ON THE ROAD: SURPRISED BY TUCUMCARI

Amarillo, TX to Albuquerque, NM | 285 miles
35.164º N | 106.53º W

We left Cowtown early, on a fast track to Albuquerque to see my nephew, Asher, and his wife, Sally -- and their three kids. But then we got off the interstate at Tucumcari and got enchanted.

Good old Route 66 used to glide right through here, and the long-forgotten remnants of a different era still linger.

Just plodding in:

ON BROADWAY

New York

Today's plan: pack the belongings we've spent a whole month scattering about the apartment, for tomorrow, we head back to the boat.

By noon, I'd done nothing more than run a load of laundry and peer out the window at the Manhattan skyline reflecting brilliantly in the Hudson River.

"Let's go into the city and see a show," I said.

At 2:06, less than two hours later, we emerged into the multi-sensory explosion that is Times Square.

With tickets in hand for the matinee showing of Cat On A Hot Tin Roof starring Scarlett Johansson, we headed across the square to get a hot dog -- but not before being accosted by the famous (infamous?) Naked Cowboy.

We took our seats in the theater less than three hours after the thought crossed my mind. As we waited for the lights to go down, I did a doubletake as a man in a tacky knit cap walked in front of me. Was that Liam Neeson? Indeed. (#photofail)

He graciously stepped into the wings to have his photo taken with one of the floor staff. Nice.

We left the theater (review to come) and reentered Times Square after dark. Well, "dark" brighter than daylight. I started snapping photos and, looking at the tiny screen on the camera, I said, what's that green blob? LOL Best. Photobomb. Ever.

I heart New York.

Bags still unpacked.

THE END.

A SAILOR GOES TO PARIS: WATER, WATER

Paris, France

You've probably noticed we have a hard time staying away from water, even in France. I read in a guidebook that Paris has a 105-foot waterfall. Really? Casey offered to give us a tour, so today, we packed a picnic and headed for Buttes Chaumont park in the 19th arrondisement.

The 61-acre park is a dramatically beautiful swath of green cutting through an otherwise city of gray.

It perches atop a hill with sweeping vistas crowned by the highest point in Paris, Sacra Couer.

There's a little guy on the right there for scale.

Then, Remi took us on a tour of another water feature: Canal Saint-Martin.

We've been planning our next adventure after Cara Mia. It surprises some, including our kids, that we perceive a life after Cara Mia, but it's part of our sailor/traveler/adventurer mentality. We are travelers first, sailors second (a close second), adventurers always. What we don't perceive is life without a boat.

Our plan, as it stands today, is to tool around in the Bahamas, maybe the Caribbean, and then, wait for it..... sell Cara Mia and buy a canal boat to traverse the extensive French canal system that meanders throughout the country, including the wine regions. It will be an adventure with a business element. We will put the canal boat in a charter program and/or conduct wine tours from onboard. Perhaps you'll join us for a tour? (Okay, you might have to wait a few years.)

Chip and Remi doing a little Canal Saint-Martin recon.

This particular canal was created by Napoleon to supply fresh water to the growing population and is controlled by a series of locks. Today it is mostly a tourist attraction and a lovely one at that.

Remi escorted us to a tres cool bar tucked way back in an alleyway, one we would never find on our own, the ultimate reward for hanging out with locals.

A SAILOR GOES TO PARIS: KINDNESS ABROAD

Paris, France

Parisians have been incredibly kind to us. I had emailed our apartment manager during our hellish Monday before leaving. But, on Wednesday morning when we arrived, I had not been able to check email for instructions. We walked up to the apartment building, the kids carrying our bags, hoping to find the manager's name on a doorbell button. Alas, only a number keypad.

As we were standing in the street contemplating our options, two things happened. First, the mail carrier came around the corner, so Casey went to ask him if he knew our apartment manager. Then, a mysterious man in a small yellow car came zipping around the corner, stopped and told us the code to the door before zipping away again. We never learned who he was or why he was doling out the code so freely.

We opened the door, the mail carrier abandoned his mailbag and escorted us inside. He checked the mailboxes for our manager's apartment numbers, then led us across the courtyard, and up three flights of stairs, right to the apartment manager's door.

Amazing.

So far, this has been the norm, not the exception. Parisians have embraced us and made us feel so at ease. What a lovely city they have -- especially since both our kids are here!

Our street -- and warm baguettes!

Happy, happy father.

Dylan, me, Chip and Casey, our Parisian reunion.

I hope they can't track me using nose prints.

CONNECTIONS

Vero Beach, FL 26º39.582N | 80º22.298W

Vero Beach mooring field, cloudy and empty.

Having moved around a lot in my life, I've never been one to take friends for granted. But now that we're cruising, always on the move, connections are even more meaningful, especially the serendipitous ones.

We barreled into Vero Beach on Thursday afternoon, dropped the dinghy and took off for shore. Chip was bound for the grocery store on the free shuttle while I tilted at four loads of laundry. Our plan was to set off again early Friday on our trek north leaving no real time to call our friends Ted and Lauren, sadly missing a chance to meet their new baby.

