Do you believe in angels?

Some people believe angels wear halos and wings. Others may think they live in the clouds and watch over you as you sleep. Others, think angels are a calming breeze in your sails… they are hope…and dreams maybe, and quite possibly a little of all of the above. As we have continued on this journey down the coast of Baja powered by dreams, sails and that trusty Volvo Penta MD6A, we have seen angels manifest themselves in all of the above. Most incredibly, angels have manifested themselves in the people who have willingly or unwillingly involved themselves in this journey.
They manifest themselves in a Captain who is mechanic, electrician, plumber and friend who makes you want to be the best version of yourself. Or they manifest themselves in the good Lady Hornsby who makes you laugh until your sides hurt and make you realize all of the reasons you love to be alive. However, the best of all of these angels have been manifested for us, the Misty Crew, in the Nordic V; a dream that floats along side of us on 48 feet of fiberglass (or in front of us with a big tow rope tied to the front of our boat). Two angels with hearts the size of all of Baja California, and fill us with a soft breeze even as our sails are luffing. Lets meet them.
The good doctor (aka Dad) who seems to know the Misty like he knows his own daughter. Knowledge in his left hand, and patience and caring in his right, he holds us and helps out when needed. Where would we be with out him? Quite literally adrift at sea. Did we forget to mention his crass sense of humor, and playfulness that lifts moral when it seems it’s at its lowest. He takes us fishing for cookies and chips when under tow and always keeps us on our toes. He found us on the docks in San Diego with an engine in pieces (again quite literally) and hasn’t left our side since.
Next, the better half, Cathy (aka mom). If this ocean were a room, she would light it up like a full moon with her playful song, beach cartwheels and deep care and concern. We celebrated her birthday with her and are convinced that with every passing year she is one year younger than the last. She greets adventure with a huge smile and eagerly awaits the next epic. Lets not overlook the wisdom, insight and grace that are always present. Making sure we are well fed with fresh lobster, homemade peanut sauce and chicken noodle soup on a stormy day, you have never seen a more beautiful woman on the bow of a boat.

These people are what angels are made of. They find you floating in the ocean at 7am after the longest night of your life. You thought the longest night of your life was 5 nights ago in gale force winds, sorry sweetie. The longest night so far was actually 150 miles south of San Quintin when we heard a knocking under the boat that says ” woah baby somethings really wrong here, throw me in neutral and heave to.” We applied a small band-aid and started tacking up north to Turtle Bay. After 4 hours we heard the familiar call of the Nordic V, our angels, over the radio and with exhausted teary eyes relayed our coordinates to Dad for a good ol’ fashioned AAA tow.
So if you have ever doubted that angels actually exist, we can say that the Misty Moonlight crew has found many angels along the way, but no angels quite like the soft souls of the Nordic V. So with our eternal thanks, and nothing but gratitude, gratitude, gratitude we continue south with our sister ship, the mother ship, the Nordic V.

1000 days...

As we like to say on Misty, "every day is a thousand days," and truer words were never spoken! So please excuse the cursury list of events that I lay down here. We simply haven´t had time to record the vast number of experiences we have had.

Since leaving San Diego, we made a quick stop in Ensenada to check into the country and buy a tortilla press, sleeping tied up to a rickety dock across from a very loud Sea Lion Colony. We headed out with our sister ship, the Nordic V, and Hornsby caught and bluggened our first fish, a black tuna, at the same moment when our Chartplotter died. We followed the lights of our friends over night and pulled into San Quintin the following day and ran aground as a mocking grey whale calf breached not 40 yards from our boat, but were quickly saved by a passing panga who pulled us off the sand and back into the narrow shifting channel. Safely anchored, we spent some time with our new friends that evening, only to find ourselves under the power of our row-boat captain, Sharkfoot, in a 3 knot tidal current and 20 knots of head wind for the most epic 200 meter paddle of 2010!

We rode out a series of storms in San Quintin, the worst they´d had in a long while and ventured into town as we waited for the swell to die down on the open ocean, only to find ourselves marching back toward our dingy well after dark because the roads had all been washed out.

