Beryl

We are prepping for Beryl. It looks like we aren't in any danger. However, Mike has put up some tarps so that we don't have to keep the boat sealed up like a submarine. He is also looking for the appropriate hardware to add another anchor up front. We have water. We won't be able to cook unless we use the Roadpro to warm up food. Wish us luck.

What now?

Okay. It has been a while since I posted. We have been on the hook for approximately four months now. In December, we had to move off the dock at the City Marina because my contract ended with CCSD. With all of my projects completed and no more money in their coffers, I was no longer employed. Christmas consisted of a discount steak and potatoes, no gifts for each other. I qualified for unemployment with South Carolina but once again, they succeeded in making it impossible for me to file. In January, I was contacted by an employer to work remotely. I've worked with them before and really like the tech manager. Between my work and family, we were able to survive. Things that have broken since we have come out on the hook, the Westerbeke engine, the marine stove (back to cooking on the Coleman propane stove again), new leaks, packing gland needs to be replaced, Mike got stranded with a single oar and no power for the dingy, my laptop keyboard for the second time, my cellphone, and me. I have a new cell phone. Mike figured out the battery problem, but the motor still isn't strong enough to counter wind and currents unless everything is perfect. Mike was able to catch mullet twice with the cast net. I spent $150 at the doctors getting a UTI treated. I have been working a little with a company in California and making between $17 and $380 a week. Never sure how many hours I might get but I'm always ready to work. Not enough to survive on. Not enough to fix our boat and the stove. I had a chance at a job that would pay well and pay for lodging for four days a week. I thought that this was the chance I needed to help pay for survival for six or nine months. Plus, the job was going to be a challenge. I was really looking forward to pushing up my sleeves and getting into a project that had little or no documentation. It is a tech writer's dream. I had a great phone interview and was asked to come to Jacksonville for a second interview. I made arrangements and spent $180 of our remaining money to get there. The client canceled because of a death in the family. We lost the money. Second chance for an interview came this week. Monday, I received a message that they wanted to interview with me on Thursday. I was overjoyed. I made reservations for a rental car and my niece graciously invited me to stay with her. I was looking forward to seeing her and her daughters. I printed out my Google maps today and Mike dropped me off on the dock. I took the Yellow Cab to the Avis office. The taxi drive was really nice. He was in the Marine Corps some 20 years ago. We had a nice talk and I truly enjoyed the ride. It was nice to speak to someone outside of the boat world. He dropped me off and wished me luck. I take out all of my paperwork and put it on the counter. The agent is on the phone explaining rental rates. Not a problem, I'm 20 minutes early for my reservation. I ask the rental agent if I can pay cash for the car because I want to use the debit card for gas. He told me no. They don't take cash. Okay. No problem. Then he told me that because I'm using a debit card instead of credit card, there would be a credit check and a $200 would be held on the account. That was a problem. He looked at me kindly and said that my credit rating wasn't high enough. He suggested Hertz would let me rent if I had full coverage on a car that I owned. I thought that giving my car up was the most humiliating experience I had ever had, but we called them and told them to take it back. This was far worse. This was crushing. I thanked him and headed out. I called Mike and told him what had happened. I was trying not to cry. He told me to come back to the dock and he would pick me up. I stood there on the sidewalk for a good ten minutes deciding whether to go to Crisis Ministries or go to my husband. I called Yellow Cab and asked to be taken to the City Marina. I chose to stay with my husband. The taxi driver was very nice.

Fear is the killer

The only thing that can keep us from surviving is fear. Fear of failure, fear of starving, fear of the anchor giving way, fear of the next shoe dropping. It is the hardest thing to combat. We can't afford it. We can't sit frozen like a rabbit watching the rattle snake writhing towards us. We grab onto every good thing that happens. Mike's friend Dillon took him hunting for food this week. Mike came back with a few clams, a bunch of oysters, conch, and fresh picked bay leaves. We didn't have an oyster shucking knife so I boiled them. About 1/2 of the oysters opened when I put them on to boil with the last of our new potatoes and we feasted. It was a good evening. I finalized my last project with the school district and started new projects with my company in California. It isn't constant work but it may make enough to keep us from starving. I just spent most of our money on insurance for the boat. It was a tough decision, but we have seen what a poorly anchored boat can do. In the past month, we have learned how to better anchor our boat and we have seen two other boats that haven't been so lucky. Mike is still working on the engine. It was running but now it won't crank. He has tried a number of fixes and we have a friend coming over, as soon as the weather is compliant, to help us in the diagnoses. If it is the fuel pump, we are in serious trouble. The fuel pump costs more than we have. We need to get more experience with sailing the boat. We have heard rumors of people who do not rely on the engines to sail in and anchor their boats. On February 29th, we will be celebrating 20 years of marriage. It will be our 5th anniversary. Grabbing onto the good things will keep us together. Fighting the fear and pushing through is our only option. Love to all of our friends and family. Thank you for your support as we weather the storms and trials of our strange odyssey.

