And that's a wrap.

Our years of being gypsy liveaboards started with Nomad teaching us the basics on Lake Carlyle. Nearly a decade passed while we stepped up to the bigger and far more capable Kintala while still on the lake. We then moved aboard to meet the challenges of wandering to our hearts' content along the East Coast, the Bahama Islands, the Florida Keys, and the west coast of Florida, a lifestyle we enjoyed for the better part of a decade. But Kintala went up for sale while I went back to the aviation world to try and fill a depleted bank account. It wasn’t long before the idea of trying the trawler life and doing the Great Loop became a new challenge that we made happen. It turned out to be more of a challenge than we expected, complicated by a heart that quit working for me and a shattered wrist for Deb. With the help of many really good people that became close friends and enriched our lives, and a bit more than two years worth of effort, First Light finally settled into her slip near St. Louis and home. That was more than a year ago now. We thought that we would be happy river runners, taking grandkids out for day and overnight trips. We did make a few trips with family and everyone had a good time. But the cost plus work effort to fun ratio was pretty trying. After a lot of serious soul searching, Deb and I have decided that our long-term wandering days have come to a close. It was not an easy decision, but it is the right one.

I have enjoyed a life far better than the one I probably deserved. Deb and I have ridden more than a quarter of a million miles on a collection of motorcycles. We have owned airplanes, both of us being pilots. We have thousands of nautical miles under our various keels, have lived in four states, raised three daughters, and have eleven grandkids. Our oldest granddaughter just got engaged. Our oldest grandson is with us for a while as he works toward his pilot’s license with the intent of having an aviation career of his own. I will admit that one of my biggest disappointments is that, having lost my medical, I cannot act as his instructor, though we are working our way through the ground schooling required. And I have a promise that I will be his first official passenger. It is a bit wistful on the one hand, being back around the perimeter of the world of aviation where I made a living for better than 50 years. But it is kind of fun as well. 

Some might find the idea of a life winding down a burden. I do miss the sky, big water, and bending a motorcycle into a fast corner right on the edge of traction. But I do not miss the effort, the endless work, and the many times I skated way too close to the edge that comes with that kind of lifestyle. Deb has often joked that there are a lot of cats running around short on lives—lives that I “borrowed” as my nine were used up long ago. As for the rest? I certainly would not have guessed that we would end up keeping a decades-long running commentary on our life on the water that we shared with whoever was interested. Or that we would end up writing and publishing six books between us. We could not have imagined all we would see, the adventures that we would have, or anticipated the number of people we would meet who became good friends that we have enjoyed and cherish to this day.

We may still to a bit of exploring. Once First Light finds a new home we will explore getting a van-like vehicle in which to do some traveling. Visit friends and family and see some places I have only seen from the cockpit of an airplane far up in the flight levels. They will not be long trips. “Home” takes on a special charm as life settles down to its last few chapters. And we are home. 

https://www.curtisstokes.net/motor-yachts-for-sale-kha-shing-40-first-light-2843707.html

U.A.S.

Our time as cruisers led to several deep changes in the kind of life we live. It is hard to explain the difference when one's world view is expanded by years spent on a boat, time spent in different countries and cultures, and the challenges (and dangers) that come with  living so close to nature. It also led to a minimalist approach to life, keeping things as simple as possible. But that minimalist approach to life did run afoul of another change that happened while we cruised. That of  my being exposed to playing music on a ukulele.

It had a disarmingly innocent beginning. The other part of my family that was living on a sailboat gifted me a modest soprano ukulele. A cute little blue plastic thing well suited for the harsh conditions of the sailing life, conditions not particularly friendly to wooden musical instruments. One might suggest that I got a little hooked. I wrote a short book about the journey from being a drummer to playing notes titled, Learning from a Uke,  a journey I am still enjoying. 

It may be that being "a little hooked" might be a tiny bit of an understatement. The soprano is a little thing, so I bought a slightly bigger concert size. That was fun and has a bit more room for my mechanic's fingers. Noodling through a music store one day one of my granddaughters picked up a baritone sized uke, two steps up from a concert, and suggested I try it. I did. It is tuned differently than the others and sounded really good. It came home with us. With a soprano, concert, and baritone in the collection, it seemed only fitting to fit in a tenor, the size between a concert and a baritone. So I did.

