Windtraveler

Stuck Between a Rock and a Hard Place (in Paradise)

2013-05-24T09:34:00.001-05:00

On a boat, we try hard to avoid weather like this...but it's not always possible.

I woke up last night with a jolt. It’s almost always me who wakes up to strange bumps and sounds in the night, a fact that makes me a little jealous – and a little resentful – of my soundly sleeping husband. Being a professional worrier on a boat has it’s downsides, let me tell you.

Last night, it was an orchestra of noise that woke me: the wince-inducing grinding of our anchor snubber tugging over the roller reverberating throughout the hull, the eerie howl of the wind ripping through the anchorage and causing our boat to jerk unnaturally this way and that on our anchor, the sudden and gentle pitter-patter of rain on deck- followed by the skies opening up and turning our boat into a bonafide bongo drum. I sprang up with a gasp and ran to the companionway to take a bearing. Phew. Not dragging. That’s good. Then I remembered all the portholes and hatches that were open. Dammit. I closed them all, sopped up the rain, set the anchor alarm and flopped back into bed. Scott didn’t even stir. Bastard. I must have woken up four or five other times, and I am almost certain we saw wind in the sixty knot range. Okay, maybe forty. Either way, it was gnarly and loud. Scott slept through it all , I swear I even noticed a peaceful little smirk on his worry-free face.

He redeemed himself this morning by going to Isla when she sprang to life with a beaming grin at six a.m, letting me catch up on lost zzzz’s. I subscribe heavily to the child-like notion that “everything will be better in the morning” but when I awoke, I was bummed to see the conditions hadn’t changed. Still squally, still gray, still windy, still blech. We listened to the weather on the SSB radio and it’s official: it's bad. And it’s not getting better any time soon. A tropical wave is upon us, scheduled to arrive on Sunday like a persistent and petulant Jehova’s witness, only you can’t slam the door on a tropical wave. “What’s a tropical wave again?” I ask Scott. We really should know more about the weather but weather prediction, it turns out, is incredibly difficult and complex. He consults our “Weather Predicting Simplified” book (which does nothing of the sort) and says’s “Hmm…looks like a tropical wave is the pre-curser to a hurricane”. He says this in a tone no different than “Hey look, there’s a bird in the sky”. Scott, unfortunately, is totally insensitive to the fact that I am an olympic worrier and does nothing to quell my fears. Super, I think. We’re going to get caught down island in a hurricane.

To make a long story short, we’re stuck here for a while – at least a week, maybe two. When the weather man says, “I’m sorry, I have no good news for you. I don’t see any change in the foreseeable future” you prepare to hunker down. There are worse places to be stuck, that is for sure – and yes, we’re on a boat in the Caribbean but the fact remains: we need to make tracks south. Hurricane season begins in six days and we’re still seven hundred miles from the little invisible box around Grenada that says we’ll be safe. I’m starting to feel like we’re in between a rock and hard place…and that’s not a good place to be on a boat.

On Passage-Making, Luck and What We Did Right

2013-05-22T09:04:00.003-05:00

With our first long-ish passage behind us, I find myself reflecting on how successful it was and how smoothly it went, no small feat for a boat at sea for five days. There are several reasons for this: First of all (let's be real here), we were lucky. I believe strongly that those of us who take to the sea depend on a fair amount on good old-fashioned L-U-C-K from time to time (don't we all?), and thankfully, it was on our side during this particular passage. It is also my belief, however, that we create our own luck in the form of preparedness (anyone remember the "black box theory"?) - particularly at sea - and that the two, let's call them "dumb" luck and "created" luck, dance precariously in a yin/yang type of ballet.

We did a lot right during this passage; some of it intentional, some of it serendipitous... but here is what we learned and tips I can share based on our experience venturing offshore and covering eight hundred miles over the course of five days, non-stop:

Route Planning: Scott poured over the charts and scoured the internet for information on our trip. Unfortunately, there was not too much out there as a) most (smart) cruisers avoid passages completely to windward and b) most people who do make this passage start much further north, and much earlier in the season in order to take advantage of trade winds. Despite the lack of info out there for our particular set of circumstances and coordinates, Scott and I read accounts of the trip and had a pretty good idea of what to expect. Namely: lots of motoring, bashing headlong into easterly trade winds, and a potential puke-fest of epic proportions. Fun, right?
Prepare fot the worst: I know, this sounds pessimistic, but hear me out: if you prepare for the worst, you will either be ready when the worst smacks you square across the face OR (the better option) you will be pleasantly surprised when it shows up at your door step like an innocent, water-logged kitten looking for shelter instead of the roaring lion it's shadow foretold. We had read lots of accounts of strong easterly trades and mind-numbing upwind slogs complete with bashing into twelve foot ocean swells for days on end, and that is what we prepared our boat and ourselves for. The fact that our trip wasn't that bad made it all the better, and because our boat was so well stowed and prepped, we enjoyed a nice, drama-free ride complete with evening sing-a-longs in the cockpit. (Okay, not really).
Watch the Weather: Scott watched weather for about a month before our passage; looking for patterns and trying to identify when the trades would lie down a bit and allow for some nice, easterly motoring. The fact that a weather window presented itself just as our crew arrived was - of course - dumb luck. You cannot plan stuff like that. We also subscribed to a professional weather routing service which we utilized underway (via SSB) to alter our course and optimize our path. This proved to be very useful.
Know your Limits: We had two volunteer crew aboard to help Scott make this delivery because initially Isla and I were not going to come (see #2). We ended up joining the roster after all, and it was fantastic (essential?) to have four extra hands on board. These days, my number one priority is being a momma to Isla and - truth be told - she is a handful (actually, two handfulls) when she's awake, making me a less than reliable offshore crew member at the moment. Having a working crew of three guys with me as a mommy/floater/galley slave made this passage much better - for all of us. The guys maintained a two hour on/four hour off watch schedule which was very easy and ensured everyone was well-rested.
Pre-make Meals: Holy moly was this a lifesaver! We ate incredibly well the entire trip and (wait for it.....) I am going to give myself a little pat on the back for this fact. Actually, I am going to give myself a full-blown "whoop whoop" for my culinary efforts. Me pulling off five nights of palatable boat meals is, in my little world, akin to Armstrong's first steps on the moon: A small step for man, a huge step for Brittany...or something like that. Thanks to The Boat Galley Cookbook, a very large refrigerator and a couple days of slaving away in the galley pre-departure, I made six casserole-type meals in "bake-and-serve" plastic containers to keep and make underway. Cooking on a boat (the chopping, the cleaning, the prep...) is challenge enough, cooking on a boat at an aggressive heel while bashing into 4-8 foot rollers is significantly harder. All I had to do was pre-heat the oven, slide in the dish, wait 30-45 minutes and voila! warm, tasty meals for a hungry crew. I also made sure there were plenty of ready-to-eat snacks - both healthy and junky - available as well. We did not go hungry on this passage, that is for sure. Another added bonus of pre-making meals? Less garbage underway. We only had one small bag of garbage at the end of five days.
Shake Down: This is where dumb luck came into play for us in a big way. We had not planned a shake down sail but the weather ended giving us an opportunity to sail from Georgetown to Long Island and it was probably one of the best (unintentional) things we did. It was a pretty aggressive sail: twelve hours in 15-20 knots of wind with seas in the 4-8 foot range. Not only did this give us time to get into sync as a crew, it gave the new crew members a chance to learn a bit about our boat, how she handles and - most importantly - it gave our gear a chance to break before we headed offshore. We lost our jib halyard at the end of the sail and fixing it in port was much, much easier than out at sea. The two subsequent days we spent in Long Island were also great for crew morale and boat prep. This turned out to be a key piece of luck that made our subsequent passage much smoother.
Quick Caffeine Fixes: The Aeropress coffee maker is still my first love, but it is not the most practical percolator while sailing head-first into six to eight foot ocean swells. Single serve instant coffee packets are the bomb, and they are your friend. I bought a veritable boatload of Starbucks Via instant brews on my last trip home and - say what you will about the 'Bucks - it was good. Really good. And what's best? It was easy. I boiled a thermos full of water every morning and whenever anyone (i.e me) wanted a cuppa joe, all they had to do was grab a mug, tear open the pack and pour in the water. Coffee snobbery has no place on the high seas people, sometimes you just gotta get your jolt and go.
Prep the Boat: We went overboard prepping our boat. The outboard motor? Stored down below under the v-berth. The grill? Stowed in our shower. The dinghy? Lashed to our bow despite the fact that our awesome davits are rated for something insane like ten thousand pounds. We checked oils, changed filters, topped of water and fuel and did all the usual visual checks. Furthermore, the interior of the boat was given the "tip over" test - meaning I went through the cabin and imagined our boat on her ear, and anything that wouldn't stay put in an event like that, was moved. I am happy to report our cabin remained clutter and catastrophe-free. I also made lee-cloths for the crew which proved to be essential (and comfortable).
Pre-Medicate: The only time I have ever been seasick - and I mean actually puking seasick - came after a night of five (count them, five) dirty martinis. Friends don't let friends sail hungover, folks. That still goes down as one of the worst days on the water ever. No bueno. But aside from that little blip on the radar - I don't really get seasick. Despite this, I - along with the rest of our adult crew - slapped on a scopolamine patch the second we started our motor. No need to be a hero. Seasickness is not fun, especially if you'll be at it for days on end and we were prepping for a bouncy ride to windward. The only bout of seasickness came from the one crew member who's patch fell off and was not replenished, otherwise - we were all hunky-dory. Not too shabby!
Timing is Everything: I mentioned that luck made it so our weather window arrived just as our crew stepped off their flights and onto Bahamian tarmac. Dumb luck. BUT - when we went looking for volunteer crew, one of the stipulations was that they had to be available from the 9th to the 23rd of May. That obviously disqualified a lot of folks. We were adamant on this point so that we could have a large window to allow for a healthy amount of wiggle room to wait for weather, make repairs, etc. It worked out for the best, and - as luck would have it - we were even able to leave a day ahead of schedule because our crew was able to fly in early so that we could take advantage of the weather window as it presented itself.
Get Mental: No, I don't mean go crazy (thought we almost did for a hot minute there). I mean mentally prepare yourself for the journey at hand. Do you estimate it will take eight days? Prepare for at least ten. Visualize yourself on the boat, day in and day out, for that length of time. Imagine the calms and the storms, how you will handle yourself, how it will feel. Envision how you will pass the time and keep your mind occupied. Picture the night watches, the day watches and visualize the smells, the sounds, the potential boredom, the motion, the monotony, the excitement... Great athletes are famous for envisioning entire games before they are played and while we might not be scoring any points out here - there is something to be said for getting your head in the game.