Food+energy+water

Food = basic food + energy + water So, for those wondering how we eat and what we eat, here is our blog. For the most part, we only eat one meal a day. The first thing required for a meal is the basic ingredients of, well, hmmm food. We are saving our canned goods at the moment. We had a windfall of money from my last week of work and we splurged. Mike bought sausages, spaghetti, and spaghetti sauce. This is my 6 day meal plan, Take 1 lb. of ground beef, 1 onion, 3 tbsp. of chopped garlic (4 cloves), 1 can of mushrooms, and 1 jar of spaghetti sauce. Brown the hamburger, mushrooms, onion, and garlic until brown. Turn off that burner and start another. Boil about 1/2 a pot of water in a 5 qt enamel pot with approximately 3 tsps. of salt and some garlic powder. Cook spaghetti noodles until they are close to tender. Move the spaghetti noodles into the pan of sauce. Leave the water boiling. Add whatever spare vegetables you have left to the boiling water. We use the bags of cauliflower, broccoli, and carrots when we can afford it. Take three ladles of spaghetti sauce and add to the boiling water. Add 4 good shakes of Cajun seasoning. Add 1 package beef sausage and 1 can of corn. Cook for another 15 minutes. Sprinkle Parmesan cheese before serving. We warm up the leftovers everyday in a little 12v oven. With one small bowl each day, we have a fairly healthy meal. Our average consumption of energy for the initial meal is about a 1/4 of a 1 lb. propane cylinder. A 1 lb. propane cylinder lasts us about 4 days. That includes hot water to bathe and cook with. Snacks, well - Saltines keep us from feeling hungry. We also buy small bricks of cheddar cheese when it is on sale. The main thing is that you have to be aware of all of the elements that go into making food. Water has to be hauled from shore or captured in our rain trap. Propane has to be brought in and is expensive. There has to be either enough sunny days or windy days to use the 12v oven to warm up food and run the refrigerator. Ingredients for food must be bought. Hopefully, we will be in better waters to catch fish, clam, and conch.

Sovereign finds a new friend

It has been an interesting week. For those following us on Facebook, you may have seen my post on a narrowly diverted disaster. Several days ago, we were awakened to a strange grinding sound. Climbing quickly out of the v-berth, Mike went to the hatch and poked his head out. "Katie, I need your help." When I looked out the hatch, there was a brief moment of confusion, a boat was on our stern and the grinding sound was where our solar panels touched its pulpit. It was dark and misting rain. I thought a sailboat had ran into us. I turned on the engine. After moving quickly to the stern to start pushing the boat away from us, I realized that we had drifted into a well-anchored boat. Mike moved to the bow and started heaving up the anchor. The anchor buoy line was tangled around the anchor chain. I kept my arms stretched out between the two boats trying to save our solar panels and minimize the rubbing. An eternity later, about 10 minutes, Mike finally got the anchor up. We then motored safely away from the boat that we drifted into and the mast of another boat that sunk a long time ago. With me at the helm, Mike gave directions to get us into the channel. I'm so short that I can't see directly in front. Mike has to stand watch when I'm on the helm. We took the time to drink some water and smoke a cigarette. The rain was starting to come down harder. We motored past the Coast Guard station and then I turned her back towards the harbor. We took our time finding a better spot to anchor and finally maneuvered into a nice open spot and set the anchor again. As soon as we were sure the anchor was set, we started assessing the damage. Our solar panels were fine, we had acquired a solar lawn light from the other boat and the glass cover was shattered all over the transom. It was a miracle that I hadn't cut my feet. Once all was calm, I went down and started the water boiling for coffee. Of course, we didn't really need caffeine to wake us up. The rain stopped about the time our first cup of coffee was ready. Mike kept a watch for the owner of the boat we nudged. He finally dinghied over and left a message explaining what happened attached to the still functioning solar light and some money. Several days later, Capt. Lee came over. He told us how much he appreciated the message and we were totally forgiven. We now have a new friend. Lee is around 60 and has been living on boats since 1976. He has lots of great stories and was kind enough to give us one of his propane heaters. Maybe Sovereign knew that we needed a new friend with lots of experience.

