The Goddess of Debauchery

Cotytto, the Goddess of Debauchery, worshipped at Athens with licentious rites. She loves immodesty and naughtiness. Any excuse for a bit of tyttollation. But her debauched priests, called Baptes, carried out their sleazy rituals and nocturnal shenanigans, so enthusiastically that even the Goddess herself was disgusted. How disgustingly obscene do you need to be, to disgust the Goddess of Debauchery?

So, we will spend our days and nights with the Thracian Goddess of Blatant Debauchery and Nocturnal Sport, and overindulge in sensuous pleasures. In a few days, we will embark on our next adventure, and the great whore, that is Cotytto, will suckle us until we are fat and happy, and can suckle no more.

And in the days to come, I will write, and hope you will join me, as I recount our adventures. 

The Frogfish

     Years ago, we were in Bonaire at Captain Don's Habitat, we had just gotten back from our morning dives, had lunch, and now, I was looking for something to do. While everyone else was relaxing, I went down to the pier on the house reef, wandered a bit, watched people as they put their gear on and jumped in. As I listened to those coming out of the water, recounting to one another about what they saw on their dives, I decided to go back in myself. 

     I started putting my wetsuit on, my weight belt, and the rest of my gear, as I watched the dive master make his rounds, offering his assistance to those in need. Divers would ask him which way to go, what to look for, and he would describe the reef and how best they should navigate their dive. 

     The house reef at Captain Don's is fantastic. The water is ten feet deep at the end of the pier, with a sandy bottom, perfect for entry. The sandy bottom slowly turns to rubble, then some vegetation and soft corals, as you make your way towards the wall. The vegetation and corals become thicker, and fish more plentiful, and just 40 or 50 yards from the pier, the wall, abundant with marine life. Take a left, and 20 or 30 yards away, you'll find a small wreck, and maybe a Green Moray, that makes the wreck his home. Swim straight down, and you will find the sandy bottom, in 200 ft. of water. 

     Anyhow, the dive master approached me and we made small talk, until I asked him the one question he hears 10 times a day, "where's a Frogfish dude?" He knows, they all do. Frogfish rarely move, and when these dive masters find them, they keep it to themselves, their tips get bigger on guided dives, when they can show you a Frogfish. 

      He stares at me, with a smirk on his face, as if he is trying to decide whether I am worthy of his secret, until he finally replies, "you wanna find a Frogfish?"

     "Yes, yes I wanna find a Frogfish, do you know where one is?"

     "Yep, there's one right out there," he said, as he pointed northwest of the house reef towards the open water. Right out there dude, you being cute, or are you gonna tell me where there's a freakin Frogfish? The dive master continued, "swim out to that buoy," he said, as he pointed straight off the pier, about a 150 yards out, to a mooring ball. "Once you get to that buoy, take a right," he used his hand to motion right, or northwest. "Take a right, and swim to, one...two... three, three more buoys," as he is saying this, he is pointing to each one of the three moorings, which cover about a a quarter of a mile, underwater remember. "Once you get to that third mooring, take a left, and swim out to the wall." I listened intently as he continued to give me directions, "once you reach the wall, look for a sea fan." Ok, now this guy is losing me, look for a sea fan, in the ocean? He must have noticed he was losing me, as he continued, he tried to reassure me, "you'll know the sea fan when you see it," he said, "it's hanging way out over the wall," and he made some motion with his arm to simulate, hanging way out. "You'll know the one I am talking about, I promise, you can't miss it," he said again.  He continued, "once you find the fan, swim out past the wall, turn around, and face the sea fan," he said. "Once you are facing the sea fan, drop down to," and at this point he seemed to be in deep thought, using his fingers to count as he continued, "drop down to, hmmm, 65...66...67, drop down to 68 feet, and the Frogfish is right there!" Really? The Frogfish is right there?