I had just folded the last towels and sat down to wait for Chip's bus when I looked up to see Ted walking in.

"I think you have one of my socks," he said.

"WHAT?!?!? TED!!!"

We know four people in Vero Beach, and two of them found Chip on the street waiting for the bus in front of Publix -- and they had the baby with them! Adorable.

Lauren was leaving town to visit her family Friday morning, so Ted told us to call if we decided to delay our departure.

Mother Nature gave us a good reason to delay, spewing out squalls all up the coast of Florida. Ted picked us up in a deluge, and we all slogged, dripping wet, into his favorite Italian restaurant, Avanzare.

Ted and Chip laughing at our fortune.

We sat at the bar, and Chip started peppering the bartender with questions about the wine list.

"Let me get Roger," she said.

"I wonder why he looks so familiar," I thought to myself. Roger brought out a great bottle of Gigondas and asked Chip if he used to sell wine in the Outer Banks.

"Hold on, I've got a surprise."

A few minutes later, Roger came out of the kitchen with chef Chuck and his wife Kathleen, who used to own a great restaurant in the Outer Banks where Roger was the bartender. He used to serve us well when we sidled up to his bar after a long day at Chip's Wine & Beer Market. They've all relocated to Vero Beach, unbeknownst to us -- until now.

Kathleen, Chuck, not sure who that guy is, me, Chip and Roger.

DON'T FORGET: Today is the second day of RAFT-UP and time for Jane and Ean on S/V Joy to tell us what hobbies they pursue onboard.

BEACH DAY

Peck Lake, FL 27º06.924N | 80º08.616W

Memorial Day passed with us successfully tucked into north Lake Worth, away from the weekend revelers. Early yesterday morning, we headed north through the final gauntlet of south Florida bridges.

From the first time we came south on the ICW, we had heard Peck Lake is a great anchorage for visiting the beach, just a few hundred yards over the dunes. We tucked into the shallow water in the lake midafternoon just ahead of a nasty squall spewing rain. Chip dropped the anchor between downpours.

No beach day yesterday, but who's in a hurry?

After having a quick look at the beach, we designated today our beach day. Despite the fact that we've been so close to the ocean the last few months, we haven't had a single beach day.

Look at that gorgeous, sprawling beach with NO houses. We had it completely to ourselves all morning except for two runners passing by.

The most comfortable beach chair I've ever had!

Gazing at that flat-calm sea all morning got us jonesing to head offshore, which we briefly entertained. Unfortunately the weather is terribly unsettled right now, squally with storm cells developing late afternoon and during the night. Pairing that with inconsistent wind, which would probably mean motoring anyway, we've decided to keep heading north up the ICW, dodging thunderstorms. Next decision point: Ponce Inlet, three days north.

Jazz toes.

UP THE CREEK

Fort Lauderdale, FL

The New River in Fort Lauderdale meanders way inland. It's a beautiful trek amongst gorgeous houses with amazing boats tied up behind them.

It's a pretty narrow creek in some spots, even without being lined by docked boats on each side, and it's heavily trafficked by large boats.

The Jungle Queen, she moves fast.

Add to this a swift current and drawbridges, you have a pretty entertaining flume ride.

Sometimes the bridges open right away when you hail them; sometimes they make you wait. When we were headed up the creek, the railroad bridge which is 'usually open' was, in fact, closed, which required a quick tie-up to the water taxi dock to wait for the opening.

We spent three nights at Lauderdale Marine Center (a great spot and only 80 cents a foot) but decided to head back downstream for the weekend. We left the marina slip yesterday at slack tide, removing at least one factor from the excitement. However, slack tide on the New River = Rush hour. Turns out everyone that needed to move a big boat was underway at the same time.

The big boats kept warning of their locations on the VHF. Unfortunately for us, they were using references only locals would know.

"This is motoryacht Lukousaurus moving upriver near the girls school. Standing by on 09 for concerned traffic."

Where the heck is the girls school?

We cleared the first bridge before becoming concerned about traffic. As we came to one of the narrowest parts, we saw towboats pulling a large yacht toward us. We crept as close as we could to the starboard side of the creek, right up against the pilings, lines at the ready in case we had to tie up. I ran for the camera.

I snapped this picture just after the guy on the cell phone waved at me. Once the boat passed, my jaw dropped, and Chip, whose sole focus had been keeping us off the pilings, (not me taking pictures) started shouting, "GET THE CAMERA!"

Blue Guitar is Eric Clapton's motoryacht, a nice, classy contrast to Spielberg's boat.

I went dashing back to the cockpit, frantically zooming in to see who just waved to me from on deck.

Alas, it was not The Man.

About that time, apparently Lukousaurus had cleared the girls school. We came around a hairpin turn to this:

Fortunately he saw us coming and slowed down until we hugged the far side.

And then hauled ass around the turn.

William Marshall Bridge.

Gauntlet run. Safely anchored in time for a spectacular sunset.