Last Day in Saskatoon

My Sunday afternoon Porter flight was right on time and as I sat back in my seat and looked out the window to a picture perfect prairie day I reflected on my trip.

It felt as if I'd been here for months. The pace had been just right - not a frenzy of visiting, trying to pack it all into a week, but a leisurely two week stretch where I was busy with events and activities every day, though not in a rush. It gave me time to rediscover Saskatoon, and this Saskatoon is not the same city I grew up in. It had become far more interesting, incredibly diverse, larger, more confident, more beautiful, and busier. Yet, some of what I remember was still there - the significant Indigenous population, the perpetually beaten up (but improving) 20th and 22nd Streets, the Swiss Cheese roads pitted with potholes and some craters capable of swallowing a scootering child whole, the buxum summer foliage, the terrible drivers, the oldies radio stations.

The greatest surprise of all was the diversity. On Canada Day we walked along the River Landing area where crowds had gathered for the fireworks. I felt like I could have been in Toronto's Harbourfront Centre, or old Montreal, or Vancouver's waterfront. The faces ranged from Saskatchewan Ukrainian white to African black and every possible shade between these. There were Jews, Muslims, Hindus, Indigenous, Christians and I can only assume dozens of other religions. There were straights, gays, lesbians, and two-spirits. Despite these differences, everybody was wearing or carrying Canada swag and what I saw in front of me was a proud and joyful community of newcomers, oldcomers, family, and friends. I am quite sure I wiped a tear away from my eye at one point. It was magnificent, as were the fireworks later that night and the roars of approval from the crowd of United Nations.

In contrast, small town Saskatchewan had hardly changed. I had a chance to travel out to Foam Lake and Fishing Lake with my dad and step-mom Loretta for two days and was warped backwards in time about forty years. Yes, some minor things had changed but really, it was the same. I visited with many friends from birth - the Ford Foundation, Leah Laxdal, Guy Mumford, as well as family - Nicola Martin, Shannon and Jody Latimer, and neighbours. Dad toured me around the grid roads where I'd had so many adventures as a teenager, ripping around in my beat up vehicles, sometimes with weaponry, sometimes just booze, usually both, skirting disaster by swerving through soft gravel, tempting a ditching, always with a carload of farm boys and girls. These grid roads were the same, except for more moose now (Dad tells me).

The days in Saskatoon were fun and the nights were long, rarely finding myself in bed before 1 am. We had several magical nights in Curtis's backyard oasis, laughing and drinking, story telling, goofing around, with the brothers and wives, and this is when I missed Ana the most. During the days I played basketball with my nephews, rode around the city on my dad's amazing e-bike, went for long walks, had drinks on patios. Most mornings were spent with my mom, enjoying leisurely tea and toast, then in the afternoons we'd go for a swim or lay in the sun.

I reconnected with so many people. My aunts Lynn and Tammy and cousin Isabella were in town for a few days so I spent a lot of time with them, catching up on life after not seeing them for many years. I spent a day and night with my cousin Jason and his family and got to know his lovely twin girls who I hadn't seen since they were babies. I spent an evening with my uncle Don and aunt Donnie at their home in Warman, a rapidly growing town just outside of Saskatoon. He showed me his jeep project. He's the only guy I know who can buy two junky classic Jeeps, reduce them to a pile of pieces them assemble from scratch, rebuild two engines into one, disassemble then reassemble transmissions and gears, completely rewire it, paint it, and somehow figure out how to put it all back together after a project span of five years. Maybe ten. Actually, there is one other guy who does this - my uncle Blaine, but I didn't get to see him this time. He and Don are mechanical geniuses. Lastly, I spend a couple hours with my high school buddy Wenona and her husband Steve and daughter Chloe, on their deck. It had been more than a decade. They haven't changed.