Going on the hook

I'm sorry that I haven't posted in a while. We've been working on getting everything ready to go on the hook. Work has slowed down and we won't have the money to pay slip rent for January. We went on a short and exciting cruise toward Fort Sumter last week. After about an hour motoring in the harbor and getting used to the feel of our boat, steam started coming from the engine compartment. We decided to put up the sails and killed the engine. It was a wonderful time and we finally tacked back to a good area and dropped anchor. We watched the sunset and listened to the quiet. It was so different from the marina. With no more traffic noise from the bridge, the only sound was the slapping of waves against the hull and the purr of the wind generator. Note: Bob, you were right. Mike got thwacked on the head by the wind generator. There wasn't any blood, but it did give us a new respect for the whirling blades. The next day, Mike figured out that raw water feed wasn't cooling the engine. We called BOATU.S. for a tow back to the slip. The wind and tides were not good for sailing back to the marina. The towboat operator was experienced and brought us safely back. Mike started digging into the engine and found that the impeller was missing a piece of metal/key. He created a fix from an old screwdriver and got the motor up and running again. Mike still has to go up the mast to install the masthead light. Then we go grocery shopping one last time using the courtesy van and fill up on diesel. After we finish prepping, we will be going on the hook in the harbor. We will pay the dinghy fee so that we can tie up our dinghy at the marina and get fresh water and wash clothes at the Variety Store. Mike will have to bicycle to Harris Teeters for any groceries. By the way, a big thanks to everyone who sent us Christmas cards. A big thank you to Thomas who sent us a wonderful food basket. We are still enjoying the fruit and treats. Happy holidays to all!

A note for Christmas shopping

I strongly urge all friends and family to consider shopping from local, small merchants and from individual artisans this Christmas season. Two of my friends have stores on Etsy. These friends provided moral and monetary support for us in our darkest times. They have beautiful and inexpensive handmade items that would be perfect for gifts and stocking stuffers. The links to their stores are: http://www.etsy.com/shop/RhondaMadeIt http://www.etsy.com/shop/jestersbaubles

A lesson in engineering

Winds got up to almost 40 knots last week. This was enough to knock down our wind turbine tower, surprisingly enough. It failed at the wooden base, so that will have to be redesigned and rebuilt. The fall also bent the main tower, which I think was too tall anyway. I will be building a new tower of stronger materials, with a much more robust base, and a shorter stance by about 3 feet.

Just a cup of water

Water is a precious commodity on a sailboat. Bathing, dishwashing, clothes washing, and drinking are nearly impossible without a goodly supply of freshwater. In the old days, before Sovereign, we had a dishwasher, a refrigerator with a cold water and ice dispenser in the door and 2 mini-refrigerators, 2.5 bathrooms (2 full baths with showers), a huge double-sink in the laundry room, an inground pool, and a clothes washer. Presently, we have a 65 gallon water tank, no hot water, a Coleman plastic folding double-sink, a bucket and washboard for clothes, and an antique refrigerator about half the size of those used in a college dorm room. All of our water comes from a water hose at the marina dock. A recipe for bathing – First I boil 4 cups of water and pour into one of my two blue and white camping pots. Then, I add enough cold water from the garden hose to make it warm. I take the pot into the cramped water closet where everything is moved out of the way. I then pour the first ½ cup of water onto my head. I shampoo first and then scrub the rest of my body with soap. I normally use another ½ cup of water during this process. Then, a ½ cup at a time, I begin rinsing from head to foot. Finally, I tip the pot over my head and it almost feels like the fleeting memory of a full shower. Total water used equals approximately 6 cups. The final part is turning on the head bilge pump to whisk the grey water away. I sometimes dream of bubble baths. I’ll describe dishwashing, drinking water, and clothes washing in the next post.

