Dream Catcher

Farewell Bahamas!

2016-07-14T13:15:00.004-04:00

March 23^rd, 2016 - the end. Our amazing journey is over. I’m struggling to make sense of it. So much is changing as we sell the boat and move back to land. I fear losing what I’ve left behind.

We had no idea when we set sail 922 days ago from Milford, CT, that we’d become addicted to the Bahamas. For three winters, we’ve sailed the crystalline, shockingly turquoise waters of the Exumas, wandering with the winds. We’ve made great friends, caught lots of fish and lobsters and enjoyed beach campfires with guitars serenading softly against a backdrop of the snaps and crackles of a fire. A jumble of memories that I want to keep forever.

How many sunsets and sunrises have we watched, stunned at the impressive display of Nature's artistry; distant bruised-grey-green clouds edged in golden hues by a sun lurking on the horizon. How many nights have we laid on the trampoline, staring up at a bright infinity of stars? We’re part of nature here - we’re surrounded by it and breathe deeply of it.

It feels like I’m leaving a part of me in the Bahamas. I won’t be whole when we return to land. There will be a yearning to return to these waters where I found such peace and tranquility. Life is slower here and more balanced than anything I think I’ll encounter in Maryland or elsewhere.

We’ve sailed some 10,000 miles on Dream Catcher since we left on September 13, 2013. Now, our lovely Exumas is just a dusky bump on the horizon as we set sail for Florida – some 225 miles ahead of us. We are whisked along on a strong breeze; all too quickly we’re leaving it behind.

10,000 miles and 10,000 memories. Certainly no regrets for making the decision. The only regret is that we didn’t do it sooner. It was a difficult choice to leave careers, friends, everything we owned, but it was the right choice for us. This life isn’t for everyone. It was our dream, not everyone’s dream.

My only advice to anyone reading this; life is to be lived, so live it. If you have a dream, follow it.

The journey is over (for now).

p.s. I wrote this as we were on the boat and headed to Florida at the end of March. The boat is now sold and we've begun a new life in Rockville, MD. Once Jeanette is off to college, I expect we'll once again be seeking new adventures.

p.p.s. One of my ideas is to share a Bahamas island-by-island blog of pictures and 360 images that I've captured over the last 3 years. Stay tuned...

Path to Cuba

2016-05-25T14:07:00.000-04:00

In the Wake of Cristobel

Our four kid-boats are sailing south to Cuba, downwind in 15-20 knots, riding left-over swell from earlier gales. Rollick, Water Lilly, Makana, and us on Dream Catcher, left well before dawn from the Southside Bay anchorage below Duncan Town (the only town on Ragged Island). We wanted to time our arrival at Cuba’s Puerto de Vita while there was still daylight. We had seventy miles to cover before darkness brought unknown dangers. None of us had made the trip before, so we were apprehensive. The cruising guides warned not to enter Puerto de Vita on a north wind; would the expected northeast winds be okay? We’d already seen what happens when big swells push into rapidly shallowing water - breaking waves endangering all who trespass.

We are the lead boat of four. There are seventeen of us scattered across four catamarans; ten adults and seven kids. We’re a self-contained chaos of fun wherever we anchor. We’ve been told American boats are rare in Puerto de Vita - kid boats practically nonexistent. We’re not sure if the marina is ready for this particular American invasion.

Midway into our voyage, I notice dark shadows lurking on the horizon. The day is overcast, nothing but bruised grey clouds and distant shafts of darker rain linking cloud to sea. At first, I can’t believe it’s land. With thirty miles to go, that’s a long way to see land from a boat. I’m so used to the Bahamas which disappear from view ten to fifteen miles offshore. Cuba presents a much more forbidding silhouette. I don’t know if it’s the tension between our two countries or the mood of sea and sky.

Land Ho! Christopher Columbus experienced this?

I wonder if Columbus saw this silhouette when he landed in Cuba on October 28th, 1492. He sailed into a bay next to the one we're headed to. He must have been excited to see such a grand expanse of tall hills and mountains, all covered in a dark, tropical forest. So different than the dry, scrubby, low-lying Bahamian islands he left in his wake.

As we sail closer, faint outlines of distant hills emerge from the grey horizon, stacked vertically behind nearer and shorter hills. The tumbled terrain stretches away from east to west, as far as the eye can see. The northern coast of Cuba is more than six hundred miles long. We're headed to the lower sixth of it - hundreds of miles from Havana. The bulking immensity of the island is impressive. It presents a looming barrier, built of rounded hills, some rising thousands of feet into the sky. After years of sailing the eastern USA seaboard, where flat land meets water, this is truly an impressive sight.

Cuban Waters

At 12 miles, we’ve made our call to the Cuban marina to report in. They want to know the name of the boat, how many people are on board and other details. They speak English well enough for us to make sense of it. Our Spanish is, unfortunately, much degraded since our high school years. We have officially entered Cuban waters. We continue towards the obvious landmark of a white light tower marking the entrance. The seas are still four to six feet; we wonder what the entrance will be like.

At three PM, we’re just a mile from the entrance. White, crashing surf surrounds the light tower to the east and further away to the west, but there’s a gap in-between; the channel entrance. We tentatively ask the marina if the inlet is “satisfactory”. They tell us it’s okay, sounding a little puzzled by our question.

The ocean’s depth ascends from a thousand feet to just forty in less than a quarter-mile. When we turn into the swells to drop our mainsail, the boat pitches dramatically as it tries to climb four to six foot faces before sliding down the other side. Not fun. We’re happier when we’ve turned downwind again and have throttled up the engines toward calmer waters. As we head to the entrance, I suddenly see a dozen Mahi leaping from the water in twenty-foot bounds. In a tight school, they bound across the waters, pursued by something even bigger. Unfortunately, they ignore the two lines I'm dragging behind me. No fresh fish tonight...

The entrance to Puerto De Vita

Despite our fears, the winds diminish at the entrance along with most of the swell. Navigation is straightforward as the Cubans maintain their buoys (unlike Bahamian waters, where buoys routinely go missing) and they follow the red-right-returning rule. We’re soon in placid waters, following odd-looking (to our eyes) buoys into the main anchorage next to the marina. We’re told to anchor until the next morning.

We’ve done it! We’re in Cuba with the anchor down and a cool wind blowing the bugs away and ruffling our bright yellow quarantine flag.

Clearing In

Early the next morning, a small powerboat brings the doctor, Rolando, out to our boats. He’s an epidemiologist by training. He gives us a friendly smile and requests to board our boat. He fills in some forms and answers our questions while taking our temperatures. He clears us to drop our quarantine flag and head into the marina for a bigger dose of paperwork. While he heads to the next boat, we leave for the marina.

The doctor motors over to Makana to inspect her crew

The marina is at the foot of a tall hill with a long concrete dock. There are no dock fingers or accessible slips (like every dock we’ve ever been to). Instead, we're to “med-moor” which means picking up a mooring buoy and then backing into a space between two other boats and setting the stern against the dock without actually damaging the boat. This is our first time trying this technique. We execute it perfectly up to the point a dockhand starts yelling at us in broken English to use two buoys instead of the one we grabbed. That proves impossible without someone helping us to tie off to the low mooring buoy rings. We’re saved when one of the dockhands motors over to help. That was our most stressful moment in getting to Cuba and it was quickly over.

A steady procession of officials visits one by one. A veterinarian to check out our cat, an Agricultural official to inspect our food, then the Cuban coast guard with a drug-sniffing dog and finally a couple from Customs to finish up with us. They were all entirely professional and pleasant to work with. They don’t expect anything, nor did we offer anything beyond soft drinks. After a couple hours, we are cleared to get off the boat and wander the marina.

There is a lot of mystery about what you can and cannot bring into Cuba. The cruising guides tell you different things than sailors who have visited Cuba. I think it depends on which ports and which officials you deal with. We were told to eat all our Bahamian-caught lobster before Cuba, which we did in a grand feast of curried lobster and fish on our boat with all the other kid-boats participating. We read other advice to eat all your meat, eggs, fruits and vegetables. We ignored that advice and we’re glad we did. They asked about those things, but as long as we consumed them on the boat, they were fine with it. They never asked about the lobsters.

Finally, we climbed the hill to the marina office and the ever-smiling Jani welcomed us. A brisk bout of yet more paperwork and we had temporary health insurance (because US-based plans don’t work here) and the answers to many questions about how to get around.

Double the Currency, Double the Fun

First, we need to get some Cuban money. Cuba has two national currencies, one for tourists (the CUC, or Convertible Peso) and one for locals (the CUP, or the National Peso). Most tourist-related goods and services are priced in CUCs which is pegged to the US dollar. Since you can’t use USA-based credit cards here (European cards will work at some places), we brought cash. If you bring US dollars to Cuba, you’ll wind up paying a “penalty” of 10-15% versus bringing Canadian dollars or anything else (the penalty seems to vary with where you go to exchange your money, a bank is best). We’re semi-prepared with a mix of Canadian, USA and Euro currency. It’s all a little confusing. If you only have CUCs, you wind up overpaying for small things that are cheaper if you have CUPs. You have to be careful that if you do pay in CUCs, you don’t receive CUPs for change. Since 1 CUC equals about 24 CUPs, that transaction does not favor you. Unfortunately, the bank notes are all too similar looking.

NOTE: There are many of these 360 degree photographs in this blog. The best way to experience them is to go full screen and then use your cursor to move the view around for a complete 360 experience - just like you're there! :)

Boats at Puerto De Vita, Cuba

Eventually, we’re done with Jani. She’s arranged a taxi for our first Cuban experience the next morning. Nothing left to do but check out the marina. Which doesn’t take long, as there isn’t much to it. The marina sits on a hill within a secured, guarded area. Bathrooms are clean and impressive until you realize there is no TP and no toilet seat. Oh, that’s right, we’ve been told to carry TP wherever we go as you can’t count on it. Welcome to Cuba!

Marina Puerto De Vita, Cuba

Puerto de Vita Details:

If you're planning a trip to Cuba, read these details. If not, you can skip it.

- Electricity: Both 220 and 110. Included in your marina fee. The electricity was reliable while we were there.

- Water: Chlorinated and of good quality. You can drink it. This may not be true of places outside of the marina. There were times when the water was turned off, but it was on 80% of the time.

- Internet: The marina now has a couple computers that get you on-line after you buy an access card ($2CUC per hour). There is no WIFI at the marina (yet), you have to go to the Brisas resort and use their WIFI to get online (again, with the aid of an access card). There is no “free” WIFI.

- Phone: You can purchase a SIM for an unlocked phone, but this requires waiting in line at a major Telefonica store in Holquin (or other major town). The marina has a telephone, but you have to purchase an access card in Guardalavaca to use it.

- Security: Excellent, locals are not even allowed in to visit.

- Bugs: Yes, and they are vicious! You can expect them 24/7 unless a decent wind is blowing the nosee-ums away.

- Protection: Excellent, 360 degrees.

- Laundry: a woman at the marina will do it for you based on the weight of your clothes

- Restaurant: Yes, limited, but great Cuban coffee!

- Provisions: Very limited. Expect some eggs and other basics at the marina, but no produce. You have to taxi or walk a long way on the road to Holquin to get to produce stands (that have limited greens). Market Day is universally on Saturday at local towns where you might find more of what you’re looking for.

- Propane: Supposedly possible, but requires a taxi ride to Holquin.

- Taxis: Pretty much required to get access to many things. Rates are negotiable, but expect to pay at least $20 CUC to get anywhere.

- Buses: The locals have both government-run and ad-hoc trucks/vans that function as buses. Tourists are expected to use only Viazul busses (AC, reclining seats) and they run between all the major designations. The closest stop is Holquin (about $30-40 CUC from the marina.)

- Rental cars: Depends on availability. It can be difficult to find one locally. They roughly cost between $60 and $90CUC per day and may take hours to secure.

Guide Books

We used Lonely Planet Guides to figure out where to go and how to do it. If you're seriously interested in Cuba, I suggest you invest in a copy. Instead of duplicating what they laboriously collected on Cuba, the rest of this blog is focused on some of our learnings and adventures.

Taximania

There are two types of taxis in Cuba: modern, expensive, official taxis, and; crazed cars of days long gone (known as taxi particulars). Nothing quite prepares you for the experience of taxi particulars. Our first ride was in a thirty-year old, fluorescent green, Russian-made Lada that had been seriously tweaked by Victor, the ebullient owner. Inside, the car was actually held together by tape. You could see careful attempts to patch holes, repair tears and generally present an acceptable riding experience. Despite the many hard decades of use the Chevys, Oldsmobiles, Fords and Ladas have experienced, the vehicles are treated as highly valuable goods and maintained with pride and parts from anything that will fit or work. It’s common to see diesel-powered Chevy’s – an option never presented by the manufacturer. They are Frankenstein cars, but with better natures.

Victor and his amazing Lada with Ladies

It's a vintage lineup!

Cars share the road with an eclectic mix of human-powered bicycle taxis, horse and ox-driven carts, dump-trucks converted into passenger vehicles, and just about everything in between. They all travel at different speeds, so picking the right time and place to pass is a survival skill best learned quickly. Also don’t expect a shoulder to escape onto. In some cases, the road just stops at an edge and drops into a culvert. Did I mention the dogs, cows, chickens and goats that aimlessly wander near or on the road? Forget about traveling at night. You don’t want to be bouncing along at fifty miles per hour in the dark only to come up on an unlit ox-cart slowly plodding along with oncoming traffic blocking you. Deaths are routine from night-time driving. There were multiple fatal accidents near the marina while we were staying there. Don’t let this prevent you from renting a car. For the most part, there isn’t much traffic on the roads between the cities, and taking your time will ensure your safety. All of us rented cars and drove many hours on roads all over the island without anything more than a transmission failure. Unfortunately, it happened to us. More about that later.

You share the road with all manner of traffic

It is a little confusing how taxi particulars work, and I’m still not sure I have it completely figured out. One day, we hired Victor to take us to Gibara, a trip that is roughly 50 miles because the only decent roads required us to go into Holquin before heading north to Gibara. The price was $85CUC (negotiated down from $100CUC). For this price, Victor took us wherever we wanted along the way and spent the entire day with us. If we had wanted to go one-way to Gibara, the price would have still been $85CUC. That seemed true for our various trips. You pay at the end of your trip based on a negotiation of your furthest destination. The amount of time the driver spends with you, doesn’t seem to be a major factor in the price. The going rate for a round trip to Holquin is $40CUC while Guadalavaca is $30. This will all vary depending on the car, the driver and what else is going on.

They take good care of their ancient vehicles

Another thing you need to understand about taxi particulars is that they often receive “inducements” to take you to a particular restaurant or casa particular (a lodging in someone’s home). Now, this isn’t necessarily a bad thing as some of the places they’ll take you are excellent. Again, it depends on the driver and other factors. You need to be aware it’s going on and maneuver it as you see fit. Victor was never pushy about it with us.

They don't make them like that anymore

Gibara

Like much of Cuba, it seems a place of faded glories. Money to restore or simply maintain buildings seems to have cut off post-revolution. It isn’t all faded, paint is used where concrete, mortar and steel might be necessary, but it lends a fresh face to what otherwise would be a ruin.

Welcome to Gibara

Gibara Swordfish plaza, Cuba

Gibara warehouse, Cuba

Gibara’s claim to fame is that it is the only “walled-city,” (other than Havana) in Cuba. Oddly, we never did see the wall and we're not sure why. The town reaches up a hill to an ancient Spanish fort that presents sweeping views of the large bay and many small boats at anchor near the town. We had lunch on a terrace up near the fort with spectacular views while a someone serenaded us on a guitar. A good start to our Cuban experience!

Gibara Restaurant, Cuba

Holquin

A bustling town spread out in a valley between hills. Near the edge of the town is a hill with 465 steps leading up to it. For some touristy reason, we decided to go up them. Not approved for temperatures in the 80s with high humidity. You've been warned.

465 stairs. We climbed every painful one of them...