And parties. On my second day in Saskatoon Curt hosted a party for his wife Carrie's 50th and my mom's 71st. It was amazing. Ghosts from the past appeared. Sheldon Olsen and his gorgeous family. The troubadour Arron Adair. Andy and Rachel and their beautiful baby Archie. Aunts and uncles and cousins. Mom had an afternoon party in the luxurious clubhouse of their apartment complex. The step-siblings were there - Jay and Sherry and Lana, and we had a wonderful catch up. My aunt Hazel and uncle Ian hosted a Wednesday night soiree in their backyard oasis. Everybody showed up. The food was incredible, drinks aplenty, and the entertainment consisted of three pugs (one white, one grey, one black) chasing around a Pitbull Boxer shepherd hybrid big dog. They went crazy. We cheered them on.

Other moments.

Touring the University of Saskatchewan grounds with Mom, Tammy, and Isabella and visiting the grain and flour exhibition at the agriculture building, the dinosaur skeleton and fish tanks in the biology building, and watching gophers chasing each other in the Bowl.

Playing golf with Mom on the putting green and swimming in their fantastic new pool.

Playing 21 with my nephews on Curtis backyard basketball court.

Riding Dad's electric bike at 34 kph down Wilson Avenue then doing a huge river loop up and down the South Saskatchewan.

Buying Carrie a gift for her 50th birthday I know she would use - a vegetable platter!

Being dazzled by the July 1st fireworks display.

Taking a selfie with my mom, dad, and two brothers outside of Christie's bakery - our first time together in years.

Playing pool with the brothers and nephews in Mom and Rick's clubhouse.

Visiting the Remi Modern and being surprised to find a huge Shelley Nero exhibit, then moving onto rooftop cocktails with the brothers and wives.

Grooving to the Thundercats hip hop show at the Roxy Theatre on 20th.

Hanging out on the deck at the Ford cabin at Fishing Lake, where the only change in 40 years is everybody's a bit older.

Hanging out on the deck at the old Olson's Oasis cabin at Fishing Lake with cousin Nicola and family.

Having a fire at the Althing and watching the ominous skies threatening rain.

Watching a mile long CP Rail train passing through an enormous canola field.

Getting an excellent haircut...but it took three stylist - first pass by Mom ("How's it look, Mom?" I ask. "It will grow back", she says.), second pass by Curt (drunk on his patio), and final pass by Carrie (sober fine tuning).

Enjoying a chili pepper then hot dog eating contest at the Gather Local Market.

Picking haskap berries and sour cherries with my dad at my stepsister Angie's place.

Watching the AC/DC cover band rip it up at Bud's on Broadway...which also has not changed in 40 years.

Helping Curt out with a completely unplanned kitchen renovation at his commercial building The Two Twenty.

Having a beer with Dad on the patio of Winston's in downtown Saskatoon.

I rarely do any journaling when on visits to Saskatoon. There's just never any time. But I did take quite a few pictures to remind me of this visit and to be able to piece together a few of the memories.

Thanks Saskatoon. We'll be back soon!

First Day in Saskatoon

I was going back to the homeland. The land of bunny hugs and beardos. Cow tipping and puddle jumping. Coulees and sloughs. Dust and wind and sunshine and living skies. My family. Saskatchewan.

After a short and hectic week at home after finally bringing SeaLight home from our epic adventure, I was back on the move and headed for Saskatoon. Sadly, it would be just me as Ana was back at work and unable to take any time off and the kids were both starting their summer jobs the following week. The plan was always for me to spend a decent chunk of time back in Saskatoon (my previous visit was an embarrasing eight years ago), but I was expecting to have a month at home in Paris between trips instead of a week.

Ana dropped me off at Pearson in Toronto and we had to say goodbye yet again. We are hardly ever apart, but we've been away from each other more in the last nine months than in the entire 25 years since we first met. This was never going to be a normal year for us so I guess it's okay and we'll have to trust in the old adage of absence making the heart grow fonder.

