Blue sky

[Hilde's log]

The sky is blue, the wind is honking, the water level is almost back to normal. We've had a hot shower and a quick drive around. League City and Kemah are okay, all water drained away. We have been unbelievably lucky: no property loss. Even the RV is okay. The consignment lot is an island and all the RVs are okay. Our stuff in storage is okay. We are working to finish clearing out the big one today. The air is wonderfully fresh, swept free of the everlasting pollution I am usually forced to breathe. I will not be posting or texting for awhile. I have post traumatic stress stupidity and can't seem to focus on much. Also my phone croaked, and it will be a few days before the new one arrives. Since it is "new and improved" I probably won't be able to work it. Please call if you like; we'd love to hear from you. But use David's cell.

Blue sky!! Sun!! Can't beat it.

Day 5

4:12 p.m.

This morning I woke up late to yet more rain and a lot of stiff wind. The sky outside has remained an opaque white. The rain slacks off, coming in light to moderate bursts, stops awhile. I get all excited that it has stopped. Then it returns with renewed vigor. It’s raining hard as I write this. The wind has remained constant all day, rattling masts, howling in the rigging, and rocking the boat.

We ventured out before a late lunch to take a look and to chat with one of the dockmasters. Before I go on, a tip of the hat to both of them. We are at Portofino Marina and dockmasters Katie and Dean have been here the whole time on their boat. They take their dinghy around and check on us liveaboards every day. Every day they are in the office. They are really keeping up with things and are on the ball. Not something I could say about other places we have lived. Thanks, guys.

Anyway, we chatted with Dean about grocery stores and roads. The Kroger and HEB and Walmart are all open! I am flabbergasted. And evidently there is no problem getting to them. We are fine for food, although tomorrow is the last day of fresh and then we are into beans and rice and canned fish. So I’m guessing as soon as the wind dies down we’ll be on our way to shore, a hot shower, and the store.

We sat glued to the news on our computer last night, mouths agape. I have never seen anything like it. The entire city seems to be underwater. We watched as people were driven to safety on a huge front loader, sitting in the bed of the truck, clinging to the sides, sitting in front in the shovel. Volunteers are all over the place, driving their boats down drowned streets and plucking people off cars, out of doorways, off roofs. People were wading in chest deep water, walking out of submerged residential areas. We feel so blessed and grateful to be warm and safe and dry, and were so cheered by the volunteers. A large furniture store had opened the store to refugees, housing about 300. My only question was – where are the governmental troops with boats, etc.? There are definitely some Coast Guard and National Guard, but there don’t seem to be many. Thank God for all the fishermen in this area with their flat bottomed boats.

We got word that our church has, amazingly, not flooded. It is a stone’s throw from Dickinson Bayou. I have no idea how it has escaped.

We keep watching the water levels. The rain continues, they have opened some levees, and we worry about a sudden cascade of water. So far, nothing has reached us, and the brown tide continues to sweep past us toward the Bay. I am so thankful there is nothing to block its exit.

One funny thing: David saw two pelicans floating on the surface of the channel, as they often do, whizzing past at about 10 knots, enjoying the ride.

Later Monday, about 3:45 p.m.

[Hilde's log]

The rain started up a couple of hours ago and has been lashing us non-stop. Dickinson is under mandatory evacuation (we are east of there). Not looking good on the radar.

I feel like a prisoner in a small cell, kept in by this storm and the constant rain. Who ever thought rain could be oppressive?

The grass has disappeared again, although the wooden boardwalk is still above water. We still have many feet left on our high water pilings. But I'm tense, and really, really tired of this.

I keep thinking of the story of Noah's ark, which is usually cutsified by chubby elephants and doves and a round bottom boat that is light years too small to hold the toys that come with the set. The real thing must have been just horrid, with the rain lashing down day after day, and the land disappearing, and desperate people banging on the Ark's door. Just horrid.

The radar shows more of the same. I would make a rotten POW.

BTW, we are fine, so don't worry about us. Just stir crazy and sick of rain.

Text me! Jokes welcome.

Surviving

[Hilde’s log]

Blessedly, the rain has let up. It is still gray, still raining in bursts and spatters, but nothing like the sustained downpours of the last several days. The news is that they will open the reservoirs north of Houston today. God knows what that will do. Make the Houston swimming pool deeper, I guess.

The water level on the channel is down significantly. This morning I could see the grass on the berm in front of the boat for the first time in two days. The water is still rushing by, but it’s lower, for the moment. We are no longer in danger of having to resort to Plan B. At least we have Plan B. Those on land just have to wait and hope.