Escalinata de la Loma, Holquin, Cuba

Holquin also has a nice plaza that we visited and relaxed from our climb in an open-air cafe with some cold water. It was interesting to note there weren't ashtrays on any of the tables, but most people smoked, so they were constantly dropping cigarettes and other related trash on the ground - keeping a sweeper constantly employed. In front of the bathrooms, people would pay a lady permanently stationed there a peso for some toilet paper before going in to do their business. It gives you an idea of just how cheap labor is and how expensive something as basic as toilet paper can be.

Parque Calixto García, Holquin, Cuba

We needed to cool off after those stairs...

Santiago de Cuba

If you go to the bus depot in Holquin, there will be taxi drivers willing to take you to most anywhere for a negotiable fee (80CUC). We had our taxi driver, Victor, help us select one for the 3-4 hour ride to Santiago. It was more expensive than taking a bus, but significantly shorter in time. We spent three days in Santiago and enjoyed walking the town from our casa particular - Roy's Terrace Inn (highly recommended).

Roys Terrace Inn, Santiago de Cuba

View of Santiago de Cuba looking west towards the port

Students touring the museum gawk at the gringos

Roy has a PhD in English, so of course he was easy to talk to. He couldn't afford to work as a professor of English because the pay is roughly 40CUC a month. That's not a misprint. Instead, he rents out rooms in his house for 30-40CUC a day to non-Cubans. Another lesson in Cuban economics. We enjoyed eating breakfast and dinner on his garden terrace. For the three of us, a 8-9 course dinner was roughly 40CUC, plenty of food, but not a lot of menu options. It's the same all over Cuba. Once Roy discovered it was Beth's birthday, we wound up with a cake and shots of rum accompanied by singing from the entire household.

Roy presents the birthday cake to Beth!

Santiago Handlers

Santiago is infamous for pushy guys who seek out tourists to become their "buddies" or unspecting targets. Generally, they do provide a service of bridging the gap between language and local knowledge, but some do take advantage of tourists. I met one who offered to sell me 15 year Cuban rum for half price ($25/bottle). Wisely, I said I would need to taste the rum first. He agreed and surprisingly, it was excellent. I bought two bottles and then saw it in a store for $60. It was only later in the week when I ran into the guy who must have been his source, he offered me the same bottles for only $10! Cuban economics strikes again...

My rum supplier and our taxi ride to El Morro

A Visit to Santiago's Rock

Our handler arranged a taxi ride in a 50-year-old Chevy (diesel) to Castillo de San Pedro de la Roca del Morro. It's a fifteen minute ride back into history. The castle is perched on a promontory overlooking the entrance to the harbor of Santiago. The view is stupendous and well worth the effort. The ride in the Chevy was a bonus.

Riding Cuban-style!

View1, Castillo de San Pedro de la Roca del Morro, Santiago de Cuba

View3, Castillo de San Pedro de la Roca del Morro, Santiago de Cuba

Santiago Central: Parque Céspedes

The plaza comes to life in the late afternoon as people start wandering away from work. Santiago is also known for its musical culture, and soon a small jazz band was setting up nearby. You can sip iced coffee from the terrace of the Hotel Casa Granda that overlooks the plaza while getting connected with wifi (requires you've purchased and access card from the telephone company).

Early morning at Plaza Céspedes

Cespedes plaza, Santiago De Cuba

Music in Plaza Céspedes

While wandering the local market, we did have a rickety, old woman attempt to sell us cake for a few pesos. Her sales technique was to offer us a crumbled mess of cake in a non-sanitized hand and ask for some pesos. We smiled and politely declined. It was rare to run into anyone that overt asking for money. I'd say we had a couple uncomfortable experiences in Santiago, but everyone else was so nice it completely offset our stay there.

Prices are in Cuban Pesos, 1/24th of a US$

Balcón de Velázquez, Santiago de Cuba

Santiago Market Economy

The local markets are very limited, even in a big city like Santiago, another consequence of a controlled market economy. There is limited private enterprise and the government attempts to control everything. It's obviously not working well. Cuba is a rich and fertile land, but the people struggle with obtaining food they can afford. All the Cubans we talked to looked forward to change. They were tired of bureaucracy and an over-abundance of "overseers".

Friendly merchant - he is signaling thumbs up for change

Clandestine Museum - Viva la Revolution!

Terrace view, Museo de La Clandestinidad, Santiago de Cuba

Eventually, we headed back to the boat via an antique Willie's jeep. It usually functioned as a taxi for a dozen people, but we were the only ones headed back on the 4 hour trip to the marina. This is where I learned the lesson of, "if it's too cheap, there's probably a problem," or, "don't schedule a taxi without confirming what it looks like beforehand." I paid the price by riding in the back, the ladies were in the cushioned front...

The bigger towns have produce stands on the major roads

Our ride back to the marina

R-rated: Museo Aborigen Chorro de Maita

I've been researching a book I'm working on, which involves learning about the pre-Columbian Taino cultures that inhabited the various islands. I was excited to realize Cuba had several museums dedicated to these people, one of the best was a mere 30 minutes away. They had recreated a Taino village with several huts and lifelike manikins depicting the clothing and behaviors of village life. Since Taino women didn't wear much more than a simple skirt and the children were naked, we were surrounded by manikins showing a lot of skin. Surprising for such a conservative Cuban culture.

Life in a Taino village - with authentic manikins

Performance for the tourists

Museo chorro de Maita, Guardalavaca, Cuba

Hut2, Museo chorro de Maita, Guardalavaca, Cuba

We were just in time for a performance depicting a healing ceremony, so we gathered around inside the hut, along with a dozen bused-in tourists. In the dimly lit hut, there were posed manikins doing various things and some human actors dressed up as natives gathered around a table with a young woman manikin laid out on her back, again, semi-naked. It seemed remarkably life-like, then the manikin moved and various body parts jiggled. I knew this was no ordinary depiction like you'd find somewhere in the US. They were seriously staying true to the cultural mores of the Tainos. After the ceremony was over, which was clearly intended to entertain tourists, with audience participation thrown-in, we wandered the site and took pictures. Later, when we returned to the boat and mentioned our encounter, the museum visit moved to the top of some men's agendas...

Baracoa and Beyond!

Our second week, we felt adventurous enough to rent a car and set off on a multi-day trip towards Baracoa - the coffee and chocolate capitol of Cuba. The essentials of life! Our first stop was an old Cuban retreat up in the mountains.

Villa la Gran Piedra

Looking a bit like an abandoned set of Lost, or Jurassic Park, the retreat was concieved by Castro after visiting Soviet-era daschas. He decreed that a resort would be built in the cool highlands on land his father once owned.

The supports are falling apart...

Alpine cabins in Cuba?

Getting there involved a hazardous trip up steep roads that had seen much better days. We saw the worst roads on our travels on this trip. To our great surprise, our fellow boaters (Water Lily - we don't use last names, we just use boat names) showed up at the resort, despite their original plans to go in a totally different direction.

This was the restaurant

Obstacles and what passes for a road in Cuba

The highlands were a cool relief from the Cuban heat

After a night, we continued on towards Baracoa, but first stopped at one of Cuba's rare waterfalls. This turned into a fantastic visit with a botanist leading us along the path and describing the plants we were seeing. It all culminated in a swimming basin perched on the edge of the waterfall - an incredible spot.

Highland waterfalls

The Cuban botanist was a fantastic guide

Team Water Lily gets Wet

The kids cool off

We headed off on the north route which has roads with major potholes and ruts. Going slow is the only option. We took a break at one particularly scenic spot.

North road to Baracoa, Cuba

Baracoa and Chocolate

Viva el Chocolate!

None other than Che Guevara kicked off the chocolate factory effort in Baracoa. When you drive by the factory, you'll know it by the wondrous smell enticing you closer. Unfortunately, they don't give tours, but just nearby there is a place where tourists go to learn about cacao farming and production - while drinking some of the stuff.

Chocolate starts out like this...

Once we found a casa particular we could stay at for a few days, we settled in and enjoyed Cuban coffee with our chocolate every morning for breakfast. What a treat! The town is one of the oldest and was completely isolated for hundreds of years before Castro had a major highway built to it in the '60's. This was to be a problem later in our journey...

Baracoa at sun rise

Our morning breakfast on the terrace

The sun rises over Baracoa

Casa Particular in Baracoa, Cuba

Hanging out with team Water Lily at the Fuerta la Punta in Baracoa

Looking into the bay at Fuerte La Punta, Baracoa, Cuba

Restaurant in Fuerte La Punta, Baracoa, Cuba

Chilling Cuban-style

Plaza Independencia cathedral, Baracoa, Cuba

Museo Arqueológico ‘La cueva del paraíso’

Another Taino museum! Sure enough, Baracoa had a "new" museum dedicated to the Tainos. This one was unique in that it was built inside of a local cave that Tainos had used for ceremonies and burials. It was perched up high in the hills surrounding Baracoa, so it had a great view. No naked women at this museum, I had to give it a lower grade because of that...

Entrance to the museum, easy to miss without the sign

Chamber1, Museo arqueológico ‘La cueva del paraíso, Baracoa, Cuba

At the top of Museo arqueológico ‘La cueva del paraíso, Baracoa, Cuba

Problems in Paradise

It was time to leave, so we got up early and climbed into the car, headed to Guantanamo on Castro's special highway. We were about half-way into the hills when the rare traffic coming the other way started waving at us and shaking their heads. Eventually, we got the message that the heavy rains earlier had caused a landslide and the road was a no go. Back to Baracoa.

This is where things started to unravel for us. First of all, we had one of the children from Water Lily with us. Second of all, we never encountered them on the road as we returned, so we had no way to tell them what happened to us. They had a cell phone, we didn't. Reception in this part of Cuba was spotty at best, so we were effectively cut off from them.

We decided to wait a day and see if it made matters better. It did and it didn't.

Barfing in Baracoa

The Baracoa Belly struck us that night. Both Beth and I had the whole works. It was most likely the water at the Casa Particular or at a restaurant. Not sure which, doesn't matter. Despite limited sleep that night, we headed out bright and early to go the "other route" to Guantanamo. This involved going a much less-traveled route and dealing with the world's steepest switchback.

The road made a series of short, steep switchbacks that climbed the face of a cliff. The grade must of been something like 30%. Even though we had a mock SUV Suzuki something or other, we still scraped the bottom turning through the switchback. The first steep rise was so steep that I stalled the poor little engine because I simply didn't have enough momentum. Then it was a matter of trying to reengage the manual clutch without wheeling backwards at a high-rate of speed and plunging to our doom. I've driven the streets of San Francisco in a manual so I know what I'm talking about. This was totally insane. God forbid someone would be coming down while we were coming up. The road was so narrow only one car could be on it.

By the time we got to the top, the car had reached its limits too. Within another ten miles, I realized that the transmission was only good for 2nd and 3rd. No other gears available. This was workable enough to get us to a town with a working phone. Hours later, the car was winched onto a trailer and we headed back to Baracoa. Yes, we went down the same road with a trailer and our car on it. I really, really wanted to get out of the other car and just walk down. Somehow, we survived.

After an insane conversation with the rental agent, who didn't speak a word of English, I basically smiled, shook his hand, and walked out of the office. We had abandoned the car. Maybe tomorrow we would escape by bus...

A final night in our Casa, then we were off to the bus depot, but luckily found someone who would drive us all the way back in a decent car. It was a great price too - considering the distance/time.

Adios Amigos

After two weeks in Cuba, it was time to get back on the boat and head back to Bahamas. The trip had been a success, despite our detours. The people of Cuba welcome Americans and have plenty of smiles for them. We had but a small taste of a couple regions of Cuba, and there is much more to discover. Perhaps on a future trip?

Leaving Cuba behind on a sunnier day than we arrived

Stormy Season

2016-03-20T11:03:00.003-04:00

Showdown with the Low-down

This winter in the Bahamas has been unusual in that we’ve spent an inordinate amount of time dodging weather fronts (generated by low pressure systems spinning off the Carolinas). More than the past two years, the fronts came fast and frequent, sometimes two or three per week. Not a terribly big deal, unless you’re trying to travel, or find a clear day to dive and fish and enjoy what these waters have to offer.

Stormy weather

Fish cleaning station at Staniel Cay (nurse sharks)

The girls, post-music video production

The prevailing winds in the Bahamas are from the southeast (SE) and most of the islands lie such that anchoring behind them affords protection from SE winds and the seas they generate. When a front blows through, the wind clocks around to the SSW, then WNW, then NNE, and, finally, back to ESE. Depending on the strength and duration of the wind, cruisers may have to move and re-anchor a few times to remain protected. Sometimes, an island has more than one anchorage or has protection from wind coming from more than one direction. Often, a forecasted front requires advance planning so we can be sure to find protection when we need it. The interaction of the tide with the wind also determines whether the cuts between the islands are safe for passage. Sometimes, we have a choice of traveling along the "backside" of the islands (the shallow side) or the much deeper "Sound" side. Since travel between islands is often longer on the backside, this can delay travel as we wait for the Sound to settle.

Bernie and a Pico full o' girls

Williams Bay from Perry's Peak

There’s been much talk about the weather this year, especially after the derecho that hit us in Norman’s Cay and wreaked havoc all the way down the Exuma chain. We came through it unscathed, but heard a few stories from those whose boats suffered damage. Cruisers became a bit gun shy after that event and were extra cautious when preparing for strong fronts. We spent more time in Red Shanks (essentially a hurricane hole) this year than we ever have. Weather forecaster, Chris Parker, assured everyone that February would see less frequent fronts – but not by much.

Jan and I hiking Perry's Peak

Bonfire on Hamburger Beach

Jumping to the Jumentos

Nonetheless, we’ve had stretches of glorious weather – blue skies, balmy breezes, and water calm enough to provide the exceptional visibility that has spoiled us for diving anywhere else. In late January, we managed to dash down to one of our favorite dive spots in the Jumentos to do some fishing for a couple of days. While the wind and seas tore at the windward side of the islands, we dove and fished in the protected lee, filling our dinner table and freezer with fresh fish, conch, and lobster.

A rare calm day

Flamingo Day 1

I finally channeled my inner hunter

Return to the Raggeds

By mid-February, the fronts had finally slowed down enough to start heading south. The Jumentos and the Raggeds are our favorite islands and we couldn’t wait to get back to them and linger a while. Small, uninhabited (except for two of the islands), and rugged, the islands are a backdrop for the real draw.... powder-white beaches, beautiful reefs teeming with fish and lobster, and warm water with100-foot visibility or more. In the water is the place to be.

Maxine's cruiser's party on Hog Cay

The obligatory hair dye session

With our core group of four family boats, we meandered through the islands, swimming, fishing, playing, and sharing the exquisite beauty of this place. With Cuba still on the horizon, we almost fooled ourselves into thinking that this season would last forever. Each stop became a "one last time" moment - to savor and enjoy.

Johnson Cay

Breath-holding competition (Jeanette won!)

The perfect beach

The Atlantic Journey Journal - from Jeanette

2016-01-22T13:54:00.000-05:00

[Editor: We have been beating on Jeanette for awhile to get her to write for the blog. Not sure why it is so hard, she enjoys writing and has written various creative stories without any prompting. Such as it is. This is her report of our three and a half day sailing on the Atlantic from Morehead on October 7th to Cape Canaveral on the 10th. I don't know why it took me so long to post this. Such as it is...]

The first day

Really tossing and turning, stayed inside all day while everyone prepares for repeated overnighters.

Really slow going, not feeling great. Haven’t really been on the ocean lately. I am hopeful about tomorrow. My stomach can’t stomach chasing after the cat every five seconds as she foams from fear.

Sunset on the Atlantic

The second day

The gulf stream water was absolutely gorgeous, sky blue intermixed with a purple cobalt color. These waters are reminiscent of the Bahamas though here one could not gaze into crystalline waters and admire fish and coral as the water is about 600 feet in some places and in others so deep that some of the most high tech depth sensors cannot get a reading.

The kitten has spent all day with a fuzzy blanket franticly kneading it to death. Today our lovely jaunt was interrupted by the wonderful melody of the fishing line playing out. Daddy was napping in preparation for the second overnighter out of four, so it was just Mom and I who were up and awake. It fell to us to haul the thrashing fish out. Mom caught a lovely–small-Mahi-Mahi that we ate tonight with a macadamia nut topping which was delicious. After two changes of watch, Dad was back to napping and Mother and I heard the tell-tale zip of a fish on the line. Once again we used teamwork and hauled out a small black-fin tuna which was destined to be eaten tomorrow. The black fin was greeted with unrestrained delight along with the Mahi. It is so great when you catch your dinner. It also helps that the fish that we did catch were both absolutely delicious, well the Mahi was anyway.

