Team Polar Bear grows in number to three.

Announcing the newest addition to Team Polar Bear: Fitzroy Maximus Decimus Meridius Getchell Dearn. (Fitz for short.)

Mr. Fitzroy (a.k.a. Fuzzy Muffin, Puppers, Honey Bear, Dog-dog and Woofy) was named after Vice-Admiral Robert Fitzroy of the British Royal Navy. Bob (as we know Captain Fitzroy) mapped much of South America and was the inventor of modern weather forecasting. Fitzroy was a dignified sea-faring name for our dignified sea-faring dog.

Fitzroy has been part of Team Polar Bear for a little more than a week. He is a pure bred Portuguese Water Dog. PWD's have been bred for centuries to be working boating and fishing dogs. They have instincts to swim, retrieve ropes, fish and save drowning people. They also have slightly webbed feet and a coat made of hair, not fur, which is especially suitable to cold ocean swimming. (It also means that they don't shed and are hypoallergenic!) The dog breed is fairly rare now that it has been replaced by mechanical fishing equipment, but is slowly making a resurgence as family pets.

Fitzroy will be a medium-sized dog, although as an eleven week old puppy, he is awfully big, so we suspect he'll be a big boy for his breed. We expect him to be about sixty pounds. He is very smart, has a calm but energetic temperament, and has already learned several commands and walks on a leash. He had his first ocean swimming lesson on Sunday with great success (i.e., he swam without Simon having to get into the water).

He also has a fan club on the marina. We walk down the boardwalk at least twice a day and literally dozens of people have specifically sought us out to meet him.

Simon and I are asked two things constantly these days: "what kind of dog is that; I've never seen that breed before" and "what is your boat made out of; I've never seen that hull material before." Team Polar Bear is nothing, if not unique!!

"I'm sailing! I'm a sailor!": Update

Yesterday, Simon was employed to do the same yacht transport job to Hamble that he did last week, and again I got to tag along. This time, however, it was actually sunny and warm out. Unfortunately, we had to head straight into the wind the entire time, so we motored the full way.

I sat in the cockpit, enjoyed the sun, and drank beer. Now I'm more like a real sailor. But Simon has officially banned me from quoting What About Bob?

In the meantime, there haven't been any interesting posts because I've been chipping paint for days. Paint chipping is not exciting, unless you think that identifying the waxy coat on the roof of the wooden cabins is exciting. We still don't know what it is, but we have dried out the wood significantly and found very little rot, which makes me surprisingly happy. Oh, the thrills!!

In future news, we've decided to get a puppy and I'll be picking him up on Saturday. We're temporarily referring to him as Pirate the Puppy. He'll be an all-black, pure-bred Portuguese Water Dog. Other potential dog names are Fitzroy, Magellan and Popeye. If you have any good ideas, please let us know! We're a bit stumped!

Simon the Monkey-Slayer: Update

Simon has been a non-smoker for four weeks (as of yesterday)! He's awesome, but not entirely out of the woods yet. We're aiming for six months, and then he gets the reward of us going on a para-sailing trip!

Thanks to everyone for their support! Keep it coming!

Love!

"I'm sailing! I'm a sailor!"

I've been quoting that particular line from What About Bob? for a couple weeks now. The first two or three times, Simon thought it was funny... but now, he is getting annoyed with me. I still get so excited about this world-sailing business, though, that I can't help but voice my exuberance, even if it is by quoting Bill Murray. I can't believe I am here doing it. Simon will have to tolerate my outbursts a bit longer.

Some days, though, I am not quite so exuberant. Polar Bear has been sitting on the hard for three weeks now. We've been working on her whenever possible, but the weather is not cooperating. It's been raining and windy here almost every day since we've arrived. I believe, though, that tomorrow the sunny July I was promised will arrive for good. I need to believe....

Simon has been out in the horrible conditions most days racing in the Solent. More than half the nights, he is away completely. When he is back, he is exhausted, salty, wind-blown and sore. To add insult to injury, I've been knocked down for the past week with the flu. Progress on Polar Bear is frustratingly slow.

It has also been pointed out to me by our caring friends that I'm now "that weird, lonely chick who lives by herself in a boatyard." Still, I am happy to be here, a bona fide "sailor." (Side note: as happy as I am to be here, I am eternally grateful to Rob and Amber for taking me bowling yesterday, so I could get away for just a bit and not be that crazy chick who needs a cat.)