I have been texting friends in Dickinson this morning, and it’s heartbreaking. So many have lost everything: houses, contents, cars, businesses. Our former church is underwater. So are my doctors and dentist offices. Thankfully, I have heard of no injuries or fatalities, but the loss of property, especially your home or the private business you have spent years building up, is almost as devastating. I’d say this is easily as bad as Ike nine years ago.

Harvey, meanwhile, is meandering SE, and hasn’t decided whether to wander into the Gulf and back ashore here or not. So for the moment we are fine (depressed, irritable, and bored, but fine).

Psychically, I am picking up on the swell of upset throughout the region. It’s pretty deafening. I find myself mentally pacing back and forth to escape it. Being confined on the boat is not helping.

This afternoon, assuming it finally does slack off, we will dinghy ashore and see if our storage area is flooded or not. I am so sick of things, I am of two minds… Our RV is on a lot in the middle of Houston off I-59. I have no idea if it survived or not. Again, I am of two minds. The chain of possessions is heavy.

I have a big case of survivor’s guilt as well. We never even lost power. We float, we are high and dry and comfortable, with plenty of food and water and all the comforts of home, and other than yesterday morning, which was pretty tense, we have not been fearful. Others are stranded in motels or at friends’ houses, wondering if and when they will be able to go back to homes that aren’t there.

Just heartbreaking.

At the dock, but took the dinghy ashore

David's log.

During the last 24 hours, this part of Texas has received over 22" of rain. The Kemah Channel (about 200 yards wide) looks like the Mississippi in flood. It is about six feet higher than usual and flowing at about ten knots from Clear Lake towards Galveston Bay.

There is fast-running water between the floating docks and the land, so this morning we actually rowed ashore in the dinghy. Once there, we moved the cars to higher ground.

Raven is tied to floating docks. Currently, they are about ten feet from the top of the pilings. We should be OK but who knows?

After our excursion in the dinghy, we were soaked to the skin - might as well have been naked. Fortunately, the air is warm (high 70s) and the water we paddled through even warmer (low 80s). Hilde's phone started to act up. In spite of best efforts to keep it dry, water got inside it. So, for now, call my phone.

We're in frequent contact with friends and family. To those not in Texas, we're doing our best to describe what's going on and to calm any fears. To those affected by Hurricane Harvey, we are calling and texting - and praying for relief and safety.

Note to self: never tell the Universe you’re bored.

I slept through the downpour last night, lightening bursts and all. We woke up this morning to the news that 22” of rain had fallen in the Clear Creek area over the last 24 hours, with more coming. The flood has arrived. Our picnic area is completely underwater and the leisurely but powerful flow of the Kemah channel has quickened its pace. Watching a piece of wood swirling by, I’d say the current was about 8 knots, maybe more. The water was swirling and crashing at the end of the now completely submerged wooden dock and was so much higher up the berm David and I decided nothing would do but get to shore to move the cars to higher ground. They are old and creaky, but they’re all we’ve got!

Yesterday David brought the dinghy to the boat; no particular reason except we are trying to get out of that storage unit at the end of this month and the water level made it easier to get it to the boat. Turns out to have been a very fortuitous decision, as dinghy is the only way to reach shore today. We suited up in our foulie tops (Helly Hansen brand is great, proved by the deluge this morning) and Tevas, and David found the oars and oar locks. Then he bailed her out, in we got, and off we went to shore. It was like any of 1,000 other dinghy rides I’ve had, easy-peasy (of course I wasn't rowing!). Until we got to the edge of the marina and discovered that wading through 2 feet of water was the only way to reach shore (the whole marina is ringed with floating docks). So wade we did, then slogged through the most recent downpour, squished into the drivers’ seats, and took ourselves to higher ground. Here’s hoping it’s high enough to preserve our vehicles.

It rained like stink the whole walk back, so by the time we reached Raven we looked like a couple of drowned rats (dry under my foulie top). Stripped off, dried, back in dry clothes, and with a cup of hot coffee nearby, I am feeling better.

So we are okay for the moment. Depends on the vagaries of Harvey. Right now it is just sitting here flooding us. We do have Plan B, but that will happen only if we see the top of our pilings (the water level has risen about 6 feet so far). Meanwhile...waiting.

Kemah channel flood

Hurricane notes

Saturday, August 26, 6:30 p.m.

What do you do when marooned on a boat? You read, you watch movies, you text family and friends, you cook and eat and wash up and you roll your eyes at your spouse and they roll theirs back at you in sheer boredom. You give thanks, grateful thanks, that you are bored. 