The third day

This morning, when the sun had already breached the horizon, the boat was making good time meandering past Georgia. Everywhere you look is sea, air, sky, clouds and the occasional container ship. To the west, low-lying cumulous clouds reflect the indigo water turning the clouds a dark gray blue. Shafts of sunlight cut through them, lighting patches of sea with an awe-inspiring glow. To the east the sun had risen a quarter of the way to its peak. On this side, the dark cumulous clouds were replaced with far away tufts of pearly white cirrus clouds joined by small cotton ball puffs of cumulous; all set alight by the brilliant sun. The east has the best background of all, the sky is such a lovely blue. Cobalt blue at the peak fading to a light blue -so light it is almost white- at the horizon.

It is Friday today. Normally, I would be doing school but there is no internet connection. It doesn’t help that this is the last week of school for the first half of the school year. In the mad dash of the waves I have been excused from school temporarily as it is just to tossy-turny for me to concentrate.

The swells are nice with a low frequency which counteracts their size. The mood of the crew, although tired, is fine. The boat is big enough that we all have no reason to feel confined. After spending the first night on the sofa, preferring it to my dark and lonely cabin, I swore never to make that mistake again. Last night I spent in my parent’s room while they took turns on watch. I slept with everyone on the boat twice maybe including the kitten who has really catted up and has been very courageous. During the fish catching she even went out onto the back deck and sniffed the fish a few times before it was swiftly removed from her extremely hungry sight line.

Not much fast sailing going on. The wind has been mostly behind us for the whole trip and we have been motor-sailing. The wind is supposed to shift east, aiding us in our journey southbound. Said wind shift has yet to make an appearance. Small squalls in the distance, but nothing imminent. I have probably spent a good 30/60 minutes up in the captain’s chair enjoying the new sun and the wind just writing away in my journal.

Funny thing that I watch the west while proclaiming the virtuous beauty of the east. Every direction holds its own beauty I suppose. To the North, purple cirrus clouds skim the horizon along with a lonesome forgotten jet trail. The western view has a solitary container ship marked with the letters M S C. The water is almost the same color as its hull. The east is the same, the water glittering like magma where the sun’s reflection falls. Ahead is a mix of west and east. Up above I see mares tails and a mackerel sky, which means that if the laws of weather conform to the old wive's tale, the next 24 hours won’t be completely dry. Good thing we are traveling. The water has turned sapphire blue now and the world is sunny.

So far no luck with fishing today. We pulled up 2 Bonitas, which, in my view, is one of the most useless fish ever. At least we still have tuna for dinner. An exciting event that happened today is that we saw dolphins. Mom and I went up and watched them for a really long time. They were Atlantic Spotted dolphins which are smaller than bottlenose, but much prettier. They were so fun to watch I could have stayed up there all day. There were 9 or 10 of them. Two of the babies kept launching themselves skyward out of the waves. Often they managed to have all of their body in the air at the same time. All the rested dipped and circled, playfully showing off. The dolphins left for awhile and we came down to see my previously sleeping father awake at the fishing pole. We hadn’t heard the line go out and the spool was almost empty! When the fish finally got to the boat we found it was a stupid Bonita. Dad released it and Mom and I went back up to the front of the boat and some dolphins joined us once again. Still Atlantic Spotted but there were only about 3 or 4, maybe 5. After they left we stayed up at the bow and enjoyed the splashing of the waves.

Atlantic spotted dolphins make a visit

I was thinking a lot today, especially about life, and I came to a conclusion that if everything in your life goes exactly how you plan it to then you really need to change it up. Nothing ever goes the way I plan it to. I am being honest. I have not made one plan that hasn’t gone awry. Yet.

The tuna was delicious my mother is a stellar cook and then all that was left to do was watch the sun set. The sun went out in flames, yellow, orange and a fiery hot pink. When the sun had disappeared from view, all that was left were a few fading colors and purple cirrus clouds scattering across the horizon.

Good night world.

The fourth day

Today was a school day. At 4 o’clock we arrived at Cocoa Village near Melbourne. Not much to say, just really monotonous and slow.

Entering the lock at Cape Canaveral

That is a typical Manatee sighting; just the flick of its tail as it goes under

Experiencing a Derecho

2016-01-09T11:37:00.003-05:00

A Gentle Wind?

Wind is the breath of nature ferrying us gently across the water. Sounds wonderful, doesn't it? Wish it was always true. The reality is that wind isn’t always gentle. It can be a fierce, howling monster that spits piercing pricks of rain at you while savagely whipping your boat about, trying to tear your beleaguered anchor from the sand and cast you upon certain disaster. Despite all the modern advancements in forecasting, you don’t always know which wind you’ll be facing. As we learned…

Headed to Normans

After a short stop in Nassau, we headed to Normans Cay with our friends on Rollick on January 5th. The 36 mile sail was uneventful and we pulled into the anchorage at 4PM and relaxed. The weather was expected to be unsettled (coming from different compass directions) over the next few days, but it wasn’t supposed to be particularly strong. We had no idea just how unsettled it would be.

Normans Cay Inside Anchorage, Exumas, Bahamas

We went to sleep with cloudy skies and cool temperatures, a feature of the weather system we were embedded in. After a fitful night due to the strong current that flows through the anchorage, we left the anchorage in the morning to join a half-dozen boats anchored off the west side of Normans. Strong winds from the north-north-east were driving swells around the length of the island and into this wind-sheltered spot. We were hoping the wind would go east (as forecast) and give us respite, but it didn’t happen. We couldn’t bear the thought of another sleepless night with heavy rolling (the bane of a cruiser’s existence – even on a cat). So we pulled up the anchor and headed to a more sheltered spot on Shroud Cay a couple miles away.

Once we left the shelter of Normans, the winds began to buffet us and stir the waters into larger and larger waves. From an initial 15 knots, we first saw 20 then rapidly 25 and 30. Fortunately, we were headed away from the wind, so with a small scrap of jib showing, we headed south as the waves bounced us along.

As we reached the main channel between Normans and Shroud, the full force of the wind became evident. We started seeing gusts into the high 30s. The sea state became a jumble of short 4-5 foot waves that periodically rocked us violently side to side. This was a surprise. We hadn’t realized the weather had deteriorated so much.

We pulled into our new anchorage and carefully inched as close to the land as we could get before dropping the anchor. It was dramatically calmer than our previous anchorage and had better protection to the north.

Shroud moorings, west side, Exumas, Bahamas

We slept until, in the middle of the night, the wind started howling through the rigging. With the increased winds, the motion of the boat became more agitated. We heard our wind generator making sounds it had never made before. The boat was vibrating like a plucked string from the force of the wind. There were periods of intense thrumming as the wind picked up to 40 knots (46mph) briefly. We’d never experienced that before, yet it was a small taste of what was to come.

A Day to Remember: January 6^th

In the morning, we looked at each other and smiled at the calmer conditions that surrounded us. We’d easily survived the biggest winds we’d experienced sailing. The day looked promising.

We knew the weather forecast was calling for calmer winds, but from directions that required us to seek out better all-around shelter, so we headed back up to Normans anchorage (not the pond). The wild sea of the afternoon before was gone, instead we had a little chop that we easily sailed through in the easterly winds now present.

After picking out an anchoring spot and testing how well our anchor was holding, we looked forward to a warmer day and exploring the wreck of a DC3 airplane nearby. Then a squall came through. We are used to squalls, they happen periodically and generally involve a quick burst of wind, some rain and are gone in 15 minutes. This one blew to 25-30 knots and hung around for about a half hour. Longer than usual, but no big deal, and we were happy to have the boat washed and freshened.

Around noon, the sun peeked out of the clouds and friends from Isla Bonita visited us from their boat. They were in a much more secure anchorage, in Norman's Pond, over a mile away, but one difficult to get into or out of without the right tide and water conditions.

Shot at 1PM, 3 hours before the squall hit

Normans Cay anchorage, 3 hours before storm, Exumas, Bahamas

We hadn’t seen each other since last season and the kids played while we chatted. It all seemed innocent, except for the clouds on the horizon. Talk turned to whether they should leave to avoid the rain. Then the rain started and it looked like another squall was coming. Might as well wait for it to pass through.

We could see other cruisers hurrying back in their dinghies to their boats to escape getting wet. The wind was 20-25 knots from the north, nothing too surprising for a typical squall, but this wasn’t your average squall. Instead of dying away, the wind rapidly escalated along with the rain, until hazy sheets of rain, driven horizontally, were sweeping the anchorage.

Getting Nervous

When the wind hit 40, we knew this wasn’t your average squall. When it hit 50, we knew we were in trouble, because we could barely see the boats around us. Even though our anchorage had protection from the north and a quarter-mile fetch of shallow water, the waves at the boat quickly built to four feet or more, but they were coming so rapidly, one shoved on top of the other, that our boat didn’t “see” them. We were big enough to straddle them. Not so the sailboat next to us. It was pitching up and down like a crazed horse stung by a bee.

This video shows the anchorage while the winds were still in the 20-30 range

Beyond Nervous

As we looked at the chaos around us, someone noticed a sailboat sweeping from left to right in front of us while slowly approaching our bow. Time to turn on the engines. We would have to avoid them either dragging into us or possibly entangling their anchor with ours – and then both of us losing our hold to mother earth.

With a blast of wind that seemed more like a solid punch, our wind-meter jumped to 56 knots (64 mph). Our two wind generators were thrumming and screeching, working to tear themselves free of the boat. At least we were finally getting the darn things to produce some serious power. The boat shuddered as wind and waves tore at it. Sticking your face into the maelstrom wasn’t possible. It felt like getting sandblasted with little BBs.

Another shout over the radio! Someone pointed at a trawler that had dragged into the shallow area about a 100 yards behind us. We watched helplessly as the wind and waves bashed at it, their bimini in tatters. There was no way anyone could go help them, you’d likely flip your dinghy and need rescuing yourself. Then we heard panicked pleas for help on the VHF from a different boat a few miles north. A small 26 foot sailboat was adrift, with no engine and a woman begging anyone to come help them. We could all imagine her terror.

Still the storm raged on. After half an hour, there were still winds in the 50s. Ahead of us, the dragging boat had finally stabilized and was now about 60 feet from our bow, but coming no closer. But would the wind build again? At some point, a high enough wind will tear any boat loose from its anchor.

The rain stopped mid-way through the event and then it was just the wind ripping the spray off the waves and sending it blasting towards us. For over an hour, the wind was never less than 40 knots. In fact, when it got down to 30 knots, the weather seemed calm. I would never conceive 30 knots as calm, but it was. Wind energy follows the cube law, so the difference between 30 knots and 60 knots is not twice the strength, it is eight times as strong!

As the wind slowly moderated, we could see that the trawler had somehow miraculously gotten itself out of the shallows and was now holding station nearby using their motors. Their anchor chain dangled uselessly off their side. Everyone in the anchorage looked fine and there were no requests for help or rescue. As darkness descended and the wind still blew, we all lit up our boats to aid in seeing where everyone was. We didn’t know if there was another monster lurking in the dark.

Finally, the wind came down to 20, then 10-15 knots. We looked at each other wide-eyed at what we had experienced. We congratulated ourselves for surviving undamaged. We used the VHF to confirm that Isla Bonita had also come through unscathed.

We’ve Been Derechoed!

The next morning, we listened to Chris Parker (the cruisers' weather guru) on the SSB radio. He wasn’t sure what had broken loose on us (and many others along the Exuma chain). Winds had been reported as high as 106 knots at Cambridge Cay and there were damaged boats all the way south to George Town, about 55 miles away. The skies had not foretold of anything more than a typical squall, so most everyone had been taken by surprise at the severity. Boats in crowded anchorages began a panicked search for safety as neighbors dragged towards them, threatening serious damage. Thinking back, there really was no way, looking at the skies, you would have predicted the tremendous energy about to be unleashed.

Chris Parker thought the winds might have been caused by a “derecho.” A horizontal, straight-line wind (versus a cyclonic or circular wind) caused by a band of severe thunderstorms that form a long line and are created in certain conditions.

From Wikipedia:
A derecho (/dəˈreɪtʃoʊ/, from Spanish:derecho [deˈɾetʃo], "straight") is a widespread, long-lived, straight-line wind storm that is associated with a land-based, fast-moving group of severe thunderstorms. Derechos can cause hurricane force winds, tornadoes, heavy rains, and flash floods.

From Wikipedia, how derechos form

Chris predicted that this system would eventually move north-east towards Bermuda and would be a very rare example of a tropical low forming in January. Sure enough, NOAA began tracking “Disturbance 1” packing 50-60 mph winds the next day.

Chaos Documented

The following day, a gentle 15 knot wind blew out of the northwest. Time to leave Normans and head down to Staniel Cay. We nervously scanned the skies for threats, but it was a beautiful day and a wonderful sail south. Once we pulled into Staniel Cay, we got the word on how the storm had hit them.

Staniel Cay Yacht Club, Exumas, Bahamas

They experienced much the same thing, but it began at dusk instead of around 4pm. Winds were similar, in the 50-60 knot range. Friends of ours on Cool Cat, a Leopard 40 (just like ours), were anchored in an area with 360 protection – from normal weather. When the big winds hit, they started dragging and then their mooring bridle broke. The boat went sideways to the wind and dragged even more. As they tried to raise anchor, their windlass failed. As they tried to use their engines to steer, their port engine died. They noticed sparks as high voltage lines on the island were shorted by the 8-9 foot waves crashing onto the yacht club. Suddenly the island plunged into darkness and they lost their last visual cues. They were blind, knowingly drifting towards a shore with razor-sharp limestone rock. They hit the island on the bow, and as they were trying to steer away, their steering chain failed. Not the cable, the chain that goes from the autopilot to the helm. At that point, they were out of options. However, they were lucky (if you can use that term) in winding hard up against a dock that just happened to be next to them. It wasn’t a soft landing, metal bolts dug at the hull, but it was far better than grinding the boat to death on a rock.

Between Big Major and Little Major (islands just north of Staniel Cay), there were reports of 70- and 80-foot powerboats dragging through the crowded anchorage, causing panic, but apparently no harm. More unfortunate was the boat that went up on the famous “piggy beach” at Big Majors. They were lucky that someone was able to rescue them and, a couple days later, their boat was floated off.

These are just a few of the many stories of the terrifying derecho that scoured the Exumas on January 6^th, 2016. We will never look at another squall and not worry about what might be lurking within it. It's also time to take a close look at my bridle and figure out how to rig a temporary one in case I might need it some day...

Plans Go Awry

2015-12-27T14:49:00.003-05:00

It’s been a long time since we last wrote. So much has happened in that space of time. So much has changed, yet here we are again, rocking gently at anchor off a pristine beach in the Bahamas. This life has become the “normal” life, not the frenetic chase of time we experience in the USA. Here, we have a chance to slow down and sort through the memories and experiences of the last several months.

Shell Beach, Great Harbour Cay, Berry Islands in the Bahamas

Chesapeake Apology

The summer started as all our recent summers have: a voyage to the Chesapeake. We visited places we’ve been before (Baltimore, Annapolis, Washington DC) and visited with friends we’ve made and the few relatives scattered about. We didn’t write much about this period, since so much of it was similar to what we’ve written before and we were simply enjoying ourselves too much to take the time. We can be lazy.

Another interesting trip to the Smithsonian

Our Junior Paleontologist at camp

Jeanette reunites with Lucia, a great friend in Wash DC

A perfect fall experience in Fresno - a week before Thanksgiving

Trick or Treat with cousin Ethan in Florida

Visit from a manatee to our boat while docked in the Bahamas. It chewed on our dinghy line until it was clean!

Europe!