I arrived in Saskatoon to a cold and blustery day - very strange for this time of year. Fortunately, I did not come for the weather. My dad and mom and step-dad Rick were there to meet me, and after a tour of Circle Drive (where I was instantaneously transported back to my 11 year old self choking and gagging and complaining from the backseat after Mom sparked up a dart in the car), we arrived at Mom's for a tour of their recently constructed and spectacular new apartment complex - resort style living with a huge outdoor pool, gym, putting green, and a common lounge area with a pool table, comfy couches, and giant televisions. It is located in the Stonebridge neighbourhood, which barely existed the last time I was here but is now nearly a city on its own with every store you could imagine, cafes and restaurants, a wide variety of residential towers and houses, and commercial offices. I could not believe what I was seeing, as the typically stupid city zoning regulations seemed to have been ignored, which allowed a beautiful and efficient community to emerge where you can actually get to all the shops you need and even your workplace without the use of a car. And in a strange twist of fate, my dad and step-mom Loretta had just moved into an apartment complex that is directly across the street from Mom and Rick's! So if the beer and wine runs out at one place, it's a mere two-minute walk to fresh supply.

We had lunch and hung out for a long time visiting then hopped in the car and drove to my brother Curtis and sister-in-law Carrie's place for dinner. I also had not seen their house - a hundred year old groove-dome in the Nutana neighbourhood just steps from the riverfront - as they had moved fairly recently, so they gave me the grand tour then I had a lovely visit with my nephews Lukas and Eliot.

Dinner was spectacular, but speedy, as we had to be at the Cosmo Senior's Centre by 6:45 pm for the Prairie Pro Wrestling extravaganza, for which Curtis had fenangled four tickets. My cousin Jason (a legend of a man, historically known as "Skinnahhhhh!!") and my dad arrived for a quick beer then we drove to the venue.

I'm sure glad I wore my bunny hug (that's a "hooded sweatshirt with a pocket in the front" for those of you not familiar with the Saskatchewaneeze dialect) because that was the outfit of choice for those gathered. But I was missing the shaggy beard.

The wrestling was spectacular. We cheered for the good guys. We boo'd the bad ones. We joined the frenzy of the crown, yelling, shrieking, heckling, and watching the incredible dexterity of the athletes as they beat each other in the ring. It brought Skinnah, Curt, and me back to our childhood where all we did and all we cared about was wrestling and regularly delivered beatings to each other in the basement, the living room, but most frequently on the trampoline, where we sometimes squared off in sleeping bags. Prairie Pro Wrestling delievered it all - we saw a camel clutch, piledrivers, head kicks, heart punches, suplexes, body slams, and there were at least a dozen blows to the solar plexis. There were seven matches, both tag teams and individuals, and we were stunned when there was even a matchup between a girl and dude. She beat his ass for most of the match but he ended it by connecting a boot to her face and dropping her for three count.

Jacked with adreneline, we strutted over to Broadway after the final match, looking for a fight of our own, hoping to ruin some thugs with a clothesline or DDT or elbow smash off the top rope, but by the time we'd removed our clothing and were standing there in front of the Broadway Theatre in our tighty whities looking like clowns instead of fearsome Kings of the Ring, our jets had cooled and we instead re-robed and went for a pint at the Yard and Flagon pub. As we chatted over our beers I glanced around the bar, expecting to see high school buddies or ex co-workers or old neighbours. But everyone in there was at least twenty years younger than me and I didn't recognize anybody.

Curt received a text from a realtor buddy who was across the street at a cocktail bar called The Cocktail Bar so we strolled over there to have a boo. It was a groovy joint and on top of the fancy tables, fine glassware, sexy patrons, elaborate drink menu, whiffs of French perfumes and studly colognes, and coiffed bartenders, an infinite loop of Bob Ross painting videos manifested on a large screen mounted in the upper corner of the bar. While Curtis mingled with his chums, Jason and I were mesmerized by Bob Ross and we stood transfixed, sipping our drinks, watching the trees and mountains and clouds and grasses and ponds take shape from Bob's magical brushes.

It was a fine first day.