     So, with nothing else to do that afternoon, I decided to go in search of the elusive Frogfish. I finished putting on my gear, and did a perfect giant stride into the deep blue, deflated my BC and began my decent into the abyss. As I made my way to the wall, I kept my eyes peeled, hoping to catch a glimpse of a seahorse, or even an octopus. Once I reached the wall, and the line to the mooring ball was visible, I took a right, and began my swim to the next marker. I swam along the edge of the wall, constantly looking, hoping to see something cool. To my left was open water, 200 ft. deep, and where I might see big stuff; sharks, dolphins, a school of Eagle rays, possibly a Manta ray, or, one could only hope, a Whale shark. None of this is out of the question in Bonaire. One year, we were making our way down to a "1000 Steps" and could see a Manta in the water, from shore. On another dive, we could hear dolphins, they stayed far enough away that we couldn't see them though, and Day swears she saw Tuna one year. To my right, the wall, the reef, and where I will see my next marker. The mooring balls are about 200 yards apart, and I have a ways to go before I expect to see it, so I settle in, relaxed and enjoyed the peace of diving alone. All is quite, except for the "Darth Vader" sound as I breathe through my regulator, and the muffled sound of my bubbles as I exhale. Just ahead, off to my right, the first buoy, and I continue on my way. My breathing becomes slower as I relax more, I add a little air to my BC, and continue my swim along the wall, constantly looking. Truth be told, I don't care if I see anything, I just, like, diving. Whether I am alone, with a buddy or in a group, other than  and an eye on my buddy, from a distance, believe me, I am alone. Diving becomes "Zen" like for me, and I get lost in the peace and quiet ( I pass marker number 2 ). I become hyper aware of "cause and effect." Every movement ( cause ) becomes deliberate, and I patiently await the "effect." Like backing up a truck and trailer, or driving a boat, you turn the wheel ever so slightly, and patiently wait for the trailer or boat to move in the direction you want. On land, we are restricted to moving on two axes, forward/backward and right/left. Underwater, there are three, the third being, up and down, and this is where "cause and effect" is most noticeable. As I swim, and hover over the reef, I exhale to descend, if I exhale too much, I sink too fast. Just ahead is a tall coral, and I inhale, and float up and over, just like a bird. 

     Buoy number three is just ahead, and once it was directly to the right of me, I stopped and headed out past the wall, and began my search for "the" sea fan. I searched, and I searched, up and down the wall, forever, it seemed. "You'll know it when you see it," he said. Was he smirking when he said that? I hadn't noticed, I bet he's laughing now though. I swam a half a mile, in search of a................wait, one, freakin minute, there it is! That has to be it, just like he said, "hanging way out, over the wall." The sea fan is not my prize though, and I must continue my quest.

    I swam towards the sea fan, and for a moment, admired it, in a way, thanking it, a sea fan, majestically hanging out, over the wall, pointing the way. I began my decent to 68 ft, and begin my search for the prize, the Frogfish. 68 feet, plus or minus how many feet? Right below the sea fan, to the right or left how much? Even if it is only in a 5x5 area, that is still 25 square feet, of rock, rubble, coral, vegetation and anemones, and the Frogfish is an expert at camouflage. I would look and get my nose right in there, or is it like one of those hidden pictures, and I need to look from a distance? I backed up a bit, and searched some more. Is the fish even here anymore, I wondered. He can't stay in one spot forever, maybe if I look at the reef with my eyes slightly out of focus. I continued looking, forever! Nose right in the reef, then I would back up, and look again from a distance, nose back in, eyes out of focus, I would turn my back to the reef, and spin back around real quick, like I was gonna trick the Frogfish, and maybe sneak up on it. This went on, for what had to be a half an hour. My air is getting low, and I am in 70 feet of water, but I stayed. I stayed and continued my search, up close, far away, eyes focused, eyes out of focus, the spin around real fast, up close again, and the casual, out of the corner of my eye look. I searched, and I searched, and like a pimple on prom night, it appeared, out of nowhere, my Frogfish, sitting there, patiently waiting for it's next meal. I stayed, admiring my prize for awhile, took pictures ( the one below is mine ) but had to leave. I was almost out of air.  

     I began my swim back, elated with myself, and itching to show someone my Frogfish. Once back at the resort, I looked for Day, but she had gone out, I wanna show someone though. I found Sue, who reluctantly agreed to go out with me, in search of my Frogfish, one more time. And again, right at buoy, left after third buoy, sea fan, sixty-eight feet, and there she was again, waiting for me, to show her off to Sue, my Frogfish!

