Madness

Little Farmer's Cay  

The front that rolled through last night, was akin to those expected in January and February. In March we have become accustomed to much more benign weather patterns. The heavy winds blew until 2:00ish this morning. We did not see the predicted gusts of 40+ knots, but we did have a long, steady period of mid-30s. It was not until the current reversed at 4:00 and we were convinced that the anchor had reset, that we got some much-needed sleep. Our anchor monitor confirmed the madness -- we had endured a very active night. By 8:00, the wind was back down to the mid-20s, the heavy clouds had moved out, and it was a pretty day ... but cold. The cabin thermometer was reading a good 10 degrees lower than usual. The windchill kept us from our morning practice of opening all the ports and doors. I did my hour of exercises downstairs then went outside to read only to quickly develop goose bumps. Today, all reading would be done from inside the pilothouse.

After lunch, I put on my school colors and prepared for the first round of March Madness (TM). Yes, that term is federally trademarked by the NCAA -- good grief. UVA was tipping off against Furman at 12:40. The first half went as expected -- the Hoos took the lead but, as usual, allowed the opponent back in the game. The only unexpected event during that time was a low fly-over by a US Coast Guard helicopter. Barry came up to check on me, as I was much too quiet. I simply stated that the game was too close for comfort (up by four) and there was a lot of time remaining (20 seconds). Moments later the Cavaliers once again snatched defeat from the jaws of victory with one of the biggest meltdowns of all time (and for UVA that says a lot). I needed to vent to someone, so I called my mom. I knew she would have watched the whole game. Wahoo-what-the-freak? Just madness.

I took a stroll around the boat to cool off, literally and figuratively. It was still too chilly to read outside. The wind picked up later in the afternoon and I closed all the doors. It continued to whistle through the keyhole, sounding like a swarm of bees. We did the unthinkable and pulled out the sweatpants and socks before sitting on the flybridge to watch the sunset. More madness. 

The remaining clouds filtered the sun and bathed the anchorage in soft light. Untethered sure looked good in the glow of the Golden Hour. Kelly captured a photo of Crossroads against the evening's colors. The sun put on a nice display and disappeared behind Little Farmer's Cay. We are hoping that we'll get some quality sleep tonight before raising the anchor in the morning and working our way back north.