Analysis of the Journey and a Comprehensive Route Map

During our sailing journey I tracked and recorded not just the route and miles we sailed but many other data points so that I could do some analysis on the trip after our return. Since returning home, I've consolidated this data for one final post as a summary of the overall trip. I also created a detailed route map of the entire journey, and linked the daily journals to locations on the map. This is something I was hoping to do along the way but I found the writing and posting consumed all the time I was willing to commit being behind a screen.

Our 246 day journey took us through three countries, two provinces, ten US states, and 4,723 nautical miles (5,435 statute). On the days we sailed (which was 49% of the time), we averaged 39 nautical miles (45 statute). Our trusty dinghy zipped us across 359 nautical miles (413 statute) of water. We passed through 62 locks and so many bridges I stopped counting.

We also did a lot of walking, covering 1,106 kilometres or an average of 9 kilometers per day when we were on land. When we weren't walking, we were swimming (8 kilometres), driving (3,056 kilometres), taking busses (119 kilometres), biking (33 kilometres), or paddling (23.5 nautical miles).

In the Bahamas we caught 11 conch, 7 reef fish, and 5 lobsters but, sadly, were not able to catch any ocean game fish despite a lot of trying.

This trip of a lifetime cost us $35,898, averaging $4,378 per month or $146 per day. I tracked only a few categories, shown below:

    Boat maintenance - $2,563

    Dockage and moorings - $4,758

    Fuel - $3,766

    Locks - $358

    Water - $98

    Other - $24,354

The major trip segments, distances in nautical miles, and days were as follows:

    Erie Canal - 158 miles, 6 days

    Hudson River - 129 miles, 10 days

    New York City to ICW - 403 miles, 20 days

    ICW - 915 miles, 34 days

    Bahamas - 1023 miles, 76 days

    ICW Return - 892 miles, 25 days

    ICW to New York City - 266 miles, 4 days

    Hudson River Return - 186 miles, 29 days

    Champlain, Chambly Canals - 274 miles, 8 days

    St. Lawrence Seaway - 171 miles, 4 days

    Lake Ontario Return - 165 miles, 2 days

Finally, the map. This is a Google map which can be viewed and shared by anybody (although the link doesn’t seem to be working for everybody so there is also an embedded version below). The orange line represents the outbound track, the blue line is the Bahamas, and green line is the inbound track. Clicking any of the blue icons will bring up any of the 246 daily journals for that day. I have embedded the map below.

And that concludes our 2024/2025 Journey to the Sun!

SeaLight is Home

Middle of Lake Ontario to Newport Yacht Club  - 113 nautical miles sailed

My last sunrise on the boat. At least for a while.

I took over the helm at 4:30 am and relieved Magnus who had done his first solo night run and done it well. To the unititiated, the idea of piloting a bouncing and rolling sailboat across an ocean-sized lake with land a distant 20 miles away on either side of you could seem daunting. But Magnus has done these night passages many times, (although usually sound asleep in his cabin) so this was the first time for him alone at the helm, and he had been looking forward to it.

As the sun peeked over the horizon it brought that early morning chill and stronger winds that strengthened to 20 knots from the north-east, giving us a substantial push and allowed me to put out the head sail and turn off the engine, which pulled us along at a respectable 7 knots.

While Magnus slept, I watched a movie on the tablet. It is called "The Way" and is a story about a father who loses his vagabond son to an accident while in the French Pyrenees on his first day of walking to the Camino de Santiago - an 800 kilometre ancient pilgrimage route that runs across the north of Spain and ends in the cathedral of Santiago de Compostela in the region of Galicia. This pilgrimage route is also called the "Way of St. James" as the Catholic apostle's remains are said to be interned in the cathedral. This Christian pilgrimage route was established in the 9th century and has been used consistently since then, now drawing hundreds of thousands per year, some walking, others on bicycles or horseback.

