Quarantine has affected me in unimaginable ways. I remember a long time ago while going through a dark time in life, I had a conversation with a very good friend about isolating myself from society in a cabin in the mountains, or better yet, on a deserted island. It’s hard to imagine life was ever so incredibly draining that I fantasized about being marooned alone on an uninhabited island for a few years. 

My friend was telling me how quickly I would go crazy. He shared with me a time he hiked to a cabin in the backcountry to spend a week there completely alone. On the third day he was talking to himself. By the end of the week, he was on the verge of a mental breakdown and ended up leaving early. 

At the time, I blew him off. All the negativity and chaos in my life made it impossible for me to understand how a week, much less a few years, of alone time could have a negative impact on my mental well-being. All I wanted was a life of zero responsibilities, no bills to pay, and no other people to answer to. 

For two weeks during the summer of 2013 I took a solo road trip out west, spending much of that time alone camping in the backcountry, but also visiting family for a few days at a time. It was one of the best times of my life, and is a whole story all of its own that I’ll tell in another post. In short, I realized on that trip that it was a divorce I wanted. I should note here that I was not married to Kari at this time in my life. 

Perhaps it’s the positive changes that I have made in my life since then, but quarantine has left me feeling very bored, for lack of a better term. Although I’m teleworking on my same work schedule as before quarantine, I’m still experiencing very strange effects that I guess can best be described as cabin fever. 

I’m writing this at 4 am on a Thursday. I’ve been up since 1 am, which is just one symptom that I blame on quarantine. I’ve had trouble following a ‘normal’ sleep schedule my entire life, but without the structure of commuting into the office, I’m less worried about following a routine sleep schedule. The difference now is that I don’t worry myself to death over whether I’ll wake up in time for work the next day. Teleworking has reduced the level of stress due to my unusual sleep habits, but it’s also enhanced the odd times that I sleep. 

Further, at the beginning of quarantine I was very motivated to get little projects completed around the house. One of my least favorite things to do in the world is maintenance on my home, so it has stacked up. Since I’m not commuting, I have loads more time on my hands to catch up on all these details that I’ve been putting off. Before quarantine, I went to work Monday through Friday, came home, ate dinner, watched a little TV, then went to bed. The only time I had for fun stuff was on the weekends, so I spent time on the water and doing other things I love rather than doing things I absolutely despise, like cleaning gutters. 

As quarantine has dragged on into summer, I’m losing motivation to even do the things I love. Just two days ago, Kari was encouraging me to get out of the house and go paddle boarding, something I really love doing. But I couldn’t wrap my head around the thought of doing anything other than sitting on the couch, even though the weather outside was perfect and I had plenty of time on my hands. I have spurts of motivation where I’ll go mow the lawn or fix something that I have neglected, but mostly, I sit in my office at home and work, then go to the couch, then fall asleep at weird times. 

Is this what depression looks like? Absolutely! 

I finally have tons of time on my hands to work, work on my house, AND do the things I love, all in the same day! But I can’t motivate myself to get anything done that isn’t mandated by the motivation of losing a job that I actually love or getting a fine for not mowing my grass. What is causing this? 

Am I weak minded? Am I unmotivated? Am I no different than 99% of the population? The first two I’m most certainly not. The last, well, yeah. Statistically speaking, I’m not unique from the majority of people. What does the majority of the world's population have in common that I’m missing out on right now? Human interaction. 

As much as I hate to admit it, I’m not as introverted as I had once thought I am. I need human interaction. I miss talking to strangers at the dock bar, or if I’m not talking to them, I miss eavesdropping on conversations around the bar. I miss joking with the staff and watching the sunset at my favorite bar. I really miss baseball. I miss traveling. 

I’ve been feeling quite down lately because I had some stuff planned for Chesapeake Wanderlust that I’m not sure I should move forward with. One of those plans is definitely not going to happen, but I’ll write about it later because it’s something people can do after this blows over without seeing me do it first. It’s just more interesting if I can relate it to the world while actually doing it. 

The big one that I’m still contemplating is a Sea Doo ride from Annapolis to Richmond. I want to prove that you don’t need an expensive boat to explore and experience the Chesapeake Bay. I have the route all planned out, but it involves a couple of stays in hotels. I’m not old, and I’m not in the at risk population, but people my age that are otherwise healthy are still being killed by COVID-19, not something I’m willing to gamble with. 

It’s easy enough to put the trip to Richmond off until next summer, but I need something to do. As you know from last year when I completed the challenge to spend 100 days on the water in a year, I’m a goal oriented person that feels lost without something to do. I’m going crazy not having anything motivating me to get through the year. 
​
Most likely, I’m not going to Richmond this year. I can’t help but to hold out hope. I think about it every day. A number of scenarios have played out in my mind on how to make it work, but ultimately, I need to play it safe and just stay home. 

Two things I know for certain are that quarantine sucks, but contracting COVID-19 would suck even more. I’ll live through this, and eventually I won’t be as depressed. Life will come back to some form of normal where we can be around strangers again. Until then, hang in there and realize if you are feeling out of sorts, you aren’t alone. As lonely as it is, we really are in this together.

Fair winds and following seas. 