Near the end of our visit to DC, I began to get the sneaking suspicion that things appeared to be headed off course. We’d spent several months making plans to spend a year in Europe when our time with the boat came to an end in May/June 2016. We’d decided that while we love being out on the ocean, Europe beckoned. It was exciting to research where we’d live in Amsterdam, Paris, Montpelier, Lisbon, and Florence. Such grand names and incredible pageantry of history. By living in each of these places for at least a couple months, we’d get the full indoctrination - we’d soak up cultures, cuisine and climates. We bought the tickets. We had a plan.

Europe?

Then, everything changed. It started out innocently enough with a dinner in Maryland. A University wanted Beth to do some consulting. They needed her to start in April 2016. Decision time.

Maryland!

Suddenly we were thrust into a frenzied search for high schools and then homes that reside in the desirable school districts. We would have to commit at least five years of our life to living in Maryland. That wasn’t the plan! We were supposed to return to Florida in 2017! We had a house waiting for us in Jupiter! We had gotten rid of all our cold weather gear and clothes! Snow was a distant, fading memory.

By the time we reached Florida in November, Beth had an offer from the university and we proceeded to blow up all our plans. By mid-month, we’d even found a new home for our wonderful boat. We signed a contract to deliver the boat in April 2016. Our boating existence had an end point and a signature enforcing it.

A Shattering Coincidence

The week before Thanksgiving, we took a quick trip to Fresno to visit my family who hadn't all gathered together in years. It was a great time, if a bit short. Then, the Friday after Thanksgiving, while we were driving to visit Beth’s brothers in Delray Beach, we got the phone calls that shook our life. First, my sister called me to deliver the news that my mom had suffered a stroke that morning, had lapsed into a coma, and wasn’t expected to recover. We immediately turned around and while I was packing for the airport, Beth received a call from her brother saying her dad had suffered a massive heart attack. Jeanette lost both her surviving grandparents in that fateful hour. It was sudden. It was unexpected. It was devastating.

Once again, plans changed. We were within days of leaving for the Bahamas, but instead I was flying back to Fresno while Beth stayed in Florida. It wasn’t easy dealing with my mother’s death, but it was made infinitely better by knowing we’d left Fresno just four days earlier after enjoying a family celebration with my mother in her best form. Timing is everything. My mother had one of us next to her from the moment she experienced the first shattering headache to the time she drew her last breath. At 87, she’d lived a full life we can only envy.

It was much the same for Beth’s father. He was never alone. After Beth and Jeanette flew out to Fresno for my mother’s service, we returned for Beth’s father’s. Now we were free to sail off east and search for solace amongst the deserted beaches and gentle rocking of the anchorages.

Christmas

We spent this Christmas with our friends on two other family boats (Rollick and Water Lily) off a beautiful beach of Hoffmann’s Cay in the Berry Islands of the Bahamas. We’ve never been here, and are enjoying making new memories. The highlight has been jumping into the local blue hole, which is located a short hike inland.

Hoffman Blue Hole, Berry Islands in Bahamas

As an “early” present to myself, I've acquired the photographic equipment necessary to capture 360 degree panoramic spheres. It’s basically a fisheye lens that I take a lot of pictures with and use software to stitch it together. I’ll post another blog on the process. Using this equipment, I can take pictures that allow you to look in all directions. I hope they do a better job of sharing our experience.

Stranded At Low Tide in Great Harbor Cay

Hurricane Watching

2015-10-01T11:24:00.000-04:00

Like All Plans...

Ours was brilliant. We would escape the bitter winds of late fall and head south much earlier than we had ever before. Normally, insurance keeps us north of Cape Hatteras until November 15th. After two years of doing that in thermal underwear, we decided to try something different. It cost a little extra, but we had an insurance waiver to head south as of October 1st. Yay!

We left Washington DC on a Sunday, and with the aid of 30k northerly winds, we were in Portsmouth (next to Norfolk) by Monday (150nM). Max speed was 13+ knots, which is a lot if you've ever been on a sailboat. Definitely a wild ride, but in control.

It never looks as wild as it does when you're in it! BTW, instrument reads 28kts of wind at beginning

25-30k winds will move you right along, we later hit 13k, but I didn't snap it

What? I'm not worried.

We paused in Portsmouth for a day to consider options and then pushed on through the Dismal Swamp Canal and down to Elizabeth City, NC.

Locking in at the north end of Dismal Swamp canal

Our next house, bit of a fixer-upper, but it's all we can afford these days

Duckweed, endless amounts just outside the canal

This is why it is called a "swamp"

We're in the lock!

Root bear float? Nope, Dismal Swamp Canal water

South end of Dismal Swamp canal

We paused in Elizabeth City for a day before escaping because of big winds coming our way. We holed up in a little bay by our lonesome until winds (30+) passed by. You can track us in real-time using this link here.

Our track from Elizabeth city

After squeezing under a 63' bridge (our mast is 63' high, so we were definitely looking to wipe out all the instruments at the top of the mast) we worked our way down to the River Dune marina where we randomly pulled in for some P&P (provisioning and pool time). We've travelled 336 nM since DC.

Squall on the way to River Dune Marina - winds to 27k

Joaquin?

As we waited for a weather window to head out onto the ocean, we started hearing about Joaquin and how it wasn't likely to turn into a hurricane. Still, we were watching it.

A couple days later and we're in the track for Joaquin. That could be a problem.

Joaquin coming our way?

All the uncertainly is forcing us to stay where we are. Despite the fact that conditions are good for a run down the coast, the fact that Joaquin could realistically come anywhere on the east coast suggests we need to find a safe place to hang out in.

This is where our guardian angel comes into play. She guided us to the very best place to be. Exactly where we are. It is a marina you enter via a canal. It is a man-made lake, so we don't have to worry about waves battering the boat to bits. I don't think there is another marina like it for a 100 miles. Most marinas are exposed to one direction or another, this one isn't.

River Dune Marina - about as safe as it gets down here

If the Joaquin comes at us, we will prepare by taking down anything that creates windage. We'll stuff it all into the boat somehow. The high winds are a threat, but a boat is built a lot tougher than a house. We have a floating dock that will rise up with the surge and plenty of things to tie the boat to. So we should be fine.

Yes, the power and water may be out on the land, but that is where a boat has an advantage. We make our own power and we can store lots of water. We will be in better shape than most anyone on land.

From what I've been reading on the path of Joaquin, they have very little confidence on the path it will take right now. In the next couple of days, it will firm up, then we will know what we're dealing with. Right now, we're enjoying the marina while monitoring the weather online.

Bahamas

Meanwhile, we watch what is happening to our beloved Bahamas. The hurricane is perilously close to areas we love. There isn't a lot of information on what is happening down there, but I found a webcam that shows what is going on near Georgetown. The forecast is for 100k winds all day, but an amateur weather station is reading only 33k. Of course that is several hours ago because the power must have cut out. Could be the location is more protected or it could be Georgetown isn't suffering the full brunt of the storm. We hope it is the later.

Joaquin as it travels through Bahamas

Drip, drip, drip

It is October 1st, and we should have been headed further south, but we aren't. We'll be here at least until Monday. They are experiencing a lot of rain hereabouts, so there is flooding even without Joaquin adding to it. By Monday we should know what we're dealing with and be able to plan our trip offshore. We expect a couple days on the ocean to get to a water-logged Charleston or maybe even further south. We'll be a week behind schedule, but we'll be safe.

Crossing the Bar*

2015-08-25T07:25:00.001-04:00

To live in this world
you must be able to do three things:
to love what is mortal;
to hold it against your bones
knowing your own life depends on it;
and, when the time comes to let it go,
to let it go.

~ Mary Oliver, “In Blackwater Woods”

Mother Ocean

My mother loved the water. A grocer's daughter, the 14th of 15 children, Mom grew up in Wilkes-Barre, PA, in the shadow of the Poconos, miles from the coast. When she finally saw the ocean, as an adult, she took to it as if saltwater ran through her veins. She found great joy living near the beach and wherever she was in the world, she was always drawn back to the coast for the beauty of the shoreline, the quality of the light, and the inexpressible comfort that water people find in just being near the ocean. Throughout her life, she exhibited a childlike curiosity of the world and if not for her inner explorer, my parents would never have bought the old Cal 30 that was the catalyst for so many family adventures - weekend sails, short jaunts to the Keys, and summer vacations in the Berries. Our first years in Florida were filled with countless funny moments as we learned about sailing, the ocean, and its secrets. Mom was up for just about anything my brothers and I could throw at her – and she put up with a lot. The first time my brothers handed her a fish to fillet, she tackled it gamely only to find that the fish was not quite dead. She shrieked, and we all jumped with her, as the fish nearly flopped its way out of the sink. One afternoon, we were collecting conch and placing them by her towel where she lay resting on the beach after a night shift at the hospital. Her nap was repeatedly interrupted by “someone” throwing sand at her. We all learned something about conch that day and their funny mode of transportation.

Nurse Dooley

On her first fishing excursion in the Keys, Mom caught the biggest fish

Water Cure

A nurse by profession and a healer at heart, Mom believed that water was the cure for everything. We were the only kids I knew who went to the beach when we were too sick to go to school. According to Mom, there was almost nothing that couldn’t be remedied by a soak in the ocean or a walk along its shore, and we have all remained devoted followers of the water cure. Our biggest fan and our sharpest critic, Mom reveled in our achievements and shared our heartaches as we navigated the twisting journey from child to adult. She was the cool, hip mom that all of us, including our friends, could talk to, and she was always happy to provide counsel. She was a freethinker, progressive and in many ways, years ahead of her time. Some of the deepest, most thought-provoking conversations I've ever had were with Mom. She was equally capable of being serious and philosophical as she was being utterly silly, reducing us to side-splitting laughter. Though our relationship was often challenging and sometimes rocky, love always prevailed. Much could be written about those ups and downs, but the one true thing is this: Mom loved her children, her grandchildren, and her great grandchild with her all of her heart. When the chips were down, she never failed to come through for us and, later, our loved ones, with her whole heart, motherly advice (wanted or not), a warm hug, and a gourmet meal.

Mom loved being out on the water

Dolores Louise at Lake Louise

As if we needed reminding....

Final Passage

The changing dynamic between parent and child is often subtle, as it was with us. In hindsight, I can see how Mom came to lean on me and my brothers more and more, but I almost didn’t notice it while it was happening. In the prime of her life, she could be a force to be reckoned with, strong and capable; but, in dying, she softened and became reflective, her love expanding and growing even as her physical body was fading. Someone once told me that having a parent die is a lot like childbirth – if you haven’t actually experienced it, it’s difficult to know exactly how it feels. My mother has been gone for over two years now and yet I still find myself reaching for the phone to call her or text a picture. Art, theater, music, sunrises, sunsets, and all things beautiful remind me of her. I relive moments everyday as I negotiate my relationship with my own daughter and wonder how Mom pulled it off with four of us and our busy schedules (school, sports, music, etc.) while also holding down a position as head nurse in the CCU on the nightshift. I’m pretty sure Mom was the original Wonder Woman. When she was diagnosed with terminal cancer in 2005 and we began to brace ourselves for the worst, it should have come as no surprise to any of us when she lived 8 more full years. Still, like childbirth, as much as you think you’re ready, nothing can truly prepare you for contractions or death. And so it was on Holy Saturday, 2013, when Mom crossed over, the four of us surrounding her bed and holding her as she’d once held us. A year to the day, I had a dream.... She, my brothers, and I were on a ship sailing under the Golden Gate bridge and out to sea. As we passed the Marin Headlands, a pilot boat drew alongside. Dismay turned to wonder as I watched her disembark. No words were spoken, but our eyes were locked as she drew away. With dawning awareness and a curious sense of rightness, I realized then that she had gone as far as she could with us and we were now truly on our own.

Braving a sail on San Francisco Bay (2004)

Mom takes the helm of Remedy in 20+ kts as we sail under the Golden Gate Bridge

Saying Goodbye

April 19^th dawned cloudy and cool with light winds, not an especially promising start to the day. We had finally managed to get my three brothers, their wives, and all but two of their children together for a sail and we wanted everything to be perfect. With a freshening breeze and clearing sky, we sailed out Lake Worth Inlet and into calm seas. Cousins played and teased each other, and explored every manner of having fun on a boat, while the adults relaxed, sipped Bellinis and noshed on shrimp, lobster, and other delicacies that are required for all gatherings of my foodie family. We laughed and joked and told our favorite “Mom” stories. Tears were shed, hugs were shared, and collective memories warmed our hearts. Then, three miles out into the Gulf Stream under a deep blue sky, we spread my mother’s ashes at last, remembering her loving, joyful, adventurous spirit and taking heart in the fact that she is now part of Mother Ocean where we live, work and play.

A time for togetherness...

A time for reflection...

A time for play.

* Crossing the Bar

Sunset and evening star,

And one clear call for me!

And may there be no moaning of the bar,

When I put out to sea,

But such a tide as moving seems asleep,

Too full for sound and foam,

When that which drew from out the boundless deep

Turns again home.

Twilight and evening bell,

And after that the dark!

And may there be no sadness of farewell,

When I embark;

For tho’ from out our bourne of Time and Place

The flood may bear me far,

I hope to see my Pilot face to face

When I have crossed the bar.

~ Alfred, Lord Tennyson

Dolores Louise Hudak 8/25/35 - 3/30/13

Changes in L’Attitude

2015-07-20T08:06:00.001-04:00

The Elimination-Challenge

One of the first things I learned when I was in naturopathic medical school was that when in doubt, treat the gut. As our second brain, the enteric nervous system in our gut is constantly giving us feedback about the messages we are taking in from our surroundings. Over time, habits, including the foods we eat, can fade into the background like white noise or elevator music. An Elimination-Challenge is one way to clear the static so that the messages can once again be received loud and clear. In essence, the elimination phase requires one to remove specific foods, or those foods eaten most frequently, from one's diet. After a washout period of three weeks, each food is re-introduced (i.e., challenged) one at a time. Having cleared the chatter from your body’s circuitry, you can now discern how that food really feels in your body – for better or worse. This is a great way for people to get real feedback about their food and learn what nourishes them versus those foods that cause heartburn, headaches, joint pains, GI distress, fatigue, insomnia, etc.

By now, you may be wondering what any of this has to do with sailing. Well, I was in the shower one morning – and I don’t mean those 2-minute showers at the stern of the boat, I’m talking about a long, endless-hot-water-at-a-stable-temperature marina shower – and I was struck by an idea. My friend Andrea had posted a message to some cruiser moms on Facebook about her feelings on re-entering “normal” life on land. As I read her account of what was essentially a disorienting, frustrating experience, I found myself nodding in agreement, relieved to find that other cruisers were also exhibiting acute crankiness, impatience, and general discontent. You see, my forays onto land – with its traffic, press of humanity, noise, stimuli, excesses, and commercialism – were also leaving me dazed and irritable. As the water steamed up around me in the spacious shower stall, I had the sudden insight that following a five-month washout period in the Bahamas, the “challenge” of returning to the US, resulted in a dramatic response that’s touched me on a soul level. Something is just not right here. Like waking up in someone else’s skin, it all feels too unfamiliar, jarring, and just plain wrong. More and more, when people ask me when we’re coming back (to land), I find myself thinking “Why?” – a huge departure from my attitude two year ago when I insisted that we have our back-to-land plan in place before we cast off.

Best Laid Plans

Over the past two years that we’ve been living on the boat, what I thought would be a short-term break with a return to something that closely resembled our previous life, has transformed into a long-term exploration and investigation of everything. While I was happy enough to sell everything and throw the entire deck of cards up in the air, I was in no way prepared for how they began to land. In fact, last fall when we began making plans for our next winter in the Bahamas, I was certain that I would be returning this summer to one of two potential job opportunities that had presented themselves quite serendipitously. By February, one of the opportunities had evaporated and when the other job opened, it evoked feelings of such ambivalence that I decided not to apply. Instead of an opportunity, it was beginning to look like a big step in the wrong direction. I thought that this past year would be a time for me to manifest what’s next, but now I see that it was a time to strip away all of the constructs of what I thought my life should look like. As I percolate along, gestating happily at anchor, I am curious to see what emerges at the end of this fruitful journey. At this point, what’s next is anyone’s guess.

