Promises...Promises...

I have promised a lot of things on this blog, most of which has not been delivered, yet. Not because I have changed my mind, or had second thoughts, but because things happen. Unexpected things. The kind you wouldn't dream of because it isn't a part of your life. One can't exactly plan for things they can't imagine.

Which is why we are still on Quadra Island, anchored in Quathiaski Cove. Due mostly to some unexpected pitch “out of left field” from an enemy camp. The sort the Captain and I don't usually deal with, because we don't live in those realms. So, we were completely caught off guard when our renters, back home, skipped out on us without paying, and left the house in a condition no one else would want to live in, either. I don't have to tell what that did to our plan of traveling as far as we could on what supplies we had, and then waiting for the next payment in order to move on.

However, part of being on an adventure of this type is the necessity deal with the unexpected. No matter where it comes from. And while we have experienced much of what could happen as far as boating goes, I tend to forget life is still going on around us (and in spite of us) everywhere else, because I get so caught up in my own tunnel vision. But what to do. It is a long time until another check, which would not be enough to get us all the way home to clean up the house, anyway. If we did, getting back here, again, would cost even more, and we would miss yet another “weather-window” to reach Alaska. For the second year in a row.

Of course, it was devastating. There have been other devastating things as a result, too, but—I'm convinced—the important thing is how we deal with them. Maybe even more important than the things, themselves. The Bible says we should rejoice when such things happen because it opens the door for the Lord to work things out on our behalf that we couldn't possibly have worked out by ourselves. So, here's the deal...

Since God always keeps His promises, we have tossed the ball into His court on this one. Not only does He have better ideas, He is never caught off-guard. And in the meantime, we will try to rejoice in His salvation (out of circumstances such as these), and keep on working at our “assigned tasks” while we wait for Him to show up on the scene. At this point, I have no idea what's going to happen. But I do know it's going to be good.

And I promise to tell you all about it.

Good News and Bad News…

The Good News…

Lopez Island is the most beautiful island we have ever stayed on. Truly. Mostly rural, with a few commercial cattle ranches and sheep farms in the interior, it is bordered by lovely forests, amazing beaches, and a picturesque waterfront town you can walk through completely in about, um… fifteen minutes.

From the dinghy dock (where we paddle in from the GLORY B), the road to Lopez Village (as well as countless other places) is lined with wild blackberry bushes. That still have ripe, perfectly delicious berries on them. So, we've been picking some every time we come and go, and I'm turning them into jam. Such fun!

The people are friendly, and we have been meeting quite a lot of them. They even issued us temporary library cards (first time in all our years of travel), and I have already found a lovely little tucked away corner (with a view!) in the quiet reading room. Ah, bliss…

The Bad News…

The closest island, with the larger town of Friday Harbor, is less than an hour across the San Juan Channel. Just right for an afternoon outing, or an overnight anchorage in the cove we enjoyed so much at the beginning of the summer. Which is where we were headed on Labor Day afternoon. We didn't get very far. 

Entrance to Fisherman Bay. Our
anchorage is behind the clump
of trees in the middle.

Halfway through (thank the good Lord it wasn't halfway through the ferry lane out in the middle of the channel), there was a terrible clanking sound that forced us to pull over and drop anchor. At high tide that spot was only twelve feet deep (we draw six) but we knew we had a safe couple of hours before we would be bouncing off the bottom when the tide changed. 

This time, it was serious. A major rebuild is in order--and no-- we could not turn the engine on, again, even to limp back to where we had been anchored in the first place. I don't know what a tow might cost in a place like this. But considering a pound of good hamburger can be close to eight dollars, it didn't look good for us just then. 

But we've changed a bit since we started our great adventure. Because it has worked out considerably better for us if we pray FIRST, in situations like this, rather than as a last resort. A lot can happen between those two time periods that one tends to be ashamed of, later on.

And MoreGood News…

I had a better picture of rowing back
 to the GLORY B, but the Captain is still
disturbed at the prospect of rebuilding
the engine, so I didn't post it.

Not long afterward, a wonderful couple in a smaller sailboat passed by and agreed to tow us back (Hello, Yvonne, from Ventura, California!). It was nip and tuck for a bit, as they only had a ten horsepower outboard engine, but we made it! Without mishap. And considering the fact that I grew up in Ventura county, myself, I felt like we had been rescued by family. 