We left the bay in a convoy of friends, headed for Mag Bay, and had two days of glorious sailing before the wind died and our brand new propeller strut failed! Thanks to our sister ship, we ended up in Turtle bay where we have spent the last two days making the repair which has involved everything from diving with lobster fisherman to find an essential piece that was dropped into 20 feet of water with zero visibility, to hauling the aft end of our boat out on a fishing boat using a block and tackle and a whole lot of people. Needless to say, the three girls on the sailboat who do underwater repairs on their boat which would normally call for a full haul-out have become quite the attraction. We find ourselves being circled by fisherman and locals everyday who swing by for a glimpse of what´s going on.

The stories and experiences, the highs and lows, and the incredible overwhelming feeling we have of blessing and gratitude pale in comparison to these short paragraphs. It will take us several days (or several thousand) to give the adventure the credit due, but the tide waits for no man and we are headed out this afternoon for Mag Bay.

Until then, several thousand days of new adventure await!

Arrival Soup

You may wonder, “When it is time to eat arrival soup? Is it when you leave to cross the border into Mexico? No, were not quite there yet. Is it when you sail through fog with 50-foot visibility only to round Point Loma and have the fog vanish as quickly as it came? No, that was crackers, cheese and carrots. Is it when you get surprised at 3 am with border patrol pulling up to the side of your boat out of the middle of ocean darkness to ask where you are going, where you came from and if you have any stowaways on board? No, no one was eating anything just then. No friends, it is much simpler than that. It is eaten upon arriving somewhere, anywhere.

Arrival Soup first came into our lives after an 18-hour chug up the coast of North America from San Pedro, CA to Channel Islands Harbor, Slip G-48, Oxnard, CA. It was our first venture on the high seas, with our intake silencer conveniently in the port side lazarette and not on the engine. Funny thing is that intake silencer actually does 2 things. 1) It silences the engine (important), and 2) intakes the diesel smoke and runs it out the exhaust and not in your cabin (also important). Needless to say, the boat ride was loud beyond belief (which lead us to start sign language lessons) and was full of diesel exhaust, which takes your stomach on rides beyond your wildest nightmares as the waves rock you back and forth. It proved to be one of the longest nights in history and we were all pretty green upon arrival. So what did we want? That’s right people, some soup. Arrival soup has since become a favorite of the Good Captain, Hornsby, and I must admit, its one of my favorites as well. It is eaten just about anytime we have an arrival, wherever spot we may arrive at.

The following recipe serves 3 and can be made in just 2 easy steps.

Stovetop directions:
Step 1.) Bring 1 pot of water to a boil.
Step 1-a.) Chop up ginger, garlic, onion, carrot, and just about any other veggies you got layin’ around.
Step 1-b.) Add veggies to boiling water and cook 5-7 minutes, stirring occasionally.
Step 1-c.) Add 2 packets Top Ramen noodles and let cook 3 minutes**see note
Step 1-d.) Remove from heat
Step 1-e.) Add 2 Tablespoons Red miso soup mix (If miso is not available you may substitute 1 packet Ramen powder)
Step 2.) Garnish with fresh cracked pepper and enjoy with friends



**Note: Lets just get one thing straight, no one likes to admit that they love to eat Ramen. You know, that stuff that’s filled with MSG and will stain your plastic spoon yellow for 7 wash cycles. That stuff that has absolutely nothing in it that is even almost fresh or even close to good for you. That stuff that you can kinda feel burning away at your insides as it goes down. But, lets face it; Ramen tastes good and has a special place in our hearts. It was the first thing Mom would let me cook on the stove, it cooks in 3 minutes, you can buy 10 packets for $1 and the noodles are slurp-able. Amazing! So even though we may have a hard time admitting that we sometimes enjoy a bowl, it does have its time and place. I also find it important to note and pay tribute to Mr. Ramen himself, Momofuku Ando. That's right, the man who invented Ramen passed away in 2007 at the ripe old age of 96 and he lived a long and healthy life that involved 1 packet of Ramen daily from the time he invented it to the day before he passed. Stay healthy…eat Ramen.

Post Script: Arrival soup can also be good for curing hangovers but the name hangover soup didn’t quite sound as appetizing.

Wind...

If the Goddess that we pray to is the wind, and the temple in which we worship is this 30’ vessel of fiberglass, wood, and canvass, then the pews we sit on, the thing that carries the bulk of our faith on a daily basis is that old Volvo Penta MD6A. Our world is full of pet names for things from the plethora of nicknames we have for each other, to the various, rather un-nautical, names we have for nearly everything else in the boat. But as a sign of respect and dignity, our Volvo Penta MD6A remains just that.

