I’ve been lucky enough to travel to various bits of the world, some of which are renowned for their bugs. However, the North Carolina mosquito takes the biscuit in bug prizes. Dave and I were bitten, bleeding and flapping like mad fruit loops after a seriously mis-judged detour into a marshy area at Cape Lookout. Never again.

Mentally and physically scarred, we headed to the hills in Brevard, still in North Carolina but almost an 8 hour drive away. We were both looking really forward to the spending time with the family from Piper, a boat we met in the Bahamas this winter. The trip healed the wounds and we have had a fabulous time.

We had a full on stay including waterfall walks in the rain, experiencing Halloween on Maple Street, a day’s climbing with everyone, then Dave and Tripp did a 460’ multi pitch route plus a mass bike ride to a couple of breweries, which seem pretty common here, for someone’s birthday.

It was fun just to hang out with the family, kicking a football in the garden, playing cards and checking out town.

It’s Sunday night here and we are undecided as to whether to head back to boat world tomorrow or have another day here. There’s loads to do and see here. It’s been really relaxed and we’ve experienced some great hospitality. Thanks Piper.

It’s always an unknown setting out on a journey when your 37 year old boat has not moved for a wee while. Hoards of mischievous blighters are known to take up camp in out of the way places, hiding in crevices and corners, waiting to leap out and bite you on the bum on your first trip.

We had just the four on our journey from Fishing Bay, Deltaville to Cape Lookout, near Beaufort. Round Hatteras.  A first for us. But actually a great sail.

Cap’n and chief Spannerman Dave was equal to them all. Take that you cheeky blighters. A quick précis of the list. Dodgy alternator putting out too many volts…solved by replacing the alternator with a spare. Tick. Burst pipe and associated flood from the pressurised water tank to the sink…solved by replacing the pipe and two big sponges. Tick. Snapped lazy jack line which keeps the sail in a bag along the boom…solved by a fancy bit of splicing and a quick trip up the mast. Tick.

And the fourth, I was on watch in the middle of the night when I became aware of an unwanted creaking noise in the steering quadrant / autopilot area. Hmmmm. That’s not usual or healthy. Time to wake Dave up. Turns out the bracket which holds the autopilot mechanism has a crack down a welded seam causing the unit to twist in a Chubby Checker fashion.

This was of course, only discovered when the whole contents of the back bedroom had had to be hauled out from its neatly packed home and distributed on the floor to allow access. This one was not so straightforward to fix so we hand steered for the next 30 hours. Tell you what, that autopilot does bloody good work and hand steering down wind in the dark with no points of reference is knackering.

All the aforementioned didn’t really dampen spirits. I was really happy to be moving again. We had a fast trip down with good wind. A large swanky powerboat called Andrea’s Revenge overtook us and made us laugh. Who was on the wrong side of Andrea? 😀

I saw a large ray somersaulting out of the water and landing on its back, it’s white belly vivid in the sea. I didn’t know if it was being chased, or just happy, or maybe trying to get rid of mites on its back? Whatever the reason it was quite spectacular.

And dropping the anchor at 3.15am meant Dave stayed up and followed the England New Zealand Rugby World Cup semi final. Bad luck Kiwi friends. I however was asleep in seconds.

No story to tell here, just a very quick update.

Haul anchor and move south. It’s happening tomorrow. I have itchy feet.
Plan is to head straight to Beaufort North Carolina, round Hatteras. Should take around 2 days offshore.

We’re lining up a few days in the hills of Brevard in North Carolina with a family we met in the Bahamas. Dave hopes to get his climbing gear out. We’re excited to see these folks again and have fun in their backyard.

The first thing I ever saved up for was a drop handle bar racing bike. It cost £112. I was in my young teens and £112 was a fair whack. Summer’s working washing dishes and autumn’s picking potatoes let me accrue my pile of dosh. It took a while.

My previous bike was a 1930’s women’s racing bike which I was given. It was heavy, sturdy and went like stink when you got it upto speed. Brakes seemed optional but the leather in my school shoes did the business too, much to my mam’s chagrin.

Having to save up for something that cost more than three figures gave the bike more value than the pure financial cost. Dirt and rubber gloves were involved.

Saving up, just generally to have some cash behind you, is a different thing. It’s an insurance policy, a ‘what if’ fund, but the question is, when do you spend that money? Surely the whole point in saving up and putting a bit of cash by, is to spend it one day and not just grace the bank’s particularly greedy piggy bank. 

