Category Archives: Limericks

Mail underway…

To find the right words would be tough,
When “Thank you” is not quite enough,
Our lives wouldn’t be
Fancy free on the sea,
Without them to manage our “stuff.”

Every week or so, we get a cheerful note in our email box with the subject, “Mail underway…” We love Barry’s parents, our Camano Island angels, who make sure that our important mail follows us wherever we go! (And that the unimportant mail disappears into the recycling bin, almost as valuable a service.) It is impossible to express the depth of our gratitude to Mom and Dad in these five simple lines.

What’s red and green and shallow all over?

Yikes! The depth-sounder beeps, and I twitch,
There’s a red one — a green one — but which?
Whew, I’m glad they’re not pink,
For these nav-aids, I think,
Are quite Christmassy here in the Ditch.

Anyone who has “done the Ditch” knows how critical the red and green markers are. After grueling sun-up to sun-down days at the helm, we see them in our sleep and sometimes have nightmares about going on the wrong side of one.

For you landlubbers (and Lee), here are some photos of the markers I mention above.
Top to bottom:

  1. What happens when you miss a marker. (The haze here is from a wildfire, no relation to the wreck.)
  2. Another red one — with an eagle perched on it.
  3. This is what a green one looks like in the fog. Or is that a red one? Believe it or not, this is the Georgia-Florida border. Where are the palm trees?
  4. Here’s what the markers look like on the chart — Hell Gate was aptly named. No range markers, just aim and hope.
  5. Barry smiles in relief after he makes it through Hell Gate. It only **looks** like there’s water there.

What happens when you miss a marker (see the red one?). The haze is from a wildfire.
Another red one — with an eagle perched on it.
This is what a green one looks like in the fog (thank goodness for GPS!). Believe it or not, this is the Florida border.
Here’s what they look like on the chart — Hell Gate was aptly named. No range markers, just aim and hope.
Barry smiles in relief after he makes it through Hell Gate. It only **looks** like there’s water there.

Recess

The clock said two-thirty today,
When the boat ceased to be underway.
We have busted our buns,
For these two little ones,
OK, kids, it is now time to PLAY!

We are moored at Cocoa, Florida, having been on the move (except for three groundings) from sunup to sundown for 8 days. We’re exhausted, but there are cookies to bake and a boat to clean.

Why the rush? We wanted to rendezvous with Barry’s nephews and their parents before they fly back to Ohio. So tomorrow, we get a special treat — a visit from Emanuel and Gabriel. That’s like an early present from Santa! We must have been very good this year.

Yard sail

Yes, I know that it looks like a yard
Sale, and yes, there is much to discard.
No, we did not take root
But that free table loot
Sure piled up, with three years on the hard.

The “free table” is a big shelf in the Bock Marine lounge where boaters leave stuff they’re discarding, and other boaters pick it up and (try to) reuse it. For dedicated dumpster-divers, it’s a source of wonderful finds, like heart-shaped measuring spoons and warm fleece hoods. But do we really have room for a waffle iron, a mangle, and a mildewed camera bag? Sometimes, we pick something up, take it to the boat, and then return it to the free table a few days (or years) later.

The photo below was taken after Flutterby was mostly loaded. I’m glad you can’t see where the waterline is — it’s embarrassing.
Flutterby’s non-yard sale on the dock
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Splish-splash

I was so excited when we launched Flutterby, I couldn’t think of a word that rhymed with “travelift.” Never fear — friends came to the rescue with limericks celebrating the big day!

From Nick Blenkush:
There once was a Meps and Barry,
whose boatyard bills were so scary.
The cash that went ‘pffft’,
…paid for the travelift.
And now they are sailing so merry

From Kristin Foss:
There once was a Meps and Barry
whose only sailing was on the ferry
til the mighty travelift
…plucked from the gravelpith
and splashed the Flutterby verily.

From Michael Reardon:
There once was a couple, MepsBarry
who were happy retired and married
they fixed up their boat
…and then set it afloat
and to Florida went without tarry!

From Tara Narcross-Wyckoff:
There once was a Meps and a Barry,
Who in their boat refit project did tarry.
There was so much to do —
…Too much work for just two!
But it floats! Now let’s break out the champagne!*
(* I don’t care much for sherry.)

And one last one from Nick:
There once was a boat not afloat
on the hard getting painted – two coats!
The powerful travelift,
…did set them adrift
After a very large check they done wrote!

Definition of the word friend

Thus spoke Kris: “Folks, you’re doin’ it wrong,
Three years on the hard is too long.
Yes, the boatyard is great
And the folks are first-rate,
But the WATER is where you belong.”

You are probably saying, “I told you the same thing.” But where are you? Kris put his money where his mouth is, and came halfway ’round the world to help us splash! So he gets the reward … TODAY …
(=<

Attitude adjustment

“If you say this is work, I’ll not stay,”
Said our friend Kris, who’d come all the way
Here from Capetown, to get
Flutterby’s bottom wet,
“So let’s not call it ‘work’ — call it PLAY!”

In two days, Kris and Barry and I have played with … sanders and grinders and saws and drills and dremels and screwdrivers … epoxy and polysulfide goop and solvents … impellers and zincs and hoses and clamps and backing plates … the list goes on and on. We’re all enjoying the work and we’ll be floating very, very, VERY soon!

For those of you wondering how we managed to get the world’s absolute best crew member from South Africa, I wrote about some of our earlier adventures with Kris in 2007 and in 2004.

Pud muddle

We were driving from Durham to ocean,
When we happened upon a commotion.
All the folks in a huddle,
Had been stopped by the puddle,
But it did not impede our car’s motion.

I’d been worried, unable to sleep,
For I feared that my friend’s trusty Jeep,
Might get stranded and drown,
In that flood, murky brown,
But the water was 2 inches deep!

At an ice cream shop in Vanceboro, North Carolina, the woman behind the counter told us she had to be rescued from her house that morning by boat. When we asked about any flooding on US 17 to the south, she said, dramatically, “The water is over the road up that way — and it’s rising.” Concerned, we hurried through our ice cream and got back on the road. We found the flooding, one block away. It was just a big puddle.
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