Ana and I have seen this movie once before, a long time ago. It is not a fantastic movie - the dialogue sometimes comes up flat and the characters are overdone. But the story penetrates, and today this movie hit me like a freight train and brought on a torrent of emotion I have not felt in a very long time. The movie is a custom made summary and reflection on our own adventure this year. It is about the enduring bond between parent and child. It is about setting out on an impossibly long journey, not knowing what you will find, and not finding what you expected. It is about facing challenges and not always winning. It is about friendship and tolerance and the differences between people. It is about the power of nature and the healing effects of movement. It is about serendipity and fate, love and loss. But for me, the primary message from the film is that it takes a great deal of time to change oneself, or to even know what needs changing, if anything. It doesn't happen in a day. It doesn't happen in a week. You need to suffer through your failings and acknowledge your flaws and intrinsic human weakness. It requires bravery. And it requires help from other people.

Watching this movie was time well spent and made me appreciate this journey of ours even more.

When Magnus awoke we had a hearty breakfast of soft boiled eggs on sourdough bread then I got to work cleaning the inside of the boat while he watched the helm. I needed the boat to be in top shape for the Admiral's return so I cleaned the bathrooms, vaccumed and washed the floors, wiped the walls, and made the beds with tight corners to army cadet level precision.

As we neared the west end of the lake, the waves built higher and higher. The Environment Canada marine forecast predicted wave heights of 0.5 metres building to 1, but we were rolled by many waves that had to be close to 2 metre monsters, providing for a very bouncy and rolly ride. Magnus has historically been prone to motion sickness so today he wore the electrical pulse watch we own and behind-the-ear tabs that our friend Kira left on board. He was pretty solid, and only had to lie down for an hour or so when the ride got exceptionally rolly.

We timed our arrival to Newport Yacht Club with Ana's, as she had to drive down after work through jammed traffic. As we pulled into the marina channel, nearly nine months after beginning our journey, she was standing at our slip, waiting for us, and waving us in.

Magnus and Ana secured the lines, SeaLight breathed a huge sign of relief, and we were officially home.

The Final Leg of the Journey

Holmes Manor, Bateau Chanel to the Middle of Lake Ontario  - 52 nautical miles sailed, 45 kilometres driven, 2 kilometres walked

We are so close now. So close that it's difficult for me to comprehend the enormity of this journey and how it will soon be ending. By tomorrow evening, SeaLight will be gliding into our slip at Newport Yacht Club (inshallah), my beautiful Ana will be there, we will be surrounded by friends, and the trip will become a memory, tossed on the pile of previous adventures, but taking up more space than average. These memories are sure to pop up in the coming months as I go about my regular business. While putting SeaLight away for the winter in September I will be thinking about our brutal first passage across Lake Ontario to Oswego with our buddy Mike then the excitement of our first day on the Erie Canal. As I'm sitting on the couch watching tv in October I'll be remembering that first beautiful ocean passage from New York City to Cape May. As we go out to a restaurant in Paris for Ana's birthday in November, we will talk about her last birthday - an incredible day in Hilton Head. We'll probably be at home for New Year's Eve, and there all four of us will recall welcoming in 2025, wearing party hats and blowing noisemakers at that small Italian restaurant in Fort Lauderdale. On some cold night in January I will remember our first swim in Allan's Cay with a shark and a ray as we experienced that impossibly clear Exuma water for the first time. Some work day in February an image will pop into my head - Ana and I walking the perfect beach in Long Island while Stella sleeps on the beach lounger. We will be sitting down for dinner at home in March when Ana will remember us sharing pizza with Ben, Kate, Kevin and Ana in Hopetown, Abaco. I'll be polishing SeaLight's hull in April cursing the boat whose anchor slipped in Oriental, North Carolina and scraped up her sides. Not sure where I will spend my birthday this year, but I'm sure to remember how I spent last year's birthday alone in Coxsackie waiting for the Erie Canal to open. And we might just be anchoring out with friends in Hamilton in June when I start thinking of that lovely anchorage in Lake Chesapeake and those final days fighting our way through the locks with my brother and with my son.