Because we have invested all of our money, energy, laughter and, yes, tears on this “real nice powerboat.” Er…I mean sailboat. At the top of the list of reasons why the reality of this dream is considerably less glamorous than any of us had envisioned is the fact that the Wind, that divine force, seems so often to have forsaken us and we chug along at three hours per gallon of diesel, ears ringing and spirits tuned to the drone of living essentially inside of a tractor.

Yesterday, after motoring all day from Catalina Island and picking up a whopping 29 balloons out of the ocean (Happy Birthday Ocean, indeed) and lapping through the Dana Point Marina, we felt the wind at our face and decided to push on South to Mission Bay. Sails up and motor off, we spent two blissful hours racing downwind at six knots while Sharkfoot made dinner.

When she graces us with her presence our hearts raise up to that Wind as Misty neatly cuts through the water and I, for one, always find myself compelled to sing. We watched the stars come out over the lights of Southern California and, stomachs full, began our night watch rotation. As I crawled into the V-berth I heard the scurrying above deck as Wind, once again, left us out to sea and the sails were doused and the engine cranked.

It’s worth noting the details of this particular incidence for several reasons. First, it was the first time that the Captain here was able to walk away from a change of sail. It’s a sign of our advancement as a team on the water and bodes well for our overall sustainability. But perhaps more importantly, it proves that we are getting our sea legs. Gone are the days of fending off nausea by sleeping all night on the narrow cockpit benches. Instead, we now dive into our berths and, even under motor (admittedly on a glassy night), quickly fall into a deep sleep.

Not so deep enough, however, for me to miss the distinct sound of the engine turning off.

“Are you guys alright?”

“The engine isn’t spitting out any water.” Sharkfoot had expertly detected something wrong with the engine—one of those subtle little sounds you hear only when you know an engine intimately.

“Roll out the Jib and get some steerage” I said as I grabbed some layers. We were at the mercy of Wind again, safely offshore, but unable to run our engine until we solved the problem.

“What a dumb bleeping idea. Buy a bleeping sailboat, and sail it to bleeping Mexico. It’s probably the dumbest idea I’ve ever had in my life!” I cursed as Sharkfoot and I pulled all the gear stowed in the hatch leading to the engine compartment. After looking at the sea strainer and exhaust hoses I sat down in dismay. “I have no idea what’s wrong with this thing.”

Pause…two…three…

“The salt water impeller!” The wonderful thing about an old diesel engine is that they are surprisingly simple machines. Fifteen minutes later the cap was off the salt water pump and sure enough that little piece of neoprene was shredded. The mood changed as we pulled out our spare, and as Hornsby handled the helm, Sharkfoot and I chattered away in a variety of accents as we worked to put the new impeller in.

It’s hard to describe the feeling of being at sea and spooning a diesel engine with two people in the hot, oily, compartment with the lid down. Sharkfoot was crouched in the hatch passing me tools and parts and reading off instructions as I laid on my side across the propeller shaft, head resting on the exhaust hose, butt generously being scratched for me by the ever-moving gears of the steering column, feet halfway up the hull, and working with my one free hand—conveniently my non-dominant Left. And all the while Wind blew at our backs as we made a steady four knots directly on our bearing.

“Evacuate! Evacuate! The Captain has broken wind!” The hatch popped open in a flash and we backed out of our little nook. Thankfully, the job was done and we fired that engine up watching with eager anticipation to see if our fix had worked. With a great whoop we celebrated the first spits of water and found ourselves (well, mostly me) strutting up and down the cockpit, fists in the air, proclaiming our victory in loud voices. But Wind was still with us and we shut the engine right back off and let our hearts settle back into that easy rhythm. Quiet. Smooth. Blissful. And then she was gone. Once again it was time to roll up the Jib and turn on our Volvo Penta MD6A.