Which is how it always seems to be when you are trying your best to stay right in the center of God's hand instead of leaping off so often. At least that's how it seemed right then. And two days later… 

I'm still inclined to agree.

Should We, or Shouldn't We?

After nearly three weeks in a rough anchorage, waiting for yet another repair, our suspicions were confirmed by experts (our son who works in the Coast Guard). The fall weather is sneaking in early this year. We had a feeling that was true, since most days we woke up enveloped in a thick fog. What's more, the wind rushed in every afternoon, and stirred up an even choppier sea that lasted well into the night.

Twice we slipped our anchor and dragged it, scudding backwards out into the bay, miraculously threading through boats we are still shocked we didn't crash into. Needless to say, it got hard to settle down at night when we had to keep popping our heads up out of the hatch to make sure nothing like that happened, again.

Not to mention all that rocking and bobbing was making it almost impossible to walk a straight line on dry ground. It has something to do with balance and your "inner ear," neither of which was working very well for me to begin with. I know this isn't just an illusion because a man in the grocery store (who I thought was following me) explained he had tried several times to pass but I kept swerving. I think he thought I had been… oh, but nevermind about that.

The Captain and I both wanted to high-tail it back to a calmer harbor in the San Juans. But neither of us wanted to get caught in fog or a rough sea trying to cross a major shipping lane on the "big water." Not to mention the leaky shaft was still leaking while we waited for replacement parts. We weren't ready to quit, though. Other than dreaming about houses every night, I still wanted to continue on. 

However, there is sometimes a fine line between faith and stupidity, and at this point, I wasn't sure which side was which. So, I said a little prayer there would be some sort of sign to let me know. The first was finding out the Captain and I were having the same thoughts but neither of us mentioned them until the morning after I prayed. 

The second was when the weather channel gave a forecast that the following afternoon would be clear, seventy-five degrees, with a steady wind out of the right direction for us to ACTUALLY SAIL. Up until then, we had consistently been "beating into it" at anywhere from three to five knots. How fast is that? Let's just say if we were on dry ground, you could pass us up running. 

However, our "weather window" was only going to last one day, and it was at least a nine hour trip. After that, there was a storm front coming in that would arrive in full force by the end of the week. But who knew how long before another opportunity like this  would come around? So, the Captain wrapped some plastic bags and duck tape around the leaky shaft, and decided to go for it. 

We raised the sails and practically flew across that big water! At a whopping eight knots (OK, seven point eight). The minute we got to the islands, the wind dropped back down to nothing. There were a couple lingering patches of fog, but we just had to nose our way along some ghosty outline of land to keep out of the way of ferries and such.  

Not long after that, all was as clear as the forecast had promised, and we finally slipped into the wonderful stillness of Lopez Sound for the first peaceful night we'd had in weeks. Then up early for a beautiful cruise around to well-protected Fisherman's Bay. By afternoon, we were anchored in the sunny San Juan Islands, again. 

Oh, yes, and what a surprise to find this place less expensive than where we were on the mainland. There is even a boatyard for when we're ready to make those repairs.  On Friday, that storm did come in. But from here it wasn't much more than a stiff breeze under a beautiful blue sky. So, thank you God…

Again!

Wilderness Places…

One does not have to be in an entirely unpopulated place to be  in a wilderness. Or be lost, either. I'm actually beginning to think a large part of being in a wilderness is a state of mind. Since we began our journey north on June first, we haven't gone very far as miles go. Yet, we have gone miles and miles. 

There are eighty islands in the San Juans, most of which look fairly much the same. In fact, if you didn't have charts to refer to, it would be easy to get turned around. Or even lost. Not to mention tides that can change twenty feet, or more, in a single turning and leave you high and dry if you're not watchful. Sometimes, the fog rolls in so thick you can't see the front of your own boat, much less what might be in the ocean nearby. 

Then there are the currents. 

It's like a maze in and around those islands, and the narrower the channel, the swifter the current. Sometimes, we've had to skirt around little whirlpools formed by the collision of a low tide, strong current, and narrow channel all at the same time.  You also have to watch out for areas that are open to the sea. The "doorways to the world" I call them. Here you get a taste of the underlying swells of "big water" that seems to be the constant heartbeat of the ocean. 