  

Let's go diving

     Years and years ago I took a SCUBA class at UMass, I didn't know it then, but that class would change my life. So, "Who's your buddy? Where's your buddy? Get with your buddy," read and enjoy this next blog post together.

     How can a SCUBA class change your life, you might be wondering? When I was a student, there was a sassy little redheaded TA, who later became my wife. She has since become an instructor, and is now teaching that same course at UMass, for Project Deep. We are still friends with many of the same instructors, TA's and students. Every Friday night for the last eighteen years, we have been barbecuing at my instructor, Scuba Steve's house, and come to think of it, he gave my wife away at our wedding. Over the eighteen years my wife and I have been together, we have met some fantastic people, during classes, while diving and traveling for years and years, to many different dive destinations. Some of those people have become friends, and travel companions, and some of those are friendships that will last our lifetime. That is how a SCUBA class changed my life.

This story begins with Project Deep a non-profit organization that teaches SCUBA classes to the five colleges in Western Mass, UMass, Amherst, Smith, Hampshire and Mount Holyoke. 

Classes are, I don't remember, 10 weeks long, half of the class is in the pool practicing skills, the other half in the classroom. I attended UMass, but took my class at Hampshire College. The credits transferred and that class time worked better with my schedule. What I remember about my class, I sucked at the pool part, and spent most of the class floating on the surface, watching the class at the bottom of the pool. The other thing I remember, Hampshire does not believe in tests, students there do not take exams, and they were all freakin out over a SCUBA test. I have remained friends with my instructor, SCUBA Steve ever since.

After passing the course and exam, it is time to do your open water dives, and become a certified diver. There are two options for this, one being Rockport, Mass with Cape Ann Divers,

and two being, sunny Key Largo Florida, with Ocean Divers.

     Diving in Rockport, Massachusetts can be spectacular. You can dive the Chester Poling Shipwreck, go scalloping or lobstering if you prefer. I don't like lobstering, they look huge underwater and come at you with their big claws, they scare the crap out of me. Day is much better at it, and way tougher than I am underwater. 

See, scary, right? If you find yourself out in Rockport, book a dive trip with Cape Ann Divers and spend the day with Capt. Steve, fill his head with toilet paper and puke all over his boat, he likes that. Tell him I sent you.

You can also choose option number two, diving with Ocean Divers in sunny Key Largo, Florida. My wife and I have been many times and made many friends on these trips, some of whom we continue to travel with. Our latest trip to Key Largo was this past April, which I wrote about in my blog, if you are interested in reading about these trips.
Spring Break in Key Largo, Interstate 95, Forever, and my last post, A Great Week of Diving.

So, I spent a week with my wife in Key Largo, while she taught this motley crew of college kids how to dive, and I had a great time. It was a chance to dive, catch up with old friends and make some new ones. It was also a chance to be Day's SCUBA Sherpa, and let her boss me around in front of our friends, so they can tease the hell out of me. 

Hmmm...I could get into trouble for this one, love you baby. Day and I spent a few years hanging around Project Deep, Rockport and Key Largo, until life got too busy. She still teaches, but not as much. Project Deep will always be, where I met my wife, and many life long friends, and will always be a part of our lives. As I have written before, our lives are a book. In that book are chapters, in those chapters are pages, paragraphs and sentences. Eighteen years ago a new chapter in my life began. If I were to give it a title, it might be, UMass, Project Deep and a Bossy Little Readhead."  

When it comes to diving, you need to spread your wings, and Day and I have...

It takes six months to a year to plan a dive trip to the Galapagos Islands and the Galapagos Aggressor dive boat. You can then imagine how heart broken we were, as we sat on the plane in Newark, New Jersey on the tarmac, when an announcement came over the speaker, informing us, our flight has been canceled. After six or more months of waiting to go on this once in a lifetime trip to the freakin Galapagos Islands, and dive with hammerhead sharks, a volcano erupts in the city we are suppose to land in, on the day of our flight. The trip was suppose to be the week of Thanksgiving, so now we are home, with no plans, eating pizza and watching a movie from Blockbuster, ready to cry and feeling like losers.   

As you can see, we did finally make it to the Galapagos the following February, and dove with the hammerheads, seals and just about everything else.

If you are a diver, the Galapagos should be on your list, it is a trip I will never forget. It is also really expensive, so, Bonaire, here we come.