The fortunes of our trip so far are too many to name, from finding the right boat, to meeting the one guy at West Marine who was willing to take us under his wing, to finding $50 on the street. But our faith is in Wind, who appears with a gentle breeze at our backs at the moment when we most need her and lifts us from the pews of our church to that airy, light place of this amazing dream.

owed to the night watch

Here we sit, 2010 has come into our lives in flying colors: the deep blues of the Pacific, the oranges of the setting sun and the reds of 3 matching sets of West Marine Foulies. This New Years was rung in complete with home made paper hats, booty shakin' dance parties, fake eyelashes paired with rubber boots (sexy) and a midnight balloon drop at the only bar in Two Harbors. What a night!! Lucky for the Captain, the New Years Eve eve proved much better than our New Years Eve day. The first tragedy of the trip came early the am of Dec 31st and so we have begun a rule list for the crew of the Misty Moonlight to follow: Rule #1) always close the lid of the charmin while flushing (the head on our boat is lovingly referred to as the charmin). Unfortunately the good Captain found out the hard way...but those foul weather bibs will bead up just about anything that comes in contact with them. But enough about that @#$%. 2009 seems like only days ago (wait a minute!) We left the comforts of the Channel Islands Harbor, and our home for the past month-ish, to the warm rolling embraces of the Pacific Ocean under the oh so appropriate light of a very misty moon. Sails up and we were on our way!! Well the wind was a little short lived and after about an hour the wind had died a quick, and very painful death and we found ourselves in the doldrums. So, sails down...and we fired up that Volvo Penta MD6A. I will be the first to admit it is not quite as peaceful as sailing ol’ misty, but those dolphins sure love the purr of that Volvo Penta MD6A (we really like saying Volvo Penta MD6A …you can try too…5 times really fast) and they quickly found us and rode the bow through the evening. So the night watch rotation had begun...we brought out the cushions and 2 sleeping bags and they were set up on the benches on the sides of the cockpit. Captain Luigi started the evening’s watch and Lady Hornsby and I let the hum of that Diesel engine lull us to sleep. About 4 and 1/2 hours later I felt that familiar squeeze of the ankle that says..."rise and shine baby, your turn to watch." By that time the Blue moon was overhead and lighting the way. Lady Hornsby gave me the update, we were crossing the shipping lanes, no tankers sighted but keep a good eye out and we would be across in an hour or so and would change course about 30 degrees to the south. She crawled into the still warm bag I had just vacated and handed me a banana for a snack and was off to dream land. So it was Misty, myself and the big blue ocean alone for the next few hours. This is about the time that your mind starts that choo-choo train of thought that when you get a ways down the tracks you stop and go…wait how did I get here?? I think I started somewhere thinking of the moonlight beams on the water, like lovers dancing on the waves, then all of a sudden… BOOM… I was at that scene in the beginning of Cliffhanger… you know the one where Sylvester lets her slip from his hand and she fall thousands of feet to her death. WOAH! How did I get here? I had to change course so I went back in time to that one day Luigi and I were on the floor of Ace Hardware doing the Pythagorean theorem trying to figure out how much aircraft cable we needed just in case, then I was imagining Lady Hornsby, the day before our departure, running around Ventura in search of used carpet. And then when she found the dream piece, 12x7 nautical blue, and learned it was 27$ she told the man it was out of our price range, offered him 15$ and left empty handed. This is America, can’t barter here. Mexico here we come! Tonight we stay the night at a familiar beach, Whites Landing on Catalina Isle, and plan to head south towards San Diego in the ‘morrow. The adventures continue...until next time friends...
All the best, Sharkfoot

Ready or Not....

Here I, Lady Hornsby, sits on the Night before departure...

Is it actually possible that eight months after we thought up this crazy, ridiculous, absurd, amazing idea that it is truly time to set sail?  WHEN, not if, the motor cranks we will be on our way to Catalina Island for a New Years Eve arrival.  The journey, thus far, has been filled with highs, lows, moments of wondering why? why? why? (would I ever do this to myself) and the constant laughter that makes it all possible.  If you've ever wondered how three women could undertake this journey and not kill each other, it is a valid question.  It is by laughing, laughing and laughing some more.  We opened a bank account together and had so much fun that it was questioned if we were drinking.  We were not.  Some days it causes you to have no real sense of reality when the day passes in an assortment of accents, absurd usage of the English language, and at times (most times), inappropriate behavior. 

When you set your priorities straight, you can accomplish anything. Priorities have included driving an hour and a half to buy a stick pony, acquiring free vegetables, going carolling at an old folk's home, reading a children's story aloud, putting together a costume box and screaming for Captain Luigi to give us a ride in the dinghy we can't seem to sell.    

We have been acquiring all the necessary items over the last months to see that we will be fully prepared.  

1-hula hoop 

1-pony

1-fruit basket (bought before the boat)

2-guitars

1-sweaty betty surfboard

1-sat phone traded for a dead whale skin crammed into a westfalia that cost me hundreds in acupuncture treatments 

The boat is also fully outfitted with all that technical gear and repair type stuff that is not as fun to talk about but will come in REAL handy along the way.  