Photo by Todd Stahlecker

If ever a wind comes up (especially off a cape) and frosts these swells with a choppy sea, it can be a very rough and scary ride. More so if you've been reading about all the sunken ships there are on the outward coasts of those islands. All of which make the phrase "If you can sail the San Juans, you can sail anywhere in the world," seem true. Because surely we have come across every condition and situation possible, in and around these waters.

Which doesn't include the many mechanical failures we've added to the ordinary hazards of sailing and navigation. So much to learn! And so much we were entirely unaware of until it happened to us. But I must report that we have survived all our accidents and misjudgments. And that God has been gracious to rescue us out of the rest "by divine appointment" that we blundered into out of sheer ignorance. Those things that should have, by logic, gone very bad. 

Which is probably why I have a first hand idea of what the children of Israel must have felt when they discovered they had been wandering forty years in an area they could have crossed in forty days. The thought that God Himself had been leading them with "a cloud by day and a pillar of fire by night" makes one wonder how they could still go on trusting Him after all that. Even though they saw a lot of miracles along the way. 

Rowing to town in a fog

Having some of the same experiences on this adventure of ours, I can understand why He might have done that. It was because where they were headed for was a lot bigger and more difficult than they realized. And they weren't ready for it. So, the training grounds of wilderness places. Along with all those experiences that strengthened the body and sharpened the wits along the way. 

Today, we are sitting "on the hook" (at anchor) in Port Townsend, waiting for repairs. Again. It's only eight hours -- a mere forty-five minutes by car--away from Liberty Bay, where we first started out. That's a long way from Alaska, where we had figured to be there and back by now. Instead, we have meandered in and out of the San Juan Islands, and ventured only as far as the border of Canada before we had to turn south, again. 

We haven't quit. But we're not sure how long it will take to actually get there, anymore. One thing we do know, though. We're on "His clock" with this journey, and there are miracles and divine appointments raining down all around us, wherever we go. So, we've decided to let go, let God… and hang on for the ride.

Because it's going to be a good one.

Hold Everything!

View from the ferry dock

Nothing is as serious on a boat between ports than to go down below for something and discover the entire cabin is awash with water. There is only one thing I can think of that is worse. It's when you go down below, and the entire cabin is awash with black oil. 

If you should also be in a narrow channel between islands with a fleet of giant ferry boats passing by every thirty minutes, you not only begin to wonder what to do next, but what in the world it was that tempted you to be out there in the first place. I usually blame everything on the Captain and remind him that he is responsible for my life. Something I am not proud of, but I'm trying to be honest, here.

I felt something like this...
 but not as pretty

As usual, things always look worse than they really are (hmm… that almost sounds like sermon material). The oil was not new oil. It was the same stuff that had drained the engine when the hydraulic hose broke, last week. We hadn't pumped those eight quarts out of the bilge, yet, because it is against the law to do that. You have to pump it all into a bucket and dispose of it properly. Preferably at some official recycle center. But one doesn't run into a lot of those in the places we've been lately. Which is why we were waiting until we got to the next big place. 

Underneath those eight quarts, however, was about two hundred gallons of seawater. Which turned out not to be coming from a hole in the boat, but a malfunctioning pump that was letting water in instead of keeping it out. An easy fix if you don't count the hours it took to clean up the mess. 

Meanwhile, we are resting (literally) at anchor in Friday Harbor, in the San Juan Islands (a place where we actually used to live many years ago). It is our last stop before crossing over into Canada. I'm not sure how long we will be here. A couple days if all goes well, and a couple weeks if it doesn't. The nice thing is that it doesn't matter. 

Rowing back from town

Not even the fact that we are laying over in one of the most expensive tourist spots in the state at the busiest time of the season. Because we brought our own world with us. Our little home on the water is packed with everything we need for weeks on end. So, we live the same whether anchored in some deserted cove, or in the middle of a busy harbor. Not to mention we have the most "high dollar" view in town. 

Wow. More good sermon material.

An Unexpected Mishap...

It is the nature of  mishaps to arrive unexpected. If we could see them coming, we would do something to avoid them. Nobody can see them coming. And while one could spend a lot of time thinking up scenarios about what might go wrong and make provisions for that, a person could run out of courage dwelling on those things long before they ever covered all the bases. 

Things happen.

And, being human, we can't see into the future.

Too much sun this week, so I had to
 improvise (Hey, it worked for Katharine
Hepburn in the African Queen).