Where’s this leading? We splashed some cash on a new prop shaft and a new life raft. Buying a life raft is an bizarre thing. Spend good money on something you never want to use. There’s probably a adjective to describe this but I don’t know what it is.

We went to the Annapolis boat show to suss out different brands and prices. Some looked like kiddies paddling pools that wouldn’t  stand up to a boisterous 5 year old, We opted for something that was the ‘top end of the mid range’ priced rafts. It felt like the best compromise after we’d pondered for a few days.

Good news is we are back floating. All good. Well that’s not strictly true. The generator is not working. It won’t start so we are liaising with the UK, Germany and the USA about getting a new starter motor as it’s still under warranty. It’s a three way email dance.

We’re not big dance fans.

It’s all been a bit deja vu in the boatyard here in Deltaville. Plans, lists, delays, repetitions and so forth, but our time on the hard is very nearly up. We splash Friday after a mid week trip to the Annapolis boat show to look at, then dream about owning a water maker. Followed swiftly by a consoling beer with some Peeps we last saw in the Bahamas. That bit will be fun.

There has been quite a European contingent here, a few Brits, plus a fair smattering of Dutch and German folk too. And there is surprising uniformity in everyone’s day….early starts, trips to the hardware store (if you’re American) or shop (if you’re british) in either the yard sofa which comes with wheels and an engine or one of the red push bikes which are free to use here. Then routinely it’s days end for showers around 6 or 7 before dinner and bed. This is pretty much everyone’s Groundhog Day schedule here.

There isn’t really anywhere to go. I’ve cycled around a bit in the evening. It’s very flat here which is helpful as the bikes have no gears, or traditional cable brakes for that matter. Pedal backwards to stop. They do have very large saddles which offer unbounded comfort levels in the cheek department.

Chat centres around rotting rudders, caulking and prop shafts. I look forward to moving on again, as the dynamic will change and we can get on with the main business of the day, sailing to new places.

Dave loves potatoes. They are perhaps his favourite food. Roast, mash, lyonnaise, chips, jacket. Doesn’t really matter. In his opinion a meal is not a meal unless it includes potatoes. My take. They are okay but I like a bit of rice or pasta or couscous for variety.

In the boatyard, potatoes are an easy option on the bbq for dinner. Bit of tinfoil, spud on, 35 to 45 minutes later, jacket good to go. I decided that I was spudded out tonight so opted for a cheese and onion omelette. However prior to my eggy dinner I set off on a short bike ride to the shop. I fancied a bit of air as I’d been driving a sewing machine all day. A blast of air and a bit of exercise would be well received.

I needed a purpose for my ride so decided to head to the shop for some cold beers. It’s Friday night. I hadn’t had a drink all week so a cold lager seemed appealing in the last dregs of dwindling sunshine.  I approached the checkout with a 4 pack of pissy Budweiser lagers and a bag of crisps. High quality carbohydrates for a Friday night.

”Can I see your photo ID?”. “I haven’t got any” I said. “I’m 53” I said laughing (well actually guffawing uncontrollably)  and ruffling my hair to show my greying temples”.  I then realised this was in fact a lie as I forgot I am now 54. “I can’t sell you anything without any photo ID. You could try the 7/11”.

I left shaking my head in a ball of laughter with my solitary bag of crisps. Refused alcohol at 54. I thought those days were long gone.

And she was right. The 7/11 didn’t care. They sold me lager with gay abandon.

Our day stared at 4.33am. My UK phone rang. Shit. It’s an emergency at home. I leapt (well shuffled quickly) out of bed but inevitably the phone had rung off by the time I got to it. It was a buddy of ours from the uk. Ah, I thought. It’s a trouser pocket phone call. Unknown, unintended, uninitiated. I sent a message saying I think you called me by accident. No, I tried to call, came back the message, but I’m sorted now. Good I retorted in good humour. It’s 4.33am in the morning here so I’m going back to sleep. Oops, 😀 was his response. He’s a sweetheart.

After that we had a slow boatyard day. But we do have a working fridge now so no more luke warm drinks and we pumped the paddle boards up for a choppy excursion across the bay here in Fishing Bay, Deltaville, Virginia.

Dave is being sociable this evening with the other boatyard dwellers here. I’ve bailed out. There’s some lovely folk. However often the chat turns to boats and boating life which after a short while, bores the pants off me. I know I’m part of this crowd but it’s not my whole life. I am interested in other things. I’m more comfortable in smaller groups where you can actually get to know people and the conversation moves around a lot more. Sounds a bit ironic I know. We’ve been boat based for over 3 years now. But just cos I live in a boat, doesn’t mean I want to chat about it all the time.

