Yesterday will surely go down as one of the best days we've had on land since living aboard.  In a moment of inspired insanity, we decided to drive up to Vancouver to absorb the Olympic Spirit so, in a mad rush, we researched all we could on the Internet and left early the following morning for Richmond, B.C., a suburb of Vancouver, where we parked for the day and took the Sky Train into the city.

As luck would have it, we didn't know where we wanted to go, nor did we have a map, so we disembarked at Olympic Village believing it would be the obvious choice.  It wasn't.  So we chose a new destination and walked into the city from there.  Along the way, we ran into a few groups of men selling tickets to the bronze-medal Women's Ice Hockey Game (Finland versus Sweden) which had started 35 minutes beforehand.  The first price thrown at us was CA$100 a ticket, so we quickly walked past.  The offer from the next man waiting was CA$50 but, not knowing where the arena was, I was convinced the game would be over by the time we got there.  Inevitably, the next question was, “how much do you want to pay?” but my response of, “nothing” didn't get us anywhere.  Once we learned the arena was only a 10 or 15 minute walk, the tickets became more valuable (though I still couldn't shed the feeling that we were being had) and we settled on a price of CA$20 a piece – my frugality nearly ruining our chance to see an Olympic event (a medal round, no less).

With the deal done and the tickets in hand, we walked as fast as we could to the Canada Hockey Place, through security, and made it to our seats by the early minutes of the second period with the score 1-0 (Finland).  Sweden scored a goal to tie the game during the second period which was answered several minutes later by Finland making the score 2-1.  The first female president of Finland, Tarja Halonen, was in the audience, and it was difficult not to get caught up in her girlish enthusiasm as she cheered, “go, go, go!” while being interviewed.  Sweden wasn't finished, however, and they came back during the third period to tie the game and send it into overtime.

No one ever knows what is said in the locker room at moments like this but, whatever it was, the Finnish team took it to heart and came out after the intermission fighting and scored the winning goal with only 2 minutes and 33 seconds off the clock.  The moment the buzzer went off, the gloves and sticks went flying as the Finnish team ran to each other and embraced.  The next shot on the big screen was of the president, now wearing a team jersey, jumping up and down and cheering in excitement.  The Swedes stayed on the ice until the obligatory handshakes were over and then returned to the locker room.  The Finns, however, didn't seem to want to leave the arena and allow the moment to disappear off into history, and neither did we. 

We've both been to sporting events before – professional, amateur, and international – but it's difficult to describe exactly what it's like to attend an Olympic match.  This was something clearly special – something transcending sport.  There's an energy that fills the air, and you can't help but hold your breath for these teams who have everything to lose in 60 minutes of play – for many of them, it's the last opportunity to wear their country's colours or a uniform at all.  These women have nothing to gain monetarily or, in most cases, professionally – there will be no endorsements or professional contracts at the end of the day.  They play for the love of country, team, and sport; and while you're watching what's happening on the ice, you're aware of all of this leaving you convinced that you're seeing the game played in its most pure state. 

At this point, we could have happily left Vancouver, but the day wasn't over yet so, from the Canada Hockey Place, we walked a block or so up to the LiveCity Downtown venue to watch men's curling on the big screen and the start of the gold-medal women's hockey between Canada and the US along with hundreds of Canadians who were cheering their team on to victory.  The game became painful after Canada scored two unanswered goals, so we left in search of our next adventure.  By this time, the streets were filling in with pedestrians wearing red and white, the sidewalks were lined with vendors selling their wares, and buskers filling the air with music as people listened and danced along.  We carried on to Robson Square to see the public ice-rink and then down to LiveCity at Yaletown for a concert.  By 7:00 PM, we were both exhausted, so we boarded the Sky Train back to Richmond and were on the road again by 8 o'clock, across the border in a matter of minutes, and leaving Canada and the 21st Winter Olympics behind.

The forecast is calling for a period of five days of good weather, so we decided to take the opportunity to polish and wax the hull of theboat.  Friday was a productive day with us working from the dock and completing most of the starboard side but, because we weren't able to reach down to the waterline, we decided to use the dinghy as a working platform which turned out to be a perfect example of how asimple job can turn into a laundry list of small tasks before you're even able to get started:

A red sky dawning forecasting another rainy day in Coon Bay.

David and I have been back on the boat for three weeks now but not without some adjustments and physical pain – there's no two ways about it, land-life softened us!

Gone in an instant were the creature comforts we'd grown accustom to so quickly – long showers, hot baths, flushing toilets, and SPACE – causing living aboard to feel more like camping than anything else.  Experience tells us that it's only temporary, but that doesn't make the transition much easier and the past three weeks have resulted in many stepped on toes, bumps, and bruises as we struggle to adapt once again.

Adding to that, February's weather hasn't turned out to be as good as promised which has kept us inside more than we would have liked.  On the odd sunny days, David managed to work on the teak decks, cleaning and sealing them with oil, while I toiled down below checking the bilges for mildew, cleaning them out, and shedding them of unwanted and unused junk (raising our waterline a few inches in the process).  We did our best to make use of the wet days by running errands and doing endless research on solar panels, but “cabin fever” was always close at hand.  The good news is that the forecast is calling for several fine days, so we should be able to get back outside, shake off the cobwebs, and start tackling our never-ending to-do list.

Right now, life aboard is as busy as we want it to be or as relaxed as we'd like it to be. We're strong believers in moderation and, for the past week, it's been a combination of both – busy and relaxed. Like the old saying goes, all work and no play....

We started off strong when we first got back to Washington last week. My area of expertise lies below decks in organizing things, so I was in charge of unpacking the truck-load of junk we'd brought with us for the trip. David, on the other hand, is the master of the topsides and spent a few days cleaning the decks and taking down our boat cover. Poor sod forgot that we'd just bought a pair of gumboots and spent the first afternoon barefoot while he washed things down. Jeff and Karry must have taken pity on him because they invited us upfor drinks when he was finished, and he was able to dry off in front of the fire. Through their intervention, he managed to avoid frostbite and hypothermia, but just barely. And thanks to the boots, the second day went much better.

The downside to all of this work, as we quickly learned, is that we're no longer boat-fit. It took a month and a half for our bodies to recover from the five months we spent at anchor last year and, now that they're healed, we're paying the price – everything from achy backs to sore knees to cramped hands – so we decided to take a few days off (and a few more after that).

On Monday, we went to the Seattle Boat Show with Jeff and Karry stopping off at the Chittenden Locks. The salmon aren't running this time of year, but we did get to see a few boats come through the locks giving us a good idea of the procedures should we ever decide to go through. After that, we went to Lake Union for the Boats Afloat Show. There were literally hundreds of boats to view and we spent a good part of the day boarding sailboats along with a 143-foot ship. The $6 million price tag was a little out of our reach, so we just admired the vessel rather than put an offer in. After a late lunch, we went to Qwest Stadium (home of the Seattle Seahawks) to check out the exhibits. The Seattle Boat Show is by far and away the best one we've been to and, even though we were disappointed only find one insurance company represented and no information on solar panels (the things we were interested in), it well worth the time and effort.

Other days this past week have been punctuated more subtly with dog walks on the beach, fixing computers, visiting with friends, and watching the weather. That's the amazing thing about living on a boat –there's always something to do and someone to share it with.