These memories are so strong and fresh now. I can still smell the fishiness of Potter's Cay in Nassau. I can visualize the face of the Bahamian artist in Farmers Cay who sold us fruit. I can taste the lobster paella we made several times on the boat. I can feel the coarseness of the nurse shark's leathery brown skin in Staniel Cay and the warmth from the glowing pink fire radiating from the conch shell firepit we made on the beach in Egg Island. These memories will last a lifetime. And if those memories begin to fade, I will read these journals and they may feel like stories from somebody else's life, but I will know they are mine.

I am relishing these last few moments of the trip. The sense of freedom. The luxury of time. Relishing the mental space provided by the boredom of a long passage. Being at the mercy of the weather, SeaLight's mechanical systems, the gods. Being in control. Not being in control. Waking up thinking, I wonder what will happen today, knowing it could be anything. The excitement of possiblity. The agony of disappointment. A time where each new day is a blank canvas and is never like the last. Being so tuned into the boat I know her intimate squeaks and leaks, her curvature, how she moves in the water, when she's happy and when she's not. Over the months she has become the third partner in our marriage; it's Ana, Kris, and SeaLight. Always together. Taking care of each other. Relying on each other. Nurturing each other. Having fun.

Oh my. My reflections on the trip have already begun. Am I ready for it to be over? I certainly am anxious to get SeaLight home and moored safely in her slip, slightly bruised and batttered, but very much in one piece. I can't wait to see Ana and Stella. I'm excited for my upcoming trip to Saskatoon to see my family. But I will miss life at sea. I will miss everything about it.

Am I ready for it to be over? Regardless of the answer, it comes to an end tomorrow.

Today, Magnus and I had a morning of chores. We put the sails back on the boat. We sprayed off the thousands of tiny bugs which had collected on SeaLight overnight. We scrubbed the cockpit floor. We borrrowed Andrew's brand new kick ass truck and made a run into Kingston to pick up a few supplies and stopped for coffee downtown (one of the best downtowns in the country in my opinion). I noticed the K-Rock centre had been renamed Slush Puppie Place. I don't even know where to start with that one.

By 2 pm we had said goodbye to Victoria and Emma and were pushing off the dock, taking a full loaf of Victoria's sourdough bread with us and a really nice set of steak knives I found in a drawer. The wind was strong, gusting to over 25 knots, right in our face, so progress was slow. We stopped at Portsmouth marina west of Kingston's downtown to fill up with diesel, and did a fancy 360 in the harbour when I couldn't rember if the gas dock was a left turn or straight and I had maneouver to avoid hitting a dock. I told the gas dock staff I do a 360 every time I get to a new marina, as a sort of celebratory spectacle.

The open lake was choppier, with three foot waves and the odd four footer which sent SeaLight crashing. Magnus went down for a short nap at 4 pm and didn't wake up until 10:30! By that time I was tired and he was completely fresh so after a briefing he took over and I went to bed.

The clock tipped into midnight somewhere in the middle of Lake Ontario.

A Thousand Islands and One RCMP Stop

Brockville to Holmes Manor, Bateau Chanel  - 38 nautical miles sailed, 2 kilometres walked

We left the anchorage at a leisurely 7 am to a glorious, clear morning. The thin layer of bugs all over the boat slowly blew off as we gained speed heading upstream. The current was getting progressively weaker the closer we got to Lake Ontario, but I knew there would be some narrow channels in the Thousand Islands with heavier currents.

As we motored I mapped out the route we'd take through the island chain, sticking to the ultra safe, but slightly longer one. Last time we were here we took the shorter, more scenic route and rammed full speed into an immovable rock, causing damage to our keel bolts and requiring significant and expensive repairs. Since SeaLight had a beautiful bottom and new bolts and fibreglass, I didn't want a repeat performance.

