Below are details of the voyages that Captain Murph has undertaken. There are five entries per page, just scroll down (maybe a LOT) or enter a search word(s) to the right. These Trip Logs are in reverse chronological order.
Kelly IV is in her Current Location.
Click Here to follow the track of Kelly IV's 2011 cruise of 2,500 nautical miles from Erie, PA to Warwick, RI. Click each image to get the next one. For a review of various facts or notes on Kelly IV's 2011 Cruise click here.
For the action packed Delivery of 2010 through 8 foot waves and 30 knot winds across 140 nm of Lake Erie, click here.
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With lots of excellent advice I decided to depart Shelburne after lunch on Wednesday. The most important advice came from Peter Loveridge, author of the most excellent Cruising Guide for Nova Scotia. His home port is Shelburne and he was there during my visit and we had several very detailed conversations about the current weather forecasts and their impact on my plans to round Cape Sable. It is critical to sail westward round Cape Sable at low slack tide for two important reasons: To avoid the huge tide rips and to take advantage of the flood tide's push towards Yarmouth.
The morning was cloudy, but the sun burst through before noon and Kelly IV and I sailed the length of Shelburne Harbour, which is really saying something! It is a 10 mile trip from the town to the open sea and we had a steady northwesterly pushing us all the way.
Just shy of the Cape Roseway Lighthouse at the harbor entrance, Kelly and I were boarded by the Royal Canada Mounted Police (RCMP) and their Customs and Border Patrol personnel. They were very courteous and let me continue sailing along my route as they went through their questions about when I entered Canada, where was I going, what safety gear I had aboard, etc. When they had completed their duty, they reboarded their vessel and we waved goodby.
Unfortunately, the northwesterly ended a few minutes later as Kelly turned southwest past the lighthouse. The wind changed at the same time we turned and we completed our trip, motor sailing directly into the now southwest breeze.
There was only one other boat in the anchorage, a large (70 feet OAL?) sailing yacht, “Hawk”, with a hailing port in Vermont. We had learned of a secure small boat mooring in the anchorage and picked it up for the night.
The timing of low slack water at Cape Sable was 7am on Thursday morning, so our anchorage at Cape Negro Island put us about three and a half hours from Cape Sable, requiring a departure of 3:30am and a 3am wake up. It was a beautiful night when I poked my head out the companionway at 3am. After a hot breakfast of oatmeal, I dressed in layers for the cool temperatures and went on deck to drop the mooring and depart the anchorage.
Being Nova Scotia, I should have expected the fog that rolled in while eating my breakfast. Thankfully, the visibility was never worse than a quarter mile, sufficient to see the buoys and depart safely.
The fog dissipated upon learning it couldn't stop Kelly and me and the day dawned cool, calm, and sunny. Thanks to our timing to pass Cape Sable at slack low tide, the only waves at the Cape were small rollers left over from the southwesterly. Before and after Cape Sable there was only flat water, but the shoaling at the Cape turned the flat water into rollers. I would hate to pass this point in heavy weather, given how the waves are magnified so greatly.
The breeze joined us soon after turning the corner so we set the sails and headed for the Schooner Passage, an inshore route that avoids the more treacherous tide rips and also cuts off several miles from the trip. With the air pressing the sails full, but not sufficiently to shut down the motor, we cut through the sparkling morning, our speed augmented by the rising tide.
Kelly and I squirted through Schooner Passage astonished by speeds up to 9.3 knots, settling to our tide-supported run of 6 knots once through the skinny waterway.
We tied up in the marina at Yarmouth and met our new sailboat neighbors from New Brunswick, experienced cruisers who shared much of their local knowledge. I spent the evening and next day planning the waypoints and routes that would take Kelly IV and me across the Bay of Fundy and back into the United States for the first time since June. I also topped my fuel and took a relaxing ride through the countryside with my New Brunswick friends.
The next morning was a lazy one since Kelly and I couldn't depart until low tide. We were headed north into the Bay of Fundy and we learned from the locals to ride with the tide. For our next sail, this meant riding the flood tide up the bay to Westport, on Brier Island. Paul, the Marina manager, stopped by to see me off and Kelly and I were on our way about 8:45am.
It was a partly cloudy day with the sun breaking through on a regular basis. They forecasted a “risk” of thunderstorms and rain, but we saw none of it. We motored into the small harbor at Westport about an hour before the fog closed in. By the time I finished dinner, visibility was down to less than a quarter mile.
