A Mini Cruise, Despite the Heat

As work on Agra2 continues, we seem to spend more time at the dock than on the water. This summer has been brutally hot, and if I’m being honest, I’d often rather be at home with air conditioning than sweating buckets on the boat. This heat just isn’t for me.

I enjoy the comfort and space of my beautiful, spa-like shower at home far more than the cramped showers at the club, or the shower-above-the-toilet situation on the boat. Don’t get me wrong, the showers at the club are clean and some of the nicest we’ve seen at marinas and yacht clubs, and I’m incredibly grateful to even have a shower on Agra2. But nothing quite beats home… even your floating home.

Some yacht club members beat the heat by staying out on the water, enjoying cooling swims in the river. Others run their A/C nonstop. While Tom would happily stay out all day and jump in whenever he needs to cool down, I’m not there yet. My fear of the water keeps me from swimming—the closest I get is floating on my pool float. Baby steps.

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Joining the Yacht Club Fam

Despite the heat, we joined the yacht club family for a mini cruise to Stave Island the first weekend of July. It’s only a couple of hours away by motor sail, and for one night, I can manage.

Tom dropped anchor, which is always more complicated than it looks; watching the current, keeping a safe distance from other boats, making sure we don’t cross anyone else’s rode, and above all, getting the anchor to actually stick.

Of course, our windlass decided to hiccup again. I t did this last year too, sending Tom jogging between the anchor and the cabin to reset the breake, an incredibly frustrating process. Another item for the ever-growing to-do list. Dropping anchor isn’t too bad without it, but the second attempt, using only human power, was just as stressful, maybe more so.

While Tom worked the anchor at the bow, I was manning the helm. Flustered, I hadn’t quite set the anchor alarm properly and had to cross my fingers that everything would hold, and that the alarm would at least alert us if it didn’t.

Settling In

Eventually, we settled in. The Thousand Islands worked their quiet magic. The anchorage was busier than I prefer; lots of boats, lots of people, lots happening, but this trip wasn’t about solitude. It was about time with the yacht club family. Boat work paused. A small slice of shared heaven.

In my hammock caccoon

About thirty boats joined the cruise. Some headed off to a fancy restaurant or nearby island, while the rest of us hopped into our dinghies and rafted together for happy hour. An afternoon filled with yummy snacks, drinks, laughter, and storytelling.

I didn’t even know dinghy rafting was a thing, but it was so cool to experience another part of boating life. And we tied off to one of our boats, apparently that made it so that it wasn’t illegal to drink alcohol on the dinghies 😉 (Important detail, I know!)

Beauty at Anchor

There’s a beauty and simplicity to anchoring. Life slows down, the chaos of repairs fades, and the mind feels grounded. If I could just figure out this sleeping-at-anchor thing, life at anchor might be perfect. I’m not sure I’d dock again.

Sleep, however, remains my biggest challenge. Even though we were settled hours before dark and didn’t appear to be dragging, sleep mostly eluded me. As evening wore on, the wind or current shifted and the anchor alarm began going off repeatedly.

Eventually, I gave up. I grabbed my blanket and pillow and moved to the cockpit, watching the anchor lights of nearby boats and the shoreline, reassuring myself that we were holding steady. Night can play tricks on you. I swear by the faint moonlight we had drifted during the night, but alas, morning proved we were right where we started. Naughty anchor alarm, stirring my anxiety for no good reason.

Unlike last year, I did manage to catch a few moments of sleep, mainly after I shut off the anchor alarm and chose to trust that the anchor would hold. Progress, even if small, is still progress.

Heading Back

Despite the lack of sleep, I was almost sad to pick up anchor and leave. If it weren’t for the heat, I would have loved to stay longer. I think the windlass agreed. The windlass was uncooperative yet again, and poor Tom had to haul the rode and anchor up by hand. It took a while. By the time the anchor was finally secured, Tom was tired, muddy, and sweaty, and we were more than ready to head back to the club. ⚓💙