It is Saturday night as I write this, and I see some streaks of white sky in the East, for the first time today. It is oppressively humid, but that’s normal. The temperature is moderate, which is not normal, not in August. No rain, but overcast everywhere except those white streaks. The wind has picked up, flapping flags and tree limbs. Not scary, just pleasant. Anything to move this wet air!

When I woke up this morning, the rain was torrential, just bucketing down. The wind was moderately high, in the 30s I’d guess. Raven rocked gently in her slip and I yawned and stretched and called out, “Where’s the storm?” Some folks can’t believe I could sleep through all the hub-bub, but a sailboat is not like a boat that floats on top of the water, like a fishing boat or even a trawler. A sailboat’s keel sinks in deep and the boat becomes one with the sea, rocking as it does, riding up and down, not slapping back and forth like a boat with no keel. And Raven has a full keel, meaning she’s sunk in with the water for most of her length. Believe me, there’s nothing more peaceful.

Other things are not peaceful, like checking up on family and friends in harm’s way (so far, all okay). The rain stopped here after about 3 or 4 hours – I even did the laundry today. Other places are not so fortunate and have been drenched for 12 hours straight. We are hoping Harvey will just lumber up north and die on the North Texas plains, but it has stopped all forward progress, still spinning, like it is considering its next move. Hopefully it will move, soon, and give some relief to the folks being pummeled. Hopefully also it won’t move this way. So far the runoff has been impressive but has not swamped us. Hopefully also it won’t go back out in the Gulf and whirr itself back into a hurricane. That has happened before.

We went out earlier in the day, during a lull in the downpour, to take photos of the docks and the swirling Kemah channel, which is shouldering a gigantic amount of water past our door on its way to Galveston Bay. The water has gone down about 6” from the photos we took, which is good. It was originally forecast, and may still happen, that Harvey will turn East and dump huge amounts of rain on Houston, which will flood down to this area, down the Kemah channel and out to the Gulf. A huge amount of rain could drown the standing docks and keep us on the boat for a couple of days. 

Here are a couple of glimpses - the first I took when we ventured out this morning (Movie #1). We were out for about 5 minutes and then a band of rain came through and drenched us. The second is a video David took from under a shelter (Movie #2). I went back to the boat and peeled off my sodden clothes. The last is a photo that was taken after I was sure the rain had stopped! 

To view videos, right click on movie #1 or movie #2 and then click on the "go to link" address. Then click on the arrow in the upper right corner. Sorry for all the complications, but we couldn't get the darn things to load on the blog.

 Movie #1

Movie #2

The Kemah bridge is on the right. The fuel dock across the way is fixed, and sunk. The wooden dock you see is also fixed and the water is lapping over the top. This is as high as it got, today at least.

Waiting for Harvey

Friday, 8-25, about 11:30 a.m,

Hello, all. I thought I would do a quick post to let you know we are fine here. We are on the boat and feel relatively secure because we’re on floating docks (with 15 foot pilings), have solar power for most things, including the refrigerator, and cook with propane. We’ve prepped the boat and now we are just sitting here enjoying unseasonably cool weather – 77 – and sitting around wondering when to open the chips.

Our friends to the south are not so fortunate. We are anticipating top winds of 50 knots (we have sailed in 35) and a bucketload of rain for the next 4 days. Down south, they are anticipating 105 knot winds and even more rain in an area that does not shed rain well (dry and desert in many places). I have friends and relatives in Gonzales and New Braunfels and they are in areas that flood in heavy rain. We have friends in Corpus Christi as well. If Harvey comes ashore in Matagorda Bay, there’s always the nuclear power plant to worry about. May God send His angels to preserve those in danger.

We are past thankful that we did not go to Corpus Christi for the summer as planned!

How did we prep the boat for this storm? I guess the biggest thing was taking down the jib and the staysail, folding them and stowing them in a locker. Those things are enormous and heavy. Fortunately, others were here readying their boats and one man helped us fold them up. We took down the canvas awnings that shade our cabin and stowed them. We cleaned out the A/C system, filled the water tanks (40 gallons), and lay in food in anticipation of the storm surge (currently expected to be 4 feet). We did a pump out so the black tank was empty. We stowed everything in the cockpit. We moved my car to our garage storage which is plenty empty enough to hold it (!). We added everything that was in the back of the pick up. David checked the lines. We locked the dock lockers so they can’t blow open. All that took most of the day and some of the very early morning today so we are glad to stop moving.

Now we wait. Houston will flood badly, I’m sure. It has cemented over the wetlands that were designed by nature to handle this kind of weather event. I hope no one goes out. Last big rain, I-10 was 10 feet under water in places. Freeway underpasses are holding grounds for small lakes.