Part of getting First Light outfitted for the trip to St. Louis was finding a place to safely store the ukes that would be taking the trip. After some brainstorming, we decided to build a cabinet that would fit behind the lower helm station seat. That was a fun project. Each of the ukes rested on its own shelf, nestled in a custom cut foam cushion and protected with a latched door. To top it off, one of my granddaughters painted the top with a picture of my original blue soprano uke and a music score that was the first song I learned to play, The Blarney Pilgrim. By the time we got First Light to St. Louis, a year behind schedule, we needed room for three more ukes and Deb's guitars (2). They ended up resting in a storage area under one of the settees in the salon.

Once settled back in St. Louis, we needed to find room for the ukes and guitars in our little apartment. There was some empty wall space that was put to good use, a good place to store the seven instruments. Along with Deb's two guitars, I now have access to fourteen ukuleles hanging on the apartment walls—tenors, baritones, concerts, and sopranos. Each is unique. Some have alternate tunings. Two are made of composite materials. They have different makes of strings and different body styles, all making for different tones. One has no front sound port at all, only side ports. I'm told it is called a "violin" uke. You play it like any other uke, not tucked under one's chin with a bow. So I don't know how it got its name. Three of the tenors and one of the concerts are electric / acoustic and can be run through an amp. I don't have a baritone that can be amped...mmm.

The early wall...

A little later...

And the current state of the wall.

They are all "rescue" ukes—bought at used music stores or from owners who simply didn't play them anymore. But there is no doubt that I have been badly infected with U.A.S...Ukulele Acquisition Syndrome. It seems to be a rather common ailment in the ukulele community. My collection is actually rather modest.

They all get played on a regular basis as my "retirement schedule" usually includes several hours of practice every day. It isn't really practice in the sense of me striving to meet some goal or prepare for a gig. Sure, I am a little better at it than I was at the beginning. But the damage done to my hands and fingers after years of being a mechanic, added to that done by car and motorcycle accidents and the growing tally of years (I'll be 70 next month) limit how far I can go on this musical journey. And, oddly enough for someone who has been a teacher and regularly spoke in front of crowds of people for various reason, I apparently suffer from a serious case of stage fright. Anyone in the room other than Deb or grandkids, and my fingers and brain get completely disconnected. It makes for some truly frighting noises pretending to be music.

At best, I might reach the level of being a modestly capable amateur ukulele musician. But that is of little concern. In fact, I tend to look at it the other way around. A perfectly played "C" note or chord, even if surrounded by some not so perfect, is still a perfectly played "C" note or chord. A perfect anything, no matter how small or short lived, is a gift to be treasured. And I do take a bit of encouragement from being a pretty good drummer. Along with the ukes there is an electric drum kit, a djembe (really fun and really loud) and two different pan drums. Having someone around while I am pounding out a rhythm with any kind of drum isn't a problem at all. Though, truth to tell, most of my drumming is done when Deb is out doing other things. A djembe is overwhelming in a two room apartment. If I happen to be playing it outside, it can be heard several blocks away.

Music is also a place where, while I am playing, nothing else in the world actually matters. I can get completely lost in a single riff, one line of notes, or a simple chord progression, utterly oblivious to the passing of time. It is a magical place to be and has become my primary hobby in more ways than one. 

One of the ukes on my wall, a wood tenor, I built out of a kit the family bought me for Christmas. All of the parts were there, they just needed fit, assembled, and finished. It was a fun project, one I may take on again. The very artistic granddaughter who painted the cabinet finished the uke with some really cool custom artwork. It now hangs as the center of the collection and it sounds as good and any of the others.

   

Another of my ukes, a tenor strung as a 'low g" (not important) I modified by cutting a side sound hole in the body. I wanted a uke with just such a port, (it is kind of a new thing with ukes) but the one I played at the used music store had an eye-watering price. (One can spend a lot of money on a uke if one is so inclined, more than ten grand. I am not so inclined.) It worked out even better than I had hoped.

I wouldn't know what to say if someone asked me which is my favorite. Each one feels different when being played, and each is fun to play for different reasons. Each one sounds a little different. For some magical reason certain songs sound better on certain ukes. I guess my favorite is the one I happen to have in my hand at that moment.

Music is one of the better ideas that human kind has come up with. I am starting to believe that, if one isn't touched by music in some way, one isn't really much of a human at all.