Life on board

We have lived on Sovereign for almost three years now. My sister-in-law suggested that some people may have an interest in how we live on a 33’ sailboat and manage the daily business of survival. What has become the norm for us is so radically different from our former lifestyle that I imagine it might seem interesting to others. Dishwashing, bathing, laundry, cooking, working, and grocery shopping are some of the normal things that people do without much thought. For decades, I had a dishwasher, electric or gas stove and oven, refrigerator/freezer, full bath with tub, washing machine and dryer, a car that I drove to work each day, and easy access to a grocery store. That has all changed. I am a technical writer and I wish I had the flare that my brother or husband have in creative writing. Please bear with me as I give you insight into what it is like to live in our new reality. I will write a bit each day on the small, but significant changes that we have made over the last three years.

Solar power!

We are closer to cutting the shore lines! The latest upgrade, SOLAR! Two Kyocera 135W panels, plus a 1500W PSW inverter and a 25A charge controller. We're getting there.



Oh, and dangling below it is the new dink "Serf." I tried selling "Vassal" and finally ended up donating it to a church with a sailing program for at-risk kids. So, we now have an excellent deflatable slung in the davits, solar panels on top, and new lift rigging (clean white lines for the win).

The Lone Dolphin!

We just got a visit from a dolphin, sporting around the boats here on K dock. One of the perks of living on a boat!

Delivering a 52' Sloop from Saint Thomas to Bermuda to Sag Harbor NY (part 1)

Where to start, where to start? Well, I got the opportunity to crew a delivery finally, a 2006 Beneteau 523 Oceanis, the S/V Sled. Here she is at Sapphire Bay in St. Thomas:



Here's the crew: First Mate Sherry Burger--a captain herself most of the time--Captain Jerry McCarthy in the middle--260k sea miles, 11 ocean crossings, 2 circumnavigations--and deck hand Me.



And here are provisions for 12 or so days at sea, just in case we needed to skip Bermuda ($641 USD):



Jerry and I flew out of Myrtle Beach on Spirit Air, where they charge extra for water and pretzels. We met up with Sherry in Fort Lauderdale for the second leg, landing at the bustling aeroplex in Saint Thomas:



Before leaving, we ferried over to Tortola in the BVI to hang out with friends, Cris and Thorpe:



Both of them are also experienced captains, so I just kept quiet and listened. The club was a jazzy little place with a visiting band from...New Jersey! And they rocked.

After spending the night at Cris' condo on Nanny Cay, we ferried back to Saint Thomas...or so we thought. Our return tickets got mis-keyed and we ended up at the wrong ferry stop with no way to ferry to the right one. We spent 55 minutes waiting in the Customs office, standing in line while they had lunch or something. After that, we grabbed a ride in one of the $3 taxis shuttles that cruise around the town. The shuttles are neat: pickup trucks with bench seats bolted into the bed and a bimini top overhead.

But finally, we got underway! A quick stop to fuel up and top up fresh water, and off we went. Saint Thomas behind us, next stop Bermuda:



To be continued!

I can do this!

I Can Do This

Michael S. Roberts

Halyard, windlass, jib line, spring line…Christ, I’m never gonna figure all this out! Buying this boat was a big mistake. Too damn late to back out, though. I’m gonna have to shell out a fortune for lessons from a pro, three hundred bucks a damn day. Minimum!

At least it was a decent day, weather-wise. High sixties, a steady 12 knot breeze, no clouds.

“Mike! Get ready to hoist the main!” That was Will. Good guy, crazy Boston Irish, taking me out on his own boat for my first day sailing. Didn’t even ask for a six-pack in return. We’d become friends my first day at the dock. Turned out he likes Coronas, too.

“Which one’s the main?” I saw two big windlasses and more lines than I could track. Not a label anywhere.

Will pointed at the base of the mast. “Bottom one.” I wrapped the line around and heaved. Nothing. I’d wrapped it backwards. Slapped myself on the forehead, rewrapped it, tried again. And…the main sail began to climb up the mast! I was doing it! I ran the massive thing all the way up, cranked it tight, and secured it to a cleat with the simple tie-off I’d learned just a few days before. It hung there, limp, flapping a bit at the trailing edge. Proud of myself, I threw Will a grin and thumbs-up.

He gave me a wink from the helm. “That was the easy one, man. Now the jib.”