So it was as we set out one beautiful morning for our first crossing of real ocean, we felt things couldn't get any better. It was not a big crossing. Just a little stretch that would take maybe two hours at the most. A sort of “passing by the door” to the whole wide world before scurrying into protected harbors and bays of the northwest islands, again. The fact that our course cut directly through a major shipping lane should not be a problem. 

You could see those huge tankers coming a long way off so there would be plenty of time to steer out of the way. I have to admit I was a little jumpy about that because my depth perception is such that all distances look flat to me. It's the reason I don't drive. Not to mention the Captain has put up with my false alarms of eminent collision for so many years, he has highly trained and conditioned himself to ignore them. I've been a little slower at such conditioning, myself, since I've had to go the “beautiful mind” route and retrain my brain not to believe what I see. 

All of which could have made for big problems on an adventure like this, except that we  believe God has our lives in the center of his hand. As long as we can stay under His protective shadow in the daytime and that “pillar of fire by night.” Right? Not so easy when flitting around outside your comfort zone. The ocean is very big out there, even a little piece of it. And it actually feels alive the way swells undulate up and down in constant rhythm. Almost like breathing. 

That's how it seems to me, anyway, but I've got an active imagination. They say you get used to it. Much harder getting used to what happens when we end up in the “backwash” of one of those tankers going by. Or even a fishing boat if it passes close enough to us. 

We rock violently from side-to-side for a few minutes while things below begin to crash down from places you thought were secure. It's not as bad if you can turn the boat into the waves and meet them head-on, but that's not always an option. Especially when you are  busy arguing if they're far enough away to dissipate before they reach you. One reason I was feeling better the closer we got to the nearest island. 

Not close enough, however, because when the Captain suddenly announced, “We've lost oil pressure, I have to shut down the engine,” I had sort of a meltdown. 

“But one or two more minutes and we'll be out of the shipping lane!” I protested.

“You want to blow up the engine? There's oil spurting all over the place. Have to raise the sails.”

“Raise the sails—there's no wind—just fix it! Fix the engine!”

“It's going to take some time. I have to think about it.”

I am not going to document the rest of that conversation. What I do want to document is this. There wasn't a breath of wind out there and we were too deep to drop anchor. But there was a bit of a current in our favor that showed some possibility of pushing us toward shore some time before midnight. This necessitated me having to take the tiller so the Captain could work on the engine. 

As far as I could tell, we felt “dead in the water.” But I picked a point (I think I saw a house up on the cliff) and held steady, in case we should actually be moving. Or—better yet—in case a puff of wind should miraculously turn up. And please, Lord, don't let any more tankers pass by right now.

Not ten minutes later, there was a little whisper-breath of a breeze.

Little by little we began to move out of the shipping lane. By the time we were close enough to drop the anchor, I could see there was a path zig-zagging up the cliff to the house, and not too far beyond the beach, some kind of road. There were even a few hikers walking along the top of the cliff, as if there might be a trail up there. Plenty of options should we need to get parts. But we didn't need to. 

Because while I was busy going over our options, not caring how we rocked when the tankers passed anymore since we were finally well enough away, the Captain discovered a hole in some oil hose. Which he put a temporary patch on, poured more oil back into the engine, and we were on our way, again. 

We finally anchored in Fidalgo Bay,
 off the town of Anacortes.

I breathed a prayer of thanks, prayed forgiveness for my little faith, and marveled at what horrors could have come on us if all that had happened even five minutes sooner. Or if we had left ten minutes later and intersected with that last tanker instead of slipping safely toward shore. What if—but what if-- 

What if God knows so exactly how to get us from point A to point B we can stop worrying about missing any more divine appointments?

Man Overboard!

Changing dreams into reality is hard work. Of course, anything worthwhile usually is. Between all the interruptions of holidays, computer crashes, and unscheduled trips that had to be made to take care of emergencies, we finally came to that momentous occasion for all boaters... the shakedown cruise. It's the first time you actually take a new boat out onto the water. Or, an old one you're trying to restore to its former glory, like we are.

The GLORY B. passed with flying colors. Along with the wonderful family crew the Captain put together for the occasion. Personally, I only had one bit of a meltdown. It happened when my son (who happens to be in the Coast Guard and takes these things seriously) decided to surprise everyone with a “man overboard drill.” Because that's how they happen in real life. By surprise. Believe me, one never plans to lose anyone over the side.

