Welcome Home: My Name is Earl

Yesterday I spoke to the Parentals. It appears they have returned from their sailing adventures for a brief break. Last weekend a big storm hit Nova Scotia and last week my parents were holding on for dear life in, you've got it, Nova Scotia. I imagine they are slightly battered and bruised from their battle with Hurricane Earl.

The Parentals (like everyone else in my family) have fallen off their rocker. They are older and wiser than the rest of us so they have hit the floor that much harder. About ten years ago they took up sailing: it's posh, athletic and got them away from a house full of teenagers. Then a little more than five years ago they decided it would be a good idea to sell everything (their businesses, the house, cars, everything.) to become full-time sailors.

Now they live on their boat, touring the world.

Most of the time it is pretty cool. Last weekend it was a little too windy.

They were touring the Maritimes on their way to Sint Maarten. As sailors they are well equipped with radios and get the weather reports daily. Their weather reports are slightly better than ours (and I'm not bitter) because they live by it. They got news on Thursday that Earl was slated to hit on Saturday.

They have a big tough boat and have weathered many storms but the Parentals have never been through a hurricane. They were unable to find space at a dock so they did what any other crazy sailor type would: they tied their boat to a mooring ball.

For those of you who aren't up with the lingo (and you should know I check mine with the Newf regularly) a mooring ball is essentially a floating beach ball chained to an immovable object at the bottom of the lake/ocean/pond/whatever wetness you are in. You attach your boat to the ball and the idea is to stay put. It is more secure than an anchor.

I love my parents but at times they can be daft. Most people learned the lesson with the Titanic. The unsinkable sank. The Parentals tied themselves up to a floating marker and insisted they were unmovable. Silly old people.

About half way through the storm they got a little nervous about the whole immovable thing. Go figure.

They were fine and the boat didn't move but I do think their chains were a little rattled (pun fully intended). My point? My father blogs about his experiences.

Here are his videos. Yep, those are my parents, floating around.

Here is his journal of Hurricane Tropical Storm Earl. FYI: My mother has been dubbed "The Budget Committee". She is thrifty and so it fits (I love you mom).

My dad blogs about his travels which have spanned the East Coast, Caribbean and beyond. They have been boarded by men with guns in two countries (semi-automatics in Cuba), had a friend eaten by an alligator (or a crocodile, I can never keep them straight) and viewed more than enough boat accidents. You may want to skip over the sailing details and get right to the best part - the places, people and things they meet.

Glad you are home guys. I figured you'd make it - it was just a little bit of wind and you seem to have connections with the wolf.

Lucky to be on land,

L