So that's our (very long winded) $.02. What are your tips and tricks for long passages? Please share in the comments so we all can learn!

Master Glockenspiel-er in the making

Our crew, off watch.

The sea treated us to some spectacular panoramas!

A monster squall on the horizon

Scott, downloading GRIB files via SSB

Red sky at night?

Happy crew on the home stretch

Argh & Argh

2013-05-20T16:39:00.000-05:00

That's "rest and relaxation" in old time pirate speak, in case you didn't know....we're in the BVI's, after all.

The past few days have been a whirlwind of good times soaked in fun, sun and rum. In fact, we've unwittingly treated this recent landfall as something of a vacation; enjoying a couple nights in a full-service marina, indulging in meals out, and effortlessly falling right into step with the charter set by drinking too many painkillers and staying out way past our (9pm) bedtime. It's been fun but - unfortunately - it can't be our reality for much longer or else we'll break the bank and pickle our livers. Our wonderful crew mates left us this morning (we miss you AJ and Brian!) and while it's bitter-sweet, this "vacation" has ended and we are slowly getting back to normal. The boat has been scrubbed from top to bottom, laundry has been done and we're transitioning the boat back to "cruising mode" from "passage-making mode".

It's easy to forget that we still have six hundred or so nautical miles to sail before we get to our end destination of Grenada. Despite the fact that hurricane season technically begins June 1st we plan to arrive by mid July when Scott must report back to work. That means we have about six weeks to (cautiously) enjoy island hopping down the windwards and leewards as we chip off the miles southbound. The weather will be keeping us in the BVI's for at least another five days, however, so we're going to relax and enjoy it. We're all a little exhausted from the rigors of the past couple of weeks and now's the time to settle back into our groove and chill out while we enjoy one of the best sailing playgrounds on the planet.

We Have Arrived

2013-05-18T09:32:00.000-05:00

We have arrived. Right now I am typing this post in the cockpit of our boat with Wilco playing quietly in the background. Scott is sleeping at my side, AJ is on the stern talking to his girlfriend, Brian is catching up on email down below and Isla is taking her morning nap. The sky is a perfect periwinkle blue and puffy white clouds float lazily over head. We are surrounded by walls of lush, green hills and shores lined with gently swaying palm trees. It is a quintessentially Caribbean scene.

It actually feels quite surreal to be here right now. For so long this trip was a source of stress for me: would we have a good weather window? Would Isla and I join or not? And if we did join how would she do at sea? More importantly, how the heck would I keep her entertained at sea? Would the crew come through or back out last minute? Would everyone get along? Would the boat feel too crowded? Would we be too late in the season? Would I provision well? Would our boat be up for it?....There were so many questions, so many unknowns that I just wanted to fast forward this part and be on the other side of it. It wasn't an experience that I wanted to savor, as we were all expecting the worst, but something I wanted to just hurry up and get over with.

Boy was I wrong.

This trip was absolutely something to savor and enjoy. As it turns out, all my worries were for naught. We were very well prepared and we had a healthy dose of luck on our side as well. This passage will forever be etched in the log of our minds as a milestone for us. Sure, it was only five days...but it's successful completion has given us a huge boost of confidence in our abilities, our boat and each other. Everything went more or less as planned which, for those of you who cruise, know this a rarity on the high seas. We were all pleasantly surprised by the ease of this trip and to tell you the truth, I am actually a little sad it's over. It was a charmed journey and we couldn't have asked for a better crew. As we were sailing towards the twinkling lights of Tortola Thursday night, part of me wanted to keep the boat going and sail a little farther, extend the trip a few more days. Bang a left and head for St. Maarten maybe. "Let's keep going!" I exclaimed only partly in jest. I think we all could have continued on. I finally understand how Bernard Moitessier, after being alone at sea for seven months could head back out to the expanse of the ocean just as he was about to finish (and win) the first around the world yacht race. "I'm continuing on to save my mortal soul" he had said. Of course our trip was nothing like the legendary Moitessier's, but I kind of get it now. Something happens when you stay at sea for days on end, surrounded only by wind and waves...it's like a little switch is flipped and suddenly your world is your boat. All the outside chatter goes away. Everything becomes so much more...simple.

Anyway, that's enough waxing poetic for today. I have so many posts to write about our journey; how we prepared, how I kept Isla entertained, what we did right, what we did wrong...but they will have to wait. We all had one too many Painkiller's last night and the fresh water pool is calling.

We were happy to have arrived!

Our amazing crew. Brian, Scott, AJ, Isla and I. Couldn't have asked for a better bunch!

On the Home Stretch

2013-05-16T11:49:00.000-05:00

This boat moves. Up until yesterday, we had rarely dipped below seven knots, and at times saw eight knots or more. We are currently sailing on a close reach headed southeast towards Jost Van Dyke (is that a Painkiller I smell?) in fantastic conditions. The rolling ocean swells are about two to four feet, the bellies of our jib and main are full and we're cruising along at a respectable six knots. This is a welcome change from yesterday when we were nearly becalmed in light and variable winds. The sun is shining, and the wispy clouds look as if someone spread them across the sky with a butter knife. Again, we find ourselves alone out here and it's beautiful.

Some of you might have noticed our SPOT tracker is not transmitting (at least it doesn't appear to be on our end). We're not sure why, but rest assured - we're all doing great. So far, our only "problem" is the fact that we are almost out of diesel - but I guess that's to be expected when you motor-sail for five straight days. Good thing we're a sailboat! We have been enjoying excellent conditions out here, and our only deviation came two nights ago at sunset when we chose to alter course in order to skirt a monster squall that was about six miles long and three miles wide. This is where radar comes in handy (because we hardly use it otherwise): when we saw the dark, foreboding storm clouds approaching we turned to our radar to tell us how close it was (it is very hard to visually calculate distances out here). After seeing it was three miles leeward of us and sailing alongside it for almost two hours without any significant difference in distance, we determined it was going in the same direction as we were. I suggested to Scott we turn around and pass it on the back end, which is exactly what we did. We came completely about, and for a good long while sailed in the exact opposite direction than we wanted to, but - thankfully - our avoidance tactic was successful. We saw nary a drop of rain. That's the thing about squalls; sometimes they're all bark and no bite - but other times they can pack a real punch in the form of driving rain and winds in the 30-40 knot range, which - if you have been in those kind of winds - you know is no fun on a boat. We lost some ground going the way we went, but it's always better to be safe than sorry in our opinion.