We are ready to continue manifesting our dream so wish us luck and know that this journey is one of the most precious chances in life that any of us has ever been given.  

 "if i had a boat, I'd go out on the ocean and if I had a pony I'd ride him on my boat" 

boat- check

pony- check

2 of the most amazing, supportive friends i have ever had- check

ready or not, here we go...........

The List...

Our Christmas List has been decidedly different than everybody elses, I suspect. Our Christmas list has been an ever-evolving list of things to do and buy to prepare the Misty Moonlight and ourselves for the big adventure ahead of us. What's on such a list? Well, let's see...

Secure Batteries--check

Get wood from James--check

Insurance--check, this is at least it's second appearance on the list and the second time we've crossed it off too!

Dingy Sell/Buy--half-check we currently have two so if anyone knows someone who needs a sweet double-hull fiberglass dingy, let me know!

Oil Filters

Fuel Filters

Check thermostat

Mexico Cruising Guide--check

H2O tubes replaced--check, well done Sharky!!

Cheek block for reef lines

Anchor and Rode--check

Dodger--Ha!

Nesbitt's Saw

Load Test Batteries--check, this lead us to buying two new batteries...

Measure and mark Anchor Line--check

Flare Gun--check

Tighten belts--well, we tried, so...check...sure...

Buy Rhode (is that your spelling, Sharky?? 'cause I don't know what kinda funny math you've been doing on our bank account but I'm pretty sure we can't afford a State right now--even if it's a small one)

"Man" (what the?....oh my!...who put that on here?)

Boots--check

Pony--check, a story in itself...but another time...

Clothes Pins--check

Grip stuff--check

Plastic wine glasses--check

Fill Propane

Harness

Trash Can--check

Salt H2O pump--check

Call Standard Horizon--check

GPS--check

Flags--check

Charts--check

Patch Repair Kit

Boat Pump

Call Vintage--check

Call Minnies--check

Get Tubing--check

Check Acct--check

Inverter--check

Open House Party--check

Freezer Hinge

Pot Grippers--check

Plugs

Long Lighter--check

Hula Hoop--check

Try boots on with socks--check

Call West Marine/Gold Membership

Shelving

Download "Misty Moonlight"--check

Books--check

X-tra lines

Sat Phone--check

This is just one of several lists I found on this Christmas Eve. The list in my head of things we need rolls off the page...extra shackles and line for our anchors, spare lightbulbs of every kind, more air horns, fishing tackle, a tortilla press, more guitar music...it goes on and on and on. And every purchase digs in just a little further into our already dwindling funds sending us into agonizing debates over what we need and what we want. We chuckle about how much easier every decision would be if we just had a little bit more. So...

Dear Santa,

All I want for Christmas is a couple thousand dollars. You don't even have to come down the chimney or anything, just direct deposit into our bank account if that's easier. Unless you want to come around and share some egg-nog and a card game and a few laughs--a few merry Ho Ho Ho's would fit in well with our set, I think. You are always welcome on the Misty Moonlight!

Much love and Merry Christmas,

Captain Luigi

Someone wise once said, "shoot for the stars and you'll end up on Uranus" or something like that.

Hornsby walked down the stairs during an impromptu rehearsal of Christmas Carols and announced that we were to be singing Carols a local home on Christmas Eve for some folks that didn't have family to share the occasion with. It wasn't at all what we had planned, but surrounded by friends brimming with great love and compassion, I for one knew this was going to be a special holiday.

Christmas was to be spent in Mexico and then maybe Catalina Island, and now, now it's going to be in Ventura, Ca. Sharkfoot had told her family that if she was in the country she would be at home and I had told my family that if we didn't make it out of town in time I would pile the Windworthy Women into a car and make the six hour trek north to a Christmas tradition I was excited to share with dear friends.

But as the song goes, "any place is alright as long as I'm with you." It may be a bit hokey, but I must say, I feel blessed to spend the holidays with two women who I love and respect. So it will be an orphan SoCal Christmas. Instead of being with our families or out on an oceanic adventure, we will surround ourselves with blessings and good wishes and share some joy and music with others.

So Happy Merry to all our loved ones, far and wide! We feel nothing but blessing and gratitude for your love and support. And when we're ready, and only then, we will take those soaring wishes and sail with them.