I don't remember where I heard that. I may have made it up, but it sounds like something I read and then wrote it in my journal. It's dang true, though. 

Why are so many of us so caught up in paying our bills and losing weight, that we forget to stop living? It dumbfounds me that people work year round without a vacation, then wonder why they are gaining weight. Of those that do take a vacation tend to vacation for one or two weeks a year. I need to be more clear. It doesn't dumbfound me that people work year round with little to no vacation. It dumbfounds me that I used to be OK with this.

My early adult years were spent pursuing a career. Making lots of money was the single motivator for my life and the decisions I was making. My first choice was to be a pilot. I chased that dream for many, many years before I finally gave up on it. The second career I shot for was firefighting. Again, after many, many years of volunteering, interviewing, and getting put on 'the list', I got tired of doing it for free and gave that one up. 

While pursuing these two failed careers, I generally had two jobs when my main job would allow me time. I can think of two jobs that kept me busy enough I didn't have the time or energy for a second job, even though both of those jobs paid peanuts. I'm a dreamer, though, and never gave up on finding that magical career in which I could make lots and lots of money.

Along the way, I discovered the majority of the people I knew that were making it big were business owners. Being the creative person I am, I put on my thinking cap and came up with some business ideas that were just different enough to make me competitive in those niche markets. First, I started a business that sold people's unwanted junk. I'd go their house, inventory everything in their garage or storage units, take very high quality photos of those items, and list them on various websites. The business model looked great on paper, but in reality I couldn't get the pricing right in order to make money for myself. 

Another business I started was an all electric, organic lawn service. I mowed lawns with battery powered equipment and had a cool setup on my Volkswagen Golf, instead of a truck, to haul my equipment around in. I did this for a year and was starting to gain momentum when I shut it down for an opportunity to chase another career that I had been working on for several years. This business model still has potential, but now I'm too busy to start it back up.  

During those years of chasing a career I met many older guys through my various part time jobs that had given up very successful careers to live an easier, less stressful lifestyle. Their advice went in one ear and out the other. In my mind, it was easy for them to talk about getting off the corporate ladder because they had already climbed it. I was still thirsty for my own sip of that Kool-Aid. 

What I didn't realize at the time was the traps I was setting for myself by thinking, "Things will get better when goal x happens." Guess what. Things never got better and goal x kept shifting. That is, until my career goals were actually met. 

I can't talk too much about what I do now because shutting down the lawn business led to a lucky break within the federal government. I absolutely love this job and it pays well. All of my earnings goals have been met, as have the job satisfaction that I've been craving. The downside to this new success? Now I don't have the necessity to pursue other opportunities. 

When I was younger, I had the privilege of taking chances. I could drop everything for any opportunities that looked promising, even if they were sketchy on the surface, because the jobs I had weren't paying well and they sucked, overall. It feels strange to not need a second job anymore. It feels even more strange to not have my eyes and ears open to the prospect of new opportunities. I'm happy where I'm at, and now I'm deathly afraid I'll stay with this job until I'm ready to retire. 

Why does the prospect of a secure job with a great retirement scare me so much? I'm a dreamer. And now that I've tasted the Kool-Aid, and I realize how much I like it, opportunities are flying past me. Instead of living a minimalist life at sea exploring the world, I'm buying expensive trucks and jet skis. I now own a house, which has been the worst decision I've ever made with my money. Every time I spend money on my house or cars, I'm further locking myself into this career until I will be forced to stick with it through retirement. 

Living to work and gaining an unhealthy amount of weight are not at all what I had envisioned while chasing my career dreams. I had hoped the more money I made would lead to a better life. It has, don't get me wrong. But it isn't the life I want. 

I would be doing myself and others still chasing the dream I've obtained a great amount of injustice if I didn't use my current earning capacity to do something good with it. If you read my previous posts about financial security, you already know I don't want a big house and fancy cars. Yes, they are tempting, even for me. But every time I'm tempted to spend $50,000 on a new Jeep, I, with help from my supportive wife, remind myself those things are not getting me any closer to my ultimate goal.

In a sense, I'm still stuck in the rut of 'things will get better when goal x happens,' but now that goal is more aligned with the old guys that I worked with at REI. I've become one of those guys that made it and now want a simpler life. I try not to tell myself things will get better when x happens since things can't get any better than what I'm currently experiencing. But, wouldn't it be nice to have a life worthy of thousands of YouTube views? 

Our goal x has shifted to obtaining financial independence. With a good deal of dedication it is a real possibility. Mailbox money, as some call it, where one doesn't have to work but still gets checks in the mail. Fuck you money, others call it. In other words, I don't need what an employer has to offer, so fuck you.  

I'm too old to ever have a mansion and tons of cars and a 100' yacht, but I'm in the perfect position to live a simple life on vacation every day. The next step is to get fed up enough with the status quo, working to pay bills and losing weight, to build up the courage to jump off the upper rungs of this career ladder and just do it. 

They say it's best to write down your goals, so here is a simplified list of the things I want most out of life. 

1. Acquire our forever boat. 
2. Become financially stable enough to not need a job.
3. Sail off into the sunset and do things interesting enough that people would want to watch on YouTube. 

​Good luck to all the dreamers out there that are still chasing the lifestyle they crave. 