After assessing our diesel situation yesterday afternoon the "old fashioned" way (with a dip stick), we realized our gauges don't quite tell the truth and we have a little margin of error despite the fact that both our tanks read "empty". Either way, we have decided to strictly sail for the remainder of the trip, and use our precious diesel only if it becomes a necessity. To be honest, no one misses the rumble of the engine through the boat - and we're all enjoying the peaceful sail. As such, we will not be making landfall this afternoon as we had previously calculated. If the 15 knots of wind we are seeing right now holds, we might arrive late this evening. If not, we'll probably arrive bright and early in the morning. In the meantime, we'll just continue to sail the wind we're in, with the promise of Painkillers urging us on...

It's true what they say, that after a couple days at sea you find your groove. We are getting in sync with the rhythm of the boat and the ocean. We all have our jobs yet work together like a well-oiled machine. It's been a great ride and I think I can speak for all of us when I say we're thoroughly enjoying ourselves out here. While I am very excited to make landfall after our longest passage yet, I think I *might* even miss being out sea a little bit. For someone who is usually very "connected", it feels incredible to unplug and just be. I didn't see that coming.

Position:
19.01 N
65.13 W

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Half-Way There

2013-05-14T10:19:00.001-05:00

We left at 6am on Sunday in the dusky light of morning. I was down below fixing breakfast for everyone and as soon we headed out of the harbor I felt the waves. I popped my head out of the companionway hatch and then caught site of them. "Crap" I thought to myself, "This is gonna be a long ride". The rollers were easily 12 feet and the boat was getting tossed about like a toy in a bathtub. I must have had a look of concern on my face because when I looked at Scott, he looked back at me without the slightest tinge of worry and said, "Cape effect". Cape effect is when waves from the sea wrap around a cape, stack up in the shallows near the shore and then bounce of the land, making for a very confused sea state. I was skeptical, but I hoped he was right. Five to six days in seas like those would have been maddening.

About two hours later the rollers became more rhythmic, the boat found her grove, and we were motor-sailing along at over seven knots. We are now half-way to Jost van Dyke, British Virgin Islands and I don't think we could have asked for a better weather window. While we have had our motor on almost the entire passage thus far, we have also been able to sail with both our jib and main as well. The sea around us is flat save for the lolling rollers that gently raise us up and down, up and down. Right now the wind is almost nill so we are taking advantage of this and heading almost dead east. The weather that was predicted by Chris Parker for us is almost exactly what we are seeing, which is fantastic. Our crew mates have proven themselves not only to be incredibly useful, but great guys as well. We're a good team and having a great time out here on the water.

The meals I pre-made have been fantastic (thank you Boat Galley Cookbook!) and we've been eating well. Since the seas flattened out a bit yesterday, we even began to fish. We caught one beautiful Mahi Mahi but unfortunately for us he wriggled free from the hook just as we were about to gaff him and bring him aboard. Perhaps today we'll have better luck. There is very little traffic out here, so far we have seen only two cargo ships and one cruise ship. Isla has been a little trooper and is proving to be a natural at sea. I found some children's' chewable Dramamine and while it isn't recommended for babies under two, I made the decision to give her a quarter of a tablet every 6-8 hours. It has worked fantastically and she has yet to lose a meal. Hooray for small victories.

Scott, AJ and Brian have been maintaining a 2 hours on 4 hours off watch schedule and the waypoints that AJ and Scott plotted (about one a day) based on 6.5 knots average speed and the weather have coincided almost exactly with our track. Pretty incredible actually. When the wind began to lie down yesterday a couple of us even showered off the back of the boat, which is always a nice treat. After what we had all read about this passage; the accounts of crazy weather, bashing into waves, and fighting currents we were all prepared for the worst. We have all been pleasantly surprised thus far. Of course we have two more days to go but for now, we're just grateful that all is well.

That's about it for now. As I type we're gently motoring along a placid sea covered in tiny cats paws. It's a beautiful day. We will continue our easting in these very light winds, with the hopes of catching the Northeast wind tomorrow to make our turn south and start our downwind sled ride. Our expected arrival in the BVI's is Thursday early afternoon. Thank you for all your well wishes and thoughts, we appreciate them. We are all doing great out here and life is good!

Gotta go...FISH ON!

Okay, I'm back. It's fresh wahoo for lunch. Yum!

Position: 22.10 N 69.01 W

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Off We Go!

2013-05-12T07:00:00.000-05:00

And....we're off! Our predicted route is more direct that we originally planned. We'll see how the weather pans out... but for now, instead of heading dead east out to the open ocean and then south we are planning on heading/motoring southeast along the Turks and Caicos at which point we'll take advantage of the predicted light and variable winds Monday and Tuesday to make our easting. Typically, the trade winds are consistently out of the southeast this time of year but due to a cold front that is expected to head our way on Tuesday, the winds are predicted to clock around to the northeast, which is ideal for us. We will head south if/when those northeast winds fill in and hopefully enjoy a nice sail right down to the islands. Of course this plan has been made based on the imperfect art of weather prediction so we'll see what the wind actually does and I'm sure we'll make several game-day decisions on the water. We're hoping to make landfall at Jost Van Dyke in five to six days, but again, we'll see how it all plays out with the weather. We will be getting daily detailed weather routing via Chris Parker as well as downloading GRIB files so we should be well informed.

For those of you who would like follow our track over the coming week, you can see our progress via our SPOT tracker on our SPOTWALLA site.

Also, for those of you who have emailed, I apologize for the delay. It has been very difficult for me to keep up with correspondence these days and this passage will certainly put me more behind than ever. I really love hearing from you all and appreciate your emails more than you know and I promise I will get back to you when I can. It might take a while though, so thank you for your patience!

Anywho...the preventer has been set, the dinghy has been stowed on deck, the outboard and grill have been tucked away under bunks, meals have been made, safety systems have been checked, gear has been prepped, waypoints have been added, iPads have been filled with apps and games, seasick meds have been applied, oil has been checked, water and fuel have been topped off, gear has been stowed, safety briefing has been done, float plan has been sent and we are as ready as ever. We're excited, nervous, giddy, and grateful. We have an excellent vessel, a fantastic crew, and a heck of a ride ahead.

Catch you on the flip side!

Splicey McSplicerton

2013-05-11T10:11:00.001-05:00

The name of the game yesterday was splicing, which is the art of connecting a rope (or two ropes) by interweaving the strands. It's nothing short of magic, really, and there is a reason people pay others to do this. I mentioned how we lost our jib halyard on the trip here due to the worst splice job in history (see picture above) and fixing it was our first priority.

Of course there are no riggers on this island, so simply calling someone to help us and/or do it for us was not an option. We had never spliced sta set x line and without any other choice but to learn, we did what every good cruiser does these days and hit the internet for instructions. A quick Google search led us to explicit splicing directions which the boys followed and produced a pretty good splice. I say "pretty good" because I would be lying if I said it was perfect. The halyard is probably ten years old, super stretched out and splicing old line is famously difficult. Nevertheless, after almost four hours of team work that included agressive pulling, "milking", coercing, pounding and generally man-handling the line, they got it done. We celebrated on shore with drinks and the best fish tacos I have ever had. Ever. We will be replacing the entire halyard once we get to St. Maarten. It's on the list.

Today the mood on the boat is great. Our weather forecast is favorable and, while we will probably be motoring most of this trip, it will be into light and variable winds and it's looking like we might even have a nice sail south. Of course there are anxieties and nerves intermixed with the anticipation, but the overall vibe is excited and ready. We've got some final preparations to do, namely putting the dinghy on the bow and stowing our outboard motor and barbecue down below, and once those things are complete - we will be good to go. We're currently blasting this wicked tune by Gipsy Kings, it captures the energy of the boat right now quite nicely I think.