One of the best parts of playing music is playing it with the grandkids. This was our first attempt to play together and I hate being recorded so be kind...

Our grandson started playing guitar while he was on First Light with us just two years ago. Having the next generation pick it up is so satisfying.

Getting it all done.

It has been a few months, about five actually, since First Light settled into her new home in Alton, IL. For the first couple of those months we were just getting settled back into land living again. We would check on the boat now and again and even got a couple of projects done before winter hit hard.

The first of those was replacing the starboard side cleat that was torn off of the boat while tied to a free wall waiting out a storm on the Great Lakes. That turned into a bit of a task as much of the shower stall had to be disassembled (you can read that as destroyed) in order to install a new one. When it was all said and done we managed to both replace the cleat and improve the shower at the same time. By then winter was at hand. A long day was spent winterizing the boat. Which is a bit of a job when there are two engines, a generator, head, and water systems involved. With that done and First Light tied into her slip with about ten different lines, she was ready for winter. We checked on her pretty regularly but working on the boat was not high on the list of things to do.

New shower wall behind which is the starboard midship cleat

Come the first hint of warmer weather, that changed. Deb took on the job of repairing some of the interior wood in the V-berth. Wood that had, truth to tell, been begging to be fixed since we first bought the boat. I took a deep breath and then started the repair on the aft deck cover. The one that also supports our solar panel array. I had already repaired it once, replacing the rotted plywood with new bits that I had coated with fiberglass, glued in place, and painted. But it turned out that wasn't sufficient and the new panels started to rot and peel away before we got out of Canada. Which chafed at the mechanic in me. I had clearly missed something.

It took a few days to pull down and sand off all off the rotted stuff. As I did, I noticed that virtually all of the worst of it was where the solar panels were mounted. The roof was an add-on. Which was pretty well done. Solid structure carrying the load to the hull.  The Solar panels were another add on, and not so well done. They had been simply been mounted on top of the 1/4 in ply with no thought of transferring that load to the more robust structure. Ply that was not up to the task of supporting that kind of weight while pounding through the Great Lakes. It is a bit difficult to describe, but we added 2x4 and 2x6 supports to carry the weight of the solar panels directly to the main structure that supports the roof itself, bypassing the thin plywood. Several cans of short haired fiberglass filler were then applied, sanded, spot puttied as required, sanded again, filled, and painted. All of it work done over head, a bit of a challenge for this well-used bod of mine. But it got done, is much more robust than it was, and looks pretty good. Part of the work was aided by two grandsons and a granddaughter who helped with the easier sanding and painting. Which made the whole exercise a lot more fun.

Reinforcing beams added for solar panel mounts

While that project was underway, Deb did some more interior repairs and handled some plumbing issues that popped up over the winter. She also changed oil and filters for both engines and the generator. We were delighted when all three fired up with zero hesitation, and no leaks. 

A couple of weeks later, the rest of the family was on vacation down south. Deb and I took advantage of them being gone to fire up First Light and take her out for a shakedown cruise. There is too much of the pilot/mechanic in me to have a boat full of grandkids along for the first foray out on the Mississippi River after a long hiatus and several projects. Everything worked just as it should and we declared First Light as a going proposition once again.

A few days later, First Light left the dock with five of the six grandkids we live with along for the ride. Three of them got a chance to drive the boat. One is too young and the oldest wasn't interested. We ambled up the river a while, pulled a U-turn and headed back to the dock, tying up after just shy of two hours on the river.

Once tied-to, the two grandsons helped us splash the Dink and lower its outboard into the water for the first time in many months. Given that it had proved to be a major hassle during our previous months on First Light, neither Deb nor I had any faith that it was going to start. Much to our surprise, that Yamaha 9.9 took just a little coaxing to get it putting along. The grandsons and I took it out for a short spin, each of them getting a chance at the tiller.

While the boys helped with the dinghy, the girls made use of the cooler pool temperature (the air temp was hovering around 100°).

And later we fired up the air conditioner and enjoyed having one on the boat.

So our first summer of being local river boaters is officially underway. There are still projects to do. But being back on the water felt really good. We are going to enjoy it for as long as we can.

Some of our slip neighbors

And That's a Wrap!