Fair winds and following seas, y'all! ​

December 16th was my 100th day on the Chesapeake Bay in 2019. One hundred days sounds easy for a person that spends as much time on the water as I do. I took on the challenge thinking it wouldn't be a challenge at all. It wasn't until I started logging days and actually paying attention to the amount of time I was spending on the water that I realized this is something I have to consciously put effort into.

The year started off strong. My first day on the water was January 1st. By January 13th, I had braved snow and ice to log six days. At this rate, I figured if I could log at least ten days a month I would be at 100 by October. Surely, I was getting on the water at least ten days every month without even trying. Right?

It wasn't until August 1st that reality hit me. That's when I realized I was only at day 25. My major setback occurred early in the year on January 13th when a ball from a Sweet Gum tree lodged itself in the Sea Doo's impeller (see the video here). This was the first time I had experienced a clogged impeller, so I was intimidated by the prospect of taking the jet pump apart to dislodge the obstruction. Intimidation combined with a lack of willingness to perform an endoscopy on the ski when it was 20 degrees outside and the fact I still had 339 days left in the year to get 94 more days on the water left me with little desire to play outside. Especially on the water.

A whopping 125 days later, warmer weather motivated me to face my fears and work on the ski. I spent hours trying to get the impeller cover off the bottom of the ski so I could have free access to the ball lodged in its bowels. The screws came out easily, but it was like the metal sphincter that protects the impeller from this type of mess was glued on. No matter how much prying, banging, and wiggling I did, it wouldn't budge. Finally, I remembered a cool set of pliers I had purchased a month prior. They are long needle nose pliers that are designed to fit in tight spaces. Come to think of it, they were designed perfectly for applications such as this. I easily poked the pliers through the grate, grabbed the Sweet Gum ball, and it fell right out. I could have blown on it and would have achieved the same results. 

Not completely convinced that was my only problem since it came out so easily, I put the ski in the water and logged day 14 with a flawless ride on May 18th. Dang. That's all it took!? Now I was rocking and ready to knock out some adventures on the Chesapeake Bay. 

Most people that join the SpinSheet Century Club do so on a sailboat (it is SpinSheet). In addition to being sailors, they freaking live for sailing. Most of the Century Club members, it seems, make extended voyages on sailboats, like across oceans, or are serious competitors that travel the country for a class. I'm not yucking their yum, at all! I'm just pointing out that 100 days on the water isn't really a challenge for people like that. But, that isn't me or 99% of others that enjoy the water just as much as anyone else does. We didn't even get on a sailboat this year, much less own one.

So I wanted to join the Century Club, but I didn't have a sailboat, I don't race seriously year round, and I wasn't planning any deliveries to Annapolis from Europe. What I DO have is a full time job that keeps me off the water most days and I have a busy life outside boating. To top it all off, I'm lazy. Seriously lazy. If I can do this, I have good news for you: YOU can do it! 

Getting out on the water for 100 days is a monumental task for anyone, and even more so for those with full time jobs, families, and other obligations. It's surely obvious at this point that I had to get creative. I logged days on my paddle board, Sea Doo, and other people's boats. I even logged a water taxi ride at the Annapolis Boat Show. My biggest obstacle to overcome was, ultimately, myself. 

Step 1: Stop making excuses. I don't have children, but almost everyone I work with does. A few of those with children want to go sailing, but they use their kids as an excuse to not do it. When I'm talking to my coworkers about my dream, luckily my wife's dream, too, to travel the world via our own sailboat, I can see the longing look come over their face that proves they share my dream. Yet, I don't care to count how many times I've heard people say they will go on extended cruises after their kids are off to college. On the contrary, I know plenty of families that are out there cruising as you are reading this! Here's one example of a cruising family that I know personally, and it's incredibly easy to find many more examples of traveling families on YouTube. 

If they can cruise the world on a sailboat full time with three young kids, anyone can find time to get on the water 100 days this year!

I work full time. Just like any normal person, I'm tired when I get home. I refused to allow that to be my excuse, though. It's unreasonable that our society expects us to give everything we have to our jobs, when in return, our jobs give us little more than a paycheck. For most of the year I worked ten hours a day, Monday through Thursday. The last three months I worked eight hours, five days a week. Through both schedules, I forced myself to get on the water after work. This is not a challenge that can be completed taking the boat out for a few hours when the weather is nice on weekends during boating season. I figured I would have to go out, at a minimum, 2 days a week, or 9 days a month, through the entire year.

Step 2: Find motivation. Initially, my motivation was to post all of my water days on Instagram. Every task is easier accomplished with a team than by a lone individual. I'm a competitive person by nature, and very proud. Failing to accomplish this goal would have been quite embarrassing to me if everyone on Instagram, my friends, family, and strangers, saw me boasting about a goal, then not accomplish it. Few things are as motivating to get off the couch as having an audience of 1200 people on Instagram. 

Most of my time on the Chesapeake Bay was after work, paddling after dark, and riding the Sea Doo when there was enough daylight left. Around August, although the exercise was good, I was getting bored of paddle boarding in circles. Eventually, I became bored with riding the Sea Doo because I had seen all the same places within fifteen minutes of the boat ramp. I only had a fifteen minute radius after work because I normally only had thirty minutes of daylight left and would have to ride fifteen minutes back to the dock before sunset.