Bonaire in my opinion, is one of the top ten dive destinations in the world! Why? Bonaire is relatively inexpensive, has a ton of dive sites, easy, easy shore diving, 200ft visibility, spectacular reefs, and great fish life.

We have been to Bonaire seven or eight times, and I never get tired of it. Without a doubt, one of the most beautiful dives on this planet, has to be, Town Pier. Town Pier, is just that, a pier in the center of town, and if you don't believe me when I say, "one of the most beautiful on this planet," check out my link, and be amazed!

This is a picture of us at "Town Pier" just before our night dive. In between all those trips to Bonaire, Day and I managed to dive many other Caribbean islands, some personal trips and some put on by Holyoke Underwater, a dive shop in Western Mass, that has since, gone out of business.  

Day and I took a trip to Grenada early in our relationship, for two weeks, by ourselves. Grenada was fantastic, the town of St. Georges is a great old Caribbean town, the beaches were pristine, the center of the island is a rain forest, there are plenty of spice and rum tours, and, the diving was great. Grenada is home to the largest shipwreck in the Caribbean, the Bianca C, A 600 foot ocean liner. If you do make it to Grenada, be sure to take an island tour with Mandoo Tours, and be sure to have dinner at Patrick's, which I have written about in a previous post.

 

"The Big Five" are lions, elephants, the Cape buffalo, leopards and the rhino, when referring to an African safari. When diving, the octopus is certainly one of the "Big Five." I am not sure where this picture was taken, but what a rare find to see an octopus out in the open like this, it has to be a late day dive. Octopus come out at dusk or night to begin feeding. Night dives are a chance to see different animals, and one of the best night dives I have ever been on was in Roatan. 

The Roatan String of Pearls phenomenon occurs about an hour after sunset. It must be pitch black with no moon and lights turned off. It is the mating display of ostracods which are tiny organisms about the size of a tomato seed. They act much like a firefly emitting a little light in sequence to attract a mate. (this picture is not one of mine, I got it off the Internet) There was so much of this stuff in the water, I could not tell where up or down was. Amazing!

The "Big Five"

Hammerheads or sharks, octopus and add to the list, turtles!

Everything underwater is faster than you are, so it is amazing to come up on a turtle like this. It doesn't happen often but when it does, wow, let's hope we all have cameras. Now, I asked Day what she thought the "Big Five" were, and we both agreed on sharks, octopus and turtles, she added Manta Rays. 

Now, I don't have a picture of a Manta, but surely a school of seven Eagle Rays is pretty damn good. I would love to take credit for this pic but, Jeff S. gets the credit for this one. Last on the list of the "Big Five" has to be a whale shark, which I have never seen, but when I do, that will be a blog post itself. The big things are great...

like this Grouper, but don't miss out on the small stuff...

like this shrimp or...

or this Frogfish. Can you see the fish? At this point, I deleted a huge part of this blog, it is a great story, and I decided to make it a post by itself. Look for "The Frogfish," in the near future. Anyhow, whether it's Bonaire, Grenada, Roatan, Utila, Belize or Cayman Brac, someone has wrecked a boat there, and it is sitting on the bottom of the ocean floor, waiting for us to explore her.

 

Day swears this is a picture of me, at the bow of the "Hilma Hooker" in Bonaire. She says it is just the angle, but it looks like she is sitting upright to me, and that cannot be...

because the Hilma Hooker is laying on her side. It is a mystery Susan, who by the way is the diver in this picture.
The Hilma Hooker is a great wreck dive, just past the wall, she lies in about 100 feet of water, and is home to some pretty big tarpon.

The USCGC William J. Duane, known simply as the Duane in the Florida Keys, near Molasses Reef. The Duane is a great dive and has a ton of history, and is worth a read. 

Other great wrecks in Key Largo, are the Spiegel Grove, as seen above, which I have never been on but...

Day has. Other wrecks would include the Bibb, the Benwood and the City of Washington. Click on the link above, to read about these great wrecks.

There is something exciting about descending into the depths of the ocean, until a wreck comes into view, and for a moment, it feels as if, you, were the first to discover her.

Years and years of diving together, and I can't find a decent picture of the both of us, together. Can one of our freakin friends take a picture of my wife and I?