We've been home for awhile and I honestly haven't had time to think about the stats for the Loop trip. Getting home meant several trips to the boat to carry things back to the apartment that we need there, many hugs and kisses and volleyball games and and poker hands (yes, even the five-year-old plays poker with Grampy), ukulele playing, gardening, winterizing the boat, holidays...it's been a whirlwind and tonight I'm finally sighing a little with relief. I'm really glad we did the trip, but I'm equally glad that we're home now, especially in light of the damage that hurricane Helene has done to all parts south of us. I'm unbelievably glad that we don't have to be the ones making the decision of how far and how fast we're going to be moving south. I think if it was us, we'd be finding a place to park First Light for the winter and going home. Thankfully, we're already there.

So the stats for the trip:

We did 2,424 miles. 458 of them were last year from Oriental, NC to Pasadena, MD, in our abbreviated attempt to get the boat back to St. Louis, derailed by our medical mishaps. The balance of the miles—1,966—we did this year between Pasadena, MD and St. Louis.
We moved 143 days with 372 hours underway at an average of 6.2 knots. (Ignore the max speed above of 54.2 knots - that was because I had the app tracking us while we were in a car with a friend :)

I tried to keep track of anchoring nights vs paid dock nights vs free dock nights but we just had too much else on our minds to keep up with it. The reality of it is that we spent way more time on the dock and lock walls than we did anchoring. We anchored primarily when we were traveling with our grandson in 2023 from NC to MD, but once we started on the river system, there weren't near as many opportunities to anchor as on the ICW and coastal cities. I kind of like the wall tie-offs though. It's nice to just pull up to some cleats on the wall and be done for the day with town and services being just a few steps away. It's also much better for socializing since everyone is right there and it gives you the opportunity to pull up a folding chair and chat with your travel friends for the evening. When you're anchored, it requires launching the dinghy to have the same opportunities so there's a lot to be said for the walls. The New York and Canadian portions of the Loop had many better lock walls than later in the trip. Once you head into the Illinois and Mississippi rivers, you're much more limited in stopping places.

I've had so many people ask us if we're going to finish the Loop or not. We have done a little more than 3/4 of it between the time we spent on Kintala and the time we spent on First Light, but the answer is a firm "no". I'm incredibly glad we made the trip. It was a fantastic experience, but it was much harder than we expected it to be. The sheer volume of lock transits, and the schedule that you have to keep in order to be where you need to be before the weather changes, can make it pretty exhausting. To be fair, a lot of the stress we experienced (other than having our boat dropped in the railroad lift...) was because of doing it so soon after Tim's cardiac arrest. That experience had a huge impact on our whole view of travel. Anchoring in the more remote places in Canada without medical services more readily available was making it tough to relax. Going through something like that tends to change your outlook just a bit.

So First Light is settled in her home base at Alton Marina and we'll enjoy her over the season with the local grandkids. After that? We're not sure. We may sell her in the fall and do some land travel for awhile or we may keep her another season. In the mean time, we're making more memories and adding photos to our screensaver. And that's a pretty good way to spend the year.

Stranger Things

Our first real exposure to the Looper world came when we were living full time on Kintala. We were part of the migration up and down the East Coast and out to the Islands. Along the way we heard tell of a bit of a legend. There was a boat named Manatee that was said to be a on a continuous loop, having made the circle literally dozens of times. We didn't know too much about "The Loop" and, at that time, didn't find the idea of inland river travel surrounded by land all that interesting. 

We actually crossed wakes with Manatee twice while living on Kintala. We spent  time visiting with Ted, though we never met Sarah. Once was in Marathon where, if I remember correctly, we were all laid up waiting on the weather to settle before taking on the Hawk Channel northbound. The other time, we were anchored in Shark River on the southwest coast of Florida heading south around the Keys. Manatee was anchored up a little further in and it wasn't too long before Ted came putting up in "Little Manatee", his tender. Both  the tender and the boat sport bright orange paint. Though Ted was a "Looper" he had crossed the Gulf Stream several times and spent time in the Islands as well. So we had covered similar ground and had a lot of stories to share. 

Of course we heard more about Manatee once we joined the Looper Community itself. Though it had been several years, word had it that Ted and Sarah were sill going strong. We started following them on NEBO, watching were they were to see if there was a chance we would cross wakes yet again. But it didn't work out that way. Our first try was aborted with the health issues. This time around Manatee looked to be well behind as we started pushing rather hard to make it to St. Louis, arriving nearly two months ago now.