Needless to say, I needed another motivator. I was starting to dread coming home and getting on the water, just to do the same old crap day after day. The extra motivation that worked for me? Beer! If there was enough daylight, I would ride the Sea Doo over to Stan and Joe's Riverside for a beer, then go back home. When I got off work late and there wasn't enough time before sunset to take the jet ski out, I would paddle over to the dock bar and stay for two beers! Win, win! 

November came around and I was close to 80 days. I could finally see the end in sight, but the weather was getting colder. Now, instead of throwing on a pair of shorts and hitting the water, I had to squeeze into a wetsuit, and later, a drysuit. It was taking me longer to get ready to go out than time I was actually spending on the water. Although it was a fun conversation piece when I'd show up at Stan and Joe's on the paddle board wearing a drysuit in pouring rain, I was losing motivation again. 

So I turned to Instagram and asked the people that had been following my journey to 100 for motivation. I asked them to send me DM's to keep me going if they didn't see me post for a while. Immediately after making that post, my heart sank. I had just done something that I have completely despised my entire life. 

I've been kayaking for about fifteen years, and picked up paddle boarding about ten years ago. I'm in love with paddlesports. I follow it closely through books, I subscribe to the magazines, and watch all the films I can get my eyes on. Over the years I've seen many people accomplish amazing feats through human power on the water. I've watched Freya Hoffmeister break records, I've seen people row across oceans, paddle the Nile (and get eaten by a crocodile in the process), and recently I watched a movie about a guy kayaking around Madagascar. I've even accomplished some pretty amazing things on a kayak, myself. As outstanding as these feats are, and as extraordinary as it is to watch people push the boundaries of human endurance, it always bothered me that they did it for personal gain and to break records without doing it for something more important.* 

By asking Instagram for support, I was no different than anyone else that has ever asked for money or attention in order to fulfill a personal achievement. The same night I made the thoughtless Instagram post, I emailed Oyster Recovery Partnership to see if they would be interested in allowing me to turn the last twenty days of my challenge into a fundraiser for them. Surprisingly, they emailed back the next day and were more than excited to hear from me!

After working out some details, the deal was made. My next motivation was bigger than me, and much bigger than a personal challenge. I was asking our Instagram followers to pledge to ORP if I completed not 20 days, but 25 days on the water between November 21 and December 31st. Pledges poured in! In the first four days, we met our pledge goal of $200. I had promised $200 out of my own pocket if we hit the $200 goal. I was now committed to do 105 days on the water.   

Beginning on December 11th, I was on the water every day until I completed my 105th day on December 22. I had asked for an additional $500 in pledges for a promise that I would go out on the water every day for the rest of December. We didn't meet that goal, but we ultimately raised $425 for Oyster Recovery Partnership, which will help plant 42,500 oysters in the Chesapeake Bay. 

I'm very proud that I completed this challenge, especially since I was only at day 25 on August 1st. I had to motivate myself to cram in days whenever I could, even when I honestly felt like going to bed after a long day at work. Headaches, head colds, rain, wind, 20 degree weather, icy water, and under the moon, I got out there and accomplished something for myself and for others. The success of the ORP fundraiser has led me to thrive for bigger things in 2020. I'll keep track of my days on the water, just in case I make it to 100 again this year, but my real goal will be partnerships with non-profits, artists, and influencers that are doing good things for the Chesapeake Bay.

I have some pretty ambitious goals to accomplish in 2020. I want to do more videos and blogging about exploring the Chesapeake Bay on the cheap. Since most of my 100 days on the water were on my Sea Doo and a stand up paddle board, I've become a sort of expert at navigating the Chesapeake without a million dollar yacht.

Perhaps the most ambitious of my goals for 2020 is a Sea Doo ride from Annapolis, MD. to Richmond, VA., about 250 miles one way. I'm going to do the trip alone, but the goal is to map out a trail where, in the future, others can follow in my tracks. It would be really cool if I could make this into an annual fundraising ride with a group of people. We'll see. 

The next most ambitious goal is to circumnavigate the Maryland portion of the Chesapeake Bay. Due to logistics, mostly because there aren't enough towns close enough together where I can stay overnight on the Eastern Shore, I will circumnavigate the Bay in sections, rather than all at once. A similar trail has already been formed, so I'll follow it, and I hope to promote it, but I want to see if I need to improvise any portions to make it work for smaller vessels, like PWCs and kayaks. 

I've already sewed the seeds to participate in Chesapeake Bay beach cleanups this year, so keep an eye on Instagram, Twitter, and the blog if you want to participate. We will be promoting cleanups all over the Chesapeake Bay as we hear about them, whether we are able to participate or not. 

Other than the beach cleanups, I haven't chosen a cause to benefit from these endeavors yet, but I have some in mind. Please, leave a comment or contact us if you want to partner with us, or if you would like to join me on a kayak, SUP, or PWC in 2020! 

Let's do this! 




 *I'll concede here that many people are doing these crazy things for good causes.

Keep me on the water every day through the end of December! We are looking for $500 in pledges by December 22. If you make this happen, I will get on the water every day for the remainder of December. I'm like that kid that will do anything for a dollar. As a 41 year old, I feel like $500 is reasonable to suffer through rain, snow, wind, and extreme cold. 