Before I go any further, I should explain that as a writer I get very attached to certain things. Odd things, mostly, that have to do with my sense of atmosphere. Shells, rocks with gold veins running through, a particular tea kettle, and the Captain's mustache (which he has had for all the years I've known him). One of my favorite things aboard the GLORY B, other than the mermaid hooks to hang things on, is the life ring that frames the porthole on deck. For some reason, I love that old thing. So, imagine the horror when my son suddenly flings it out to sea when we are clipping along quite nicely and hollers, “Man overboard!”

The exercise being to see how long it takes to get the boat turned around, and come up alongside close enough to recover it, again. Just keeping it in sight all that time was nerve-wracking. Especially when it would disappear for a few seconds in the trough of some little swell of sea. Not that I couldn't replace it with a brand new one if we should happen to fail the test. It's just that it was one of the boat's original items, older than our crew, and one of those magical things that had gained a bit of life “by reason of use.” Sort of a touchstone, you might say.

It took us five minutes to recover. Due partially to being slowed down by about a foot of sea-growth trailing from our bottom that we haven't scraped off, yet. Which is not good enough (if it had actually been a human), but we will get better at it, I'm sure. At least we got it back! Alas, I have no film of it, since the last thing on my mind during all the excitement was pushing the button on the camera. Something else I learned about myself, and will have to adjust to, or there will never be any truly exciting shots of our adventures.

I did get a few pictures, though. So that you wonderful armchair travelers could get a bit of a sense of what it's like to come aboard...

Not Going Home This Year...

A long time ago (when I was quite young), I had an opportunity to travel across the United States and stop at any place I would like to see. Being an avid lover of history, such an opportunity felt like Christmas, to me, and I got busy making spectacular plans. 

I wanted to follow the Santa Fe Trail, visit ghost towns and gold mines (yes, I had gold fever even way back then), canoe through the Everglades, touch the crack in the Liberty Bell with my own hands, put flowers at the feet of the Stature of Liberty, and eat lobster, fresh off a fishing boat, in Maine.

I bought a U.S. road atlas, and spent many enjoyable hours planning that trip. When I finally turned it over to the Captain (who had said we could go anywhere, and do anything I wanted), he was a bit shocked. Which was somewhat devastating to me, because I had been so sure we liked the same things. “Oh, it isn't that,” he said. “It's just that a trip like this would take at least three years.” We didn't have three years. We were simply going across country to attend college. Many years later, we did do that trip (it was an anniversary present), and it took us six.

A very wonderful six years.

Now, it seems we are on the verge of doing something of the same thing, only this time, by boat. A wonderful boat, that is turning out to be so much more than we originally believed. And, once again, I have scheduled way too much in too short a time. Starting with the fact that during the five months I scheduled for my MYSTERY TOUR, we have only made it to half the destinations, so far. Which the Captain says is quite all right, because who would want to hurry through the “adventure of a lifetime,” anyway?

So, we are not going home this year.

We are going on...

A Great Day...

It's more than a "Video Log Friday" today, fellow travelers, because it is also the release date for the first in my series of "Stella Madison Capers" … which I am very excited about. Not only is this character close to my heart for many reasons, she has also graciously agreed to help us with the repairs and restoration of the GLORY B. My goodness, it just doesn't get any better than when everyone starts pulling together on a project.

So, paddle on over to the Pelican Book Group site if you get a chance, where HOME BEFORE DARK can be bought for only a dollar. Is that great, or what? Not to mention, I will be giving five copies away absolutely free, in honor of this new little release. To get your name in the Captain's Hat for a drawing, just leave a comment on this post (don't forget to include an email address, so I can get in touch if you are one of the winners). Meanwhile…

Have a blessed weekend, and I'll see you on Monday!

The Poll Is Closed…

Dear family and friends… the vote is in (but please vote on the new question as long as you're here). Most of you believe in divine appointments, but not by much. Dear me! Here's hoping following our adventures on my 2012 MYSTERY TOUR this summer will help prove your point. So far, it is definitely proving ours. 

