Monthly Archives: August 2012

One of the best things about being in Virginia Beach is that there’s a Trader Joe’s here. Today we packed up our folding dock cart and our soft cooler and dinghied ashore, then walked to the bus stop. Google maps told us which bus to take but when that one came the driver suggested a different, more direct route. Ten minutes later we were on our way to grocery nirvana.

The same shopping center held a Target and a Joann so we did a little shopping there, made the obligatory Starbucks visit, then ducked into Five Below for some bargains. Jack immediately found the Steelers aisle. What?! Aren’t we in Virginia?

We planned to do Trader Joe’s last because Jack wanted to stock up on his favorite frozen berries and a bus, a walk and a dinghy ride back to the boat were seriously going to tax our cooling capabilities.

I didn’t want to leave Trader Joe’s and we had to restrain ourselves because we had to schlepp everything home again, but still, it was wonderful to stock up on some of our favorites. We got back to the bus stop about the right time, but when the bus came the driver told us she wasn’t going where we were, even though it was the right number. Confused, we stepped back to the curb to wait. I opened my favorite white cheese preenas and Jack went inside the adjacent wine store to look for ginger beer. Just then a woman and her daughter drove up and asked if there were a problem with the bus. I explained the confusion and without hesitation she offered us a ride back to the dock. Heck, yeah! What could have been a long hot wait with melting berries turned into a quick but delightful ride with Ginger and Lauren.

Ginger even gave us her phone number in case we need a ride somewhere else. I told you I like Virginia Beach!

Back at the dinghy Jack filled our water jugs and we loaded up our loot. What were we thinking?! We still have more food on board than we can eat in six months. But I think we’ll find a way.

I keep forgetting to mention the very moving war memorial on the waterfront in Norfolk. I’m a fan of memorials, from the very traditional to the more contemporary. This one is unique and affecting, and I thank Alan for telling us about it.

Excerpts of 20 letters from servicemen and women who lost their lives in American wars, from the Revolutionary to the first Gulf War, are cast in bronze and arranged as if scattered by the wind. It was interesting to note the change in tone through the centuries. The earlier letters were factual and unemotional. In the civil war era, the writers prayed to God for mercy. The WWI and WWII letters were brave but you could sense the fear between the words. And by Korea and Viet Nam the writers were clearly traumatized, scared and wishing it would all be over.

This is from Korea, 1951:
“This whole thing, as are all wars, is complete lunacy, proving nothing, and accomplishing nothing.”

Most of the letters left me in tears. I rank this memorial right up there with the Viet Nam Wall in DC.

I can’t tell you when this earth shattering, atmosphere tearing, chest vibrating, noise broke trough my consciousness. I guess we’ve all become immune to this sort of twenty first century noise. It’s loud, it’s annoying, it’s gone in 30 seconds. Not this stuff! It just doesn’t stop.
I’m sure that my friend Gordon would find this endlessly fascinating, being a pilot and all. But it just doesn’t stop.

Some idiot lost it, and started aiming lasers at the Navy Superhornets with real live American sons and daughters in the cockpit. He’s up for 20 years, and that’s copacetic with me.

At first being this close to fire breathing Naval warbirds a few hundred feet over head was really interesting but when the flyboys are out having fun you can’t even hear someone screaming in your ear, or the radio, or even think, and it just doesn’t stop. Last night a whole flight of F-18’s practiced the landing pattern until 11:30. Did I mention that these things are really loud? Still watching F-18’s twisting and turning in mock combat is kinda cool, but it just doesn’t stop.

I’ve spent the last few days traipsing back and forth to Norfolk to, as it turns out, replace our generator’s starter.
That sounds so easy. The sequence starts with dropping the dinghy, loading everything that we need for this trip, while carefully forgetting the one indispensable item we can’t do without.
Next, with fingers crossed, I enter the dinghy starting process. I check that the emergency stop lanyard switch is fully engaged, next open the fuel tank vent (not too much, wouldn’t want too moisture to get in, two pumps of the fuel bulb, pull out the choke, not too much, shift the gear lever into reverse and then back into neutral just to make sure (this bit may seem a little OCD but it seems to help). Lately we’ve had joy at over a 50 percent rate!

Choke partially in, gear lever in go forth and we’re off, but just. The Rudee Inlet is a no wake area so it’s slow going. In the meantime I’ve been able to charm the closest marina, some of you who know me may find this hard to believe, into allowing us to tie our dinghy up to the end of their fuel dock and fill up our water jugs. They are not used to people showing up at their docks out of the blue, asking favors and it’s “where’s your boat again?”

After tying up, it’s a six block walk to the shuttle bus, a two block walk to the express bus to Norfolk, and a mile and a half walk if your timing is off on the other end. Talk to the starter guy, reverse the process.

Still…it’s nice to come home to.

Once again we find ourselves in a place so bike- and pedestrian-unfriendly that it’s dangerous. Yesterday we walked to the laundromat with three big bags of clothes and linens piled into our small dock cart. The way looked to be along quiet residential streets but it turned out those two-lane roads are a major high-traffic route. There are no sidewalks and no shoulder, with a ditch on either side. There’s no choice but to walk in the street, and we walked single file facing traffic for about three quarters of a mile. One after the other the SUVs zoomed past, barely moving over to accommodate us. We had nowhere to go. At a cross street a woman pulled into the road, looked one way, then tore out in front of us. She was on the phone and never noticed us. To top it off, two cops on motorcycles nearly clipped us.

Even though Trader Joe’s is only four miles away, we’re going to take the bus instead of ride our bikes. I just don’t trust the drivers here.

Hampton Roads, you’ve got some work to do.