We will be leaving bright and early tomorrow and will most likely not have internet again for another five or six days. I will be posting when I can via SSB, but if you'd like to track us real-time, follow us on SPOTWALLA.

Scott whipped the end of the splice for added strength

A Little Adventure

2013-05-10T09:44:00.001-05:00

Our passage yesterday was not uneventful. We left with the rising sun and pointed our bow to the east. The first four hours or so we simply motored which is never really pleasant on a sailboat, but a necessity more often than you might think when trying to get from point A to point B instead of simply sailing where the wind takes you. New cruisers are often shocked at how little we are powered exclusively by the breeze.

We raised our sails as we began to head north up the coast of Long Island and enjoyed a pleasant ride in the lee of the land. The motion was comfortable, the sun was shining and we were blasting along at over seven knots. It was an exhilarating sail in a freshening breeze.

When we turned the northernmost corner of the island we were no longer protected by land and the seas grew to five feet or larger. Definitely not terrible; but the motion of the boat became a little more erratic, a little more bouncy. It wasn't a problem for any of the adults on board, but poor little Isla lost her lunch. And her dinner. Luckily for all of us, it seems that Isla is what I like to call the "puke and rally" type meaning that once she pukes, she's blissfully unaware of the mess she just made all over us and the cockpit and goes back to her happy, playful self. She is too young for seasick meds but we will see what we can do to manage her tummy as we continue on.

As if baby vomit all over the place wasn't enough, we then lost our jib halyard. I had just put Isla down for a nap, and came up on deck to see we were slightly overpowered and heeling pretty aggressively We shortened sail a bit by reefing the main which straightened out the boat, and began looking at the jib. Suddenly - as if the jib knew we were talking about it - we heard a loud POP! "What was that?" exclaimed Scott from the helm. A quick glance up the rig confirmed it, "We lost our jib halyard" I told him. It's always something on a boat...

This was not a huge problem by any standard. AJ and Scott went on deck to sort out the jib, we set our stays'l and we were back in action again in less than five minutes. We were all grateful it happened when it did: in decent conditions with lots of daylight - and plenty of hands to help. We'll go up the rig and sort it out later today.

As the last few hours of our trip slowly ticked away, we all became aware of a distinct change in the weather. The sky had taken on a uniform gray color and it looked as if storms were brewing all around us. Then lightning began. When you are on a boat at sea, lightning is a most unwelcome spectacle. While strikes are rare, they do happen. At best, a direct hit to your mast will fry pretty much every electronic you have on board, at worst it can blow a hole in your boat and/or kill someone. The lightning was no where near us as we sailed into the anchorage, but it became obvious as we dropped the hook that it was getting closer. As dinner was being served, we were surrounded.

The storm system was a monster and, according to the radar, extended for miles and miles around us, providing us with the most incredible lighting show I have ever seen. It was pitch black outside but the strikes almost constant, and each time a bolt shot from the sky the world around us would light up as if someone had switched on a bulb. We have video footage, but a few screen shots will have to suffice for now as internet bandwidth won't allow an upload. Nerves ran high for a bit as we looked all around us pointing out strike after strike from every direction, but the closest they got was no less than a mile away.

The wind continued to howl with gusts up to thirty knots and rain pelted the deck as the dramatic lightning show continued well into the night. By morning, however, the skies had cleared and it's a new day. With the passage of that giant system a new weather forecast has come in our favor. It's looking like we will be setting sail from here for the BVI's Sunday morning. The winds are looking good (for now) and we will continue to monitor the weather as we fix the few issues that presented themselves.

Morale is high, the crew is happy and all is well aboard the good ship Asante!

On the Move Again...And Stress.

2013-05-09T05:19:00.000-05:00

What a difference a day makes. Wow. I wrote a couple days ago how the wind was out of my sails, so to speak, and I just didn't have the energy to blog. Truth be told: we were stressed to the maximus prime. We had a crew flying in, a million boat projects to accomplish, a baby that had suddenly taken to screeching when her needs were not immediately met (I mean, what is that all about?) and Scott and I were at each other's throats.

We might have been in paradise, but it wasn't pretty.

Stress turns things ugly in a heartbeat and just because we live on a boat in beautiful places devoid of work deadlines, nagging bosses and brutal commutes doesn't mean we're immune to it. I've said it before and I'll say it again: this lifestyle is full of high highs, and low lows. The highs make it all worth it, but the lows are about as un-fun as they come.

I tend to get overwhelmed. I never used to be like this, but for some reason - on the boat - things pile up and I shut down. Lists multiply, boat work beckons, things break, weather windows loom, and me? I freeze. I want to just crawl into a corner with a book and hide. Scott is the opposite. Super pragmatic and never phased by the tasks at hand, he continues to plug along and just get 'er done. In this way, he's amazing, which is why he is an excellent captain. This matter-of-fact practicality of his, of course, makes me feel guilty. Then, as if I needed another emotion to throw into the mix, all the unknowns of the situation at hand (namely this huge passage before us) cause me to worry about things out of my control like: weather, potential dangers, sea monsters...etc. When I tell Scott about my worries he responds with something like, "There is no room for worry on a boat, only problems with solutions. We can only prepare as best we can and deal with problems as they present themselves" and then that very pragmatism I praised just a line or two earlier makes me want to strangle him. Sigh.

So yeah, it was a rough couple of days here. We were pouring over deteriorating weather charts, emailing back and forth with crew, rushing to ready the boat for voyaging again (no small feat, let me tell you), creating list after list, keeping a one year old baby at bay and the stress got the better of me...of us. The pot boileth over.

Scott and I finally got back on the same page. We kissed and made up. We talked it out and devised a plan. But the stress? It was still there. Our reconciliation didn't finish the lee cloths, provision the boat, pre-make passage meals or stow all our items properly for being out at sea. We had to divide and conquer, and divide and conquer we did. We just needed a little momentum to do it.

Want to know something else crazy? Yesterday morning as we were studying the deteriorating GRIB files and watching our weather window close, stress joined us for breakfast. Our future became uncertain over a GRIB file and a cup of coffee as we thought out-loud: Why are we doing this? Why are we sailing to windward when we don't have to? Why are we rushing south when we don't need to? Doubt entered our minds. We were tired, overwhelmed and we weren't sure what to do. We started coming up with other options. For about two hours yesterday we had convinced ourselves that we were going to turn the boat, point her north and spend hurricane season in the Chesapeake Bay. No joke. You thought I was kidding about the fact that plans are written in sand? I was not.

Long story short, Scott and I looked at the weather again, weighed our options and decided we're continuing south. We are not, however, going to sail offshore like we had planned. The weather just isn't right for that at the moment and we need to move because hurricane season is right around the corner. Instead, we'll island hop to the Turks and Caicos, taking advantage of the weather windows as they present themselves with the added security of knowing we can duck in some place if need be. Our fantastic new crew mates have arrived and they are on board no matter where we go. They're cool like that. They trust our decisions. They're just super stoked to be on a boat at sea.

Today, we sail for Clarence Town, Long Island. It's about a twelve hour trip and we will be there for a couple of days to wait for our next weather window which we hope to use to sail directly to the Turks and Caicos. From there, we'll see. Our final destination for this "trip" is still the British Virgin Islands, and our hopes are to be in Grenada by early July though I hate to say anything definitive as our plans change with the weather, as you well know by now.

If you want to see real-time tracking, be sure to check our SPOTWALLA page to see how we're doing. I will keep you posted when and where I can, and will try to keep uploading images when possible to our Facebook Page.

Snug as a Bug in a...Lee Cloth?

2013-05-08T08:36:00.000-05:00

Falling out of bed is something that, on land, is usually reserved to children under age five. When you are at sea on a monohull with pretty agressive heel angles, however, the threat of falling out of bed is very real and knows no age limit.

Our two "bedrooms" - the forward cabin and aft cabin - both have self-contained beds that will allow the sleeper to roll from side to side without falling out. Because we have two wonderful crew members here to help us on this upcoming passage we need to utilize other bed space in order to give everyone a place to sleep comfortably. Namely, the two settees (the couch-looking things) in our salon area. Unfortunately, the nature of the settee is to have one side open and as such, falling out can be a real probability depending the "angle of the dangle"...

