Elizabeth City, NC

0 nm
Wind: NE 10 knots

As much as I try not to be frustrated, it is frustrating that we’re wasting all this beautiful sailing weather. Again, I know it’s for the best, and I know that we’re getting a lot accomplished here. Laundry, for one, which hadn’t been done in about a month. Secret got a bath on Monday, her first since we started. She was filthy, and I was ecstatic that dirt will not be tracked across my scrubbed interior floors. She’s filthy again, already, of course.

Yesterday, Karl climbed both our mast and Sea Belle’s mast, which gathered a whole crowd of spectators and cries of horror from our Greek chorus of elderly gentlemen. Evidently we were doing it all wrong, though I’m grateful that we convinced the eighty-year-old “dock-master” to not clamber over to our boat and show us how it’s done. It was actually remarkably simple, although I’m very glad that I had Marcel to help me for the first time. We had a brand new boatswain’s chair bought off eBay, but winching Karl up both masts was easier than I expected. Of course, Marcel did all the heavy winching, but I’m convinced I could do it myself if I had to. It also helps that Karl was a monkey in a past life. And not too distant of a one, either, I’d wager.

The highlight of the day, though, was showers. They always are the highlight of my week, basically, but today’s were especially so. We took a pleasant jaunt down the river to a local fitness club, where we had heard you could get $5 showers. There had been rumors of a pool and Jacuzzi, too, but I was skeptical. Nothing prepared us for the ecstasy of it. In each locker room, not only were there showers with fantastic water pressure (always a telling point), but also a hot tub, sauna, AND a steam room. I think we spent a full three hours each in those locker rooms. I’ve never felt so rosy and scrubbed.

It’s a good thing, because we’ve been invited out this evening! A local gentleman (one of the non-creepy ones, thankfully) hosts a jazz club at his house on Wednesday nights. So we’re going, even though it may interfere with our departure on the morrow. Lise and Marcel aren’t, shockingly enough. Evidently they hate jazz, although I think I’d go even if it were a Toby Keith appreciation club, just for the cheese and shrimp. Then again, maybe not.