Here is the view from my kitchen window just a couple of days ago. Cool weather has finally arrived in South Central Kentucky. It was 33 degrees here this morning. No hard freeze yet, but soon. I hope to be out of here before that happens. Southern Florida, here I come. I will gladly trade the deer for this.

THE BATTLE IN THE BELLY OF THE BEAST

I had two primary projects to tackle on this trip to the boat. First, I had to rebuild the carburetor on the outboard for the dinghy. I usually limit myself to one project per day. If that project only takes fifteen minutes, so be it. If it ends up taking all day, so be it. Rebuilding the carb was so-o-o easy and the results so-o-o-o satisfactory that I succumbed to the temptation to tackle another and even a third! I was still finished before noon. Sweet! Then, there was the beast! This was the project that I was not looking forward to. This one struck greater fear in my heart than any Halloween goblin could inspire. Last time I was on the boat I changed the primary fuel filter. I hate doing that because half the time I end up getting air into the fuel lines and it is a bear to bleed it out on this boat. Sure enough, I developed an air lock. Then in my attempt to bleed the system I discovered that I was going to have to change the secondary fuel filter housing. Happily (or not) the part did not arrive before my departure. So I had a couple of weeks of R&R in Kentucky before tackling the onerous task. Turns out that swapping the part was really easy. However, I still needed to bleed the system. I went through the entire process and still couldn’t get the engine started. Finally, in disgust, I called in a professional. Although he was not able to get the engine started, he gave me enough knowledge and a recommended cure that I could execute by myself. So, the one project a day turned into one project that lasted several days. My body is bruised and sore from the contortions I went through just accessing some of the parts I needed to access.

This part is on the injector pump. Access by standing on head and reaching to arm's length On a sailboat, you can see a part or you can touch it, but you can’t do both at the same time! I think sailboat designers figure that if you can touch a part with one finger, it is accessible.

Access here is through a nine inch opening and the parts are, of course at arm's length. There are certain maintenance chores on the engine which require me to crawl into spaces that even a seasoned spelunker might avoid. There isn’t enough room down there to cuss a cat!

These are the parts accesed thru the 9 inch opening.

Anyway, I applied the fix suggested by the pro and the engine finally kicked over this morning about an hour after I started work. The fix was to install a primer bulb in the fuel system to replace the tiny little finger priming valve. A third, unspoken goal of the trip was to socialize with my friends on Dock 6. We had a cookout, we had drinks, we helped each other with boat projects and we went out to dinner.

This goal was so easy to meet and serves to remind me why life is good when I’m on the boat.

IT'S FINALLY COME TO THIS

Cleaning the deck awning and rolling it up can only mean one thing--the sad end of summer. It is so nice on a warm summer day to sit on the deck, enjoying a breeze and maybe a glass or two of wine. Lunch under the shade of the awning is an event to be treasured. Alas! The days are growing shorter and the nights are getting cooler. And, ugh! widespread frost is predicted for this weekend. So, it is time to clean the awning and roll it up. There is one consolation, I will be trading this

for this.

THE GREAT MINNOW AND BUFFALO WINGS

This early fall weekend brought one of POYC's premier regattas, the Great Minnow. Sailors assembled on Barren River Lake to compete in the club's last official race of the year. The racemaster had set a creative and challenging course which was complimented by a sailor's friend (and sometimes foe), the wind.

Friend or not, it presented me with the challenge of trying to steer "'ti Punch" (where is Otto when I need him?*), set sails, adjust sails, take pictures, eat lunch all by myself. Otto,* you've been replaced by a couple of bungee cords! Every good regatta provides a forum for its participants to brag about their performance, compliment each other and, in general, to make up new lies.

What's a social hour without good food? Barry's famous wings s[iced it all up.

*Otto--the name with which many of us have christened the "otto" pilot.

OH, MY ACHIN’ BACK!

I planted next year’s garlic crop today. Like tomatoes and onions, garlic is one of those things I can’t get along without. We have raised garlic every year since 1978. Why should this year be any different? It was a bit more trouble than usual and took a bit longer. I couldn’t get the tiller started! Why am I surprised at that? It hasn’t been started in over a year! Rather than tinker with it, I decided to prepare the soil the low tech way—spading fork and rake. So the first part of the process involved spreading manure on the plot of ground. Thankfully we were never particularly good about cleaning out the barn so I have a barn full of well composted goat manure. We closed the dairy and got rid of the goats in 1994 and still have a lifetime supply of manure! So, I spread about 6 buckets of manure on the bed. Then turned the soil and broke it up with the spading fork.

Breaking up the rest of the clods and smoothing the surface with a rake is the next step.

Finally, commit the seed to the ground.

Next spring, I’ll top-dress with more manure. Then, I’ll dig the crop the first week of July.

SHRIMP, GRITS AND FRIENDS

The past two and a half kaleidoscopic weeks have been the best I've spent since that awful night. Being on the boat and among friends was great! Time was filled with boat projects, cooking for all my friends, varnishing teak, taking inventory, a visit to St Augustine, good food and so on.

The Shrimp and Grits Festival on Jekyll Island was a lot of fun. The branches of the ancient live oaks spread like sheltering arms over the crowd.

As with all such festivals, there was plenty of music

plenty of stuff to buy

Lots of people

good food

and plenty of time to relax

The star of the show was the incomparable sweet Georgia Shrimp, prepared and beautifully presented by the numerous restaurants on Jekyll Island.

The Great Spaghetti Sauce Caper

My father’s second wife Lucy learned to make “gravy” from her mother who came to the US from Italy. She taught my dad (a fine cook himself) who made it with some regularity. They passed the recipe and techniques on to my brother, Ron, who cooks up a few gallons whenever a crowd gathers at his house. The key to the sauce is lots of meat (Italian sausage, a bit of steak, pork chops and meatballs; add a couple of pieces of chicken if you like)and Parmesan/Romano cheese. He puts 8 or 9 pounds of meat into about 6 quarts of sauce (he ends up with about 3 gallons of sauce). He starts by browning hot and mild Italian sausage in olive oil seasoned with oregano, garlic, Italian seasoning, salt, pepper and a bit of red pepper flakes.

Then he adds the diced steak.

Canned tomatoes are passed through a chinois and, along with tomato paste, tomato sauce, are added to the pot. More seasoning is added at this time along with a good sprinkle of Parmesan/Romano cheese. While this mixture simmers, he makes the star of the show, the meat balls. Ground beef (20%/80%) is kneaded along with bread crumbs, eggs, more seasoning, and more cheese.

Then golf ball sized nuggets are formed and added to the sauce. The size is important for flavor. They are added to the sauce and the pot is simmered for several hours and stirred frequently. (Start to finish consumes about four hours).

About 30 minutes before serving, Ron cuts a couple of pounds of pork chops in half and adds them to the pot.

The meat balls are served in a bowl all to themselves, the rest of the meat in another. The sauce is ladled over spaghetti and the feast begins.