Despite this, the salon (or "main cabin") is often the best place to sleep in a rough sea because the motion is the least in the center of a boat. When sailing into the wind (as we will be), there are two predominant "sides" that we deal with almost always: the high side, and the low side. The high side, also known as the "windward" side, is where the wind is pushing from and the low side, or "leeward" side, is the side where the wind is pushing the boat to. Typically it's more comfortable to sleep on the 'low' side since gravity wants to take you there anyway but when you can't go low, a lee cloth is your friend.

A lee cloth is a piece of fabric (or mesh, or canvas) that is attached to the "lee side" of a bunk to keep the sleeper in that bunk. One of my pre-departure jobs was to sew lee cloths for our two settees as well as rig up a type of barrier for Isla in both the v-berth and aft cabin. I must admit, the temptation to just buy some lee cloths online was there. But I persevered and decided to bust out my trusty Sailrite sewing machine and get my sew on.

Not gonna lie - there were a lot of incredibly frustrating moments in this process and a couple times I almost lost my marbles. Expletives flew freely as I jammed my machine for the umpteenth time or ripped out bad stitches. The fault, of course, was solely my own and due exclusively to operator error. As usual I went without a pattern and just made it up as I went along (I mean, how hard could some simple lee cloths be?) which caused a few hiccups along the way. Nevertheless, we have lee cloths - and pretty nice ones if you ask me. Here's hoping they do what they are designed to do.

Particulars (skip this if you don't care about how I made these): Because I am not a seamstress, I will leave the pattern-making to someone else out there in cyberspace. But in case you are curious, I used phifertex vinyl mesh on the suggestion of a fellow boat mama for breathability and ease of cleaning. Dimensions allowed for a one inch hem around the entire piece as well as ten inches to lay under the body with an eighteen inch height. The hem was for added strength (these cloths will potentially hold a lot of weight) which I beefed up some more by adding facing along the top edge where the grommets would be. I relied heavily on my Press-n-Snap tool to add grommets and snaps where needed. Basically, I just eyeballed the whole thing and winged it. Luckily, it worked. Phew. Here's the photo evidence that I actually did it:

My cockpit sewing area, not the most comfortable, but a nice view!

The Beast. This machine is AWESOME

We mounted these pad eyes to bulk heads to attach either end of the lee cloth to.

These screw in button bases were SO useful. This is how we attached the undersides of our lee cloths to the bunks.

Half the lee cloth is under the sleeper, snapped into place under the cushions. This ensures a nice, tight fit.

Installing my first snap was way cool. Not sure why, but it was. The Press-n-Snap tool made it easy.

Fixtures for easy in, easy out. We have hundreds of caribiners on board. Very useful.

Here you see the super sweet pocket I added! Plenty of room for a book, a phone, a camera, head lamp...etc.

She's not so sure how she feels about being contained in the v-berth. She'll come around.

The aft cabin lee cloth. Technically, it doesn't need one - but if/when Isla and I co-sleep back there, it's necessary.

Wind Out of My Sails

2013-05-07T06:06:00.001-05:00

So much going on these past couple days. So much to write about, but so little time and, frankly, so little energy to do it. We're busy prepping the boat for our first significant passage (eight days) so between keeping tabs on Isla and getting it all done, stress is high at the moment. It's looking like our weather window is upon us so we have asked our crew to come in a little early with the hopes to take the most advantage of the light winds. We shall see. I will hopefully get the wind back in my sails soon, but in the meantime, just know we're busy getting our boat and ourselves ready for a long ride.

Daddy Daughter Reunited

2013-05-04T08:45:00.001-05:00

It was like Christmas morning on our boat today. Scott was so excited to see Isla, Isla was so excited to see Scott, and I think I might have been the most excited of all just to see their reactions to each other. So amazing. After four weeks, these were the first glimpses they got of each other. True love. Daddy's and daughters are one of the best pairings in the world, I think.

Beachy Baby

2013-05-03T09:32:00.000-05:00

Isla and I took a long walk on the beach the other day. We had it all to ourselves, there weren't even any other footprints in the sand. If there is one thing to say about this child it is this: she has energy to burn! I don't know if it's all the jogging I did during pregnancy or what, but physically speaking, she is off the charts. She is practically running at thirteen months and does not. stop. moving. It's incredible and, yes, a little exhausting. It's a nice luxury to be able to take her to a place like this beach where I can let her run free without worrying about her taking a serious tumble because - oh yeah - she loves to climb as well and is extremely good at it. Companionway stairs, picnic benches, chairs...anything that is climb-able she summits, almost effortlessly. This child is a bonafide monkey and happy social butterfly all wrapped up into an adorably squirmy little package. I mean, look at that little body? Does it get any cuter??

In other news, Scott comes back tonight! I am so excited I can hardly stand it. Not only can I not wait to see his handsome face, but I am really looking forward to not being a single mom for the next twelve weeks while he's off work. Caring for a toddler who is always on the go is a lot of work - a total privilege and pleasure - but work none the less!

Changing Tacks: Plans are Written in Sand

2013-05-02T09:34:00.000-05:00

It is often said that a cruiser's plans are written in sand. It's oh-so cliche but very true; our agendas often change like - and with - the wind. One day we'll be planning on sailing to an island to the east and, due to an unexpected wind shift, we decide to head to an island further south. We might expect to stay in a place for only a few days, and end up staying months. When you ask the question, "Where to next?" it is not at all unusual to hear, "We don't really know, but we're thinking that we might..." It's a luxury of this lifestyle to have the freedom to change our minds and roam as we please. Plans are written in sand. At low tide.

You see where this is going right?

Yep. We're changing tacks. A few days ago I wrote how Scott and a crew of two volunteers would be sailing our boat offshore from here (Georgetown, Bahamas) to the British Virgin Islands, where Isla and I would met them. I must admit, I was never comfortable with this arrangement and every time I talked about it, I felt a little uneasy. A little cowardly even. Scott and I have sailed almost 6,000 nautical miles together. We've been crossing cruising milestones off our list one by one, and we have done it all together. We're a team. This dream was as much (if not more) mine than his and for me to sit out our longest passage to date? Well, I didn't really like the thought of it. If I am to be honest, I had even been harboring a little healthy jealousy. How could I let him embrace the challenges, the sites, the sounds, the monotony, the lessons, the zen, the revelation and the chaos of a long ocean passage without me? I mean, an eight to ten day non-stop voyage is a pretty big deal. It's not crossing an ocean or anything, but it's nothing to shake a stick at either. Scott and I have been equals all this time, and now he'd be getting a leg up on me. Not that we're competitive with each other (because we're not), but I couldn't let that happen. Call me selfish, but I wanted to experience it, too.

So after that post, I started thinking. I thought and thought and thought some more. I consulted with fellow cruisers. I posed the question to a Women who Sail group that I am part of to get their advice as cruising women and mamas. The wheels were turning. When I had made up my mind, I sent the following text to Scott: "Should Isla and I join you guys on the passage? I am tempted to go and with the crew's help, I think we'd be fine..." Scott's immediate response: "That's not a bad idea!! I'd love it!". And so began a series of texts going over the pros and cons of us coming along, with Scott spontaneously texting excited pleas for us to join in between. The decision wasn't that hard, really. We're going. I mean, if we plan on being a sailing family we've gotta do this eventually, right? No time like the present.

Of course I had to email our two wonderful volunteer crew mates and let them know what we were thinking. After all, when they signed on to crew it was not with a baby aboard. Whether or not you sail I know that most people can understand that having a baby on the boat is a major game-changer. I needed their blessing. So I wrote them asking what they thought, and - thankfully - both were not only totally supportive of the idea, but (dare I say it?) even a little excited at the prospect of having us along.

For the most part I will be on Isla duty. For those of you who are parents, you can appreciate how much work it takes to keep an incredibly active one year old entertained and at bay. I will help out in other areas where I can, but my main focus will be Isla and keeping her happy and safe. It will be a challenge. Imagine, if you will, being in an RV for eight days non-stop with a toddling infant who loves to climb and walk. Then take that RV, and rock it side to side, sometimes violently, for hours and hours at a time. Throw in some storms, a little car-sickness, and non-stop banging and clanking. Nope, there are no pit stops. It will be interesting and we will learn a TON about our boat, sailing with an infant, each other and offshore passage making. As usual I will write and tell you all about it and we will be posting updates as frequently as we can (sans photos) via SSB.