The jib? What the…okay, time to figure this one out, too. I knew the jib was the sail on the front, at least. “Okay, where’s the line for that?”

***

Just thinking back to how I got here, since I had no idea where that jib line was anyway. We’d made the decision, my wife and I, to buy a sailboat and cruise the world. Great dream, right? The reality was, this was an endless barrage of information and problems.

We’d found a real deal after a lot of searching, a 1968 sloop, designed and built by Bill Soverel, 33 feet long, sitting up on metal stands at a boatyard. Well, we thought it was a real deal. Turned out to be more of a fixer-upper than we’d thought when we inspected the thing. We knew all the good stuff, that it had new standing rigging—we knew what that was, at least—and a freshly rebuilt engine. We knew it had new paint, including the special bottom paint. And we learned later that it was overbuilt, like a floating armored personnel carrier, because back in 1968 engineers didn’t believe fiberglass was as strong as it was…so they used a lot of it. We found out later our boat weighs about half again as much as a newer boat its size. All that extra fiberglass, right? And a heavier keel to keep the thing from leaning over too easily.

Thing is, we didn’t really know all that right off the bat. We just kind of jumped at the boat as soon as we saw it. Spent about two hours looking all through it and grinning at each other, while the man selling it told us all the good stuff. It was our dream boat. We bought it the day we saw it.

Fixing it up was a nightmare, and a hell of a learning curve to boot. Okay, listener, imagine you’ve just inherited a beautiful old mansion way out in the Louisiana swamp. It’s gorgeous…from a distance. Up close, there’s moss and mold and mildew and mice. Oh, and there’s a sleek 1962 Jag in the garage…that hasn’t been driven in 30 years. You have nowhere to live but that house, and nothing to drive but that car, and you’re dumped out there in the swamp with nothing useful like even a Seven-Eleven within walking distance, much less a good hardware-and-parts store. That was our first boating experience. The boat had issues. No, scratch that, it had a subscription.

***

“Jib line’s here in the cockpit, Mike,” Will yelled. “Just help me pull out the sail!”

“Like how?” I started knuckle-walking back toward the cockpit—didn’t want to risk standing all the way up and getting pitched over the side. Where’s the lifejacket…oh, yeah, safe and dry in the sail locker. Nice.

“No, man, just help me heave the line there! Stay where you are, lend me some muscle!” He started heaving on one of the two big lines that run along the sides of the boat, one per side. Hey, jib lines! I knew what they were now. I gripped the one he was pulling, started heaving in time with him. The big foresail came rolling off of the furler and flapping like a pennant.

“Now what?” I swiped at the sweat in my eyes. Wear a hat next time, smart guy.

“Now we kill the engine and catch some wind, man.” Will pulled the kill switch, the engine starved itself out, and the boat got quiet, starting to slow now that the prop wasn’t spinning anymore. He threw me an upside-down wave, motioning me back to the cockpit. “Okay, grab the wheel, right? You’re going to turn us away from the wind before we lose momentum.”

“Dude, you want me to steer? I race cars. I might lay this thing over.”

“Told you, man, you’re learning to sail today. We got about five hours of daylight, so grab the wheel, right?”

So I did. I stood behind the big city-bus-sized steering wheel, Will pointed off to the right, I spun the wheel right—starboard, think starboard!—and the sails started to curve and fill with air and…

***

“Crap! Damn wiring. I think this boat was owned by three generations of idiots who all inbred with each other. And learned electrics from a cereal box.” Talking to myself helps sometimes. The wiring, that was one of the biggest issues, no doubt. A hundred different wires, none labeled, some of them obviously clipped from extension cords or made out of scavenged speaker wire or stolen from some Pharaoh’s tomb. At least a third of them went nowhere. Didn’t help that it was twenty-odd degrees out, my fingers were clumsy-numb and hypersensitive at the same time, and the wires in the boat were braided together by a macramé artist with attention deficit disorder.