Anyway, long story short, we are fine and resigned to being wet and claustrophobic through Wednesday night. Hence the chips.

PS If Harvey takes a sharp turn toward us before making landfall, it's Plan B, I never argue with a hurricane.

All the big stuff is done!

[Hilde's log]

Quick post to show you the non-skid and the solar panels. Next chore is emptying the workshop, which happens a bit here and a bit there, most mornings. How on earth did we collect so much stuff??

Warning to those of you planning to do this: I didn't use the 3M blue tape because it didn't make a tight enough seal in the head and my paint found its way under the tape in places. I used the 3M green on the deck and the darn stuff doesn't all come off. Mostly, but not all. What's left leaves a stain. I am NOT happy. David bought some 3M adhesive remover, but it wasn't strong enough. He is going back to by 3M Death in a Can. Fingers crossed.

Looking forward, toward the bow. So pretty! You can see one bit of reluctant adhesive right in the middle of the white gelcoat in the middle of this photo.

Side decks, too...unfortunately beautiful new non-skid shows dirt really well.

Cap'n Dave and his solar array - he built the frame himself!

Empty shelves, empty boxes...we're getting there. The far shelf on the left has to be carried on Raven. Yeah, right. I see more culling in our future. Fortunately a lot of it gets lashed to the deck.

Tick tock

[Hilde’s log]

I got a text from a friend the other day saying, “You haven’t posted in awhile. Where are you?”

So...time to fess up. We’re still in Kemah. Still working on the boat. Wondering when we will get away. In equal parts frantic and lethargic in the August heat.

Since my last post, David has 

1.  Made and installed an exhaust vent for the galley, a 3-day project constructed of black Starboard and computer fans that is just awesome!! It pulls the heat and smoke out from the stove – see photo.

2. Installed a solar panel arch for the panels that have just come; he is on the couch reading the installation instructions as I write this.

3. Reinstalled the cockpit table, a two-day project because he had to cut, readjust, and realign things.

4.  Repaired a tear in an awning, which entailed finding the sewing machine in storage, setting it up, doing the work, finding a place for the sewing machine on the boat, and cleaning up – two days.

5. Installed the remaining doors we had taken out to varnish

6. Installed a helm seat and a foot rest to take the place of the small plastic stool we have used all this time. That took about 5 days – see photo.

7. Reinstalled the single side band radio, a three-day effort to pull and reinsert electrics, using KISS (tuned radials - and now you know what I know) for the ground plane instead of the ineffective 2" copper strips that corrode in about 6 months. All you HAMs out there probably appreciate this more than I do.

My favorite upgrade. Sucks the heat and smoke and steam from cooking right out of the cabin.

New helm chair and folding step. Far superior to the plastic stool...

 “All” I’ve done is sand and clean the decks and paint new non-skid on the port and starboard decks. I still have to do the coach roof and the cockpit. Non-skid is paint with sand-like crystals mixed in. It gives a nubby texture to the deck to keep feet from slipping. It’s a blue-gray color that we like very much (see photo). It’s not hard to do, but very time consuming. You have to put it on when the decks are less than 90 degrees, which on the coast in August is between 6 a.m. and 9 a.m. I have to tape off the areas not to be painted, and there are lots of those. The taping takes the majority of the time. Then I paint two coats, separated by 24 hours. Not hard, if the weather cooperates, which it does, intermittently. 

The old non-skid was cracked and slick. After 24 years, it just couldn't be put off any longer.

 

Rolling away on the port deck. The non-skid area is taped off to keep the gray from bleeding into the white.

We have managed to go out twice in the bay to test our instruments and confirm that Raven still floats. One day the wind was just honking, 25 knots (about 30 mph), and it was a lot of work for two rusty old sailors. We had to sit around and rest the next day! The second time, the wind was moderate (20 knots) and we had a fine time and remembered this can be fun.

We had a good head of steam up on the refit, and then came the trip to Oregon (see photo) to meet our three-month-old grandson (ridiculously cute, naturally - see photo) and a side trip to Montana to see old friends who have relocated up there. In the middle of that visit, we learned of a death in the immediate family and spent two days traveling in order to get to the funeral. After 10 days, we’re just now back, exhausted from visiting and travel and sorrow. We took the day off yesterday, and today planned to get back in the saddle. So it rained.

Am working to roll with it and to ignore the clock I have ticking in the background.

In Portland with the Most Remarkable Grandson.

Everyone in Portland went to the beach because it was "so hot." Yeah. Not. So beautiful there.