We are so stoked, giddy even. There are, of course, the nervous worries that creep into my head late at night when I lay awake in bed: will Isla get seasick? How will I keep her entertained? Will we encounter horrible weather? Will she keep the crew awake? Will the crew get along? Will all our systems run as planned? What about rogue waves, submerged shipping containers, sleeping whales, etc... Nerves, for me, are inevitable. And I believe they are healthy at sea. They indicate a level of respect that is mandatory for the ocean and nature. The understanding that - no matter how prepared we might be - we are not in control.

Scott comes home tomorrow (excited scream followed by happy dance). Now begins the time to mentally prepare ourselves and our boat for this passage. We'll keep you posted!

Slacking Off

2013-05-01T07:00:00.000-05:00

I'm always paying close attention to my surroundings. These days, I see the world though the lens of a cruiser and am constantly on the lookout for cool gadgets, tricks and products that would make sense on a boat or for a sailor. Yesterday at the beach, I saw one such thing. The sport is called a "slacklining" and it's similar to walking on a tightrope, but instead of a rope you use a giant ratchet strap (a slackline). For those of you who are athletic, this *might* just be the perfect "land toy" to have aboard (to complement your water toys, of course).

All you need are two trees, an almost inhuman amount of balance (and patience, and coordination), and you're good to go. As someone who practiced Bikram yoga religiously and danced for over eighteen years of my life I thought to myself "I got this" when my fellow cruiser offered me a go. "It is much harder than it looks..." he warned me with a leery eye. He then gave me a couple pointers: use your strongest leg to balance on first, place your foot facing forward and centered on the webbing, and don't hold your arms out in a "t" but in a "u" for balance. Simple enough, right?

Wrong. The very second I stepped on the strap my leg began shaking side to side, totally involuntarily and totally out of control. I had to hold on to my new friend's shoulder just to stand upright and get balanced. Once my leg zeroed out, I tried to take a step forward and - BLAMO - down I went. This sport is high on the difficulty spectrum. If you are looking for a fun, easy activity to do while cruising - this is not it. But if you are looking for a crazy full-body workout and a fun challenge, you might want to give this a go. My beautiful friend, Jessica, had a slackline aboard her boat when they cruised and said that not only was it a great workout - but a good laugh, and a great conversation starter. Sounds perfect to me!

Top 10 Tuesdays: Ten Useful Products for the Boat Baby

2013-04-30T07:04:00.001-05:00

Isla and her best boat-baby pal, Ellia

Turns out having a baby on a boat is not that different from having a baby on land. Okay, maybe it's a little different, but the fact of the matter is that the products I find useful for a baby on a boat are also useful for the landlubbing baby. Some of these items I already mentioned in my earlier Boat Baby post, but they are worth repeating. Here are my Top Ten Products for our one year old boat baby:

Sunscreen - A boat baby is a baby that gets a lot of sun, no matter what. Isla is slathered in SPF 50 every day, twice a day and STILL has a tan.
Sun Hats - Isla is almost always in a wide-brimmed hat to protect her face from the sun. We have a bunch but I am a huge fan of this style Flap Happy hat. Note: if the hat doesn't tie - don't bother. Rare is the child that won't pull an unattached hat off their head.
Rash Guards/Swim Diapers - While adorable swim suits are so cute and tempting, I have learned that a rash guard and a swim diaper is so much easier (not to mention offers more sun protection AND saves a diaper). I'm a big fan of the Imse Vimse brand swim diaper.
Travel Snack Bowls - I'm not sure if it's universal, but our baby loves her snacks and since she is constantly on the move and burning up calories, I feed them to her. Grapes, blueberries, veggies or cheese are always with us when we go on an outing. Good snack bowls with screw top or very tight fitting lids are great to throw in a bag and go. I like these ones , cheap and easy.
Infant Safety Tether and Harness - I wrote about this before in my earlier boat baby post, but it's worth mentioning again. These are great for underway, especially for a child who likes to climb as much as Isla (did I mention she doesn't stop moving?). This one from West Marine is great.
Bumbo Seat with Tray - This has totally been the sleeper hit of our baby kit. I brought this with us on a whim and, wow, we use it more than anything. It is so much easier (and nicer!) to eat outside in the cockpit and the Bumbo Seat makes it possible for us. It has also come in handy underway. I only wish they came in bigger sizes for bigger kids. It's going to be a sad day when she outgrows this!
Life jacket - Again, we'd consider this essential for a boat baby. Isla is always in her lifejacket when we are in the dinghy or on deck underway (which she almost never is unless it's super flat). Test some out because not all are created equal and some are more uncomfortable than others. Isla happily wears this one (I do wish it was a more visible color than blue - but hey, she wears it and that is the most important thing). We also have this one but Isla protests when we put her in it.
Beach Blanket - These days, we're on the beach every day and Isla loves it. A fast drying, easy-packing beach blanket is super useful. We use my sarong blanket these days and it's perfect!
Sunglasses - We've been told by many cruisers how important eye protection is, especially at sea where we are constantly dealing with glare from the water. For a growing baby with sensitive eyes, this is even more important. In an attempt to avoid cataract surgery at age ten, we use Baby Banz because, like I mentioned above, rare is the child who will leave something on their face unless it's attached. Your child will probably hate wearing them at first and pull them off at every chance they get. Stick with it and keep putting them on. Just last week Isla turned a corner and now she'll wear hers with zero fuss (finally!!)
Easy-rinse, Waterproof Bibs - Babies who insist on feeding themselves (aka Isla) are suuuuper messy. Why anyone would use cotton bibs when these superbibs are out there I don't know. These are so great and easy to clean. Rinse quick, hang to dry, repeat.

I know there are other boat and land mamas out there reading, what products have you found to be super easy and convenient for the boat or travel? Share in the comments so we can all learn!

Types of Cruisers: The Stereotypes

2013-04-29T14:20:00.004-05:00

It's a common misconception that cruisers are all similar and members of one big, happy family. We're all living on boats, sharing similar dreams and experiences, so we must be alike right? Wrong. While we are often lumped together under the umbrella title of "cruiser", we are also vastly different. Below are some very broad descriptions of "types" of cruisers we have come across during our travels, and a few of the differences between them. I'm sure I missed a bunch, but these are the ones that came off the top of my head.

Before someone lashes out at me for this, please remember these are generalizations (yes, stereotypes) and this is all in good fun. Just. For. Fun. Laugh with me, will you?

With no further ado, I bring you: TYPES OF CRUISERS

The Dial-a-Cruiser: This is the most common type of cruiser we've seen in our travels. They are usually of retirement age and have a pretty well appointed vessel in the 40-44 foot range. Some sold all their land-based assets to live aboard indefinitely but most have some sort of home ashore. Their uniform is decidedly "boaty". They wear Teva sandals, Columbia SPF fishing shirts, big brimmed North Face sun hats, dry-fit khaki shorts and every now and then you will see a line of zinc over their noses. They like to travel with the herd and are generally a fun loving and happy bunch. They love pot lucks, their boat dogs and jam sessions on the beach.

The Salty Sea Dog: This is usually the old man in the anchorage who has sailed thousands and thousands of miles, usually alone. He is incredibly wise, perhaps a tiny-bit sketchy and has captivating stories from all over the world. His skin is perma-tanned and leathery and he typically has a beard. His boat might not look pretty, but is rugged and tough. A respectable dinner for this fellow is a cold can of beans washed down with a warm beer. He can fix anything, knows boats like the back of his hand and has not looked in a mirror since 1982. He has lived through at least one hurricane.

The Minimalist: These cruisers scoff at anything and everything that will make their lives more comfortable at sea (more to fix, right?). A windlass? Psh. We've got muscle power!! A watermaker? Ugh. We wash and clean in the ocean! They absolutely do NOT have refrigeration and rarely, if ever, turn on their engines. Their boats are spartan and strong. They could care less about things like interior cushions or making their boats pretty. They probably know celestial navigation and have never seen a chart-plotter. They are on very tight budgets, somehow manage to live off a few quarts of fresh water a day and are typically very good at eating from the sea. We all wish we could be a little more like them, but then we remember how much work that would take.

