You know when you hear a died-in-the-wool sailor yell, “My next boat will have a pilot house,” that the weather out there is pretty awful.  Today for about seven hours clothed with jeans, long-sleeved shirt, heavy shoes, gloves, heavy waterproof jacket and pants, socks, and life jacket, head bent against the wind, plowing through whipping salt spray he endured, allowing Fritz and I to stay below in the dry, cozy cabin.  Another day not meant for wimpy sailors.   

Upon arriving at the Alligator River Marina, and unable to pull up to the fuel dock right away it was necessary to turn multiple 360s, while also dodging the crab pots in the channel.  About that time as I was retrieving a fender from the back hatch the lid hit me on top of the head, a little painful, but no big deal.  I continued with my duties getting the lines ready to throw to the dock hands as we pulled up to the fuel dock, when all of a sudden I noticed blood dripping down onto my yellow jacket.  Feeling my soaking hair, I’m thinking, maybe this is a bigger deal than I first thought.  After we get tied up to the fuel dock and a total stranger jumps on board to help us, Dennis orders me down below. Unable to find an ice pack in the freezer, instead I grabbed a bag of frozen peas, quickly stopping the bleeding (now that was a picture.) 

Next we needed to move to the slip, and again the unknown stranger stayed to help us out.  Come to find out this stranger isn’t really a stranger at all, it’s Punta Gorda sailor, Duane along with wife Diane on “Diva Di” who we’ve been following by boat and blog up the coast since April.  We not only met new friends, but ones who came to our rescue just when we needed them.  They mentioned cocktails and Dennis immediately offered Aurora’s wide cockpit for the gathering.  Eleven strangers met, talked, laughed, languished over what day to cross the rough waters of the Albemarle Sound, and made eleven new cruising friends.  What an awesome end to an awful beginning.

Although I am feeling much better today, am not 100%, and will continue to moniter symptoms over the next few days until I complete the antibiotics. 

And the cut, that turned out to be minor, or at least that’s what the captain tells me.  Course he sailed a race once with a minor gash in his head which later needed six staples.  On second thought, I think I’ll get a second opinion.