Today is my first day beyond the SpinSheet Centurion. Now that I've become a member of that elusive club, all days on the water are solely dedicated to raising funds for Oyster Recovery Partnership to continue their good work of planting oysters in the Chesapeake Bay. To date, ORP has planted 8.5 BILLION oysters! I can't get over that number! What might be more impressive is the incredibly small amount of funding they are able to do this with. They can plant 100 oysters with only $10. 

As of publishing this entry in the log, we have enough pledges to plant 40,000 oysters. A little birdie has told me more are coming in tonight! I can't thank all of you enough that have pledged.

It seems like our original goal was too easy, since we hit it four days into the challenge! Now it's time for me to up the ante. I'm willing to sacrifice my own comfort for nine days of miserable winter days on the water. This will give me a total of 115 days on the water in 2019.*

We've made it as easy as possible to pledge: We don't collect any money, and you can pledge as little as $1. Head over to the pledge page and let's plant some oysters!  



*If you are paying close attention, you'll notice that math doesn't add up. I have a little Easter egg waiting for you at the end of the fund drive!   

You’ve heard of #BlackFriday and #CyberMonday but what about #GivingTuesday? #GivingTuesday (Tuesday, Dec. 3) is the biggest day of the year dedicated to giving back. No creatures give more to the #ChesapeakeBay than #oysters - they filter water and create habitat for other marine life. This #GivingTuesday, please "Give Back to the Bay" by supporting the nonprofit dedicated to restoring MD's native oyster population, @OysterRecovery. Normally, $1 plants 100 oysters but on #GivingTuesday donations up to $3,125 will be matched by ORP's board, which means your dollars plant double the oysters ($1 plants 200 oysters)! Give at oysterrecovery.org/donate.

If you've signed our pledge, consider giving at least a portion on #GivingTuesday to make your donation stretch further while they are being matched. If you have not signed the pledge, please do!

All year, I have been trying to complete SpinSheet magazine's Century Club Challenge in which I am trying to spend 100 days on the water during the calendar year. Nearing the end of the year, and the challenge, I decided I should make this about something more than just a personal goal.

I've partnered with Oyster Recovery Partnership (ORP) to help them raise funds for restoring the native Chesapeake Bay oyster population. This is ORP's 25th year, so they are asking for all of us to give 25 More. For my 25 More, I'm dedicating my last 20 days of the #Spinsheet100 challenge, +5 more days, for a grand total of 105 days on the water in 2019.

You can help us by signing our pledge to give to ORP this year if I complete the challenge. Less than 1 week into the challenge, we met our pledge goal of $200! So lets see if we can now double... triple... or QUADRUPLE the original goal!

You can sign the pledge here:

www.chesapeakewanderlust.com/orp

Or give directly to ORP on December 3 to have your donation matched on Giving Tuesday. Leave them a note that you got there from us, and leave a comment here that you've donated!

www.oysterrecovery.com/donate25

Do it for the oysters.

Thank you with a hug!

Your friend,

​Aaron

The last decade has seen an uprising of sorts from the 99% being fed up with the 1%. I'm not even sure those were actual terms before "Occupy Wall Street," but anyone will recognize what I'm talking about when I mention the 1%. I'm also quite certain that most people will feel some form of resentment towards the 1%, so maybe I'm crazy for admitting I want to be a 1 percenter. 

I'm confused as to what the 99% want from the 1%. With a few exceptions on both sides, most people are in one of the two categories because they want to be. The few exceptions being those 99 percenters that are incapable of escaping because of injury, illness, or what have you; and those 1 percenters that were just lucky and born into it. Anyone else that has an idea, a skill, a dream, etc., can become a 1 percenter. 

How am I going to do it?

Step 1. Get out of the rat race. No longer will I fight everyone else for scraps when I am fully capable of going for higher prizes. This is why I sold my truck that did nothing for me but impressed a lot of other 99 percenters. I know it impressed people because almost every day someone told me I had a nice truck. Compliments on a stupid truck aren't what I want out of life. That is not the reason I get up at 5:30 every morning to go to work. I work because my ideas haven't brought me financial independence, yet. 

"I work because my ideas haven't brought me financial independence, yet." 

Now I drive a beater, and guess what...People treat me differently. I don't fit most people's ideology of what a middle class person, much less a 1 percenter, should drive. Driving a beater is like having a people filter. If I want to see if someone is the type of person I want to associate with, one who will help me grow and enrich my path to getting out of the rat race, I just show them what car I drive. If they scoff, it's because they are forever stuck in mediocrity, and I don't want to play with mediocre people.  

I recently posted this video on our blog from a YouTube channel called "The Art of Improvement" that perfectly sums up why 99 percenters that are fully capable of becoming 1 percenters never will. In it, the narrator says that jealousy is a waste of time, and any time spent being jealous is time the person you are jealous of is working towards becoming better. 

I refuse to spend my time loathing the 1%, and will instead strive to join them. I don't understand why more 99 percenters haven't joined me. Actually, the video above explains it quite reasonably: It is hard to get into the 1%. And what is hard to achieve normally doesn't have much competition because few other people want to put forth the effort to achieve it. That's why the 1% is only made up of 1%, while 99% of us live in mediocrity fighting for scraps.  

