A Brush With Hollywood Fame

When Bill Fergusson, National Sales Manager for the Cessna 310, was called into Bob Chatley's office to discuss a new marketing opportunity to help promote Cessna's new twin, little did he realize he was about to have a brush with Hollywood fame as Sky King's "accidental" stunt pilot.

Bill W. Fergusson II, the real Sky King...Songbird pilot

See "Sky King Goes to Oshkosh"
and http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sky_King

Sky King t-shirts are available for $15 cash/check (includes USA domestic postage)
daylefergusson@gmail.com

The best adventures in life often take us by surprise. The secret is to always be ready!

The Wanderin' Star Sails Again!

Sailing, flying, living life…we’d better get the stories out there before time wipes the slate clean with ever-increasing adventures that overlay one after another.

The Wanderin’ Star now sits impatiently at the dock – she’s like me in that regard, the preparation is all done, the effort put in… let’s go! Tiamo, my little Siamese girl, is perhaps regrettably also like her (human) mother. Fast moving, wild, impatient, impetuous. It’s actually a bit terrible to have any kind of offspring, be it natural born or adopted, reflect who you are. It’s a betrayal of our innermost secrets. We can no longer hide from the truth. All our foibles, our tendencies, our weaknesses…out there, for all to see. So let’s just admit the obvious now.

I am flawed. I run too fast, sleep too little, take life in a single bound, and expect to be there NOW! The reality...and if only Bill, my light, my compass, my steadying influence, were here to keep this wild brumby in check, were here now. Ahhh…how different the world would be. How different would I be??

At this point I will defer to the Wanderin’ Star. She has taken all my energy for these past few months. Perhaps I will find some clues to my deeper self in all that. Who knows? That crazy human instinct we have, to always be looking for meaning in what we do. If we slow down long enough to hear the music in the stillness, I suspect we will find the rhythm of our soul. I’m hoping God will pick up where Bill left off, and gently reign me in, to pause on this merry-go-round to the pace of my own heart beating.

Pressure washing the hull

It has been a long spring/summer to finally get the Wanderin’ Star ready for launching (first there was the trailer…sandblasting, painting, new electrics, new tires, etc, etc.). How often do we embark on a project only to find it way bigger than we ever expected! I’ve learnt some valuable lessons along the way – mainly about perseverance and staying committed to a project, discovering I can work hard for a prolonged period if the goal is strong enough!

Well, it’s pretty motivating to have a big 25ft sailboat parked in your driveway, sitting over 10 feet tall with its fixed keel on the trailer. For a good period it was fun to work on her every chance I got, a true labor of love, but the further I went, the more work evolved! Pressure washing the bottom, buffing, polishing, cleaning, sanding and staining the teak, replacing hardware, ropes, electrics, painting, gluing, overhauling the motor, repairing the sail cover, washing sails, rebuilding the rudder, rewiring the radio. The project took another turn when the crack in the side of her hull became an insurance job, and led to both fiberglass repair and a repaint of the whole hull.

Ray (left) kept the boat several weeks

Dayle the martian sanding off the toxic
bottom paint

Thank God for Ray – the guy I hired to do this job. He also pointed out all kinds of other things we needed to take care of! Like grinding the blisters off the steel keel & covering with an epoxy barrier paint, sanding the bottom to a super smooth finish before applying two coats of bottom paint, putting in a bilge pump, re-doing the electrics on the mast, resealing the leaking windows, and on and on! The projects he took on had awesome results. I wish all of mine had been as perfect!

There comes a time when you have to put a date on all these activities and simply launch the boat. Nephew Mike and his wife Melissa coming over from Australia to spend 4th July on the lake to see the fireworks put the cap on this.

Dave discovered the blisters
were filled with water



Awesome sister Mally was willing
to do anything











After Dave’s help grinding blisters, trying to reseal windows, and Mally’s help painting the keel, there followed a seeming lifetime of hours of lonely work. But the day Mike & Melissa arrived I declared it done! Thank God!!!!