 It's always difficult to decide, how to end a post. I wrote earlier, I cut a big piece of this one out, deciding it was a great story, and worthy of a post itself, and "The Frogfish" will be. But now, I am thinking of another post. As I was writing this one, I was getting a little nostalgic, especially when writing about Bonaire. Day and I have been to Bonaire many times, with many friends, is there a better place to be, when I turn 50, in just a year and a half? Is there a better place to be, with all my friends? Surely SCUBA Steve will have to go on that one, right? Well, thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed my post, as much as I have enjoyed writing it.

Patrick's

 

     Years ago, Day and I went to Grenada for vacation. I am not sure what made us pick Grenada, but as it turned out, it is still one of my favorite Caribbean islands. Grenadians love Americans, given our help in the 80's, the dollar is strong and widely excepted. Grenada is also mostly unchanged by tourism, the main town of St. George's is beautiful, beaches are beautiful and the diving was spectacular. Grenada is home to the largest shipwreck in the Caribbean, the Bianca C, a 600 ft. ocean liner. If beaches and diving are not for you, the whole center of the island is a jungle, and there is plenty to explore there. There are fantastic rum tours and spice tours, and as it turns out, Grenada is the spice capitol of the Caribbean and there is plenty to learn about cocoa, nutmeg and other spices. So, there is something for everyone. What was a little disappointing, was the food. 

     Whatever restaurant Day and I went to, it seemed they were catering to Europeans and Americans, and were not doing a great job of it. Day and I are pretty adventurous eaters, and when we travel, we want local food. Several cab drivers mentioned the same place, Patrick's for local cuisine , so we called, and made reservations for later that week.

     For the next couple of days, Day and I would meet people, and get chatty, they all had the same complaints, they were looking for local food. The first couple, Day recognized from our flight, and struck up a conversation, by the end, we had invited them to join us at Patrick's later that week. The same had happened with two more couples, an English couple, a Japanese couple and the Americans from our flight. We invited all of them, never thinking they would show.

     The night to go to Patrick's had come, we had called for a cab, he showed up and knew exactly where Patrick's was. After a ten minute cab ride, we pulled up to a house, the cabbie assured us we were at the right place, and we proceeded to knock on the front porch door. A heavy set Grenadian woman, wearing an apron and a big smile opened the door, and motioned us to come in and sit at one of the two large tables. It appeared the restaurant was this lady's house, she cooks out of her kitchen and the dinning area is her front porch. It's small, maybe only 10 or 15 people could be seated at any one time, and as we sat, one of the couples we invited came in. The proprietor took our drink order, and we chatted with the first couple while the two other couples made their way to our table. As we all made introductions and small talk, I thought to myself, how cool it was that four couples who had never met before, are now sitting together having dinner, after the three impromptu invites Day and I had made.

     We were offered no menus, only a choice of drinks, and shortly after being seated, plate after plate of local dishes came out. This wonderful lady must have brought out 20 or more dishes, from rabbit stew to fried flying fish. We picked from each plate, sampling all the local flavors, and I believe it was this dinning experience, that changed me forever.
     Chatting with strangers, and inviting them to dinner. Taking the time to get to know them, however short that time might be. My time here is short and vacations are shorter, seize the moment because we my not get another chance. Certainly, I did not like all the food, but I did try everything, and I was excited to try everything. Over the years I have become very adventurous with food, and love trying all the local cuisine.

     The dinning experience in Grenada is a story I often tell, and was the most memorable part of our vacation to Grenada and one of those moments that shape you and define you.

Taking on Water

     We left Solomons Island first thing Friday morning and headed up the Chesapeake Bay. The engines were running a little hot so we were cruising a little slower than anticipated, about 12 knots. We would have just enough time to make it through the Chesapeake and Delaware Canal, into the Delaware Bay, and find a marina for the night. We made it as far south as Greenwich before we needed to head in before it got dark. Our intent was to make it to Cape May, New Jersey, but that was not going to be.