Changes in Latitude

Not that being back in the States has been all bad. I have dearly loved catching up with my family and friends, the comfort of familiarity, reliable internet and phone service, great restaurants, ethnic food, movies in a real movie theater, marinas with sufficient hot water for an entire shower, and grocery shopping that does not entail having to choose the best of the rotting fruit or, for that matter, reaching for a red cabbage and - what the heck - throwing in a green one, too, just for variety. Nonetheless, I found re-entry to the U.S. a dragging-my-heals, kicking and screaming experience that only gradually eased into resignation and then, enjoyment. As we’ve worked our way north to the Chesapeake, I have begun to come to terms with these new feelings and finding that home really is where we are at this moment. Sitting on the hard at Dennis Point Marina (Drayden, Maryland), the trip north – even at our slow pace – seemed to go by too fast.

Soft Landing

This year, we left the Bahamas sooner than we wanted because of a failed windlass. At first a bit cranky, the windlass gave up about three weeks too early for us. Given that we were already so close to our return date, we decided to just head back rather than release and haul up 100 feet of anchor chain manually. A broken windlass gave us a good excuse to raft up to Water Lily one night at Saddle Cay – our last hurrah, as it were. From our position in the Northern Exumas, we sailed across to Nassau and all the way to the Berries (Bird Cay) in one fell swoop. Up until Nassau, we were having a wonderful ride, but stronger than forecasted winds and big seas plagued us all the way across New Providence Channel – a body of water that always seems to bite us. At one point, we decided to reef the mainsail but the outer covering of the main halyard parted, leaving us no choice but to work the cover off the core to avoid jamming the halyard at some inconvenient point. If we had any doubts about heading back to Florida, they were now put to rest, as we knew we couldn’t sail too long with the halyard in that condition. After two nights at Bird Cay we had a good weather window to continue on to Florida and arrived in Lake Worth the next morning.

Rafted up to Water Lily at Saddle Cay

Dinner on Dream Catcher

One last sandcastle for the road

Peanut Island

Florida is our home base and we always have fun there. On this trip, we also had our friends on Rollick and Water Lily nearby, as we were all clustered around Peanut Island. As its name suggests*, this is a tiny island just inside Lake Worth Inlet. Quiet and peaceful during the week, the island is party central on the weekends as power boats - laden with beer-filled coolers and bikini-clad babes, doing their best to out-blast everyone else’s music - line the shore. My brother Phil, who until recently was a supervisor for Palm Beach County beaches (now Division Chief at Delray Beach), told me that people were even erecting props in the shallows for pole dancing before they were banned. But, that was not the Peanut Island we experienced. We anchored south of the island and only skirted its perimeter as we cleared in to Customs and rendezvoused with friends.

(*Peanut Island was formed when the inlet was first excavated and was, in fact, originally called Inlet Island. When the State gave permission for the island to be used as a shipping terminal for peanut oil, the name was changed to Peanut Island. Although the enterprise was abandoned in 1946, the name has stuck but I still like to think the name is because of its diminutive size – about 80 acres.)

Cumberland Island

Tired of traveling, we were desperate to find an excuse not to take the boat north this year. A summer in the hot, hazy, humid Chesapeake just didn’t’ sound like fun. But insurance requires us to be north by June 1st, so we sucked it up and moved on – reluctantly. After the better part of a week in St. Augustine for Jeanette to finish up her 6^th grade final exams, we were on our way to Cumberland Island. I was last there 30 years ago, camping with my friend Dede. We covered nearly every inch of the island back then and I’m happy to say that it looks much the same as it did all those years ago. It was a bit more crowded (though, to be fair, it was Mother’s Day weekend) and there is a museum now in the old ice house, but the ruins are still intriguing, the Live Oaks still magical, and the wild horses are as beautiful as ever. One equine family came quite close to us while we were picnicking – a stallion, a mare, a filly, and a foal. There was some display of sexual dominance by the stallion making for an interesting lunch conversation with our 11-year-old daughter - not that Evolve (thank you, Diane) and Planet Earth’s David Attenborough haven’t already taught her about the subtle nuances of sexual activity among mammals. A wonderful Mother’s Day dinner on the boat, a peaceful night at anchor in Cumberland Sound and we were off.

Oh, the things you'll see when you go to sea! (Fernandina Beach, FL)

The ruins at Dungeness

Typical path on Cumberland Island

Horses,

horses,

and more horses!

Charleston

The recent news about the Charleston shootings has had us reeling. We spent a wonderful week there and just loved exploring the city. The locals with whom we spoke all seemed to have such hope for the revitalization and development of their town. Everyday we took long walks through old neighborhoods with their beautiful ironwork and lush gardens. Jeanette and I had a girls’ day with a museum, house tour, and lunch out on the town. One of the most interesting things about the house tour was the docent herself. A 94-year-old former schoolteacher, she was sharp as a tack and reminded me so much of my Great Aunt Florence that I found myself as captivated by her as she was by Jeanette. I’m not sure how the others felt, but the docent directed most of what she said to J, who made for a thoroughly attentive audience.

Loved the iron work, the fountains...

the whimsy....

and the flower boxes everywhere!

Our morning view

Sand Bar, Oyster Bar, Whine Bar

We left Charleston in the afternoon. Our plans to sail overnight to Morehead City were thwarted by unfavorable winds and we ended up retreating to the ICW at Cape Fear. It was slow going on the inside and we had two groundings before we realized that the charts on my iPad hadn’t been updated. Waaaaahhhh! The first grounding was right on the edge of the channel, thankfully on a sandbar. The second took place where the channel had been re-marked, but I mistook the marks for private navigational aids and failed to make the proper adjustment. We hit hard bottom – most likely an oyster bar – and I was feeling quite badly until a power yacht came motoring along beside us. His last words before he, too, ran aground were “I’ve got plenty of depth here – 7 feet!” Apparently, he also thought the marks were private. At that point, I was sufficiently traumatized to turn the helm over for good that day.

The ICW - beautiful and deceptively benign

Favorites Old and New

We spent little time in Morehead City – just long enough to fuel up, refill a propane tank, do laundry, and hit our regular breakfast spot. Another day in the ICW and we found our new favorite stop – Oriental, NC. With a free dock for transients and a small, compact village to explore, what’s not to like? Our stay coincided with the farmer’s market and fresh fish (salmon!) from the fish market. On Saturday evening the local marina, where the transient docks are located, hosted a band. We dragged our chairs up to the cabin top and enjoyed their mellow tunes until well after sunset.

Roanoke Island

Another favorite, Roanoke is at the northern tip of Pamlico Sound and the southern tip of the Albemarle Sound – two nasty bodies of water we generally try to avoid. We spent nearly a week here, visiting the museum and enjoying the quiet peace of Manteo. While we were there, Ken found out that the nearby Oregon Inlet had just been surveyed and marked. Rather than cross the Albemarle and continue up the ICW, we decided to give the inlet a try so we could have one last sail on the ocean before the Chesapeake. Not recommended for boats without local knowledge, the twisting channel is surrounded by dry sandbars. Even following the marks, we touched bottom just outside the bridge when we dipped in the trough of a wave.

Learning to use an old-fashioned woodworking vise

Practicing duck hunting

Had to consult the fish book on this one... a Cobia

Ever-present dredging in the ICW

Even from 20' of water, the sandbar is unnerving

Chesapeake Bay

Although Cape Hatteras is the boundary for our insurance, most cruising boats with that parameter summer in the Chesapeake and we are no exception. Our first stop was Portsmouth/Norfolk where we spent our anniversary and enjoyed Harborfest with its tall ships parade, sea-air rescue demonstrations, a tug boat muster, live music, and ship tours. Harborfest was a zoo, but it paid off for us as the anchorage at Hospital Point had the best view of the incredible fireworks display set off from a barge in the river.

Tug muster - showing off their considerable muscle

The Hermione

Regatta in Norfolk

Sea-Air-Rescue demonstration

Now that we’re in the Chesapeake, our pace has slowed to a crawl. From Portsmouth, we came up to Dennis Point Marina, at the mouth of the Potomac, for a haul out and boat maintenance. As predicted, the weather was hot and humid, but the pool and the a/c were reasons enough to feel grateful. Our one-week stay morphed into three, but that’s a story for another post.

Got a/c?

Now we're in Baltimore enjoying a decadent experience in a marina (almost a requirement when the temperature hits 95 and the humidity 80%). We're enjoying AC coolness and a pool next to the boat for managing the weather. Our friends on Rollick have rolled out the welcome mat and introduced us to a combination of Huckleberry vodka, lemonade and raspberry juice. Deadly. Lots to see and do here. We're going to hide from the weather for at least a month before heading south and back to Washington DC for more museums - they have a never-ending supply of them.

Birthday Boy

2015-05-04T03:56:00.001-04:00

Birthdays help pin down the slippery slope of life. A moment in time is captured in the light of candles flickering on a cake. You can compare the moment to what happened all those many 365 days ago. Recently, I had such an opportunity for reflection.

It seems ages ago that we set out on our journey, but it was only September 2013 - not even two years ago. If you measure your life in the places seen, people met and experiences enjoyed, then these last 19 months have a timeless quality. We're so rarely “still” in this watery life. A few weeks in one place starts to feel like a few months and time to move on. Such as it does now, after spending three weeks on the hook in Palm Beach Florida after arriving from the Bahamas. It’s time to move on, pull up the anchor and start heading north at a faster pace.

Returning to the US after six months in the Bahamas is always a mixed blessing. We give up the crystal waters and endless vistas of bleached sand for a heavily developed infrastructure where anything you could possibly want is available. I shake my head entering a grocery store with the limitless choices on display. It’s overwhelming when the last store you were in, you counted yourself lucky to find fresh salad greens or fruit. In the Bahamas, you make do with what’s there, not necessarily what you wanted. Fulfilling your wants is so easy here in the US. It’s easy to go overboard after so many months with limited access. The boat is now stuffed with gluten-free treats, chocolates and other goodies that just aren’t available in the Exumas. I think the thirty pounds I lost since beginning our adventures is already rushing back at me.

I miss our boat buddies and the casual discovery of what each day holds. One day we’re fishing, the next exploring a new reef or sandbar. Finding some new perspective on the infinite combinations of turquoise waters, powdery white sand and golden sunsets. The day always ends with the wind whistling through the rigging, the sun burnishing the horizon and the mournful sound of a conch shell, blown to acknowledge another day done. You go to bed early as the night descends, without worries of what the next day will bring.

Each day we get a new chance to practice existing in the moment. I’m not very good at it, as Beth will tell you. My nature is to be doing something, even at the expense of everyone else’s enjoyment of the moment. But this life on the water is my best hope for a cure. It’s rare a day goes by that I don’t stop, look around and go “wow, this is amazing”. Admittedly, those moments happen more often in the Bahamas, but they happen here too. It’s taken this crazy cruise to get me to focus more on my wife, my children and those that mean something to me. I realize it shouldn’t take such an elaborate break from “reality”, but I’m a tough nut and exceptional means were required.

I know we’re lucky to be doing what we’re doing. It must seem like an extravagance to many, and in some ways it is – at least how we went about it. But I’ve now met many cruisers who have taught me how simply and inexpensively the same goals can be pursued. They are enjoying the same sunsets and beaches that we do. Money isn’t the determining factor, desire is.

On my 57^th birthday, my desire is to continue this watery wandering for another year, perhaps visit Cuba next season. Then we’ll return to the USA for another birthday and I can take stock of the life we’ve led and prepare for what’s next.

Here's a short video I put together to capture some of what the last twelve months was like:

Video of our second year in 4 minutes (some details were left out)

What Lies Beneath

2015-04-14T09:53:00.001-04:00

Beauty Abounds

Bahamian islands are beautiful to behold. Undulations of green set low on the horizon are scattered like emeralds across the sea. Ribbons of powder white beaches give way to aquamarine shallows that deepen to every variation of green and blue as the contour of the ocean floor falls rapidly to depths of a thousand feet and more. Sea grass, sand, and coral heads hint at a rich marine habitat and lend interest to the view. Rays, turtles and, occasionally, other critters, glide along the bottom – dark shapes that come and go – while the silvery green and blue of minnows, ballyhoo and other baitfish flash near the surface. Wherever I am, my eyes are drawn to the shifting hues of water, land and sky, drinking in their beauty.

Buena Vista Cay

Hog Cay Cut

Johnson Cay

Johnson Cay (Wonderful Life and Water Lily)

Rat Cay

Compass Cay (photo - Andrea)

While I never tire of the view, the real spectacle of the Bahamas requires a mask and fins.

Ready to go exploring

Undersea Magic

From on deck, the tranquil waters here look tame and benign. The wind sends ripples across the surface and there are the occasional white caps and even big waves when the conditions are right. Slipping on a mask and fins, I dive below the surface and another world is revealed. The reefs here are a riot of color with neon blues, yellows and purples of the small tropical fish contrasting with the muted silver, browns and greens of predators, against a backdrop of white sand and the varying textures and colors of the corals. Purple sea fans and soft corals of yellows, bright orange and browns, bend and sway with the current. Coral heads rise up from the bottom and are a community unto themselves…. reef fish jealously guarding their territory and chasing away unwelcome guests, an eel protecting its hole, a lobster waving its antennae to ward off intruders. On more than one occasion I have wished for gills and the ability to hang out in this magical world for more than just minutes at a time.

Turtle and 2 remoras

Jeanette and Lily swimming with Georgetown's resident dolphins (photo - Wendy)

4-year-old mini-mermaid diving deep

Out-of-season lobster coming out of its hole

This conch is eating a sand dollar

Partially buried sting ray - check out the long tail

Can You Hear Me Now??

2015-03-24T11:00:00.001-04:00

Staying Connected

One of the many challenges of cruising is staying connected to friends and family via phone calls, emails, skype (or other VOIP), and social networking. AT&T and, perhaps, other phone carriers, have an arrangement with Bahamas Telephone Company (Batelco) that allows visitors to use their stateside phones while in the islands. While a nice convenience, this is actually an expensive option and one that few long-term cruisers use. Instead, many of us opt for suspending our stateside accounts and signing up with Batelco service. An unlocked phone or iPad is all that’s needed to use their data cards; and, if we all stayed in Nassau, this post would end right here. But we don’t, so it doesn’t.

Bar Hopping

Having a tech-savvy husband on board is very handy when navigating the shifting sands of connectivity. I consider myself lucky as I am on a strictly need-to-know basis when it comes to how my magical iPad connects to the world beyond. Now that Jeanette is enrolled in an online program, though, I have been forced to reach past the bounds of my comfort zone (think paper and pencil, cards and stamps). I now know that if no wifi is available, the phone signal needs to be at least 3 bars (preferably 4) to connect to Jeanette’s program. As such, our route planning now includes estimating the number of bars we might be able to obtain at each island so that we can run J’s school off the phone, if needed. Surprisingly, we’ve been able to make this work, even as we travel in and out of no service zones. Sometimes it requires a little ingenuity, like running the phone up a halyard to the top of the mast. Other times, we just need to implement our wifi booster – again, running it up a halyard to maximize receptivity. Once, Jeanette completed a discussion-based assessment with one of her teachers while reclining on top of the boom for the best reception. A little unorthodox, perhaps, but it works.

School happens whenever there's a connection

Preparing the iPhone for height

Flag halyard serves double duty

Hello? Hello? Can you hear me Joe???

Just because we have a cell phone with 3 bars of service doesn’t mean that it always works. Something strange seems to happen when placing a call and, frequently, the call is incomplete or diverted to a different number or the person on the other end can’t hear us. A couple of weeks ago when my brother called me for my birthday, I found myself in the middle of a Dr. Seuss dialogue: "Hello? Hello? Can you hear me Joe??" Skype (video) is blocked by the Bahamian Telecom company but we have managed to complete a couple of calls using Google Talk over the internet. Though we receive cell phone calls with no charge, calling the USA is expensive so we only use the phone when necessary. Social networking is almost out of the question. We easily receive Facebook notifications via email, but logging into FB uses up data due to all the pictures on it. In the Bahamas, we rarely use FB unless we have a strong wifi signal. Private messages, comments, and inquiries can go unanswered for long periods of time until we are connected once again and have bandwidth to spare.