Since getting home, we have been readjusting to land living, spending a bunch of time with family deeply missed while "looping", and getting busy on the project list. High on the list this last week was winter prep. After several days of work, all that was left was a couple of minor issues that would take about an hour. Freezing weather is headed this way. So, after a Grand Daughter's final soccer game of the season this morning, we headed out to the marina.

There has been very little activity at the marina. Once in a while we run across someone else winterizing, or the occasional marina employee. Most of the time we are the only ones around. And so it was when we stopped by the Marina's only operating head on the way to the boat. All of the water has been turned off except for the main office building , its rest rooms, and laundry. So I was utterly unprepared to literally bump into someone walking his dog as I exited the room and turned to lock the door. "Unprepared" is a bit of an understatement, I jumped like a frightened kid on Halloween. 

As you have already guessed, it was Ted walking Patches, third member of his crew. I wouldn't have recognized him but for his and his boat's name embroidered on his shirt. Manatee was tied to the face dock one pier over from First Light. We chatted for a while and it seemed that Ted remembered us as well. It was agreed that after we finished the last of our winterizing chores we would drop by Manatee for a chat, finally getting a chance to meet Sarah as well. 

It was one of those visits that is just shy of magical. Ted is nearly as far off the reservation as I am when it comes to all things social. In fact it would likely be more accurate to put that the other way around as it is just barely possible he is a step or two further out than I am. We are not related in any way, but we are certainly kindred souls. Sarah is a delight and, like Deb, puts up with and supports her partner with a smile and an occasional shake of the head. After a really special and fun visit, we headed for our land side home, leaving them our number should they need anything before heading south trying to beat the incoming cold.

I don't know what the odds are of literally bumping into someone you know from years ago in a place completely unexpected without any kind of planning or foreknowledge. But it will be something we smile about for a very long time.

Let the games begin...

Ed Note: This post spans about a week's worth of being at our home dock.

The marina has been the temporary home for many Looper friends for the last couple of days. The river situation south of St. Louis is a bit questionable at the moment. It looks like they can make Kentucky Lake easily enough with the only concern being how many boats are going to be stopped at the lake trying to decide how hard to push south, a decision made even more difficult with the Florida Big Bend area being hammered yet again by another major hurricane. I'm not sure I could talk myself into taking a boat any further south than I am right now. Both Deb and I are kind of glad that we don't have to make any traveling decisions at the moment. But that doesn't make it any easier for friends who live in Florida and other friends who need to go that way to get home.

Our friends on Number 99 as they pass the arch on their way south.

A couple of days ago, we spent the day as tour guides for our home town, eight of us enjoying the city's zoo and then four of that group going on to visit the Arch. (Deb and I have been there and have no real need to visit it again.) We have also been the target address for some of our friends getting things shipped to them. Getting things shipped is a relentless pain for those of us who travel by boat with a current address being “somewhere on the water”. We have helped out in some other small ways as well. It is what people who live on boats tend to do, as most of us have needed a favor or two along the way. Deb and I have been on the receiving end of a helping hand so many times. It is nice having the chance to be on the offering side for a change.

He seems to think that way is south...

So we headed off to the marina with two granddaughters in tow to a) actually start getting some work done on the boat and, b) meet up for dinner with the gang before they head south in the morning. The  “b” part of the day was a really good time. The granddaughters charmed the group while we shared stories with people who are now good friends that we might not see again for a while.

The “a” part of the day was a little different story. It was the girls' first time on the boat and they fully approve, even if we didn't leave the slip. Deb found some stuff that melts spider poop. Spray it on, wait a minute or two, wipe (or hose) it off. One small step from being pure magic. Ah, but after that things got a bit less fun. I decided to tackle replacing the starboard side midship cleat damaged while on the wall in Grand River. From the start we knew that the outboard wall of the shower stall was the only access point. The was no choice but to get behind that wall.

We didn't remove the wall so much as destroy it. It was mounted with nails buried into the wood, leaving no way to pry it off without trashing the wall itself. I guess nails are cheaper than screws and/or it never occurred to the fabricating or design team that anyone would ever need access to that area again (this in spite of the plumbing lines and wiring runs behind the wall).