The Sailing Athlete: This cruiser can be spotted a mile away by all the gear they have aboard. Kayaks, SUPs, and surfboards take up every space on deck. They are fit, tan and love to be on and in the water. Sailing, for them, is merely a means to get to the next surf/kite board/windsurf spot and checking weather is more about finding primo conditions for their activity than passage making. Don't be fooled though!! They are often excellent sailors and will absolutely sail around the world in search of the 'ultimate wave'.

The By-the-Book Cruiser: This cruiser is new to cruising and has read every single book, blog, and article on the subject. They will quote Nigel Calder, the Pardey's, Beth Leonard and every other "big dog" frequently. They will spout out theoretical information at an alarming rate and act like they know everything despite having sailed very little (we've all gotta start somewhere, right?). They love sailboat shows, are members of all the sailing associations and own every sailing gimmick and gadget there is. These cruisers are typically sailing production boats.

The Hardcore Cruiser: These cruisers are HARD CORE. They're similar to the minimalist but have more expertise. One or both usually carry a captain's license and they've traveled many miles at sea. They know things like celestial navigation, navigate with a hand bearing compass, and sail in extreme latitudes in extreme conditions. They not only know every storm tactic in the book but have put them to the test. They are very skilled sailors, incredibly knowledgeable, and are often very "green". They go to the bathroom in buckets, don't need running water and despise plastic. Their boats are always "blue water" cruisers (usually classic looking) and, for some reason, they are usually vegan.

The Awkward Single-hander: These guys (because - sorry ladies - they are usually men) have a story, but you don't really know it. They tend to keep to themselves and, if they don't, conversation can be a little awkward since they are so used to being on their own. They have very small, spartan boats and can almost always be found tinkering with them. They are one with the sea and you might catch them doing tai-chi on the bow at dawn. Their clothes are sun-bleached and tattered and they usually have a rowing dinghy. When you meet them "drug runner" might cross your mind. They're probably not, but you never know.

The Jack-of-all-Trades: This is the helpful cruiser in the anchorage who can do it all. Sail repair? Check! Swap out zincs? You got it! Re-charge a refrigerator? Sure thing! Fix an outboard motor? No problemo! They can do it all. They are super handy, thrifty, very smart and teeter on the edge of "hoarder" because they keep so many spares "just in case". These folks are usually some of the most popular in the anchorage and are usually of the "learn by doing" variety. They often find the best, cheapest alternatives to the "expensive" marine brand things and, if you pick their brains, usually have all sorts of neat tips and tricks.

The Young and the Restless: Often the smallest in the anchorage, these cruisers quit their summer jobs slinging burgers, bought a boat from Craigslist for super cheap, convinced a friend or two to hop on board and set out to sea. They hardly check weather, rely on other cruisers for information and live off very little money. Their boats are not well equipped but they don't really care, because they're having the time of their lives. No matter what, there is always plenty of rum aboard. They get in with the local populous by frequenting their bars, smoking their pot and - in general - having a total blast. They aren't in it for the long haul, but they're out for a short time and a heck of an adventure.

The Dreamer Gone Awry: These are the cruisers who had the dream, made it happen, and then discovered they actually don't really like living on a boat or cruising at all. If they are a couple, they are often at each others' throats and they usually look and sound a little forlorn. They complain a lot about local food, local people and "island time". They are usually not handy and are always trying (unsuccessfully) to fix something that is broken which further adds to their discontent. They don't sail much, if at all, and they usually hunker down somewhere while their boat grows roots before they finally decide to throw in the towel and head back to land.

The Wealthy Yachtsman: Yes, they do exist - but they are few and far between in the cruising community. These folks usually come from a powerful background (doctor, lawyer CEO, entrepreneur) and have impeccable boats with all the bells and whistles, usually in the 45-50 foot range. Some are retired but most still have a business or endeavor that they still keep tabs on thanks to the internet. Despite what many people might think, these folks are super generous, very humble and usually pretty happy to be here. They also usually have a LOT of very good alcohol on board. (It should be noted that this type is different from the mega-yacht set).

The Naked European: The name says it all. They are usually French and have crossed at least one ocean. These folks are usually very good sailors, and - because they have been at it so long (and are European) - they have shed all inhibition and have no problem showering completely naked off the back of their boat in plain view. The really hard core will also poop off the back of their boat in a crowded anchorage (true story) after their morning coffee. Their boats are almost always aluminum or steel and when they are not naked, they are wearing a speedo and smoking a cigarette.

The Family Afloat: These folks are very easy to spot and more common than you think. Their two or three tow-headed kids are perfectly tan and can be heard screeching and playing on the boat all day long. They swing from the halyards, jump off the boom, and sail their little dinghies around the anchorage like pros. They have no fear and an innate sense of adventure. The children are well spoken, imaginative and free (thanks to homeschooling) and the parents are young-at-heart, fit and intelligent. You will look at them and wonder how they do it, but they are happy and making it work. The families are super tight and work like a well oiled machine. These cruisers make parenting look effortless and, well, these families are the ones that inspired us!

The Loner Cruiser: These cruisers want to be on their own. They prefer secluded anchorages, turn their noses up at things like "buddy boating" (herd mentality=bad decisions) and abhor pot-lucks and any other type of cruiser-y gathering. They intentionally avoid crowded harbors, hardly ever stay at marinas and avoid like the plague any place that might be deemed "touristy". They can sometimes be perceived as cruising snobs because they keep to themselves but the real story is that they are just not into group gatherings. They are in this for the adventure, not the party. Culture and nature are biggies with these guys.

The Working Cruiser: This cruiser is working as they go. They might be a shipwright, a delivery captain, run an internet business, or charter - whatever it is, they are making money. They usually have decent, well equipped boats (because they can afford them), and will indulge in meals ashore and happy hours more than the others because they actually have a reliable income, unlike most others who are living off of savings. The down side for these cruisers is that they actually have responsibilities that pull them away from their own cruising agendas from time to time and, as such, they take weekly or monthly breaks from cruising in order to refill the kitty.

The Happy to Be Here Cruiser: These are the ones that most of us can identify with. These folks are just so stinking happy to live this life. Every place has something to offer, there is always something new to be learned and every day brings a new adventure. The sights and sounds take their breath away and they revel in the simple delights of a life at sea. Even when things aren't going their way, these cruisers understand that a bad day on the water sure beats sitting in traffic. This cruiser doesn't know how long they'll be at it but, doggone it, they are enjoying every step of the way!

Where do you fit in? Any types that I missed?

A Horse of a Different Color...

2013-04-28T11:42:00.002-05:00

It's not every day you get to watch a sea plane land, motor through a crowded anchorage, and then back up to a beach bar in between a bunch of dinghies and skiffs. But that is exactly what happened two days in a row this week here in Georgetown. The whole thing caused quite a scene. Every person on the beach literally stopped what they were doing, brought out their cameras and smartphones and started snapping pics. The pilot was obviously skilled and knew precisely what his wingspan was, but even still - it was pretty wild to see an airplane essentially park in a crowded lot on the beach. I was hoping the person inside was Johnny Depp or Jimmy Buffett, but no such luck. Just "normal" uber rich people. Ho hum. Apparently these folks are the owners of a private island down here and are currently building a resort. It's a pretty extravagant way to arrive at a little beach bar though, wouldn't you say?

Where to Next? Out and Down I-65

2013-04-27T07:03:00.000-05:00

"Where to next?" is a common question I field these days. We've gotten pretty cozy here in the Bahamas but the fact of the matter is we need to head south. It's getting late in the season (hurricane season technically begins June 1st) and we need to make some serious tracks if we want to be back in Grenada by July... so the short answer to that question is: we're going "out and down".

In order to cover as much water as quickly as possible, we hatched a plan to move our boat from Georgetown, Bahamas directly to Tortola, British Virgin Islands in one fell swoop - offshore. We've sailed the famed "thorny path" to windward two years ago but this time around, we simply do not have the luxury of time to casually island hop all the way to the leewards. So... we're going to skip a bunch of islands in the middle (see photo) to make up for lost time.

What this means is an approximately eight day, off-shore, non-stop passage. Not the longest voyage for a cruising boat by any means, but the longest for us by far. This trip will also be unique because we are starting further south and much later in the season than most boats, so there isn't a whole lot of information out there about the route we're taking (most travel this passage starting from somewhere on the East Coast and typically do it between December and January). Neither of these factors are huge deals - they just mean we'll have a different set of winds and challenges than our predecessors.