They flew in on from both London and Australia, a nice bit of combined jetlag, but were good naturedly ready to help launch the boat the very next day.



Jeff towed the boat and helped launch the Wanderin' Star



Dave shows Mike the prize

Friends from the Harbor Island Yacht Club generously shared their expertise to accomplish a smooth launch – with just one little hiccup. It was a chilly, overcast day, and while Commodore Dave Desforges was attaching the wind vane to the top of the mast before we stepped it (raised it) …plop! The wind vane slipped from the mount and sank to the bottom of Old Hickory Lake right at the dock. We all stared in dismay. “We didn’t come this far to lose it,” I declared, ready to take off my jacket and dive in. Last summer a storm blew the last wind vane off the mast, and I’d sorely missed it when sailing. I wasn’t about to start a new season without one.

Stepping the mast takes a strong crew

Mike, my gallant Aussie nephew, wouldn’t hear of me jumping in. “I’ve got my boardies on,” he said. “I’ll go in!” He stripped down and jumped into the cold water. “Bit chilly!” he gasped, before duck diving, and coming up with a 10 ft long bar in his hand. No, not the wind vane. Try again! Several more attempts, and suddenly we noticed Dave Desforges peeling off his wet weather gear. “I know what it looks like,” he explained, secretly remembering the yacht club creed to be responsible for whatever you lose or else pay up. He dived into the murky water, and came up with the wind vane held exultantly in his hand. First time! Mike grinned sportingly. “Make a fellow feel really good!” he admitted with chagrin.



Mike catches supper

 Two days later the Wanderin’ Star embarked on her shake-down cruise. Sun sparkling on the water, a light breeze, and, in answer to Mike’s prayer, the fish were biting!







A catfish and striped bass found their way into the pan for supper that night. Delicious! The new mainsail, custom made by Australian sailmaker (of course!) Rolly Tasker, performed superbly, and the champagne cork was retrieved from the lake to be added to the collection in the wine barrel at home to mark this momentous occasion.

Mike retrieves the champagne cork

The Wanderin’ Star is sailing again!

Young love

Mike learns about
climbing the mast

Fourth of July she cruised the lake with her crew of nine. Memorable sunset, fireworks, laughter, friendship, and a stolen kiss (watch those Aussies!).



Here’s To Whatever Comes Next!



I Left My Heart in San Francisco

We paint our memories in vivid colors across the canvas of life. As the refrains of the song echo in my mind, I can remember so clearly the evening Bill and I walked into our San Francisco hotel, my first time on American soil. A young man at the grand piano in the lobby was playing “I Left My Heart in San Francisco,” and from that moment I fell under its spell. It became one of our two most favorite cities in the world, filled with magic and romance.

What a treat when nephew James invited me to spend the long weekend out there. I don’t think I have ever been spoilt quite like that before. He went over the top, leaving me open mouthed, a big “Wow!” hanging on my lips as each new moment unfolded.

The first pleasure was being met by James and his delightful girlfriend, Dana, at the airport, temperatures cold, a blustery heavy rain falling. But the warmth of the welcome was like a big umbrella. We dodged the showers, laughing in the fun of new discoveries. A noisy, friendly, English-style pub jammed with a wildly eclectic mix shoulder-to-shoulder on a rainy Saturday afternoon. Sharing the umbrella as the rain spattered on the water and boats at anchor at the deserted marina. The hilly streets around Berkeley, intriguing shops lining hip neighborhoods.

Claremont Hotel

The gracious Claremont perched on a tree-covered hillside, presiding in the elegant glory of her colorful history. Exchanging stories of our lives over drinks in P.F. Changs, and then a wondrous meal in the best company, oblivious to the steady rain falling glistening on the lamplit streets.

Next morning James and I visited a local Uniting Methodist Church – his choice for our spiritual nourishment. Discovering the call of God on your life was the theme. God couldn’t have been speaking more plainly. When tears prick my eyes, and escape their retraints to slip down my cheek, I always know the Spirit of God is there. And so He was. In power and tenderness, reaching in to the core.