Even that brute force method of removal took most of the day. Which sounds bad, and is. But isn't quite as bad as it might seem. The wall is (was) a thin slab of laminated wood-like material  that was showing the damage of decades on a boat. The support wood it was attached to was in even worse shape. And, as is common with boats, the install itself was shoddy with nails sticking out in skin-gouging places where someone kind of missed the target. The wood supports looked like they were hacked off with a dull ax and were even more rotted out than the wall itself. Understandable, as it was untreated raw wood. In my experience it was marine-industry-acceptable since it was all hidden and likely assembled by people making minimum wage with someone standing over them demanding that they move faster and use whatever material was lying around. The low standards of marine industry quality control is my normal expectation whenever I get involved with a boat project, but it is still a disappointment. And, to be fair, it isn't likely the manufacturer ever expected the boat to be in service as long as it has.

After the new cleat is in place, the shower will be rebuilt with new and better material. It's my boat and I can make it as professional-looking as my skill and wallet will allow if I want, even if no one else will ever see what is behind the wall again. 

With the wall destroyed, it became obvious that access to the cleat mounting bolts was still going to be a problem. As expected, the cleat was through-bolted at the edge of the deck with a backing plate. What was not expected is that the three of the four bolts as well as most of the backing plate were then fiberglassed over. It would appear that the deck was assembled as a unit with the cleats installed, then that unit was glassed onto the hull. Thus the outboard bolts are completely buried where the hull and deck are joined. We were stymied for the day, but that was okay as it was time for dinner with our friends. Then home with two tired granddaughters and one worn out Grampy T.

After removing the retractable clothesline, we drilled a hole big enough for the boroscope

so we could be sure the nuts were where we thought they were. Alas, all you could see was one tiny bit of nut edge under fiberglass.

After removing a bit of fiberglass and one of the nuts, the backing plate became visible.

After a day off, we were back at it.  The forward inboard sheared bolt wasn't glassed over and was easily removed. The aft inboard bolt was the one that didn't shear and was still holding the cleat to the boat. That nut was covered with fiberglass but was accessible. A few seconds with a Dremel and I could hold the nut while Deb unscrewed the cleat from the deck. (The nut was spinning in a glassed in pocket.) 

We will be replacing the cleat with a different style that has just two mount bolts. Not as beefy as the original, but it will get the job done. Particularly since we will not make the mistake of running fore and aft spring lines to those cleats while getting bashed against a wall in three-foot rollers.

When the new cleat is installed, we will tackle the job of rebuilding the shower stall. The goal is to make it look more professional and "tidy" than it did. That is not going to be an easy job and will likely take a while. Fortunately, we are not in any hurry to go anywhere. Which is particularly good because the cleat repair and shower rebuild is far from the biggest job we need to do. With the replacement cleat on order and the shower cleaned up from its disaster-in-progress state we decided to get one more task done. It took less than an hour to replace the low pressure water pump that we had shanghaied into serving as a deck wash pump with an actual deck wash pump. Big difference. Not sure when the next time will be that the hook will come up covered in mud but when that happens we will be blasting that mud off with ease.

A day or so after that : With the new cleat in hand, we headed back to the boat. The first task was to "move" the original mounting holes through both fiberglass and backing plate a few fractions of an inch so the new bolts would go in. A brand new beefy round file moved them where they needed to be. Some fiberglass and gel-coat work followed and, had I mixed the batches a little hotter, we might have finished up the install. But  the gelcoat was going to take a while to set and we were about out of day, so homeward we went.

This morning, Grandsons (two) and I headed back to the marina to finish the cleat repair. The Grandsons did the sanding, washer filing and fitting, and final install. All I did was watch, lay down the sealer, and put the final bit of torque on the install. There is still a little gelcoat work to do around the new cleat. Actually, there is gelcoat work all over the boat awaiting attention. The cleat will get its share.

So we are now several days in to our "the-boat-is-a-hobby-not-our-home" post Loop life. A few projects are already well along. It feels pretty good.

The old cleat just taped on till we made it home

The two inaccessible outboard holes glassed in

The two accessible holes ground out so the new cleat bolts would line up with the holes

Waiting for the new cleat to arrive

Guess what needs to happen to that ever-too-long screw???

Washers to beef up the backing plate.

The new cleat installed

Yes, much more gelcoat needs to be done...

More photos from our zoo trip

He told you south was that way!