An analogy for easy vs hard: Look at the astronomical odds of winning the lottery. The odds of winning are so high because millions of people play it. Millions of people are playing the lottery because if they win, it's easy money. Aside from leaving the house and spending a couple of dollars, they had to do very little to earn it. But at the same time, starting a business that has a greater potential to earn more money than winning a lottery is hard, so very few people actually put forth the effort to do it. Or living below our means to save a larger portion of our income so we can retire earlier is hard because we want to impress people with that nice car, big house, and putting on a facade of what 99 percenters think it looks like to have money. 

What does it mean to be 1% of the population? Does it mean being wealthy? I think that's what a lot of people associate it with. No matter what Daniel Tosh says about money buying happiness, and money buys wave runners (ever see a sad person on a wave runner?) becoming wealthy will not cure anyones problems. First of all, what is wealthy? Is it a million dollars? Billion dollars? Wealth is defined as 'having a plentiful amount.' It doesn't have to be money, but having a monetary value makes up the meat of the definition. 

My personal definition of being in the 1% is when I no longer need to rely on a job to finance my lifestyle. Yes, that means I could sell everything, quit my job, and live in the mountains or a on a boat at sea and consider myself part of the 1%, but I want a more comfortable life than that. So to me, being in the 1% means a little bit more than homeless, and a little bit less than being a billionaire. In other words, it means I no longer have to fight the 99% for scraps.    

Travel by personal watercraft (PWC) can be very fun, but being on such a small craft in a large body of water can pose challenges. Riding 50+ miles in a day can really add a level of stress to what is usually something very fun. 

Most people ride their skis a few hours a year. Maybe they'll take them to the lake and putz around for an hour or two, then put it in the driveway to dry out for a few weeks in between runs. Then, there's us. We ride our skis (well, ski now) several times a week, and year round, often racking up over 50 hours a year. Since we aren't wanting to take on the additional expense of boat ownership at this time, we ride our skis all over the Chesapeake Bay. And I mean, ALL OVER! 

I'm an old Coastie, so safety on the water is my number one priority. In this blog post, I'm going to detail exactly what we do to prepare for the safest long distance rides possible, even in rough weather. Preparing for a long distance ski ride is similar to a trip on the boat, but with a few extra nuances that shouldn't be overlooked. 

File a float plan

The number one rule for boating is to file a float plan every time you get underway. This doesn't have to be a formal report to the nearest Coast Guard Station, or even a written plan. Just tell someone, preferably someone that cares about you, and consider two people if you aren't very well liked, where you are going, what time you are leaving, and when you will return. 

The number one rule for riding skis long distances is to file a float plan. 

The basics of an effective float plan start with telling a trusted person:

1. Where you are going
2. Where you are leaving from
3. Where you will return to
4. What time you expect to be at your destination, and what time you expect to be back
5. Send them updates via text message, radio, or telephone when deviating from the original plan. ie., you're going to be late or staying overnight, let them know.  
6. Check in at predetermined check in times, ie., when you leave, arrive, etc. 

When I ride long distances, it's usually to meet up with someone. So I'll shoot them a text when I'm on the ski and departing the ramp where I splashed. In the text, I'll say, "I'm leaving now and expect to be there at 'x' o'clock." If I'm alone on the trip I'll shoot a message to Kari, also. When I get there, the people I'm meeting will know, but I'll shoot Kari a message letting her know I made it safely. 

We also have an app on our phones called Life360 that allows us to see each other in real time. We can keep an eye on each other, even when it's not possible to make a phone call due to rough conditions, or whatever the case may be. We share our positions with the people that we boat with the most, so we can all keep an eye on each other. 

As morbid as it may sound, having a last known position when you go missing greatly increases your chances of being found.  

Gear up!  

Proper equipment and gear is one of the challenges of a safe PWC trip that you normally don't have to consider on a boat. If you are going to haul yourself across a body of water like the Chesapeake Bay, you have to have the right gear. What started off as a calm morning, can quickly turn into a rough, and potentially dangerous, afternoon. Skis aren't only susceptible to weather, but being as small as PWC's are, they can be greatly affected by boat wakes and small chop. The Chesapeake Bay fills up with boats on the weekends, especially in the afternoon. All those boats rip up the Bay, even when calm weather conditions are predicted. The number two rule for riding long distances on a ski is to prepare for rough water, no matter what, because even a 1' chop can be challenging to a PWC.   

The number two rule for riding long distances on a ski is to prepare for rough water, no matter what. 

It's imperative that your ski is up to the task. Perform your pre-ride checks per the owners manual. Don't attempt to cross the Bay if the ski needs maintenance or repairs. We generally keep our skis until they have over 100 hours, then we sell them. Sea Doo's like we ride are expected to last several hundred hours, and we change the oil every season, even if they are below the hours for an oil change. When we sell them, the new owners are getting a great ski that has been well taken care of, but they are reaching that point where I'm not comfortable taking it across the Bay. In my mind, it won't serve my purposes.

Have a full tank of gas.