 

Anything goes in San Fran!

                James’ next treat was an incredible Sunday Jazz Brunch at Scott’s in Walnut Creek. One delicious dish after another. Imagine four different types of Eggs Benedict! Elegant, tasteful, friendly, and mimosas that were mysteriously always full. Then we hopped a ride on BART – the Bay Area Rapid Transit – into San Francisco, and wandered the hilly streets of this fair city.



“Wait here while I talk to someone,” instructed James, glancing at his watch. He chatted to the concierge outside the Hilton Hotel, then led me round the corner and down the hill, stopping beside a red and white mini bus. He pointed to the sign on the back of the bus, grinning broadly. “San Francisco Helicopters” it proclaimed. Oh my gosh! I was speechless. A dream come true to fly over San Francisco Bay.

Our Bell 206 Jet Ranger rose above the airport and flew northward along the western perimeter of the city. Paragliders glinted silver in the afternoon sun, hovering over the cliffs south of Ocean Beach. Flying between 500 and 1000 feet, we admired the neat grids of whitewashed houses, almost able to determine the make and model of cars driving down the road. We flew low over the Presidio on a straight line to the sharp red pylons of the Golden Gate Bridge spanning San Francisco Bay. She was beautiful in the clear California sunshine. And then…what a surprise…we flew under the Golden Gate Bridge, almost skimming the tops of sailboats heeling in the brisk breeze below! Too cool! “Can we do that again?” I begged the pilot, but he shook his head ‘No.’

Then on past Alcatraz, once a formidable prison where all but a few of the handful of inmates who escaped were either shot or drowned in the treacherous, cold waters of San Francisco Bay. We circled low over landmarks in the hilly city by the Bay, Fisherman’s Wharf bustling with tourists, the marina filled with boats from around the world packed in like sardines, A T & T Park - home stadium for the San Francisco Giants, and over the pylons of the Oakland Bay Bridge that links San Francisco with Oakland and Berkeley.

That evening, after the mandatory chilly stroll through Fisherman’s Wharf, we joined the patrons of the Buena Vista, reknowned for its Irish coffees. Would you believe everyone at the bar was drinking Irish coffees? It’s true! And they were the best!

Monday we followed Highway 1 down the California coast, savoring the stunning scenery, quaint coastal towns, steep cliffs, lighthouses, fertile fields of artichokes and bright yellow oilseed rape. As the sun dipped low on the horizon we clambered over rocks along the beach at Pacific Grove, until daylight faded into dusk and the brisk ocean breeze encouraged us to turn for home. A brief stop at Cannery Row in Monterey reminded us of the history of this area, vividly portrayed in John Steinbeck’s novel of the same name.

The weekend was over all too soon. Closeness renewed with nephew James, who had spent a year with us in Tennessee during his teens, and become more like a son. Now a mature young man making his way in the world. Bill would have felt as proud as I did. More memories to add to this city that has always captured my heart.

And the Snow Keeps Coming...

The seventh snow this winter arrived today, blowing horizontally, and moving in so quickly that some school buses up in Robertson County got stranded on some of the hilly back roads. It meant Kathy and I got to leave work early, and by the time I reached the top of the ridge it had already been transformed into a snowy wonderland. Tree limbs covered in white frosting, a dusting beginning to stick to the roads. Kathy’s husband, Joel, had called to tell her there was 3 inches in Springfield and she’d better head home.

The wonderful side benefits of these quite frequent snows this winter has been a little more leisure time. I’m very grateful! Arriving home at 3:30pm, with plenty of daylight remaining, it completely energizes me.

So the bird feeders are soon all filled. Tiamo is going crazy inside watching the birds in the snow, simply dying for the day I will let her outside. She will be a killer hunter, and I’m not excited about it for the birds’ sake. She’s fast as lightning. It’s so pretty I even take a walk down into the woods – not done nearly so often since Schooner departed. Have I gotten lazy? Wrapped in scarf and jacket to keep the biting wind and blowing snow at bay, I am once again in awe at the pristine beauty snow brings to the landscape. Frosted pinecones on a heavily laden bough, cold crunching beneath my feet, Cardinals a red flash darting between the trees.