Since Westport was our last stop in Canada, I splurged (to spend our last Canadian dollars) on a great haddock dinner in Freeport, the village just a ferry ride across Grand Passage (about 1nm away). After dinner I rode the ferry back to Westport and settled in for the night.
Kelly IV and I have now traveled over 2024 nautical miles from Erie, PA.
Last Updated ( Thursday, 20 December 2012 12:55 )
After the latest updates to CaptMurph.com were posted, the cell phone announced the return of my Torqeedo electric outboard motor for the dinghy. You'll recall it was shipped from St. Peters to Montreal for warranty repair. The folks at Torqeedo said it was a software glitch in the tiller control, so they reloaded and all is fine.
Last Updated ( Tuesday, 13 March 2012 22:47 )
Kelly IV waited as I raised the anchor in a thickening fog. I intended to wake up about 5am, as I am learning that is early enough to get out of the harbor before the fog builds. Maybe because there was no cell service, but the cell phone alarm didn't work, so I awoke on my own about 6am. The fog was pretty thick, visibility about a half mile, but we raised anchor anyway. Since pulling up and stowing two lengths of rope and another two lengths of chain takes some time, it was 6:45am before we were underway. By that time the fog was so soupy that we could barely see the river banks about 1/8 mile on either side of us.
Since we had a GPS track of our way coming into the river and the radar, I felt we could make our way out of the harbor safely, as long as we were careful and proceeded slowly. We motored along at about 3 knots without seeing anything but the faint outline of trees along the banks. Soon even the trees began to disappear, as the river widened. Our only confirmation that we were following the safe route was when we would pass close enough to see the small red or green buoys marking the channel and they were only visible as we passed alongside within a couple hundred feet.
At one point, the radar showed the MacGregor sailboat we passed on the way in, sitting at its mooring. Only when the radar showed that we were within 100 yards, could we barely discern the sailboat visually. At that point I knew we could not go back. Our options at that point were to keep going or drop anchor and wait for the fog to clear. Since the harbor at Liscombe keeps opening wider as you approach the open sea, I felt we could safely continue and we did so.
It is a good thing we did not wait for the fog to clear. We sailed along the coast until almost 3pm before visibility increased to over a mile. Frequently during the day, we passed sea buoys along the way and confirmed that our visibility was under a quarter of a mile.
We also saw a sea turtle who was only about 50 feet from Kelly, but shortly after sticking his head out of the water for a good look at us, he dove and swam away.
The breeze was light and variable so we never raised the sails, but motored the entire day. As we turned towards shore, I was happy to see that visibility was clearing up nicely at sea, but I had a little concern because directly ahead us, inshore, the fog was still pretty thick! Thankfully the visibility continued to improve as we ventured into Shoal Bay and made our way to the anchorage at Murphy Cove, off Carter's Point.
Although I did drop the anchor, I saw that there were fishing boats tied up to the wharf and the chart said the wharf was public, so after checking the depths in the dinghy, I decided to raft up to the fishing boats at the wharf. The forecast was calling for thunderstorms and it was possible that Kelly and I would be here for a few days. If we were tied to the wharf, we could go ashore without rowing the dinghy through rain and storm.
Two fisherman were watching from the wharf as I came alongside and they helped me with Kelly's lines. A little later one of the fishermen returned. He was collecting the $10 fee for tying up to the wharf. He also had two cold beers to welcome me to Murphy Cove! Norman and I had a nice chat as we enjoyed the beer.
A local sailor, Frank, stopped by briefly to say hello and I invited him to visit the boat when he had more time. He not only was willing to visit Kelly and me, but also proved to be another great friend as we make this grand adventure through the Maritimes.
On Tuesday morning, I decided to take a long walk as the forecast was not favorable for at least another day or two. Just as I was leaving Kelly, Frank stopped by to invite me to dinner with he and his wife! Of course, I jumped on the chance for a great home-cooked meal with local sailors.
My walk took me about 7km, less than 5 miles, to Tangier, the head of Tangier Bay and where the Tangier River enters the bay. It was almost entirely along the water and proved to be a very nice walk. Since it followed the coast it had very little in the way of hills and a lot of wonderful views.
