in port, so we were content with our progress.

At 2 am, Forrest relieved Ben, and he and I began our graveyard shift. At first, it was tough for Ben to rest while we were at the helm of his boat, but after we successfully tacked and sheeted-in the mainsail, he was able to relax a little and sleep, with confidence in his crew.

Though I often felt cold and tired, the night passed more quickly than I expected. We watched the stars arc across the sky, while the lights of large ships came in and out of view along the horizon. We sipped tea and snacked, while reading short stories aloud. We chatted at times, and at others, enjoyed silence.

When my time was up at 6 am, it was easy to fall straight to sleep on the leeward bunk. But, I was a bit wistful as I drifted off, thinking about the sunset I would miss and how my companeros would entertain themselves for the next four hours. What would they see, how would the wind shift, what songs would they sing? I woke periodically to shift bunks as they tacked and finally popped above deck to see the sun at noon. Atlantic City was still in view and the wind was calm, so we kicked on the engine and motored our way into Cape May in the late afternoon.

Tired but triumphant we docked, dined, and showered before cozying into our bunks again. We’re looking forward to more overnights as we head south, knowing that with better wind, we could really cruise, and with warmer temperatures, sitting on deck all night would be downright glorious.

Photos from Maine to NYC

Check ’em out here!

Days Off

Perhaps you’ve been wondering what the Ele Joy crew does on days when our little GPS dot is stationary.  Let me give you a glimpse of why we take breaks and what we do when we’re not sailing the seas…

Weather: The top reason we remain in port is disagreeable weather. We’ve waited out two Nor’easter storms, strong headwinds that would have slowed our progress to a crawl, and high seas that would have tossed our boat (and stomachs) around a bit too much. And then there’s the fun that comes with winter sailing: snow on deck, ice on the cabin portholes, and wind chills that have us huddled up in 6 layers of clothes. Good thing that our Grundens foul weather gear runs large! But, we also see the sun rise and set most days, the clouds rolling over us, and the stars shining brightly on crisp nights.

R&R: Though we’re trying to get south to warmer climes, we also want to enjoy the great places and people that we pass by on the East Coast. I can’t even count all of the friends who have met up with us for dinner or drinks, brought us home for a shower and a warm night’s sleep, or taken a meal and a song with us aboard the Ele Joy (you all rock!). We’ve also enjoyed some tourist time along the way… wandering the Old Port in Portland, ME; a sandwich in Sandwich, MA; a slice from Mystic Pizza in CT; jazz at the famous Village Vanguard, exhibits at the Met, and treks across Central Park in NYC. So much to see, but we also have a boat to move south!

Maintenance: The Ele Joy isn’t a huge boat, but she’s got plenty of systems to keep ship-shape. We have only taken one day off specifically for maintenance, to replace a l-e-a-k-y water pump (shhh don’t say it outloud), but work projects do keep us busy on inclement weather days. Since leaving, we’ve installed a navigation system (don’t worry, it’s our back-up), tuned the mast, measured our water storage capacity (more than 100 gallons!), added a safer way to lower the jib from on deck instead of the bowsprit, finally hung up our American flag… and there’s more quality-of-life enhancements to come. Our best hardware store excursion yet involved pedaling borrowed bikes along 4-lane roads to Home Depot during rush hour in Connecticut and then biking back with 4-foot long pieces of lumber and sheets of plexiglass sticking out of our packs. Glad there weren’t any low-hanging wires along the way.

So, if you go online and notice that the Eleanor Joyce is sitting in port somewhere, imagine us wandering the aisles of hardware stores, loitering in warm restaurants, joking with friends about the merits of sailing in December, or looking at modern art while wearing jackets speckled with the paints and putties that made the Ele Joy seaworthy again. Oh, and sometimes we get around to writing blog posts.