We imagine being out the water for about another two weeks. Then it’s up to Annapolis as there’s a big boat-show there. And we hope to meet up with some folk that we haven’t seen for a while. In the meantime, we will be watching the http://www.nch.noaa.gov website for any big time hurricane activity.

And as a footnote. Please don’t call me at 4.33am. It’s too stressful.

Time is almost up. Pack tomorrow, fly Monday, start varnishing on Tuesday.

It’s been great here in Blighty. Seen a shed load of people. Whizzed around the country a bit. Done a modicum of work. Been out playing some too. So all in all a full on successful time.

It’s reassuring to know Britain is still full of kindly folk and mad characters. They provide a welcome distraction from the political fug that currently permeates and consumes daily life.

I met a old boy at the local cricket game who informed me he’d sung Frank Sinatra’s My Way in pretty much every boozer in the East Midlands. His rendition, (there was no way he wasn’t sharing his self professed talent) was truely awful and was delivered in true pub singer style. I asked him why My Way, to be told it was the only tune he could remember the words to. Small mercies.

Don’t know when we’ll be back next. We’re on our way to New Zealand.

We’ve lived in Derbyshire for a number of years. It’s a gorgeous county with varied and stunning countryside, epic historic properties and pretty, welcoming villages.

Our trip to the uk this time round has been longer than previous ones. So I was keen to get out and about in Derbyshire and enjoy what it has to offer. You know how it is. You live somewhere for ages and rarely visit the great places on your doorstep.

Friends came to stay do we went to Chatsworth for the day. Dave cracked the maze, Ollie got wet at the Emperor Fountain, Sam kept up remarkably well on his crutches, post his knee surgery, as we hiked upto the lake that feeds the fountain and Biddy completed the dog agility course. And her dog Ilka did some of it too!

My sis, family and cousin came over too. Charades continued late into the night after Aunty Helen had taken the kids swimming while the parents went for a quiet afternoon coffee / beer. Good Aunty.

We flew over to Jersey for a couple of nights. Our friend Ken said, “You’re the only people I know who can have a holiday from a holiday and then go on holiday”. The weather wasn’t great but we still got some beach walks in and Dave got his fix of boat conversations chatting to Ben till late at night.

Time ticks. Less than a month till we fly back now. Hope Grace is behaving herself.

Mount Pleasant is an unremarkable terrace. It sits proudly above Cromford in Derbyshire and boasts 8 houses. No cars reach here. Access is on foot via a switchback path that heads upwards towards the sky.

The properties are pretty darned small. Front doors open into front rooms with a galley style kitchen nestling behind. Upstairs, a bedroom, a bathroom and most have second bedroom up in the top of the house. Most have a garden but the garden is not necessarily next to the property. Weird I know.

The bare facts reveal so little. The views are stunning, the day light hours long and warm as the sun confronts the cottages for most of the day. The community is tight and secure. No one goes to Mount Pleasant without a reason. It’s a bit like Norwich.

This terrace was our happy happy home for many years. Until boat life. As we’re back in the UK we called by to say hi to our new tenants. And to check out painting the windows. By complete chance we bumped into the owners of one of the properties. It was lovely to see them and catch up on their news.

That night I started thinking about the amazing people who have lived, or live in that terrace. And what they’ve done with their lives. Here’s a very small snapshot. Made an award winning feature film, walked the Pacific Crest Trail (2700 miles) with their two kids aged 10 and 13, run a small holding, been a semi professional actor with a passion for musicals, set up a massively successful well know business then sold it to be able to retire super super early, studied at Cambridge and now works in Russia, makes beautiful bespoke guitars from tin boxes and sells them occasionally to the rich and famous, a professional storyteller who spent a lot of time in Palestine working with disaffected children and that’s just for starters. You get my gist. Mount Pleasant has been home to some remarkable people.

And just or maybe more important, it’s about who people are, not what what they’ve done. So many good eggs have passed through that terrace. My friend Becca who is sadly no longer here being a prime example of that. Kind, generous, selfless, stuff that matters.

Mount Pleasant, a place that inspires.

Boat life seems so distant. But life is still full and happy. We’ve been out cycling a bit and Dave’s been out climbing while I went to work. Yes, I know! He has been holding the fort at our temporary home which is just lovely and much appreciated. Thank you Grist’s.