That evening I had a terrific time with Frank and his wife, Anita. They are retired and prepared a wonderful meal and I learned about Anita's career in healthcare administration. I also enjoyed hearing about Frank's career with the Bedford Oceanographic Institute and his trips to both polar regions, including the first North Pole visit by a non-nuclear ship.
The only downside to my terrific evening with Frank and Anita was the heavy rain and thunderstorms that blew through later in the evening. The forecast I heard said the rain wasn't due until Wednesday morning, so I didn't think to close up the boat and left the main cabin hatch open. My computer was directly under the hatch and it got a thorough soaking. I spent all day Wednesday drying out the computer, two bunk cushions, and all the carpet. I went through almost 3 pounds of propane in my portable heater to get things dry. Mostly because it rained all day Wednesday, I could not open the boat, except for a small opening in the companionway to let the fumes from the heater escape.
The rain finally quit Wednesday evening and Thursday dawned with some sunshine but contrary breezes. Frank stopped by again to check on me, so I gave him a tour of Kelly IV, then he took me over to Tachyon, his beautiful Alberg 29. That evening I joined Anita and Frank for another wonderful evening.
The next morning, Frank picked me up and took me to the local shopping in Halifax as the winds were again unfavorable for sailing to Halifax. Thanks to Frank's local knowledge, I was able to buy some chain, a grapnel anchor, groceries, and some more reading material without wasting time just trying to find where things were located. In addition, Frank introduced me to his yacht club and I made arrangements to have the Torqeedo outboard shipped there.
Early Saturday morning, Kelly IV and I slipped away from the fishing boats in Murphy Cove and made our way through the rocks and islands to Ship Harbour, then off shore for the sail to Halifax. The wind did work to our favor for a couple hours, then we resorted to motor sailing until we turned northwest past Devil's Island. We sailed for the first hour, no engine, through the narrow gap into the Eastern Passage before the wind dissipated to the point where we had to motor the rest of the way through Halifax Harbour and into Bedford Basin, the home of the Dartmouth Yacht Club (DYC).
Kelly and I tied into a slip to wait out the rain at DYC. After getting the needed parts for the solar panel mount repairs, I bought a new computer and spent the rest of the day in the DYC clubhouse getting my new computer loaded and running with the software I need. I'll be doing more of that as I still have a few more applications to load before I can get the computer working as it was before the rain-soaked computer failed.
Tuesday morning brought a drier day and the diesel mechanic. Chad did the 250 hour maintenance since Kelly IV has run her engine over 250 hours since departing Erie, PA. He also double checked the PSS Dripless shaft. You'll recall I was concerned after wrapping the stern anchor line around the shaft in Liscombe, but all is OK and working as designed.
I took advantage of the missing precipitation and installed the new adjustable supports for the solar panel over the dinghy davits. The new supports are all metal (no plastic) so I'm hopeful they will take the beating of travel on a sailboat better than the nylon pieces that failed in the rocking waves south of St. Peters. After a few other odd jobs and repairs I turned back to getting the new computer up to speed and worked on that the rest of the day, including updating the CaptMurph.com website.
Kelly IV and I have now traveled over 1776 nautical miles from Erie, PA.
Last Updated ( Thursday, 06 October 2011 00:05 )
Saturday, July 30, began as a very lazy day, how it ended was quite different.
Kelly IV was secure at her anchor and although there was no cell phone coverage, I could pick up the internet available from the Liscombe Lodge Resort. As you know from the prior log entry, I was able to complete and post two log entries during the day, as well as a number of new photographs. In addition, I got my email caught up and straightened out a problem with our home email address.
In other words, I spent the gray, rainy, blustery day down below in the cabin reading and working on my computer. About 6:45pm I thought to check the batteries to be sure they were properly charged up. Kelly IV depends on her solar panels to do the charging when we are at anchor, but when the skies are as dark and rainy all day, as they were this Saturday, very little charging occurs. In fact, with the refrigerator and computer running all day, the house batteries were showing only 11.6 volts remaining.
With evening upon us, I decided to fire up the diesel to recharge the batteries, so there would be power on board through the night. From the diesel experts who sold me the new engine in 2010, I understand that it is better for the engine to run under load, than merely at idle. With that in mind, I put the transmission in reverse, just like I do when setting the anchor. I figured that if the anchor didn't pull out when I set it, it should be fine with the boat pulling in reverse while the batteries recharged.