Back into the welcome warmth of our home, there is soon a fire crackling in the hearth, and it’s early enough that I decide the Pioneer Woman shouldn’t have all the fun.

Time to get busy in the kitchen. I’m trying really hard to develop some healthy habits, changing my diet and exercising more often. I’ve found a great recipe for mini quiches, so cook up a batch that will be healthy breakfasts for the next week. Yes, I know, diets come and go, but the present attitude is to cut out dairy and grains and processed foods. Get back to the perfect weight and work on the physical conditioning.

These quiches are so simple. Eggs and vegetables. That’s it. Add some herbs and seasoning. Take a look at these pictures – perfect for those quick breakfasts on the run.

Next, I prepare the crockpot for a chicken curry that will simmer tomorrow and produce one of my most delectable creations. Bill and I loved making curries. He may not be physically present in the kitchen any more, but he sure is in spirit. Always. We had such fun doing this together.

Then it’s a batch of blueberry muffins for Home Group tomorrow night – using almond milk instead of cow’s milk. They look pretty good!

For dinner a stir-fry fits right into the program. Chicken strips and vegetables, with a glass of Australian red. Can’t do much better than that. I think I like this healthy regime!

Now, excuse me while I settle back by the fire to do some writing. The book awaits, and Tux and Tiamo have both settled in for a long winter’s nap. Cats! They know how to do it!

When is it going to snow again?

Christmas on Amelia Island

Tiamo selects Christmas lights





It's quite amazing how time slips by. My excuses for not writing more are not even worthy of mention.

Instead, I will take this opportunity to share this Christmas before the New Year rolls in.

 



A long winter's nap

Don and Barbara invited me to spend Christmas with them on Amelia Island, Florida. Tiamo stayed at the clinic with Ann - spending her first Christmas in a cage, but it was good to know she was safe and warm. She did enjoy all the early stages of Christmas, such as putting up Christmas lights and

wrapping gifts. 



Wrapping gifts is fun

 



Tux was thrilled to have the house to himself, able to come and go at will, with no pesky little sister bothering him.



Ghost Gums on the Ridge

 I missed Tennessee's white Christmas - but we'd already enjoyed our first snow on December 14, so I was fine with a walk on a sparkling beach instead!

Amelia Island - Christmas Eve




Black Skimmers

  Christmas in Florida - invigorating walks on the beach under a cold, blue sky criss-crossed with contrails.  The beach where I always feel so close to Bill. The sea was the reward - sparkling silver in the sun. Migratory birds wheeling and soaring in the brisk wind. Black Skimmers sporting orange bands on their long beaks sharing the same spot of sand with resident flocks of gulls, brief transients on their journey southward.



St. Peter's Episcopal Church



Barb, Kendall and I attended a Candlelight Service on Christmas Eve at the beautiful little Episcopal Church (built 1881) in Fernandina Beach, enjoying the procession and ritual and singing as the clock ticked over to midnight.



Rick teaches Debi how to play the drums

 The most memorable Christmas gift was the drum set nephew Dennis gave to his brother Rick

Dennis eyes Don's helicopter

- and the remote controlled helicopters that kept the "boys" entertained for hours!

My thrill was a ride in Rick's 427 Ford Cobra, followed by a fast drag run down Rick's airplane runway in Dennis' Corvette. These guys are the experts on fast cars!


Don carves the turkey in Debi's kitchen

We had two Christmas dinners, with great company of family and friends. Don and Barb hosted the first dinner on Friday, and Rick and Debi the second one on Sunday. Linda's Bread Pudding is the recipe we all want - maybe I will have it to share next posting!



Debi and Kendall









 



  Lots of great food and wine, cozy fires, comfortable hours spent reading and   chatting. I am blessed to have family to share this time.



Christmas is best shared with family and friends