Jeanette completing an oral assessment with her teacher

Channel Surfing

Compared to the frustrations of phones and wifi, communicating with other cruisers is a breeze. With a Single Side Band radio (SSB), a Very High Frequency radio (VHF), and a satellite messenger (via our tracker), we have 3 reliable ways to be in touch with other boaters and receive messages from home. On a day-to-day basis, we rely almost exclusively on VHF radio for our communications. Using the VHF has meant learning a new vocabulary along with radio etiquette. “Working channel,” “Copy that,” “Roger,” “Over,” “Break,” and “Up one,” are terms that have worked their way into everyday parlance. Jeanette, especially, fumbles when making the switch from VHF and sailor talk to phone conversations, where I frequently hear her say “copy that” to her teachers.

In some ways, the VHF is like texting – conversations are typically short and to the point and oriented around plans for getting together. No one wants to tie up a channel for long and if you do, you’re liable to get “stepped on” but another caller. Some locales have taken over a specific channel. For George Town, channel 68 is the community line for hailing other boaters and making general announcements. Think “party line” for a couple hundred boats and you’ll have a good idea of what it’s like. Our kid-boat caravan selected a separate channel so that we could communicate freely amongst ourselves and not have to listen in on irrelevant chatter. After using the VHF for so long now, a phone seems almost inordinately complicated what with all the numbers, dial tones, call waiting, voicemails etc. Just hail me on the radio and we can talk while we walk the beach.

The Hunt

2015-03-15T11:30:00.001-04:00

The hunt begins

Long fins drove the silent hunter through transparent waters. The tropical sun dappled the white sand bottom with shifting shadows as a strong wind tore at the water’s surface. A school of Margates, some dozen strong, gathered near one of the isolated coral heads that rose a few feet from the bleached bottom. A few of the larger Margates were at least eighteen inches long, well worth consideration. Suddenly, a dark flicker against the white sand bottom receded into the distant blue horizon drawing the hunter's attention. A trio of much larger Margates, nearly twice the size of their brethren, were swimming casually towards the rock where the smaller Margates huddled as they nervously eyed the black quadruped studying them from afar.

Abandoning the smaller targets for the larger, the hunter withdrew to the surface for a deep breath and then jackknifed into the crystalline depths, avoiding sudden movements that might startle the bigger fish. Sensing trouble, the trio split, each headed in a different direction – and away from the ungainly grey and black shape that intruded into their domain. Silvery-white scales blended seamlessly with the sandy background of the bottom. Only the dark flick of the tail and the smaller dorsal fins gave away their location.

Carefully kicking twenty feet to the bottom, the hunter lined up behind a lone Margate. Suspecting trouble, it now moved first to the left and then to the right, trying to keep an obsidian eye on the strange creature that followed behind. As the gap slowly closed, the Margate anxiously twitched away from the dark form. Too late! A shiny shaft leapt from the hunter's hand and struck the fish’s side. Exploding away from the encounter, the fish raced towards a safe haven, but few of the coral heads nearby could protect a fish of his bulk. The hunter's thrust had hurt the Margate, but not enough to disable it.

First tag of the Margate

Now, the hunter was forced to return to his world for air. As he rose towards the shimmering light, he kept his eye on his wounded quarry. From past experience, the hunter knew that his target might escape to another rock in the briefest instant of looking away. Quite a few fish had been lost that way. This one would not escape as easily.

Forcing deep breaths into starved lungs, the hunter dove again into the depths. The coral head chosen for refuge had a large gap along the bottom. A silvery form nervously twitched inside, wanting to escape, but knowing that certain risk existed outside the coral walls that provided protection.

The hunter drew back the pole spear stretching the elastic bands at one end to their limits and tightly gripping the spear shaft. Once he released his grip, the spear would leap forwards and penetrate the fish, but only if he was within a foot of his target. Further away and the spear might only bounce off the fish – especially if the bony head was hit instead of the softer body behind the head.

Now inches above the powdery bleached debris of the ocean floor, the hunter came ever closer to the coral head and the hidden form within. Reaching forwards, almost out of air, the hunter loosened his grip and the spear knifed through the water, penetrating the fish behind the gills. The stainless steel point passed all the way through the body. As the startled fish jerked to get away from the sudden pain, two hinged barbs deployed, preventing the spear from pulling out of the fish.

You can run, but you can't hide!

As the fish desperately tried to swim away, jerking the pole from side to side, the hunter dragged his quarry to the surface and the air he urgently needed. Powerful thrusts of his fins sent him rushing to the surface. Breaking the surface, he sucked in a deep breath as he struggled to lift his bleeding fish above the water. It wouldn’t do to let its anxious movements and leaking fluids encourage any of the sharks in the area to come investigate further.

With the fish safely in the dinghy, the hunter returned to his lonely quest. The waters were vast and seemingly limitless with fish. It was a good day.

The Jumentos and Ragged Islands are truly gems in the Bahamas archipelago. They are a string of small cays and rocks that form a “C” shape about 30 miles south of the Exumas. The southernmost island, is only sixty miles from Cuba. What sets this area apart is a combination of spectacularly clear water and fish of all sizes and shapes. Sure, there are powdery white beaches and palm trees, but you’ll find that everywhere in the Bahamas. This place has the best fishing of any area I’ve seen. When I say “fishing”, I mean spearing. Snorkeling until you find your quarry and then trying to get it in the dinghy and onto the dinner table.

A Flamingo Cay mermaid!

I first tried fishing last year, introduced to it by my friends Bernie and Andrea on Rollick. I was a dismal failure for most of my experience. Last year, I might have speared about a dozen fish, but most of them were Glasseye snappers, which basically are frozen in place – hoping their dark red color hides them. It doesn’t at all, and luckily they are tasty eating with a delicate white flesh. However, they rarely are larger than a foot – so we don’t fillet them, we cook them whole and eat them.

It’s been a real struggle to learn which fish to go after and understand their behaviors. The more exposure the fish have to mankind, the more skittish they are, so in the Exumas, the fish are very wary. In the Jumentos, the fish are much less startled by human interlopers and there are ten times the amount of fish – especially larger ones.

OK, which one of you wants to get eaten?

We spent about five days at Flamingo Cay with Rollick. The wind was howling 20-25 knots the whole time we were there, but the island protected us and sheltered the waters that were our hunting grounds. Every day we’d go out in the dinghies for a couple hours and look for fish. Everywhere else I’ve been, you have to find big complex reefs to find fish. Here, in 20-25 feet of water, there were isolated coral heads of much smaller size – seemingly too small to support the bigger fish. But they were everywhere! Every day would bring hogfish, snapper, margates and grouper to our dinghies. Instead of spending all day looking for fish, we were full-up within an hour or two. It was a bountiful feast!

There is certainly something primal about hunting for food. For me, so immersed in technology and the modern world, it is a radical transformation to become a hunter. The fact that we have to use the thrust of our spear, instead of some high-tech alternative, grounds us further in the past. The fact that I can feed my family doing this puts me in touch with men reaching back to the dawn of our time.

Even if the next time I go out and completely fail at getting fish, I did have this one period of time when I reached into the distant past and became something else - just one more of our many Bahamas memories.

If you can't see the video preview, click on this link: Video of our trip to Flamingo Cay

Margates on the dining table!

Yellow-tail snapper and Hog-fish

Big Margate and small Hog fish

Sailing Regatta – Two Ways

2015-03-06T08:41:00.000-05:00

Old School

In early February, we made our way to Little Farmer’s Cay for the popular 5F (Farmer’s First Friday in February Festival). The festival organizers put together a lot of activities for the kids – scavenger hunt, 3-legged race, hermit crab races – and there were plenty of little people to compete and engage in the fun. The big draw of the festival, though, was the Class B sloop regatta. For two days, the sleepy runway was buzzing with small planes delivering crew and spectators to the regatta site while live bands provided entertainment between races. These beautiful traditional Bahamian sloops are handmade by local boatwrights and look like giant birds swooping low across the water. Conditions were very windy and gusty. In fact, the races were postponed for a day to give the weather time to settle down. Nonetheless, there were some capsizes and at least one collision as the teams tried to negotiate the big winds. The George Town boat, the favorite, won 2 of the 3 races, and was the champion for the second year in a row.

Note the boards for hiking out (photo credit Bernie)

Hiking out (photo credit Bernie)

Ocean Cabin was the hub for activities - loved the "hours"

Fresh conch salad to order

New School

This past week marked our second year participating in the George Town Cruiser’s Regatta. We entered our boat in the big boat races and had two fabulous days of sailing with friends. The wind over the course of the week was either non-existent or windy. Fortunately, both race days had plenty of wind. The Around-the-Harbor race got a little crazy with some of the mono-hulls carrying too much sail for the conditions, and many of the boats experiencing equipment failures. Dream Catcher blew a jib sheet block as we tacked to the windward finish line, and I watched nervously as the coach top flexed under our jury-rigged “quick fix.” We were near the end of the race so we didn’t stress the boat for too long, and a more permanent fix was in place by the time we were settling back into our anchorage.

Bernie - Chief Tactician

Wendy the Winch Wench

Two days later, the Around-Stocking-Island race was also very windy and we exited the north entrance into confused seas. Our first thought was that the conditions were just about perfect for catching a Mahi! Up came the frozen Ballyhoo and the fishing rod and out went the line for trolling. Unfortunately, our speed was probably too fast and our time outside the harbor too short to realistically catch anything. Nonetheless, it made us feel good to think the race was serving double duty.

Patrick and Tim, our Montreal crew

Pendragon, tearing up the course

Multihull fleet

The big boat racing was just a small part of the week long regatta, though, and not even the featured event! Activities ranged from the skilled (e.g., sailing dinghy racing, pétanque, beach volleyball) to the ridiculous (e.g., blind row racing, downwind dinghy racing, model boat racing). The emphasis was most definitely on fun as evidenced by the fact that all members of the winning team for the coconut challenge (don’t ask) received bottles of rum while only the winning skipper of the big boat race received a bottle of rum (can you say "mutiny"?)!

Every day is kids' day! (Ally, Jeanette, and Lily)

There was a dedicated kids day, too, with face-painting, wacky relays, egg toss, and tug of war events. For the cruiser kids, though, every day is a fun day as they swim from boat to boat, go on beach hikes, play on water trampolines, have doll parties, movie nights, etc.

Jeanette and Ally go exotic

Bella Ella - Nyad princess

Jack Sparrow pays a visit to kids' day

Ken and Bernie sport their pirate looks

Coleen and Jeanette

Tug of war - boys

Tug of war - girls (So many kids here!)

With the end of “the season” coming up fast and boats now standing by for weather windows to move south, there is a sense of urgency as we try to squeeze every last drop out of the fun we’ve all had together. Our time here is now measured in weeks and after one more jaunt to The Raggeds, we’ll be looking to begin making our way slowly north. In the meantime, though, we have not yet tired of the sparkling water, the spectacular sunsets, and the dazzling night sky.

"Double" sunset

Double rainbow

Long Island Valentine

2015-03-05T09:47:00.000-05:00

Exit Strategy

A couple of weeks ago, we took advantage of a break in the strong winds to head over to Long Island for a few days. After two days of light winds we anticipated that exiting the harbor would be a breeze. Although the waves were not terribly large, they were terribly confused and we had to endure about 20 minutes of a washing machine before escaping into more organized seas with a longer swell period. With reefs all around us, we had an amazing view of a tempestuous sea state crashing against into the shallows. It was a spectacular sight – especially as our friends on Rollick came through behind us, seemingly swallowed up by the waves. We had numerous boats hail us to confirm conditions, including one boat that was entering the harbor without accurate charts! Ken gave him waypoints to follow and we hoped that they would find their way safely inside. As we reached the banks, the water settled down and we had a fabulous sail across to Long Island and beautiful views of Rollick flying their colorful spinnaker.

Rollers waiting for us as we exit Elizabeth Harbor

Rollick, behind us....

...and in smoother waters

Dream Catcher underway

Happy Captain

The Other Long Island

As its name suggests, Long Island, is a long skinny island with several settlements and a fairly robust population considering its remote location. We pulled into Miller’s Bay by mid-afternoon and strolled the long stretch of beach there. The sand is very different, being more golden brown and granular than the powdery white sands to which we’ve grown accustomed. It didn’t stop the girls from swimming, building sand castles, and shelling all afternoon. Jeanette hung out with Alex and Jordan that evening, while Bernie, Andrea, Ken and I had an early Valentine's Day dinner at Chez Pierre on shore.

Alex and Jeanette with a Valentine's Day cupcake on Rollick

The next morning we moved over to Thompson Bay, where most of the cruiser action takes place. Happily, our visit coincided with Saturday’s farmer’s market and we joined the procession from the dinghy dock up the hill to the old open-air building which houses the market. It was quite a lively scene, with numerous vendors selling homemade gifts, jams, jellies, and produce. We recognized one of the vendors as the waitress from our dinner out the night before, and made a point of buying some of her goods, including some Long Island sea salt.

To market, to market!

Thompson Bay Farmers Market

Local produce, crafts, and homemade goodies (photo from Rollick)

Handmade straw goods (photo courtesy of Rollick)

Fresh coconut water

Getting Away From It All

After being immersed in the kid-boat caravan for several weeks, we were all yearning for a real getaway. We weighed anchor first thing the next morning and set out for the unknown. Our first stop was at Nuevitas Rocks off the southwestern part of Long Island. With great visibility and an extensive reef to explore, we snorkeled and fished, collecting fish, lobster, and conch for dinner.

One Margate, two Hogfish, three meals

By mid-afternoon, we needed to move on in order to squeeze into our next anchorage with the high tide. Motoring into the channel between Dollar Cay and Sandy Cay was like entering paradise. The channel is fairly narrow, a ribbon of deep blues and greens ending abruptly as the bottom shallows precipitously to shoals and sandbars that stretch to the horizon. The sand, while inviting, is not especially firm and we all got a great workout the next day as we walked all over the islands, at times sinking up to our knees in the soft sand.

The view from 60' up

Rollick at anchor in Dollar Harbor

Ken and Jeanette with nothing but sandbar for miles around

All things considered, it's surprising we don't see more of these!

Looking across at the channel entrance

We left early the next morning as our weather window began to close down. Tucking up amidst dozens of other boats in Red Shanks (George Town) that evening felt foreign and unfamiliar after the indescribable beauty we’d left behind us. Yet, I have fixed that harbor in my mind and find myself returning to it again and again, like a touchstone for peace, tranquility, and a sense of all’s right with the world. Truly heaven on earth!

Good-bye Makai!

2015-02-19T12:30:00.001-05:00

First Family

We first met the Mears in June 2013, shortly after moving onto Dream Catcher, which was docked at Brewer’s Marina in Stratford, CT. At that point we were merely testing out the waters, seeing what it was like living on a boat, and still formulating our dreams for cruising. Makai passed our boat while on the way up the Housatonic River and immediately dropped by to say hello. They had just completed their first season in the Caribbean and had plans to spend the summer cruising Long Island Sound and the Chesapeake. They were the first real cruising family we had met and we were eager to soak up their stories, advice, and encouragement. The fact that they had 3 children, 2 of whom were girls around Jeanette’s age was a definite plus. When they left the area a week later, we promised to hook up that summer, somewhere along the way. Little did we know, the universe was conspiring to push us off the dock and accelerate our cruising plans, and that our upcoming rendezvous with Makai would be just the first of many.

Makai and Dream Catcher at Dennis Point Marina

First production: Director Genny and cast members Marie, Jeanette, and Octopus

Jackie and Eric join us for sundowners

Makai kids' party boat (Warderick Wells)

Block Party

Each year, in Connecticut, we would go on an extended sail for a couple of weeks. That summer, we met up with our next-door neighbors, also boaters, in Mystic for the Fourth of July. Makai was in Block Island and we decided to join them there before heading back to Stratford. We entered the harbor in fog and wind and managed to squeeze into a spot not too far from them. The next couple of days were spent dinghy sailing, sharing meals, and creating at least one play that was written and directed by the kids. The laughter, fun, and companionship we shared at Block Island was to set the tone for our future visits, from the Chesapeake to the Exumas, Washington, DC to Duncantown.

Roy getting ready to catch crabs at Dennis Point

Fast friends (Block Island, RI)

Genny and Jeanette - Museum of Natural History

Marie, Genny, and J at the National Zoo

When a shark keeps you out of the water....

