The wind kept roaring all night long, gusting 40 to 50 knots! I hate to think what it must be like on the bay or out on the ocean if it's this strong in a sheltered cove. The water keeps rushing by and getting lower. We're three feet deep in the mud now and wondering if we'll ever get out. The temperature is in the 20's. Jofian's stern is covered with icicles! Great big icicles. SALT water icicles.
Lucky we have plenty of warm clothes. I'm wearing a full suit of thermal underwear, heavy socks, a long-sleeved top, blue jeans, a sweatshirt, and over all that, an extra-warm, hooded sweatshirt that my daughter Diane gave me for Christmas. And that's just for INdoors. When I go out, I put on my fur-lined boots, hooded down coat, warm wool scarf that Ileta gave me, and fur-lined gloves. Let the blizzards rage! I'm ready. And Roy is dressed similarly.
The boat has dropped down so far that one of the dock lines was pulling against a lifeline. We were afraid the weight of the boat would break the lifeline, so we attached two more lines to the boat and then cut the line that was pulling the lifeline. It was stretched too taut to untie it.
Actually, being in the mud is an advantage while the wind is blowing. It keeps the boat from bouncing around and rubbing against the dock. The only problem is, we're not sure how long it will take for the water to rise so we can get out of here. Right now, we're so deep in the mud, we can't even turn the steering wheel.
The owner of the marina is very nice. He came by to make sure we were ok, and even offered to lend us his station wagon to go to the store in Chestertown, about twelve miles away. We told him we'd accept tomorrow if we're unable to get out of here.
Roy spent most of the day working on the boat. I took a little walk to get some fresh air and exercise. I was surprised by the number of streets and houses in the area; I had thought we were way out in the country.
Passed several houses where there were unfriendly dogs. One was especially menacing. He looked ugly and mean. He kept running towards me, barking and growling. I kept yelling, "Stay!" and backing slowly away. After five or ten uncomfortable minutes, during which I half expected to have a chunk taken out of me, he finally realized I was outside his turf, so he turned around and went home. What a relief!
This Blog is our mother's logs from her sails aboard Jofian. Our mother, Clare Holt, wrote a log every day and after her first sail to Mexico, she bought a laptop to write and save her logs. She sailed when the World Wide Web was first created, there was not as much on the Internet back then, no Wi-Fi, Internet access was very limited. I know if she were sailing today that she would be putting her logs in a Blog, so I am doing it for her. Mom’s logs to Alaska are on saillogsalaska.blogspot.com.
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