     The following  morning started out like every other morning on a boat, fill the water, check the fluids, take out the trash, shower, and then, throw off your bow lines. Dan was in the salon, and S and I were at the helm, up on the fly bridge, as an alarm went off. My first thought was the intercom, and Dan was calling up to us, from below. I picked up the receiver and heard nothing. Thinking the engines might be overheating, I backed off on the throttles, as Dan came up. The alarm was still going off, the temperature gauges were reading good, but there was nothing on the fly bridge that would indicate what the alarm was for. We left S alone at the helm to keep Cotytto on course at idle. We are in the Delaware bay, the seas are pretty choppy, six and eight foot swells, and there is quite a bit of boat traffic, but S is comfortable and competent at the helm. Some people are quite content to sit, read, relax and drink while on the boat. They would all do anything you ask of them, help went needed, which is fine, it's vacation, and we all have our rolls. S is like me though, we love the boat. Keeping the daily log book, checking the fluids in the morning, plotting a course, reading charts, slipping the boat takes people on deck to tie off, caring for your lines and keeping a tidy deck, along with driving the boat are just a few things, and S, digs right in. So, she's at the helm, and Dan and I are investigating an alarm. The electrical Panel is new to both of us, and has quite a few breakers, gauges, switches and lights, but soon enough Dan finds the alarm indicator, the "high water" alarm. Well that sounds horrifying on a boat. Of all the alarms that could be going off, this is our least favorite. Finding which alarm is going off is only part of the issue, finding out why it is going off, is the more important task.

     A 56 ft boat is big, and there are a lot of places where water could be coming in. Finding that while at sea, is to say the least, a little nerve racking, even stressful if you are the owner. Dan started in the engine room and I started in the hatches that run down the center of the boat, in the floor. The bilge pump in the V berth was working fine, and no water.

     A little boat lingo: the bow is the front of the boat, the stern is the back, port is the left side, starboard is the right. Forward and aft are both directions, forward is in front of you and aft is behind you, as long as you are facing the bow of course. The V birth is the bedroom or stateroom in the bow of the boat, and a bilge pump, is just a fancy name for a sump pump.

     Dan was in the engine room where there is the second bilge pump, which was not working, and there was a considerable amount of water. Now when I say considerable, I mean 10 or 15 gallons, which doesn't sound like a lot, until your at sea, and don't know where it is coming from. Meanwhile, I checked the aft pump, which was fine, and the transom pump, which, like the one in the engine room, was not working and full of water. With two pumps not working and water coming in from somewhere we cannot identify yet, our only option is to find a slip for the night. Before heading to a marina, we pumped out the water with a hand pump, and I would watch, as we motor, to see if I can find the source of the water. Given the area we were in, and the size of our vessel, there was only one marina nearby, the one we left, three hours earlier. So, we turned around, Dan and S at the helm, and me, checking in the engine room and the transom for water, as we limped back to Greenwich.

     As we motored back in 6 and 8 ft swells, it became apparent where the water was coming from.  As the waves broke over the bow, the water would pour in the two bulkheads (doors) on either side of the boat. The weather stripping was getting old, and in need of replacing. More water would run down the deck on either the side of the boat to the transom and into the transom storage, which would find it's way to the bilge. This is good news, no leaks, just some new weather proofing. Once we were safely in a slip, we went to work pumping water out of the bilge areas, cleaning whatever crap might be clogging the pumps, and weather proofing the doors with rubber and tape, temporary of course. This turned out to be a long day, with no forward progress. We had dinner, and headed to bed, with plans of leaving early in the morning.

     We woke and did the usual, fill the water, check the fluids, write in the log, and shoved off, in hopes of making NYC before dark. The Delaware Bay was as ornery as the day before, but our makeshift weather proofing was doing it's job, and the bilge was dry. We made Cape May, the southernmost tip of Jersey, in reasonable time, and headed into the Cape May Canal and out the other side to the Atlantic and the coast of Jersey. Today was a good day, with following seas to help, we were doing about 20 knots, and making NYC or close to it, was looking good. Cotytto remained dry, the engines were not overheating and we continued pushing 20 knots, as we passed by Atlantic City. Soon after, we could see the city, Sandy Hook was just ahead, the city just beyond that. It was getting late, and making it to NY was not going to happen, but we could see it...

and that was good enough. Once we passed Sandy Hook, we to a hard left, and made way to a marina in Sandy Hook Bay. Now, I am not going to talk about the disastrous slipping of the boat at this marina, other than to say, the boat is fine and the Captain is not yet use to the controls. Enough said.