Beginnings...

It's always hard to figure out where a story really begins. Was it the moment we were offered a free boat by the Captain of a Catalina Island ferry service? Or the moment when our offer on a boat was accepted? Could it be opening the bank account in the names of three ridiculously slap-happy women and pouring our life-savings into a ludicrous dream? Or maybe the day we signed the papers? Or is it much further back? Should we trace through our separate histories and find where they begin to overlap?

I think of a moment in San Pedro, albeit not a happy one, when I, the "captain" sat down on the curb of a parking lot and stared into the murky marina water. Lady Hornsby had taken the car to find fuel filters for an engine we knew nothing about. Sharkfoot and I had spent an hour hauling gear to the dock. Misty Moonlight was about to be put in the water after some repairs and a fresh coat of paint and we, untested and nervous, were to bring her Oxnard.

The list of things we hadn't done loomed large. I sat, mildly catatonic with worry, with all my faith riding on a thin shell of fiberglass, and more importantly, a 1975 (?) Volvo Penta MD6A with a diesel tank of unknown capacity. We were headed "uphill," that is, up wind and up current, to our new berth in Channel Islands Harbor and without an engine it could take us several days to go the 70-ish nautical miles. Sharkfoot had a plane to catch, Hornsby had a wedding to be in, and I had a box of tools and hopefully just enough know-how (read "luck) to help us get there.

They say that blue water sailing is 90% boredom and 10% terror. Fortunately for us we are graced with great friendship and spicy humor, remedies for the swings of emotion we all faced. Sharkfoot sat down next to me and offered the kind of logical compassion I needed.

"We don't have to do anything, you know? I mean, we could go out there for a few hours and figure some things out and then decide that it's too much you know, and just come back. We can get a slip right here. And then we'll just figure it out." That's all it took and after a few deep breaths I was back in the game.

This was our on-going fall back. That we could abandon the mission at any time, sell the boat and be done with it. No one wanted to do it, but it was always an option. Sharkfoot loved to remind us that we could scrap the boat for the lead keel for $2000 in a pinch. Somehow this point wasn't quite as comforting.

Hornsby finally returned, and by 12:30 on November 17th, 2009, after over six months of scheming and dreaming, we were motoring out of Long Beach/San Pedro passing some of the largest container ships in the world. And then came our first blessing. Just at the breakwater we reached a pod of dolphins--the first of many on our journey--and I think we all knew in a strange way, that somehow it would all work out.

A mile outside of the Harbor we set our sails, killed the motor and began to beat upwind, sailing our own boat for the first time. I'm embarrassed to admit, in our surveying of the boat, we had never even raised the sails, so we were thankful the previous owner hadn't cut any large donut holes out of the center of them. Sharkfoot spotted whales off the coast towards Catalina and we, all three, called out to them with our new-found freedom and wonder.

Four hours later we had made only 10 miles of headway so after enjoying a beer at sunset we revved up the engine again, doused the sails, and headed NW across the Santa Monica Basin under the growing darkness.

Seasickness is hard to describe--it seems to sneak up on one--and when Sharkfoot came up with freshly made sandwiches I knew it was too late for me. I took one bite, knowing that I would feel better if I had something in my stomach, but the act of swallowing was such a chore a gave up. The sandwich lay un-eaten for the rest of the journey. Half a dramamine and a drug-induced nap later, I was able to stomach a few crackers.

The cabin was thick with diesel fumes (a problem we have since remedied, but more on that later) and so we spent the night, green from the darkness, the swell, and the smell, taking shifts at the helm or sleeping on cushions on the cockpit benches. No-one left that 20-foot-square area for more than 10 minutes that entire night. We all knew it was going to be one of the longest nights of our lives. We were quite right.

When dawn came we could see Port Hueneme and amidst another pod of dolphins and a six-foot swell we headed into our new home. Weary, nauseous, and giddy at our success, we motored into the Harbor, slid into our new berth and had a celebratory meal of Sharkfoot's special Miso Soup with Noodles (look for our recipe book!). Hornsby and Sharkfoot hobbled up the dock on their sea legs to announce our arrival to the marina as I straightened up the cabin. That pita sandwich of mine lay, unscathed and uneaten, on the center of the floor, along with the entire contents of a beloved fruitbasket and numerous other items large and small, tokens of the night's confused seas. It wasn't long before we all collapsed into bed and let Misty rock us to sleep for the first time.