Although you are a responsible skier and you checked the weather and distances and have concluded you can make it to your destination on half a tank of gas, keep in mind you might have to return on that same tank of gas. There aren't many places to fuel up on the Bay, especially since PWC's don't have the range boats do. I always leave with a full tank of fuel, and it has saved my butt on at least three occasions when the fuel dock was closed at my destination, or there just wasn't a fuel dock at all. 

I prefer to fuel my skis up at a gas station because the gas is much cheaper on land than on the water. This also insures that I'm getting in the water with a full tank of fuel and I don't have to worry about whether the local fuel dock is open or not. Also, it saves time on my trip since I can get in the water and go without having to stop for gas. I normally haul the skis to the gas station up the road the night before a big trip. 

Conserve gas! 

Riding a big trip isn't the same as taking the wave runner out for a spin on the weekend. You are going to need to conserve fuel, which means you aren't going to be in Sport Mode jumping wakes and doing doughnuts. Remember, you are going to be all alone and miles from the nearest fuel source. There are plenty of times on our rides we are 20 or more miles from the nearest fuel dock. Most of the time we are 5 to 10 miles from a fuel source. Still not a distance I want to paddle the ski just to find out the fuel dock is closed. 

We own our particular Sea Doo skis for several big reasons. But one of the biggest reasons is fuel economy. The skis burn about 3 gallons per hour in touring mode, or 1 or 2 gallons per hour in Eco mode. Eco mode is your friend on long trips and can help prevent a stranding due to running out of fuel short of your destination.  This brings us to our next section:

Pick the right ski!

Although many jet skis on the market today are capable of making long distance trips on the Chesapeake Bay, you need to do your research and choose the ski that is right for you. For example, as much fun as it is to go 70+ mph on a Sea Doo, I would not recommend a Sea Doo RXT 300 for touring. Here is why.

We have owned two types of Sea Doo hulls: a GTI and GTX. The GTI hull was our first ski; it was inexpensive so we could see if this was something we really want to do or not. Well, I guess it is something we really want to do! The GTI was great on gas, even better than the GTX we have now, but it was not comfortable. 

After doing some research, we decided the Sea Doo GTX 155 is the best ski for us, for the following reasons:

1. Comfort: The hull design cuts through chop MUCH better than the GTI hull. I caught myself bracing for the impact of an incoming wave when I first started riding the GTX, only to find that not only was the impact not jarring the way it was on the GTI, but it didn't phase it at all! The GTX hull is much more better suited for life on the Chesapeake Bay. The GTI hull was fine, but it is better suited for a lake. 
   1. Still in the comfort category, the GTX has a more comfortable seat and handlebars, which puts you in a better position for rides that last hours on end. The seat is incredible. The handlebars have comfortable grips, but also adjust up and down to your preference. Just awesome. 
2. Get all the bells and whistles you want, but you won't use them. We have cruise control, which is nice, but we rarely actually use it. Ours also has trim control, and although it is minimally noticeable, it actually does help to trim the bow up to slightly reduce the amount of spray you get in your face. We have the regular GTX 155, not the Limited. Never once have I ever wished I had the features of the Limited, which retails for $3,000 more. But spend your money how you want! Some people prefer to have the options and never use them. 
3. If you are buying new, prepare to spend about $14,000. Our ski retails for $12,700, but after all the dealer fees, taxes, trailer, etc., we were well over $14k to get it out of the door. This is the least expensive model I would recommend for long distance trips on the Chesapeake Bay (and actually the model!). It may be tempting to spend $7,000 on a Sea Doo Spark, and although you can do it, I wouldn't recommend it. Same with the $17,000 RXP-X 300. It will definitely make the trip, and be a ton of fun, but at a premium cost that amounts to nothing less than excessive consumerism.   
4. No turbo: We didn't get a supercharged ski for about three or more reasons. I'll list three:
   1. Speed: Our ski has a top speed of 55 mph, which is plenty fast enough. Most of the time on the Chesapeake Bay you aren't going over 20 mph. When the Bay is really flat and nice we cruise at about 30 mph to conserve fuel, or 40 mph if we don't need to conserve fuel and want to have a little fun. Every once in a while when I'm just out for a fun ride, or if I'm coming into the West River at the end of a long ride and I want to open it up it's really fun to go 55 mph. 70 mph would be more fun, but it isn't worth the additional upfront and back end costs of the more expensive turbo charged models. 
   2. Cost: The upfront cost of the supercharged model is much higher, as I explained above. Not only that, back end costs, or costs of ownership, are also much more. The supercharger on the Sea Doo models is cooled with oil and sea water. Since it has sea water going through it, it has to be winterized every year to keep the water inside the cooling system from freezing and cracking the turbo. Our skis do not have to be winterized (I've never winterized my skis), which allows us to ride year round (remember this YouTube video of me riding in a dry suit in the snow with ice on the water?). Also, the turbos have to be rebuilt around 200 hours, which means we would have to rebuild our turbos every three or four years.
   3. Fuel economy: We get much better fuel economy in our naturally aspirated versions. I'm not sure how much better, but when we ride with friends that have turbos, they are filling up when we are at about half a tank - even when they are in Eco mode! 
5. Make sure it has the capability to pump itself out. Water will always get inside the ski, so it needs to not sink. I'm installing a bilge pump (haven't done it yet, I know), but it also has a venturi system that constantly sucks out any water that gets in. The bad thing about this system is the engine has to be running, and preferably at a high rpm (aka, moving forward) to work well.  