     The following morning, and the last leg of our trip, hopefully, began as usual. We cast off our lines early, and head towards the city. NYC is something to see from the water. Under the Verrazano Bridge and through the narrows, around the corner, and there she stands, majestically, lady liberty, an awe inspiring sight.

Just beyond the statue of liberty, the NYC skyline.

Unfortunately we are doing a drive by, and heading to home port in Newport, R.I, but not without more drama.

     You do not wanna be on a boat without a head, especially if you are S. Well, sorry S, seems the fresh water pump is not working. To flush the head, you need water, and that comes from the water tanks. Cotytto has three, which do you no good, if the pump is not working, or so we thought. At the time though, all we knew was, we could not use the heads, for the rest of the trip.

     Just like the day before, we made good time with following seas, and Newport was well in our reach before dark. Familiar water, marina and a familiar slip, brings a sigh of relief, after a long 5 days.

Castle Hill Light in Newport

It sounded worse than it was, Cotytto did well. She handled 8 and 10 foot seas like a tank, she made decent time, even with her engine issues, and her fuel consumption was better than expected. and now, with her safely tied up in her slip in Newport, she can now get the attention she deserves. In just a few short weeks, we will be taking Cotytto out for her first August boat trip. A new boat, a new chapter, and yes, a new blog post.

Friends abroad

     Day and I would leave Venice and spend a day with S and P, before we headed to Milan, and then home. We had met S and P in Tuscany two years earlier, while having dinner. We stayed in a nice villa in Radda in Chianti, and an option was to have the proprietors cook dinner for us. There were six of us, Day and myself, our friends S and D, and a couple we had never met before. By the end of the night the couple, S and P, felt like friends, maybe, it was all the wine. We seemed to have hit it off though, exchanged contact information, and stayed in touch via email and texting for the next couple of years.

     Years and years of vacations, have left me with many great moments and memories. I remember sitting on the banks of Loch Lennhe in Scotland, remembering the stupid argument Day and I had before I left for vacation, and wishing she was there with me. Dinner at Patrick's restaurant in Grenada, is another great memory, and a good story. I look forward to writing about it at some point, with the hopes you enjoy reading about it, as much as I have enjoyed telling the story over the years. Meeting S and P, and keeping in touch, is one of those moments.

     So of course, when we decided to go to Venice, we had hopes of meeting up with them again, but what are the chances of that happening? Yes we had a good time at dinner, they were fun and friendly, yes we exchanged contact information, and actually kept in touch. We kept in touch, but that only means exchanging text messages a dozen times in two years. We enjoyed having dinner with them, but that was only a few hours, and now we are going to meet them somewhere in Italy? If I were being honest, I wasn't getting my hopes up, and if we did meet, would we really like them as much as we thought we did, or was it in fact, all the wine? Well, we did make plans to get together via Facebook and text messages. We would leave Venice by train to Mestre and spend the night. The following morning, Day and I would take a train to Bassano Del Grappa, where S and P would pick us up at the train station. We would spend the day together, with two people we had met two years ago, for just 3 or 4 hours, and have only chatted with via text messages since. What could go wrong?

     Apparently, nothing, the day was perfect! Day and I got off the train, and headed up the stairs to the street, to the call of, "Curly Due!" And there were S and P, with big smiles, ready to greet Day and I. We exchanged hugs and the niceties, and headed to their car. Niceties quickly turned to a genuine interest in what we were all doing these last two years, and it felt like, old friends catching up. They were as friendly, funny, and as easy to like, as we remembered. Great, that means we will not be having lunch with two psychos ( I am sure they were worried about the same thing ). Lunch was good, they took us to a very nice restaurant. S and the waiter were very patient as Day practiced her Italian, and we continued to catch up on the last two years, for the next couple of hours. We finished lunch and would continue our day in, Bassano Del Grappa, north of Venice.

Bassano is a great old town, with tons of history. Bassano del Grappa, named for nearby Monte Grappa, is a pretty medieval town on the Brenta River in northern Italy's Veneto region. Bassano del Grappa is known for its Alpini wooden bridge, grappa, and ceramics. It's a pleasant base for exploring the nearby Venetian villas, castles, towns, and attractions of the Veneto region, often overlooked by travelers heading only to Venice.

