Keep To The Lee

Blowing like stink, from the west. No boats on the bay, except…

…us padding along the boulders, among the catspaws—and the sail-training barkentine sailing erratically and then heeling steeply but going slow as it came down towards the marina. We sat at the end of the pier and watched, with binos, for nearly an hour.

Enough wind to give us a (brief) power failure.

High winds giving us high water, too.

Lively Sail…

…on the Windrider. Hefty NW wind, and steep chop at the marina. Spray flying as we beat over to the calmer west side of the bay. Sleigh ride back to the slip. No other sailing vessels on the water.

Last night’s Dutch Baby

This morning’s cappuccino

And, above, a fascinating find. Athelstan Spilhaus was a friend of Brainard Wheeler, and I remember Dad speaking of him occasionally. Even thought of naming a child Athelstan, which may not have been the best idea.

Fat Lip

Morning bike ride, going fast. Then, whap, something smacks me in the lower lip. Instant pain, way more than what you would expect from colliding with an insect. Then, a minute later, a fat lip and a splitting headache.

Moving slow all the remainder of the day, though that could be the result of laziness as much as venom.

Rain, Actually

Light rain last night, then off and on heavy morning downpours and then afternoon downpours. Good amount of moisture, absorbed by the forest—no runoff. And probably still a fire ban.

Clearing in time for dinner at Buoy’s and then a play at the theatre in Gore Bay. Cringingly awful—not so much the actors as the script. I guess amateur theatre is a health risk, like wildfire smoke, that sometimes can’t be avoided.

Chillin’ On The Dock of The Bay

Truck oil leak repaired. Early morning mad dash to the dealer in GorB to avoid ruining the engine by running without lubricant, with the need for one stop along the way for an oil refill.

Planned on going for breakfast in GorB after truck drop off , but none to be found.

Lot and lots of grackles in the neighborhood, for some reason, creaking and crackling. If they eat horseflies they are welcome.

Hot Work..

…on garage and bunkie, but offset by lots of time in the water. When swimming off the end of the pier I was accompanied by four large bass (maybe 24 inches?) who seemed to find me attractive. Should I have been worried?

Hot, sunny, humid, and still most of the day, though west wind now.

Parsley, sage, rosemary," said Tom timelessly.

Long Weekend…

…day two. Busier. What looked to be an overflow crowd jamming the falls as we skirted the area on our way to the dump. (Good thing we went too, as some of the “material” was over 10 days old.)

Very warm and humid, but not smoky. Several dips off the end of the pier.

"Oops! There goes my hat!" said Tom off the top of his head.

Perfect Breeze…

…for a Windride. Day started out clear but increasingly hazy in the afternoon. Southeast wind, so smoke blowing back from Pittsburg?

Above, my favorite Tom Swift book. The books were intended to make kids like science and engineering. Successful, pretty much. But adverbs were over used, hence the Swiftly puns.

"We have no oranges," Tom said fruitlessly.

"I'm a lot taller than I was yesterday," said Tom gruesomely.

"I only have diamonds, clubs and spades," said Tom heartlessly.

"Don't you know my name?" asked Tom swiftly.

Nous Sommes Ici…

…in just over 10 hours. Heavy smoke at outset, but mostly clear by Escanaba on a south west wind.

Katy asked me if I was a Swifty. It turns out I am—not a Taylor Swifty but a Tom Swifty. For example:


"This boat is leaking," said Tom balefully.

"I have to keep this fire alight," Tom bellowed.

Missed It

A short but intense downpour last night after I had checked out—so perhaps the pattern is changing. Lots of wind and a few light showers today. Cooler.

Above, gooseberries beginning to ripen. Tart but tasty. Usually not here for a harvest.