I did have a stern anchor line out, using the Guardian anchor to hold Kelly's stern from drifting into the channel if the winds went to the east. After putting the engine in reverse, I confirmed that Kelly was pulling tight on both anchor lines and they were stable and taut. All seemed fine, so I went below to do some reading and contemplated a hot shower after the engine heated the water.
Suddenly, I heard a loud CLUNK, and the engine died sounding the alarm. I dashed into the cockpit and turned off the starter key, already knowing what had happened. When I checked the stern anchor line, I didn't allow for the probability that the wind would shift at some point and push Kelly over top of her stern anchor line. Obviously, that is just what happened and the prop shaft immediately sucked and twisted the anchor line around itself so tightly that the engine couldn't deal with it and shut down.
What really frightened me, was that as soon as the engine shut down, I could hear a stream of water running freely into the boat. As you all know, the primary function of a boat is to keep all the water on the OUTSIDE. It is bad enough when rain drips into the boat, but when seawater was rushing in, I got a little (OK, a LOT) worried. After shutting off the engine key, the first thing I did was look at the propeller shaft inside the engine compartment. And there was the source of the running water . . . a steady flow of water was gushing past the shaft into the bilge.
Fortunately, the bilge was nearly empty and it took several minutes before enough water entered the boat to start the bilge pump running. During those minutes, I went back into the cockpit to confirm the details of the stern anchor rode being pulled tightly under the boat. Then I went back into the cabin, sharpened a knife and tied the knife to my wrist. If I dropped it, I didn't want to lose it altogether. Since I was already in my T-shirt and shorts, I went over the side into the river to cut the rope off the shaft.
The river water was the warmest water we've sailed in since we departed Erie. I am very lucky that we were so far inland that the water temperature was quite reasonable, maybe 65*-70*F. Although cool, I wasn't struck with hypothermia and was able to dive under Kelly IV and reach the shaft without feeling cold.
After a couple dives, I heard water pumping and it was the bilge pump kicking in. That gave me additional incentive to get things corrected ASAP. Fortunately, the sharp knife did its work well and within a few more minutes (and two more bilge pump events) I had all but a small scrap of rope removed from the shaft. I could not really see under water given the gray day, late hour, and almost black water (due to the tannin of the tree bark upstream), so I had to do the work almost entirely by feel. I could tell there was still a bit of rope stuck in the cutless bearing where the shaft is held in place by a strut just forward of the propeller.
Since the transmission had been in reverse when the rope jammed the shaft, I started the engine (thankfully, it did so without a problem) and shifted the motor into forward gear, leaving it at idle. After less than a minute, I shut the engine off and dove below to check the shaft. Obviously, I must have done something right, because that last bit of rope was gone and there was nothing left to encumber the propeller shaft.
The best news is that while I was under water cutting the rope loose, I heard a small “clunk” in the shaft. At first I was worried, not knowing what caused the sound. When I went back aboard after confirming that all was clear, I rechecked the shaft inside the engine compartment and behold! No water was entering the boat! Apparently, the rope had pressed the shaft off center, allowing the water to enter. Once the rope was gone, the shaft returned to its proper position and resealed itself.
Even though I was able to run the engine for another 45 minutes to complete the charging of the batteries, I plan to have everything inspected by a mechanic when I get into Halifax.
And I enjoyed my hot shower as I prepared for a much needed night of sleep.
Sunday, July 31, proved to be an especially satisfying day, even if there was no sailing. I woke well refreshed from my sleep and after some thinking and breakfast, I decided to row the dinghy out to where my lost stern anchor was likely residing on the muddy bottom. My boat hook was the only item I had on board that I could think might successfully snag the cut anchor line if I could reach the line on the bottom. Unfortunately, it was also high tide and with my 6 feet long boat hook, I was unable to reach the bottom, let alone find and hook the lost line.
At this point I rowed into the Lodge Marina to see if they might have a grappling hook I might use to try and retrieve my lost stern anchor. I thought if I might tow the hook behind the dinghy, then I had a good chance of snagging the anchor line. Chester, the maintenance supervisor at the Lodge, was very helpful and eagerly set his mind to finding a solution. They had no grapnel, but he went rummaging through his old gear and came up with a nine feet long hook, two 90 degree PVC pipes, and the end of a roll of tape. He asked if I could make the grapnel I needed from the items, so off I went to build the jury rig grappling hook.