Today the rain poured down nonstop, just like the past several days. The wind gusted. Polar Bear is saturated and beginning to leak in places. "It's amazing the sky has any rain left," Simon commented this morning.

He was employed today to move a 37-foot yacht about twenty miles away to Port Hamble. Since he was going to have to sail it by himself, he suggested that Rob, Amber and I join him. With the rain and wind gusting (and, to be fair, they had more important people to hang out with), Rob and Amber politely declined. I eyed the rain suspiciously and thought I ought not, since I still has a cold, but there was a part of me that totally wanted to do it.

So, I dressed up in my full gear (kindly bought for me by Simon last April, but which has never been used) and hopped onto the soggy boat around noon. Although he didn't say, I knew Simon was really happy to have me aboard. The sail would have been atrocious by himself, but now he had me to enjoy it with (and to order to move the fenders -- he denies that he loves ordering me to move fenders, but I know that is a lie).

We spent about an hour messing around with fuel and getting through the locks with the other boats. The rain was going constantly and I was completely soaked, but warm. I thought, "this isn't too bad!" But I knew that we were relatively sheltered, so I braced mentally for more.

Out of the shelter of the marina, things became much hairier. The wind gusted at thirty knots and had us leaning over onto our starboard side even though we didn't have the sails up! The sea was choppy and we were bouncing and crashing along. The rain was driving right at us and stinging our faces.

After I pulled in all the fenders, Simon let me at the helm. I giggled and felt a little nervous about driving in the rough conditions. After a few minutes, though, I was fully into my role as salty old sea captain. I adopted the wide stance and peered out from under my hood. I could feel the water streaming down my hands and face. My cold streamed, too, but I hardly noticed under the onslaught of rain and waves.

Simon let out less than half of the jib and shut down the engine. With that tiny bit of sail, we were going just as fast as when we were at full throttle on the engine. The boat leaned over even farther.

As we pulled around the headland and into the shipping lanes, the sea got really rough. Waves were crashing over the yacht and blinding me. I drove on, surfing off waves tops and bashing into the troughs, the whole boat shuddering.

We crashed and bashed and bounced our way along the sea. My adrenaline surged. "HA! Mother Nature! Come and get me!" I taunted, laughing robustly. "HAHAHAHAHA!!!! Is that all you've got, you old bitch!!"

Simon looked at me like I had lost my mind.

"You knew I was crazy, already, right?!?" I asked him, laughing brazenly, perhaps even maniacally.

"I'm beginning to learn."

Simon moved forward along the decks awash with waves to sort out some ropes. I saw him slide a bit and my senses returned slightly. "Just kidding, Mother Nature," I said. The absolute last thing I wanted was for nature to take me up on my challenge and wash him overboard. When he returned, I fibbed and told him I was tired so that he would take the wheel and stay safely in the cockpit for a while.

A few minutes later, he asked me to winch the jib tighter, if I was "feeling keen." I tried to ease my way across the soaked cockpit, but slipped on some rope and slid across like a drunk ice-skater instead. I heard Simon laugh. "You're so graceful." He commented, not for the first time. "Like a swan. Mid-flight." I felt slightly less keen, but winched anyway.

An hour and a half later, taking turns at the helm, we arrived in Hamble. Tying up was a nightmare as we were in a berth that was about ten feet too small. I huffed and puffed pulling lines tighter. At the end, I felt physically tired, and I could appreciate Simon's daily exhaustion a little more. I also felt completely soggy.

We pulled off our heavy weather gear, I brushed the wind out of my hair, and we walked into town to find a pub. The high street was narrow cobblestone boasting several pubs. We walked into one across from a small clothing store with bikinis displayed in the window. Those can't be selling well, I thought.

As we sat there recovering, Simon confessed that there is a certain exhilaration in being at the helm during a storm that he enjoys. "See," I commented, "I am not so crazy after all!" Or maybe we both are.

Still, I was filled with happiness and enthusiasm. I can sail in pretty bad conditions and even enjoy it! That was a relief. I also decided that I continue to be bad ass. "You're braver than most," Simon agreed, "and humble, too."

A few minutes later, Simon stuffed me into a taxi to wait for him back at Polar Bear. "Port Solent," I told the driver.

"You aren't going sailing in this weather." The driver stated it, not asked it, chuckling at the ridiculousness of his comment.

"I've already sailed today, actually. We sailed from Port Solent."

Because I sail. I'm a sailor.