We wandered the streets, Day and S chatting and window shopping, P and myself bullshitting about work, investments and retirement, AND of course vacations. I call them S and P, for privacy reasons, the same reasons I chopped off their heads in this picture...

but there they are, S and P, and here we are...

Day and I on the Ponte Vecchio, (old bridge)

The bridge was a stronghold for allied forces in WWII, you can still see the bullet holes in the buildings on either side of the street. The bridge itself was a perfect vantage point for great pictures.

I can't decide which one I like better. Not bad pictures for my phone camera though.

The day was pretty normal, even uneventful for the most part. Day and I took a train ride to meet friends for lunch and a walk around town. What was not normal, S and P were strangers, other than a 3 hour dinner and a dozen or so text messages, who we decided to meet up with again, on the other side of the world. Day and I were not sure how this was going to go, but by days end, it was clear, we liked S and P.

     Day and I had a train ride to Milan to muse over our day spent with our new friends. The day could have been uncomfortable, awkward, like a bad dinner date that doesn't seem to end, but it wasn't. It was comfortable, enjoyable, and like I said, like catching up with old friends. By chance, a couple joins us for dinner in Tuscany, who has a friend with the same nickname I have, "Curly," we hit it off and exchanged contact information, and two years later, we meet them in Bassano Del Grappa. I like stories like that. One I will enjoy telling for years.

     Day and I are planning for Prague in March or April of next year, and we do love Italy, so we look forward to meeting up with S and P again.

Cotytto 2.0

     I sat, quietly for a moment, and thought, the winter seemed especially long this year. With the usual cast of characters, minus my wife, who is stuck working, I sipped my virgin gin and tonic, at a pub, in Solomons Island, Maryland, with great anticipation of the season's first adventure aboard Cotytto, the new, and improved Cotytto, or Cotytto 2.0, as Susan puts it.

     In a previous post , I had said my friend was selling his Grand Banks, and buying a new boat. The Grand Banks is on the market, not yet sold, and the new boat is his, and what a great boat. She is a custom built 56ft. Bruckmann. With three staterooms, two heads and a spacious salon, she is beautiful, and now it's time to bring her to home port, in Newport, R.I.

     I am writing this as we are motoring up the Chesapeake Bay, the Captain is in the engine room, investigating a noise and I am at the helm. With the wind in my face, motoring up the bay, with a bearing of 15 degrees, I just past red buoy "86" on my starboard  side, and now looking for green "83." The only thing that could make this day better, is for Day to be with me, and her friends, Dan and Susan, where she belongs. As I write those words, "where she belongs," I think of the four of us, and the times we have spent together. We belong together, we are a family, a friendship like no other. Years and years, of enjoying one another's company, food, drink and adventure. Our family of friends has grown, but we are, the original four, through thick and thin, for almost 20 years, always, in search of another adventure. Anyhow, we have a two hour motor before we reach the C&D canal, and this seems like a good place to stop writing, and take a nap.

     We left Hopkinton, Mass in a rental car, and headed to Solomons Island, Maryland on Thursday morning. Once at the boat, provisioning and readying the boat was the task at hand Thursday night. We woke early Friday morning to plot our route, my task, then fuel up and shove off. From there, our plan was to motor for 8 hours, from Solomons to Cape May, New Jersey, and spend the night. We would then motor 10 hours on Saturday from Cape May to New York City, and spend the night there. Our last leg would be from NYC to Newport, a 6 hour motor on Sunday, back in time for work on Monday. It seems, I may miss work on Monday though, plans do need to be flexible on a boat.

     The boat was purchased knowing there are engine issues, which will be addressed at the end of this season. For now, enjoy the boat, and don't push the engines. We were not sure how fast we would be able to go, we were hoping between 15 and 20 knots, before the engines may or may not overheat. They were overheating between 12 and 15 though, and we will not be reaching Cape May today. As I was writing this, an alarm went off, and there was quite bit of chaos for the next few hours.

     I am still learning how best to blog, how to write an interesting story and keep my few readers reading. Short and interesting, with a teaser at the end? I will end this here, and hope you are interested enough to read chapter two, "Taking on Water."