... you need to improvise

Roy practicing his James Bond move on The Mermaid

Ken and Eric - a typical visit (hence the need for rum)

Makai follows us through Hog Cay Cut

Homeward Bound

Makai now sits in Panama, waiting to transit the canal and return home to California. Over the past year and a half, they’ve been our buddy-boat, support team, and friends for some of the best times we’ve had on board. We’ll miss them and look forward to hearing about their Pacific adventures for years to come. Fair winds and following seas, Makai!

Sunset sail at Buena Vista Cay

Rainbow over Makai (Pipe Cay)

The Raggeds

2015-02-19T11:02:00.000-05:00

Buena Vista

The Jumentos Cays and Ragged Islands (both are sometimes referred to simply as “The Raggeds”) stretch out beyond Little Exuma reaching almost to Cuba. Last year, we made it as far south as Buena Vista Cay. This year, Buena Vista was our first stop as we made a 70-mile run from Hog Cay Cut in 15-20kt winds on the beam, our fastest point of sail. We pulled into the anchorage and reunited with our kid-boat caravan that had left George Town a couple of days before us. Buena Vista has decent diving and while I didn’t do a lot of snorkeling, Ken got in the water and made good progress in filling up our freezer with fish and lobster.

Afternoon catch

1 of 2 Mahis we caught on the way back to George Town

The island itself has just one inhabitant. We met Edward last year when we anchored in the small bay near his settlement. As we were looking to land our dinghy, he waved us over and proceeded to give us a tour of his camp and extensive gardens. His dwelling is very rustic, his only water supply provided by rain, fish and lobster are caught on the reefs, and fruits and vegetables coaxed ever so patiently from the sandy soil. Edward is well known by cruisers and welcomes visits to his garden and a menagerie that includes several chickens and a baby goat. The girls held the little goat for hours, hand feeding her succulent leaves and petting her downy-soft coat. One of the more colorful characters we’ve met along the way, Edward gave Ken the rundown on the history of The Raggeds and took him on a hike to show him some of the native medicinal plants.

Edward's settlement

Sharks in the water meant more boat time for kids

Duncantown

Sparsely inhabited, rocky and often barren, The Raggeds do not exactly appear hospitable. In fact, there is only one real settlement in the entire island chain – Duncantown – located on Ragged Island at the end of the chain. With a population of 80, the residents of Duncantown lead a simple life. The town itself is charming, with beautiful views and a guaranteed breeze from almost every direction. Saltpans lie on the east side of town and each family has their own plot. The salt collected from Ragged Island is fine and flaky.

Walking into Duncantown (saltpans to the right)

Looking back to the anchorage at Southside Bay on Ragged Island

Like everywhere in the Bahamas, there is evidence of projects started but incomplete or unused…. a bonefish lodge that’s been five years in the making and only partially finished, a newly-paved runway that lies dormant, etc. Nonetheless, the island serves its population and visitors with a grocery store, a gift shop, a couple of restaurants, a repair shop, and a school. Aside from the school, the other services seem to be open only when there is demand, primarily on the three or four days per month that the mail boat arrives. Residents order their supplies from the mail boat and this is the only way for cruisers to stock up on fresh produce, refrigerated goods, eggs and meats. We spoke at length with a couple of the residents and there was a pervasive sense of happiness and living the good life. One woman, married to a fisherman, told us that when she wants a fish, she crosses the street, drops the hook, and pulls up dinner. Just like that.

Marjorie's colorful gift shop

Looking up island from Ragged Island

Water, Water Everywhere

Perched on a narrow, shallow shelf of pure white sand dotted with coral heads and reefs, The Raggeds are surrounded by water thousands of feet deep. Purples, indigos, and cerulean blues of unreachable depths give way to teal, emerald, azure, and aquamarine waters that shallow precipitously. The reefs here are pristine and swimming amidst forests of living coral is mesmerizing. The fishing is also superb and we have all come to expect fish for dinner. Currents are strong and we try to dive at slack tide or on a flood so that we are at least being pushed back toward land rather than out to sea. As much as we love to swim, we find that we aren’t spending as much time in the water as much as we’d like due to the sharks in the anchorages.

Double Breasted Cay

Shark Thirty

By now, we’ve learned that it’s best to spearfish at slack or on a flood tide so that fish blood does not get swept out to sea and attract unwanted predators. We also don’t spear fish very early in the morning or in the late afternoon (4:30 is known locally as Shark:30) when the sharks are making the rounds of the islands. So far, we haven’t been hassled by sharks in the water. Our friends, though, saw a 15’ Hammerhead when they went diving one evening and the fishermen at Buena Vista reported a 14’ Tiger Shark in the cut as our caravan was clearing out of the anchorage in the morning. We all agreed that it was a good time to be leaving the neighborhood!

5' Lemon Shark joins the circle game

The Welcome Committee

Commercial fishing boats frequent these islands and sharks have come to expect handouts as their catch is cleaned each day. At Double Breasted Cay we pulled into one of the prettiest anchorages I’d ever seen. The only boat there, our anchor had barely touched sand when the first shark showed up. Within minutes, 4 reef sharks and a lemon were circling the boat. That day, we dove the reef with confidence, knowing that the local sharks were all busy checking out our boat. In fact, we did quite a bit of snorkeling and spearfishing in that area and didn’t see any sharks in the water. Not that I’m complaining. We’re on our way to Long Island now after leaving George Town and reports of a 12’ Tiger Shark in the harbor behind us.

Shark Whisperer

Reindeer Games

2015-01-10T12:50:00.002-05:00

Friends with Benefits

One of the best things about buddy boating is learning from each other – route planning, repairs and improvements, a favorite fishing/lobster spot, the best sandbar, and the nicest snorkeling areas. Isla Bonita and Makana have been sailing and diving these waters for years and we've both learned from them and explored new gems together. One of our favorite discoveries so far has been Saddle Cay. It doesn’t look like much on the chart, but it's a beautiful anchorage with fantastic snorkeling in every direction. From drift diving through a trench full of colorful corals, to floating above shallow coral heads with their exclusive communities, we spent hours in the water. A long sandbar at low tide provided a convenient meeting ground for the kids and a place for playing. Since there is always another "perfect" spot just around the bend, after a couple days we moved onto Shroud Cay, an island we skipped over last year. We loved taking the dinghy up through the creek to the ocean on the other side. Stingrays glided below while herons skimmed the surface - another magical place.

Creek at Shroud Cay

Shroud Cay - ocean side

Jeanette hitches a ride with Ella

Ken and Eric (Makai) troubleshoot the watermaker - AGAIN!

Our loose caravan of “kid boats” has more or less stuck together as we've traveled south, in order to give our children the social interaction they crave. Boat toys are shared and the kids not only learn new skills, but are challenged to find common ground and negotiate relationships with children both older and younger and at various stages of development. For the parents, sharing kid-watching duties as the game of musical boats progresses throughout the day means everyone gets a break at some point.

Makai kids and friends sailing in Warderick Wells

Leaping off the cabin top

Not your mamma's monopoly game

Isla Bonita hosts the kids at Warderick Wells

Hiking Perry's Peak (Lee Stocking Island) with Makai and Tangent

Marie, Jeanette, and Evelyn at the highest point in the Exumas

Warderick Wells’ Christmas II

With the wind forecasted to turn south, we all moved on to Warderick Wells for Christmas. Moored in the North field, we experienced déjà vu as we picked up where we left off last year. Hiking, beaching, sailing the Pico, and snorkeling, all the while gazing around at pristine beauty – this is a place to love and cherish. Our friends on Makai joined us here, as did Proud Mary – a boat family we met in passing in Bimini and picked up again in Shroud.

Big Lobster taunts us from the safety of the Exuma Land and Sea Park

Christmas with Ken's mom, Marie

By Christmas Eve we were up to 20 kids, including 2 who were visiting on island and 2 of the park ranger’s children. Both Makai and Dream Catcher have projectors now and watching a movie projected onto a sheet at the stern has become a popular way to pass the evenings. Our cockpit is sometimes challenged by the number of kids, but there always seems to be room for one more.

Ken and Jeanette take the Pico out for a spin

Let the Reindeer Games Begin!

For Christmas Eve, Ken organized a “Reindeer Games” event and engaged some of the parents to help run seven events. With 10 kids on each team, the Elves and the Reindeer, ranging in age from 4 to 15 years old, proved to be tough, but well-matched competitors. Thoroughly worn out after 2 hours in the hot afternoon sun, we rewarded both teams with lots of sugary treats and a quiet evening spent on their own boats.

Reindeer Games

Tug of war

How to torture children with marshmallows

Snowman (maiden) theme sand sculpture contest

As with last year, the park rangers hosted a potluck up at the main house on Christmas Day. Turkey, ham, mac and cheese (a staple in the Bahamas), dozens of side dishes and desserts, made for a leisurely afternoon of nibbling and visiting. Comfortably sated, we swam in the crystalline water as late afternoon turned to evening, and made our way to the sandbar in an unsuccessful attempt to escape the no-see-ums that had invaded the windless anchorage. The next morning, we left the protection of this beautiful anchorage and set off for the solitude of Pipe Cay.

Raging Waters

Traveling between islands nearly always raises the question of “inside or outside” – meaning the Exuma Bank side or the Exuma Sound side. Most of the time, the smoother waters of the bank are preferred. Accommodations can be made to stop and snorkel along the way and, sometimes, the inside route is simply shorter and/or safer. The sound side is deeper and requires negotiating one, and, most likely, two cuts (narrow channels, or inlets, between islands), which can be treacherous when the wind and tide oppose each another.

To the uninitiated, transiting a cut can be preceded with much nail biting, teeth gnashing, and obsessive checking and re-checking of wind direction, charts and tide schedules. In fact, the guidebooks make the cuts sound quite formidable and, for boaters who don’t have a clear understanding of what they’re doing, that can certainly be the case. Swirling currents, standing waves, and breakers can make for a daunting spectacle. Certain cuts are known for developing “rages,” and their tumultuous waters can be so furious that the cut simply becomes impassable.

Skinny cut at Saddle Cay

By now, though, Ken generally makes a good call where cuts are concerned and, with both engines engaged, we’ve negotiated even the tightest spots with no problems. Given acceptable weather, we greatly prefer running the cuts and going on the outside, where the routes are usually shorter and the sailing often better. Another reason is that we prefer deepwater fish (e.g., mahi or wahoo) instead of reef fish (e.g., snapper or grouper).

Mahi - yay!

After several trials and broken lines, it seems we’ve finally figured out how to manage the boat and the rod to maximize our odds of landing a fish. Large fish like mahi will provide several meals for the 3 of us, whereas a typical reef fish will yield 1 meal for 1 person. Of note, in order to minimize the risk of ciguatera poisoning, we usually hunt for reef fish on the smaller side (< 6 lbs). Although we don’t know anyone personally who’s been afflicted, we’ve heard enough stories to be wary, if not slightly paranoid. In any case, catching a fish is always time for celebration on board, and even the cat seems to know that she’s in for a sushi dinner. Twining herself around my legs and purring loudly, her eyes do not leave her bowl until it’s been loaded with fish bits and placed within reach. Her enthusiasm is matched only by that of the crew, who would be happy to eat fish every day.

The Great Equalizer

The other night, Jeanette spent the evening on Makai watching Swiss Family Robinson. I well remember that movie from my own childhood and the sense of adventure, uncertainty, and excitement that it inspired. Once reserved for the well funded, intrepid, hardy (or foolhardy) few, adventures have increasingly opened up to the masses. Anyone with an iPad can now download the latest chart and navigation information and, in spite of the economy, the ready access to data has opened up cruising to more rather than fewer boaters.

Makai at the end of the rainbow (Pipe Cay)

Williams Bay (Lee Stocking Island)

While we are certainly on an adventure here, our boating lifestyle is somewhere around the midpoint between truly roughing it and living in the lap of luxury. Fully crewed mega-yachts outfitted with helipads and tenders nearly the size of our boat rub elbows with vessels barely afloat whose creature comforts consist of a cooler and a flushable head.

My frustrations on board are quelled by the knowledge that it could be worse and on previous boats, I’ve certainly experienced more rustic accommodations. So, while I may gaze longingly at someone’s open galley, generous cockpit, or spacious staterooms, I am not at all displeased with what we have.

Water is the great equalizer and no matter what your boat, a cruiser is a cruiser, joined by the common experience of plying aquamarine depths, savoring tranquil anchorages, and reveling in the liquid velvet of a night sky unmarred by lights. Swinging on the hook at George Town, I gaze at the nearly 200 boats in the harbor and know that, though we are all coming to this place from different circumstances, there is an abiding sense of gratitude for the opportunity to be here. With every sunrise, I find myself waking in awe of our surroundings and hoping with all my heart that this season will not be our last time sailing these waters.

Williams Bay

The Season Begins

2014-12-15T17:49:00.000-05:00

The Flame of Renewal

Sparks fled upwards into the darkening night, reaching towards the brilliant pinpricks of uncountable stars above. The fire fed greedily on the driftwood haphazardly piled onto the fine powdery sand of the beach. A northeast wind blew long and cool, driving the flames to even greater acrobatics. The smell of smoke mingled with the tang of the salt air and hot dogs on the grill. The chill forced the odd collection of barefoot wanderers to shift just a little closer to the warmth. Despite the unseasonal chill, they were thankful to be where they were – nestled together around a campfire on the white sands of Norman’s Cay while crystalline aquamarine waters lapped nearby. They had finally arrived. Another season in the Exumas!

Sometimes, as we work our way over this watery world, we stumble into magical moments that just seem so perfect they belie description. This was such a moment. An idyllic welcome to our long journey from the Chesapeake and our escape from the cold.

Departure

After leaving Miami on Friday at 4AM, here we were on Sunday at 6PM, already in the Exumas, some 200 miles south and east of where we began. Now, 200 miles might not seem like a lot if you’re zipping along on a highway at 70, but it’s a little different when you’re going roughly 10 times slower than that. Imagine how long it might take you to run 200 miles, that’s probably closer to the speed at which we typically travel.

Bahamas

This trip has been a downhill ride. The crossing of the dreaded Gulf Stream was of no consequence. We sailed most of it and only had the motor on briefly. The seas were only a little disturbed by the northwest wind blowing across the Gulf Stream. We arrived at Alice Town in Bimini around 1PM, anchored, then I went in to handle customs and immigration. By 5:30PM, we were pulling up our anchor to catch the favorable winds still blowing. As darkness descended, we navigated out of the tricky Bimini entrance and headed south and east across Grand Bahama Bank towards Chub Cay.

Dream Catcher arrives in Bimini

Our plan was to arrive at the Northwest Channel at daybreak. This channel is supposed to be marked by two pilings about 500 yards apart. The only problem is that both pilings are in disrepair and you can’t see them unless you hit them. You simply have to trust your chartplotter and assume that your guardian angel is on duty in the wee hours of the morning.

As we nervously passed through the channel and onto the Tongue of the Ocean (an 8,000’ deep area that separates Chub Cay from New Providencia) we realized that we could probably just keep going onto New Providencia (where Nassau is located). This would put us a lot closer to the Exumas. Since we had already reefed our main, we were prepared for the wind to increase into the 20s, which it did. The seas grew larger and rougher, but we were scooting along at 7-8 knots and the seas were behind us, not in front of us. They eventually grew to about six feet, but this is less than what they were a year ago, so we figured we were doing pretty well. We sailed into the calm of West Bay and dropped anchor. It wasn’t long after that we were fast asleep as the lingering effects of the swell rocked us to sleep.

Exuma Bound

Sunday was supposed to be stormy, and we had prepared to sit out the front in West Bay, but morning dawned bright and clear, with only a gentle 10 knots blowing. It was too good to pass up! We headed out of the bay and pointed our bows (we are a catamaran, after all) towards Norman’s Cay, about 50 miles away. Sun poured out of a powder-blue sky as we set our course and our sails. Before long, we were once again romping along at 7-8 knots in perfectly flat seas in the lee of New Providencia. Gin-clear water showed every rock and coral embedded in the white sands only 8-12 feet below us. We flashed above them, too quick to make sense of any of it. Just before we reach our destination, we are hailed by Kathleen from Wonderful Life who gives us a head’s up that they, and several other “kid boats,” have already arrived – great news for us! Finally, we pulled into Norman’s Cay lagoon and dropped our anchor. The clarity of the water makes it easy to see the anchor and its long dark-grey stretch across the vivid whiteness of the sand bar beneath us. It holds us fast, secure in our latest watery destination.