Diagnosing the electrical issues was only a part of the repair process. As I said, the boat had more than a few issues. Just removing the stove had taken a full day. Yes, the stove! That evil thing, another throwback to the glorious pre-OSHA days. Big, rusty, and alcohol-burning, it squatted in the galley like a malignant poisonous toad, daring me to challenge it. “I’ll bite you,” it said, or so I imagined. “I’ll bite you and give you lockjaw if you try to dig me out of here, and I’ll blow up like a daisy-cutter if you leave me on board. Your choice, pal. You gotta deal with me.” I prepared to do battle. Heavy gloves in lieu of gauntlets, denim jacket making do instead of chainmail, and a rubber mallet as a mace. The stove…I’ll give it credit, it didn’t die easy. Four huge rusty bolts clearly designed to keep a rocket from leaving its launchpad, a Byzantine tangle of hard metal tubing to feed the rusty toad its precious alcohol, and the carcass itself weighed as much as a box of encyclopedias. But I’d beaten its challenge. Sweat-soaked, lacerated, bruised, and triumphant, I gave it a respectful ceremonial burial in the dumpster.

***

Flap-flap-flap-FWAP! Both sails suddenly ballooned out, tight and full of air, and made a beautiful sound like snapping a bedsheet on laundry day. The sailboat was sailing, and I was making it go where I wanted!

“Okay, see that green house way over on the Battery there?” Will pointed. “Just keep the boat going that way, more or less, right?”

“Right!” I kept a knee pressed against the wheel to steady it, using both hands to nudge it left and right. The boat wouldn’t quite stay in a straight line. I worriedly pointed this out.

“No problem, Mike, this isn’t a racing sloop, it’s a cruiser. It’s gonna wander.” Will didn’t seem worried, so why should I be? Then he grinned, Irish-crazy. “We’re gonna tack! Get ready to swing her!”

Oh crap.

***

Finally putting the boat in the water was as exciting and confusing and nerve-wracking as making love for the first time. Except it took a lot longer, and it involved a lot more people, and it cost a lot more money.

The wiring was functional. Messy, but functional. The demonic stove was gone. The paint was dry. The sails were onboard, folded neatly away. There was no excuse for the boat being on land anymore. The boat wanted to be on the ocean and so did we.

Over the course of an hour—like I said, way longer than a teenager’s first time—the big boatyard carry-all lifted our precious dream boat, trundled it across a hundred yards of gravel, and set it in the water, a bride on her marriage bed. Yeah, I wax poetic, but it was a stirring sight. There she was, floating, bobbing gently in the river swells…home.

***

“Tacking! Swing us left! Hard port!” Will shouted as he loosened the main boom so it could swing and knock somebody over the side. I leaned back to avoid the roundhouse slugger while Will ducked under it. I spun the wheel, the boat turned left, the sails fluttered and went limp…then filled with air again from the opposite direction. FWAP! “Straighten her up! Aim for the Coast Guard station for a while!”

Took a little practice, but I was getting the hang of keeping it in a straight line, more or less. Like Will said, it wandered a bit. But I’d made my first tack, letting the sails shift from one side to the other, getting them to bite into the wind again.

I realized I hadn’t thought, “Can I do this? What the hell am I doing?” for several minutes, at least.

Then I noticed, “Hey Will, we’re getting’ kind of close to the Coasties. You want some nice fifty-cal holes in your boat or what?”

“Yeah, go ahead and tack, right?” He loosened the main boom line. “Do the wheel and the jib line this time, okay?”

“Ummm…okay. You know the Coast Guard is totally gonna board us when I flub this up.”

“No problem.” He pointed at the left-side—port side!—jib line. “You’re gonna spin the wheel hard right and haul that line fast as you can. Soon’s the sail catches the wind, secure the line and straighten the wheel.”

Okay, I thought to myself, sounds doable. And it was. “Tacking!” I yelled. Spun the wheel, hauled the line, listed and watched for the...FWAP! Another successful turn. I felt like I was actually getting the hang of this.

“Yo, Mike, check it out.” Will was pointing at the water near the boat, just aft of midship on the port side. I was just pleased to have been able to identify where he was pointing and describe it later. “Good luck, right? Dolphins.”

Sure enough, there they were, four of them. Breaching close aboard, puffing air and then diving back down. They dove shallow and slipped right under the boat, still visible on the starboard side. Didn’t breach again, but there were four flashes of grey-bronze less than a fathom down.

I knew the superstition: Dolphins are good luck, simple as that. And I saw them my first day sailing, about as close as you can get and stay dry. Probably they were just playing, or chasing a school of mackerel, but I like to think they were welcoming me to their turf…and keeping an eye on me.

I can do this. I turned the boat toward home.