It was still several hours before low tide, so I took my time and thought through how I might make it all work. About two hours before low tide, I loaded my GPS, a portable depth sounder, and my makeshift grapnel into the dinghy. I figured that would allow me about four hours to search for the lost anchor.
I rowed up wind and up current to reach the area where I thought I had the best chance of finding the anchor. The good news is that there had to be about 110 feet of anchor rode plus 17 feet of chain stretched across the bottom. If I could only make the jury rig work, I thought I had a good chance of finding the wayward anchor.
After a couple tries, I discovered that the breeze and current were strong enough to push the dinghy without my rowing, so I could concentrate on holding the hook against the bottom. Also, the river bottom seemed to be mostly soft mud so the three pronged makeshift hook would cut through the mud as we drifted downstream. By using my hand held GPS, I had a good idea where the anchor might be, so I rowed about 100 feet upstream of where I thought I would cross the anchor rode, put the jury rig hook out the stern and using both hands to force the hook against the bottom, letting the dinghy drift.
On a few occasions I thought I might have snagged something, but the hook came up empty or with some mud or leaves sticking to it. After drifting about 300 feet, my arms were too tired to hold the hook into the muddy bottom, so I would lift it back into the tender and row back upstream to try again.
On my fourth attempt, it seemed like the drift had slowed somewhat and I first attributed that to a lull in the breeze, but when the breeze picked up, we still drifted ever so slowly. It took a moment for my brain to click into gear, but it finally dawned on me that I may have snagged something. I carefully lifted the hook off the bottom being certain to keep the hooks facing upwards so nothing on them might slip off.
I think my grin reached from one bank of the river to the other when I saw the slimy brown line looped around one of the PVC pipe bends!
Being very slow and deliberate, I gradually drew the hook into the dinghy, so I would not pull the line off the hook, but instead drew the dinghy upstream to the hooked anchor line. It was very lucky how this all turned out. I had hooked the line only 30 feet from the chain, so I had over 80 feet of line to one side while there was line, chain and anchor to the other side of the line. If I had hooked the chain, the makeshift grapnel may have failed, if I had hooked the line near the cut end, the line might have just slipped off the hook.
As it turned out, I only spent about half an hour in the dinghy before I found the anchor. I spent the rest of the afternoon hauling up the anchor, chain and line, putting them on Kelly's deck, then cleaning up the mess, including me.
Over the past couple weeks I had spent quite some time while we were underway thinking about a better way to rig the Guardian anchor (now known as the “prodigal” anchor!). While it stayed put on the cabin top, just forward of the mast, I didn't like how it kept trying to snag the jib sheets every time we tacked. I had seen a number of other boats with the anchor suspended from the bow pulpit, but I also had to be sure the oversized Guardian didn't foul the primary CQR anchor or get in the way when tying the bow dock lines. Calling on my recollection of how the secondary anchor was hung on “Steel Farm's” bow pulpit, I rigged Kelly's the same way and all is ready to face the open sea.
Kelly IV and I have now traveled over 1665 nautical miles, and swam a few yards, from Erie, PA.
Last Updated ( Sunday, 15 July 2012 15:06 )
Kelly IV and I have now experienced our first major “Adventure” at sea!
I awoke about 5am on the 27th when I heard the diesels on the Silver Shalis warming up. I had planned to begin my own trip early, so it worked out just fine. I got to see the very cool and adept handling of a very large and exquisite motor yacht deftly move away from the seawall, cruise cautiously past Kelly, and make her way into the open waters of St. Peter's Bay . . . All in Reverse! It was quite a sight to see.
By 6am Kelly and I were also underway in the open waters of the bay. St. Peter's Bay is a deep well-protected body of water, especially when the winds are out of the northeast. We motored through the bay and even raised the jib as the northeasterly breeze gave us a boost in speed.
Gradually, over the next couple of hours, the breeze increased to about 20 knots and worked its way to being more of an east wind. The waves were growing larger as well and we began to see and hear the lightning and thunder of unforecasted thunderstorms. At times the rain was so heavy that I was convinced that everything on deck was well washed and free of salt!