The scenery throughout the Thousand Islands is serene and mezmerizing. Cottages dot the waterfronts of the islands and narrow channels wind through these. The geographical area of the Thousand Islands is small, making it a great place to explore and anchor out...if one had ample time, which we did not, so we kept the motor running and simply enjoyed the scenery.

As Magnus was at the helm and I was sitting in the cockpit, a US Coast Guard boat approached us with their blue lights flashing. I told Magnus to put it in neutral to let them attach to us. I knew for damn sure we hadn't broken any speed limits and we'd dropped off all the guns and drugs and immigrants and high power weed killer back in Montreal, so I wasn't sure why they would be stopping us.

I was surprised to see two RCMP officers appear and tell us they were boarding the boat to do a safety check. They explained that they were trained in US procedures which is why the US and Canadian patrol boats were used interchangeably in this area with a winding border and the ability for boaters to cross back and forth without having to report in. We invited them on board and asked what they wanted to see.

"I need to see your boat registration, boater license cards, and lifejackets," one of the officers said, but in a very kind way.

"No problem," I replied and quickly gathered the requested items. "Anything else? I can also show you the flares, axe, signaling device - we have all the mandatory safety stuff on board."

"No need, I can see you are well set up here. Where are you coming from?"

"Bahamas. Spent the winter there, but had to come back up the Champlain due to the Erie Canal delays."

"Really?" he asked, looking around the boat. "Usually when we stop cruisers returning from winter trips their boat decks are a mess, full of diesel cans and water jugs, and all sorts of junk."

"I don't get it either. You can get diesel anywhere. We just carry 10 gallons of it and 5 gallons of gas and the jugs fit in the anchor hold. I hate having a messy deck. Maybe those boaters do longer offshore runs than we did or dip further into the Caribbean."

"Well, your boat looks great. Welcome back to Canada and have a safe remainder of your journey," he said then both of them stepped back onto their boat and took off.

In all the years we have been boating in Lake Erie, Lake Huron, and Lake Ontario that is the first time we've ever been boarded by officials.

We continued on our way, passing by Gananoque and into the Bateau Channel and were soon in front of the waterfront home and dock of our friends Andrew and Victoria. The wind had really built up and was blowing at over 20 knots, making the docking a little tricky, but on the second attempt we landed it and lashed all the fenders we had (plus a couple we filched from the dock) on the side to prevent her from getting mashed up on the dock.

SeaLight has docked here many times over the years so it felt like home. After securing the boat we walked up to the house to see Victoria and their golden retriever Emma. Andrew, sadly, was away on a work trip in Fort Myers but I'd promised him we would use copious volumes of the dock water and electricity, eat as much food as we could pack in, steal the wifi, do all of our laundry, dump our garbage, destroy his fancy toilet, drink his rum and beer, entertain his beautiful lady, siphon the gas out of his truck, and maybe steal a few tools from the shed. Good friends are hard to find.

After seeing Victoria and having a quick visit (she works from home and seemed to be in the middle of some boring conference call) we returned to the boat and gave her a sorely needed cleaning. Transiting locks completely filthifies a boat. Normally, I'm obsessive about keeping SeaLight clean, but this trip, and the scarcity of fresh water for cleaning, has dulled my compulsions and the dirt and stains and skids haven't bothered me as much. But today, we cleaned. We didn't quite get up her to normal standards, but she was looking pretty good by the time we were done.

Victoria called us up for happy hour at 5 and we had a couple drinks on their gorgeous deck while we chatted and enjoyed the scenery. It had been over a year since we'd seen her so we had plenty to catch up on. Happy hour led to dinner and she had crafted two magnificent loaves of sourdough bread and a lasagna so we ate well and continued our visiting into the darkness. It was a real drag that Andrew couldn't be here, but we made sure to antagonize him with texts to make sure he knew we were having fun and hadn't forgotten about him.

We hauled our finished laundry back to the boat sometime after ten under the glow of a fiery red strawberry moon and discovered the previously clean SeaLight was covered with a blanket of little purposeless lake bugs.

She might need another rinse tomorrow.