In a perfect world, this passage would consist of two very long tacks: one out to the North East (to avoid sailing directly into the prevailing easterlies), and a turn South down "I 65" (65ºW is historically where the southerly trade winds kick in). Of course, this is not a perfect world so it most likely won't work like that, but here's hoping. There's one thing we know for sure: the entire trip will be a beat to windward, against the trade winds and into the prevailing current. For most cruisers, this is pretty much the most unpleasant point of sail that exists, into wind and waves. Then again, we could get lucky, have bengin conditions and enjoy a nice, uneventful motor-sail the whole way. We don't know. We're prepping for the worst and hoping for the best. Lucky for us we have a boat that carries 200 gallons of diesel, because we're probably going to need it.

After much discussion with delivery captains and professional sailors who have sailed this passage countless times before, it has been decided that Isla and I will sit this one out. Eight days at sea in good conditions is a lot for most people...eight days at sea in what could be a very rough and uncomfortable conditions is, in our opinion, too much for a toddling baby. We want her to love sailing, after all. So - while it pains me to say it - her and I will skip this voyage and reconnect with our boat in Tortola. (Side note: If anyone out there has a place for Isla and I to stay on Tortola, let us know!)

So where does this leave Scott? Well, there was no way I was going sleep at all with him single-handing 800 nautical miles to windward (though I'm certain he could've), so I put out a "call to arms" on our Facebook Page looking for willing and able unpaid delivery crew. The response was awesome. We got a flood of sailing resumes and offers to join from some great folks. After careful consideration, we selected two (very cool) fellow sailors who will join Scott in sailing Asante to the BVI's. They fly in to Georgetown May 9th. The hope is to make landfall in Tortola between the 20-23rd, where Isla and I will greet them at the dock with a blender full of painkillers. Mmmmmm...painkillers....

From there, we'll resume as "normal" and island hop down the Windwards and Leewards until we reach Grenada. We have a lot of prep work to do before this passage, so we're going to be very busy the next couple of weeks. As usual, we'll keep you posted!

PS. Happy Birthday to me! How amazing is my hubby for surprising me yesterday? So awesome. Best birthday present EVER!

Happy (Early) Birthday Brittany!!!

2013-04-26T04:00:00.000-05:00

Since I (Scott) will be “at sea” on Brittany’s actual Birthday (this Sat, the 27th), I thought I’d go ahead and surprise her with an early Happy Birthday post today…

Sometimes people say, “It doesn’t get any better than this.” If you ever hear someone say that, keep that person close because they have the special ability to truly understand the power of living in each and every moment. My wife Brittany is exactly that person... which is precisely why I chose to spend the rest of my life with her. Well, tomorrow is her birthday and since we can’t be together, I put together a little compilation for her highlighting some of the many special moments we’ve had over the past year… many at which she spoke that exact phrase… “It doesn’t get any better than this!”

Happy Birthday Brittany! I love you!!

Bahamian Sloop Sailing

2013-04-25T08:31:00.000-05:00

Got some action shots of the regatta yesterday. I honestly don't think you could have ordered a more perfect day for sailing. Steady breeze, flat seas, blue skies, and an abundance of sunshine. It was one of those days where I had to pinch myself more than usual - it was that beautiful. I am so in love with the Bahamas; the water, the people...I honestly wonder if it gets much better than this? It's like life in technicolor down here.

Getting these great pictures, however, nearly came at a price. As I was snapping away with our dinghy bobbing at idle, we were nearly run down by a chase boat. There have been lots of warnings for cruisers to be extra vigilant when in our dinghies or swimming this week because the Bahamian chase boats are not always looking where they are going (and are often under the influence) and it wasn't until I jumped up to a standing position and began frantically waving my hands over my head screaming "Hey!! Hey!! Look where you are going!!" that they finally saw us and veered off the collision course. My adrenaline was pumping for a solid hour afterwards. Pretty scary.

Anyway, everything worked out and we managed to get some halfway decent photos despite being in a dinghy bouncing up and down. Can you say "sail area"? How magnificent are these boats? And the water? I mean, come ON!

When Your Ship Comes In...

2013-04-24T09:02:00.000-05:00

It's Family Island Regatta week down here in Georgetown and the town is abuzz with activity. We have never experienced the regatta first hand, but from what I hear, it's a BIG deal in these parts and promises "traditional Bahamian sloop racing at it's finest". The regatta draws a huge crowd and the population of this small town allegedly doubles this week, going from five to ten thousand people. Bahamians come in from all the neighboring islands to cheer on their respective boats, captains and their crews. It's like Mardi Gras meets Key West Race Week and it's (apparently) a week long party that entices spectators from around the world.

When we arrived the other day, a container ship had just come in with a veritable boat load of cargo. We watched as they launched the wooden sloops, one by one. Each one was brightly colored, uniquely named and they hailed from just about every island in the Exumas. While the boats were off-loaded, street vendors worked at setting up a long row of colorful food stalls (similar in style to Potter's Cay) to make sure all the participants and spectators remain adequately hydrated and fed throughout the week. The excitement was palpable, and we have been promised by locals that this is not a week to be missed down here. We'll let you know...

When Does a House (or Boat) Become a "Home"?

2013-04-23T09:38:00.003-05:00

We are back on the boat. It was another total mind bender of a travel day complete with a seven hour layover in Ft. Lauderdale, but I'll spare you the details since I already complained about our flight to Chicago. I will say thank God my mom was with me this time, just having two extra arms to help wrangle Isla was a huge, colossal help.

Anyway...

We are back on the boat and, wow, it suddenly hit me that this is home. Sure, we've been living aboard for the better part of six months but coming back this time it really felt like "home". Seeing our beautiful boat as we approached in the water taxi, going down her companionway to see everything just how I left it, stowing our new goodies away...it all felt so right. Isla was visibly excited to be back in her element as well; her smiles and zealous crawling up and onto everything while beaming at me with a "look momma, we're back" face made that clear. I was a little concerned she'd feel trapped by the confines of our boat since she clearly enjoyed walking in the wide open spaces of my parent's house, but nope - she jumped right back into life aboard without a hitch. I let out a big, sigh of relief as I put away the last of our things and reveled in the comforts of being home.

I wondered: when does the transition happen? When does the place you live suddenly feel like "home"?

While many landlubbers who are used to the creature comforts of terra firma cannot possibly imagine how a (relatively) small sail boat could ever feel like a home, for most of us who live aboard it's just the opposite. We become incredibly attached to our vessels, and it happens pretty quickly. We trust them with our lives and, over time, make them our own. While a boat might not have the nicest linens, cushions and decor of a land home - this lifestyle is rich in other ways: new faces, exotic places, interesting cuisines and the daily challenges of a nomadic lifestyle. Cruising is full of moments that make "creating memories" easy. High highs, low lows, storms and calms...we navigate ourselves and our boats through them all. Sure, this feeling of "home" is helped tremendously by the fact that we put our own our blood, sweat and tears into our boat. And of course our little personal touches throughout help with that "homey" feeling - but the emotion is tied largely to the experiences and not things.

This transition, however, was not instant. There were so many times we questioned our decision; I often wondered if we'd love this boat like we loved our first, and - being a little more seasoned this time around - we were much more critical and skeptical about everything. We'd make comparisons between this boat and our last, and - unlike our last boat - the love affair was not instant, but grew over time. Even now, I have returned to a boat with a few leaky portholes and a new colony of cockroaches (despite two rounds of bug bombs while I was away) which is no fun. A few months ago, I might have cursed this boat for these things. But now it's par for the course. She's not perfect, but she's home. And we love her, flaws and all.

I'm not exactly sure when it happened, this metamorphosis to unconditional love, but it's a nice place to be. Home.

HUGE thank you to our good friends on s/v Necess for making sure our boat was in ship shape while we were away.

Back to the Bahamas, Baby

2013-04-21T06:28:00.003-05:00

Heading back to the Bahamas today. We're very much looking forward to soaking up some sunshine and digging our toes into the sand again for a bit. Thankfully, for this almost twelve hour trip (we have a five hour layover in Ft. Lauderdale) I have my mom with me, so hopefully it's a little easier than the flight here.