Some of the waves seemed left over from the strong southwest breezes that blew through on the 26th, but some may have been built up by nearby storm weather. Regardless, we were seeing waves in the range of 7-10 feet or so. These waves were much further apart than the large waves we've seen on Lake Erie, but they still were able to set Kelly rockin' and rollin'.
Although I had eaten a light breakfast during the first hour or so that we were underway, the up, down, left, right, constantly moving this way and that began to make me feel a bit queasy. By 9:45am I had “fed the fishes” twice. Fortunately, I always feel fine for at least for an hour or so afterward.
The motion must have been pretty severe because about 10am I heard some clanging behind me. I turned to see that the dinghy davits and solar panel mounts were breaking loose and stainless steel tubes were banging against the stern pulpit. I spent the next 30 minutes hanging over the stern pulpit, preparing the dinghy to be towed and tying up the loose banging parts so they wouldn't be lost overboard or damaged. Finally, the dinghy was towing behind Kelly and I could figure out our next step.
I had plotted courses to several anchorages along the Nova Scotian coast so that I would be able to tuck into any one of them as needed. This seemed to be just such an occasion, so we made our way into Portage Cove, just south of the town of Canso. We only made 29 nautical miles but it was the right thing to do. With the early start, we had the anchor down before noon. Portage Cove proved to be in a very rural spot with no cell or internet available. Without those distractions, I was able to spend the afternoon disassembling the loose parts, reworking them so they (hopefully) won't work loose again, and jury rigging the damaged solar panel mounts so they can complete the trip to Halifax without any more issues. I should be able to get the damaged mounts replaced properly there. The dinghy was back in her proper place hanging from the davits and Kelly was all ready to brave the elements for the next leg.
The next morning dawned clear, but by the time I had 70 percent of the anchor rode stowed and began hauling on the last few feet of chain, a thick, soupy fog rolled in. The weather forecast said the fog would clear in the morning, so I let the anchor line and chain back out and waited for the fog to clear. Before 10am the fog was gone and we were underway. The breeze was from the northwest, so I was hopeful of sailing, but after only a couple hours, the wind backed off and we could only motorsail. The day presented a mix of cloudy skies and patchy clouds, but by the time we entered our harbor for the night it was a beautiful, clear, blue sky with a bright setting sun. We set the anchor in Isaacs Harbour, Nova Scotia, just across the small harbor from Goldboro, Nova Scotia. Both are neat little towns each consisting of a church and several homes, but no real commercial district that could be seen from Kelly IV.
The Friday forecast was for light winds then shifting to 15 knots out of the southwest in the afternoon. Of course, my trajectory is now southwest, so the 15 knots on the nose was to be avoided. Kelly and I departed Isaacs Harbour by 5:30am so we could make Liscombe Mills by Noon, before the breeze battered us.
It was a beautiful morning with the sun dawning bright and clear, but we could see thick fog to the southwest of us. By the time it moved in, we were off shore and the fog was well behind us. With the very light air, it was strictly a day of motoring. The waves were very small, but there was still a swell of about 3-5 feet moving underneath Kelly all morning. We nosed into Liscombe Harbour and coursed through the winding river until it seemed there was barely room to turn around. We could see the dock at Liscombe Lodge about 1/3 mile away when we dropped anchor.
As forecasted, the wind did build to about 15 knots out of the southwest, so it was good that we had settled into a cozy anchorage. The push from the southwesterly made the rowing of the dinghy an easy and fun exercise to the small marina at the Lodge. I spent the sunny, breezy afternoon reading my book sitting on the deck overlooking the river at the Liscombe Lodge, then out of the breeze in the lee of the tall pine trees I rowed back to Kelly for the evening.
While reading my book below in the cabin, I heard some voices nearby. I climbed on deck to see a canoe with two couples. They were parents, son, and daughter-in-law, canoeing from the Lodge on their annual vacation here. We chatted a bit and I discovered that they were originally from Nova Scotia, but now hail from New Brunswick, about an hour from the Maine border.
With the forecast calling for strong southerly winds and rain today, we'll spend all day Saturday at anchor. Surprisingly, there is no cell coverage here, but I do have internet access using my external antenna on board Kelly. I just posted the log about the Bras d'Or Lakes and will be adding this log shortly.
Kelly IV and I have now traveled over 1665 nautical miles from Erie, PA.
Last Updated ( Thursday, 20 December 2012 12:48 )