What a weekend we've had! Up, then down, then up, again. But isn't that the nature of life? As it stands, right now, it is looking very good for the GLORY B (scroll down to catch a glimpse of her on last Friday's video log if you haven't, already). Which makes the Captain and I nearly giddy with excitement. But we are trying to contain ourselves. Of course, you will be the first to know as soon as we iron out the details. Meanwhile, this is a very special week for me…

Because my good friend, Stella Madison, will be arriving on the scene. She's quite the mysterious woman, herself, and I don't mind telling you she has made an extremely generous offer to us, regarding the GLORY B. But more on that, later. As far as she, herself, is concerned, you can find out more about her over on my regular blog. I'll be posting something about her over there, every day this week. It's a big week for Stella… especially Friday! So, stay tuned for some lovely announcements…

Is This the Glory B...

Another "Video Friday," dear travelers… how did it come up so fast? I'd like to say the GLORY B. is finally ours, and we are getting ready to be off on the next leg of our adventure. But how many of the things we are waiting for actually move along at the pace we would like them to? 

Anyway, here's what we've been up to, this week…

Harbor Hopping...

View from a ferry crossing we enjoyed

Well, fellow travelers... we spent the weekend looking at boats. All kinds of boats, of different shapes and sizes, from one end of Washington state to the other. A couple of which might be possibilities for us, but we don't know for sure, yet. At the very least we saw spectacular country driving from the southern most tip of the Olympic Peninsula, all the way to within fifty feet of the Canadian border. Not to mention the Captain and I had a wonderful time together. But then we always do, no matter where we happen to be. 

Today, we were out and about, again, and when I finally got around to checking mail, I discovered I had the edits on THE PANDORA BOX (my next inspirational adventure novel) waiting, so, it was a busy evening, as well. All of which made for a very late blog post, tonight. But I did make it here, eventually, as I always do, one way or the other. 

One of the boats we looked at

There are so many things to consider when looking for a boat. But I confess, I judge them all by the way I feel when I go aboard. Is this an inviting place? Could I be happy here? Is there a comfortable corner I would be content to squirrel myself away and work in? Meanwhile, the Captain is looking things over in a much more level-headed way. 

...and another one

I don't know what tomorrow will bring, but how many of us really do? I do know that we will not miss anything we are meant to see, or places we are meant to be at. To know that our "steps are ordered (Psalm 37:23)" holds great assurance. And great anticipation, too. May you all be so blessed in your own life adventures, as well!

Do you think there could be a divine appointment wrapped up in our search for the GLORY B? I'm very much hoping that there is... but I'll let you be the judge of that.

To See the Dream...

It's Friday, fellow travelers… and the Captain and I are off to look at more boats. Meanwhile, here's this week's video log that should give you a better idea of what we've been up to. Have a blessed weekend, and we'll see you on Monday!

GLORY B.!

There are a lot of boats here. But we are only looking for one. We don't know where it is, exactly, but we feel sure we will know it when we see it. Having had four other boats over the years, we're pretty specific about what we're looking for. A ketch, something with classic traditional lines, not too small to be uncomfortable for months at a time, and not too big that the two of us can't slip her moorings and take off for another port at any given moment. 

Why a boat?

To begin with, the two of us love the sea, not to mention all the nooks and crannies of the coastal places that surround it. We also like the sort of people that tend to gather in such places. We absolutely love the natural beauty, along with the amazing animal and marine life one can watch every day when you live right in the middle of it. We especially love the simplicity of "living aboard." The fact that you can pop your head up out of the hatch at any given time and almost always find someone interesting to talk to, plays a big part in it, too. Living aboard a boat is a great lifestyle if you're partial to any of those things. 

But what's this about the GLORY B.?

We've used this affectionate reference to our "dream boat' for years. Mostly because it is not only the boat of our dreams, but the boat for our dream. The big one. It is the perfect vehicle for a circuit we have always wanted to travel, regularly, along the Pacific Rim, just sharing some of the wonderful things the Lord is doing in our lives. To say "hello" to people we've never seen before, make friends, and then come back and see them, again. 

So, here we are. Many things have kept us from pursuing this dream of ours over the years, but -- for the first time -- it looks as though this is the right time. We will have to proceed with caution, however, because we don't want to get out of line with God's ultimate plan for our lives. But what if that ultimate plan includes some of our most wistful pleasant dreams, as well? This year, we are stepping out to discover if this might actually be true. It's one of the mysteries we will be looking into on our 2012 MYSTERY TOUR. Our search for the GLORY B. is the third leg of our wonderful journey…

And it begins today.