There are certain laws in place for PWC's, so make sure you know them before heading out. 

Wear, and fasten your freaking life jacket. 

Other gear. This is the basics of gear. Leave a comment if you travel with something I haven't mentioned here:

• Dry bag. We have several, but our favorite is one really big one. It fits in the forward compartment of our ski, or it can also be tied to the swim platform if more room is needed up front. In the dry bag:
  • A change of clothes. You are going to get wet, no matter what.
  • towels for drying off
  • sunscreen
  • first aid kit
• Water: LOTS. You're going to be exposed to the sun, so bring as much fresh water as you can carry. And wear sunscreen! 
• Sunglasses with a leash: This is actually pretty important so you can see other boats coming at you in the glare of the sun. PWC's are pretty hard to see on the water, so you have to keep a sharp lookout. More on that in the next section. 
• Marine VHF radio: Important if you need to call for help and your cell phone is lost or wet. What to look for in a VHF: 
  • Floats
  • Waterproof
  • That's it. When you need a VHF on a ski, it's because the ski is underwater. 
  • I have this one, although the price has gone up since I purchased it. 
  • This one is good, too. 
  • Clip it to your person. It won't do you any good at the bottom of the Bay in a compartment on the ski. 
• Manual, or installed automatic bilge pump. Be careful with some Sea Doo bilge pumps, they only operate when the ski is on. So don't count on them to babysit for you while you are out and about the town and the ski is tied to the dinghy dock. I'm not sure about other manufacturers.  
• GPS for navigating. Although you can use your phone, cell service isn't always reliable out there, and you really don't want to risk water damage or losing your phone by dropping it in the water. Looking at Google Maps before you leave isn't good enough. I can dead reckon in most areas of the Bay that I'm familiar with, but when going somewhere new I need a GPS to show me where I am. The terrain from 3' off the water does not look the same as it does on the map you looked at before you left the house. 
• Cameras! Share those epic adventures with #ChesapeakeWanderlust and #ChesapeakeBay so we can see them and give you a like!

Know the rules of the road!

My biggest pet peeve on the water is some idiot not knowing, or worse, ignoring, the rules of the road. It isn't hard. Here's the parts you need to know on a PWC:

1. On the Chesapeake Bay, keep 100 ft away from everything: shore, boats, navigation aids, piers, bridges, OTHER PWC's, etc. If a boat is coming within 100' of you, it is up to you to avoid the boat, or slow down to 6 mph. 
2. The boat on the right has right of way (think of cars at a stop sign)
3. Sailboats under sail ALWAYS have right of way, no matter which direction they are coming at you from. If the sails are up, consider them under sail. If no sails are visible, they are a regular boat and fall under the same rules as everyone else.
4. You are responsible for avoiding collisions, even if you have the right of way!
5. As the operator of a PWC, I've added a third rule just for us: Be predictable and stay out of everyone else's way. 

That's it, y'all. If every boat kept those simple rules in mind, and put them to use, the waterways would be much safer and a lot more fun. 

Pay special attention to rule 4. It is very important. It means if some yahoo is breaking rule 1 or 2, it is YOUR responsibility to prevent a collision. This goes for all boats in all situations. PWC's are difficult to see, so stay vigilant to keep from getting run over. 

In my experience, it's difficult to see to the left and right beyond my shoulders from the seat of my Sea Doo. This is because of the splash from the bow wake that comes up about 4' in the air right next to where I'm sitting. Also, I wear goggles over my glasses, so they are normally wet, which makes it even more difficult to see. Most boaters on the Chesapeake Bay do not realize that PWC's fall under the same rules and regs as all other boats, and seem to be under the impression that their boat always has right of way. Very rarely has anyone given way to me when I'm on the ski. In almost every case, I have had to avoid the collision, whether it's ignorance on their part, or they can't see me is up for debate. I assume I'm invisible unless they give some sign that they see me and are giving way. 

The hardest boats for me to see are center consoles. I can see other jet skis from pretty far away. Long before I see the actual ski and rider, I can clearly see the splash. Larger boats are easy because you can see the superstructure, and most smaller boats create enough of a splash and wake that I can see that before I can see the hull, much like another PWC. But center consoles are small enough you can't see the hull from much more than a mile out, and they cut through the water so efficiently that there is no splash to give them away. Every close call I've had in the middle of open water has been with a center console that snuck up on me. They cruise at about the same speed, and faster in some cases, as jet skis do, so if you don't see them until they are a mile from you, you can easily miss them until they are right up on you honking a horn. 

I wish more boaters understood how difficult it is to maneuver a PWC in rough conditions, which even a 1' chop can be rough on a ski. But, they don't and never will. So it's up to us to keep an eye out and start avoiding the collision miles away from the intersection.

Have fun out there! Share your trips by PWC on the Chesapeake Bay on social media with the #ChesapeakeWanderlust and #ChesapeakeBay so we can see your posts and give them a like! We love hearing from anyone that loves exploring the Chesapeake Bay, so all boaters are welcome to flag us down and say hi if you see us out there! 

  

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