We look up and find they we are right next to Wonderful Life! Wait, there’s Makana! And look, there’s Cool Cat across the lagoon! Doug from Wonderful Life zooms over in his dinghy to invite us to the season’s first beach barbeque. Moments later, a dinghy full of kids pulls up to gather Jeanette and they are soon speeding off towards the beach. We collect our things, make dinner preparations, and an hour later, we are on a white-sand beach, catching up and meeting new members of the lost tribe of wandering sailors. Food is enjoyed, conversations flow, and friendships warm while falling stars mingle with sparks streaming skyward. It’s great to be back!

The view from our boat in Normans Cay

The Long Slog South

2014-12-10T09:02:00.000-05:00

Running the Gauntlet

My first sail on a big boat was the sea trial for the old Cal 30 my parents bought when I was 10 years old. It was a blustery day and a boisterous sail that, at one point, had me in ankle-deep water as I stood on the backrest of the cockpit bench while water poured in from over the side. An anxious look at my father’s smiling face assured me that this was normal – an experience that was to seriously skew my concept of sailing for years to come. In fact, when we were teenagers, my brothers and I loved to take the boat out and skirt along the squall lines to ride the bigger winds and seas. It wasn’t until later – after riding out gale-force winds off Gun Cay and sailing in 20’ seas back to Fort Lauderdale where we were told that the Coast Guard had been out rescuing people all day – that I began to realize that my father, a former merchant mariner, wasn’t much afraid of anything that could happen on the water. This turned out to be good preparation for sailing in the Bay Area and ocean racing with Ken in all kinds of conditions. Nonetheless, something has happened to me along the way and I’m slowly but surely warming up to the idea of being a fair-weather sailor. Looking at the all-male crews around us as we travel south, I’m thinking that those wives who fly in to the destination and skip the long slog south are onto something!

Autumn colors on the Alligator River, NC

Last month, I was chatting with some cruisers in the marina’s laundry room in Charleston, SC, commiserating about the weather, which was just about to go south. Literally. In fact, the wind was picking up as we spoke and the warm, humid air that was pushing before it had everything on the boat dripping with moisture. It was mid-November and the weather patterns were quickly transitioning from warm summer highs to the autumn lows that bring unstable, cold air, north winds, and rough seas. This particular group of cruisers was the experienced-sailors-but-first-time-cruisers variety. They were new to planning their entire lives around weather windows, estimated distance that could be covered, and potential access to groceries and marine supplies; and I had little helpful advice for them there that Active Captain couldn't provide. Although I understand the insurance companies’ policy of not allowing boaters to go south of Cape Hatteras before November, they do increase our risk by forcing us to travel at a time when cold fronts are marching down the coast one after the other. Sailing south becomes about best guesses, taking chances, and cutting your losses. There was much grumbling about the wind and the cold but, as burdens go, I’m not averse to bearing it knowing that warmer climes are just ahead.

Looking forward to 80 degrees!

The Art of Forecasting

Even in the best of times, weather is always a little bit unpredictable. Heading out of Beaufort Inlet, NC, weather reports told us to expect 20kt winds that would gradually abate over our expected 36-hour trip to Charleston, SC. While the wind was indeed 20kts when we started and it did lessen over 24 hours, for the last 10 or so hours, it strengthened again. Instead of the anticipated 5kts of wind, we had 25-30kts, with a following sea that was quickly building. It wasn’t anything we couldn’t manage, but it did catch us by surprise and made for some fairly unnerving maneuvering (clipped into a harness and the boat) trying to wrestle our big, unreefed mainsail under control. Needless to say, our last 8 hours into Charleston Harbor were faster than they would otherwise have been. But that’s just the thing…. even when you’ve checked out the local weather reports, NOAA’s marine forecast, grib files, and weather models, and touched base with your favorite weather guru (e.g., Chris Parker), the actual weather is prone to change. At best, you have to run the engine because the wind has died or you’re uncomfortable because the seas are a disorganized 6-8’ instead of a 3-5’ swell. At worst, you’re in way over your head and you and your crew or your boat is in danger. We prefer sailing on the outside (i.e., the ocean) rather than going down the intracoastal waterway (ICW). For one thing, we can sail; for another, it’s faster. It’s not necessarily easier, but it is faster; and when crazy stuff happens, I’m grateful for the experiences of our San Francisco sailing days when 30+ kts of wind was just another walk in the park.

Red Sky at night....

Sailing on “the outside” as it were, we miss much of the inland beauty that can be enjoyed on a leisurely trip down the ICW. Nonetheless, with temperatures dipping more frequently into the 30’s, we were motivated to move – and move fast. In hindsight, our long hops from Morehead City, NC to Charleston, SC, and from Charleston to St. Augustine, FL were fairly benign. Leaving St. Augustine the day after Thanksgiving, however, we were subjected to a sloppy following sea, making for a miserable washing machine effect that plagued us all the way to Port Canaveral. A steady strong breeze allowed us to sail – a definite bonus – but neither Ken nor I got much sleep off watch as we were tossed and turned about in our bunk. It was a quiet night, as shipping traffic goes, and there wasn’t much to see except for the bioluminescence frothing in our wake. After spending a few days in Cocoa Village seeing family and re-stocking, we took a break from the ocean and meandered down the ICW to Lake Worth. Another family/provisioning frenzy in N. Palm Beach and then we were riding long swells down to Fort Lauderdale yesterday, just ahead of a cold front. Today, there are distress calls up and down the S. Florida coast due to the huge surf that developed overnight. For once, we’ve timed things just right.

A different kind of explorer, entering Port Canaveral

Feeding frenzy off St. Augustine

Traveling Companions

It’s always fun to pull into the harbor and see a familiar boat. In Charleston, we docked right across from our friends on Song One and, just a few days later, they pulled up beside us in St. Augustine. Other cruiser friends touch base with e-mails and texts and are either just ahead, or just behind, us. Glass Slipper was getting hauled out in the boatyard in Green Cove Springs (Jacksonville) just before we made it to Florida. Rollick pulled into St. Augustine right after we left and Ally Cat was hoping to catch up to us before we cross. While underway, boaters are required to monitor channel 16 on the VHF. Listening to boat chatter all day, some names start to sound familiar; and, once in a while, you hear someone that you know. While sailing from Charleston, we were hailed at night by L’Avenir – an Austrian boat whose crew we met in Washington, DC. They had heard us speaking with another passing boat and wanted to say hello. It turned out they had also left from Charleston that day, but were heading straight on to Canaveral while we were stopping in St. Augustine. And so it goes, leap-frogging down the coast until we reach a destination we don’t want to leave. Along the way, we intersect with family and friends, old and new, and enjoy the occasional encounter with the wildlife that are also on the move. Day after day on the open ocean, pods of dolphins (Spotted and Bottlenose) played at our bow while we sat up forward and shared their sense of abandon.

Daredevil Dolphin

Pair of Spotted Dolphins off our bow

One afternoon, a solitary Bottlenose Dolphin showed up to play. She would surf the bow wave for a while, then dash up ahead, diving deep and waiting for the boat to catch up to her before speeding in from the side for another ride. After 15 minutes or so, she leaped into the air three times and then swam away. I imagine that the same shenanigans take place at night, but I can’t say for sure. On one moonless night I got a whiff of a strong, fishy smell that I can only assume was a whale. We were, after all, in the Right Whale critical habitat, but saw none in daylight hours. And that’s the way it is with our fellow travelers – we know they’re out there, but we don’t always see them. As we spend the next couple of days in Fort Lauderdale waiting for our next weather window, we are anticipating the camaraderie of this loose collection of nomads who sail in and out of our lives, connected by a shared love of living on the water.

Full moon rising over Lake Worth

Watery Woes

2014-12-01T12:14:00.001-05:00

Houston, We Have a Problem

Thurrrup, thurrrup, thurrrup. Damn. It's 2AM and the fresh water pump is cycling. Again. What the heck is that all about? The good news is that it's only a short pulse. The bad news is that it's enough to wake me up. I've tried ignoring it (my first reaction to problems), but it hasn't gone away. Since we are currently moored in a beautiful spot for a week, I can now ignore that beauty and get sweaty trying to fix this problem. Yay!

The beautiful city of St. Augustine at twilight

Once again, it's me against the beast. The beast is any problem that defies a simple explanation. I've had a few of these smile their evil, toothy grins at me - just daring me to come near. While I'm likely to vanquish the beast, it's rarely done without evidence left on my body somewhere. Those are sharp teeth!

This occasion wouldn't be any different as it happens.

Step 1: Get Help

Now, it used to be that I'd just jump in and figure everything out myself. Unfortunately, that usually turned out to be the most expensive option. This time, I documented the problem as much as I could and put it up on the Yahoo group forum for boats just like mine. This inevitably leads to many sympathetic voices suggesting every conceivable problem and solution, so you have to pick and choose which voices to listen to. They're the one place I'm likely to find sympathy and a shoulder to cry on. My wife and daughter have only the vaguest notions of the miracles I perform to keep this boat floating.

Step 2: Isolate the Problem

The freshwater pump takes water out of a large tank and pressurizes it to 44 PSI and sends it through hard plastic lines that worm their way throughout the boat where you can't see them. The pump has a pressure switch, once the lines are pressurized, they shut off. What I was hearing was a short pulse of the pump because the sensor measured a pressure decrease. Simple, right? The first thing to look for is a water leak somewhere in all those lines.

Step3: Clean the Bilges

All boats have bilges. It's where water goes that shouldn't be in the boat. Since time immemorial this has been a problem. I think it was some Carthaginian, out for a Zeusday sail in his trireme, who first accidentally dropped his favorite discus and watched it roll underneath the slave rowers. "Zeus damn!" he exclaimed as he blindly reached underneath the floorboards, franticly searching. He didn't find his discus, but he did find something squishy and disgusting, causing him to retch. It turns out the Carthaginian word for, "blech!" translates into the English, "bilge." Look it up if you don't believe me.

So, my bilges needed to be cleaned and dried if they were going to help me identify where the leak was. This technique had worked in the past, so I had some hope for it. Turns out it was misplaced...

Step4: Block the Water

After spending a day with the bilges open everywhere on the boat, and crawling around with a paper towel to make sure they were really dry, I determined that the mystery water leak wasn't playing by the rules. Water was not winding up in them. Now I would have to try something more difficult. I had to block off each section of the freshwater system to see if it would stop the pulsing (which had progressed to once every 5 minutes).

How do you block 44 PSI? I can tell you what not to do. Don't carve a piece of cork and stick it in and tape it. That resulted in the cork whizzing past my face at subsonic velocities - followed by a stream of pressurized water that splashed onto my laptop. Also, don't use a large metal bolt that almost fits the hose. It turns out you can't just put a lot more tape on it to seal it. While it held for one second longer than the first attempt, the net result was the same. At least when the water came gushing out, it only went all over the innards of the air conditioner, which is in the same area.

Once I had a length of tubing with a non-lethal seal on one end, I got to work going around the boat and replacing connections with the blocker. This sounds easy, but this is where most of my scars came to pass. While a few of the connections are easily reachable, many are placed where only garden gnomes could possibly go. Invariably, I could only reach these connections with one hand, with the rest of my body inconveniently leaning on a sharp fiberglass panel. While disconnecting the connection worked one-handed, it was another thing to get the two pieces back together.

Remember the dry bilges? Well they were rapidly filling with water (mixed in some cases with my precious blood). Every test involved a liberal spray of water released into the nether regions of the boat. You'd hope this was all for a good purpose. As it turned out, it wasn't.

Step5: Try the Spare Pump

All that mucking about with blocking off parts of the water system got me no where. All I could say was that if I had the blocker attached to the output of the pump, the cycling totally stopped. As soon as I added more of the system to the pump, the cycling started and I couldn't see any sign of water leaking anywhere. It had to be the pump!

I put the spare pump in the system and it seems even worse! OK, it can't be the pump, it must be the freakin hoses! I half-heartedly try to go through the entire isolation process with the new pump, with basically the same result as before. Did I mention this is day #2 that I've dedicated to this process? Where are the girls you ask? Oh, they are enjoying cookies and cake over at the relatives, where they've been for the last two days...

Step6: Give Up

I usually try this step sooner, not sure why I waited as long as I did. I was defeated. I figured I'd put everything back the way it was and just live with it. Since the water wasn't showing up in the bilge, it was hard to prove I was actually losing any water. I convinced myself I could learn to enjoy the brief cycling of the water pump hour after hour, day after day.

Any reasonable person would be frustrated at this point, I was no exception. In trying to get everything back together, I had one balky set of connections that every time I tried to turn on the pump, water would hiss and spray in one direction or another. After several attempts, I yanked at it a little too hard and broke the Zeuss-damn water pump!!

Step7: Smile

Because once I replaced the old water pump with the new water pump, everything worked perfectly and continues to this day. Sometimes finding the silver lining requires a bit of blood, sweat and tears, but if you're persistent, you'll find it!

Cruising the Potomac

2014-11-18T08:15:00.001-05:00

Washington’s Wilderness

You wouldn’t think the urban centers around Washington, DC would be surrounded by wilderness, but that is exactly what we found sailing up the Potomac River. For hours at a time we saw nothing but trees, ospreys, herons, and even a pair of bald eagles diving for fish. At dusk on our second day, we eased our way into the anchorage below Mount Vernon and though it may sound cliché, it really did feel like we had stepped back in time. The next morning, we toured the mansion and the grounds, and enjoyed a surprise encounter with Mary and Coleen from Glass Slipper, whom we’d last seen in Georgetown months earlier. While Jeanette and Coleen reveled in their reunion, Ken and I caught up with Mary and shared ideas and tips for haul-outs and “the trip back” (i.e., returning to the Bahamas). We spent another quiet night at Mt. Vernon and, in the morning, followed Glass Slipper upriver to DC proper.

George and Martha's house

Jeanette with Washington's personal body slave

Jeanette and Coleen at the wheat threshing barn

Jeanette and Coleen getting a friend fix

Dream Catcher below Mt. Vernon

Helicopter Highway

The anchorage in DC is in the Washington Channel – a would-be peaceful spot nestled between a park and two marinas. It also happens to be on the main helicopter route to the White House. Buzzing just overhead, the helicopter traffic started at dawn and sometimes went until late at night. Some days were busier than others, but I suppose we all got used to them – even the cat, who initially ran below in terror at the start of each whump-whump-whump coming up the channel.

The waterfront is also undergoing a major renovation with new docks being installed and an entire complex of hotels, restaurants, bars, and boutiques being rolled out in phases, beginning in 2017. Between the helicopters, the DC cruise boats bustling in and out, the waterfront construction, sailing classes, rowing practices, and the occasional drifting boat, there was plenty of action on the water. And while the Washington Channel may be a far cry from our tranquil anchorages down south, we enjoyed every minute of our urban experience. For one thing, we were a 15-minute walk away from the National Mall and dozens of museums and monuments. FREE!! The metro and a decent grocery store were two blocks away and the best fish market I’ve seen since Pike Place was just a short dinghy ride up the channel. What’s not to love?

Following Glass Slipper

The Mall

A typical day for us in DC was to work in the morning - Jeanette is in school, after all - and visit museums and monuments in the afternoon. What a luxury to not have the time pressure of a compressed visit! We could see as much or as little of any given museum as we wanted, knowing that we could come back again. Jeanette’s favorite was the Natural History Museum – even though the dinosaur exhibit is closed for renovations. The National Gallery and the Botanical Gardens are always on my "must see" list - I could go back to again and again to drink up the art and bask in the beauty of those incredible orchids. The Holocaust Museum – one that we did not, unfortunately, explore thoroughly – was not what we expected and was very thought provoking. The Archives was another surprising find and quite interesting. Ken spent a lot of time at the Air and Space Museum and Museum of American History. Both had their high points and Jeanette and I made a couple of trips to the First Ladies Gowns exhibit – needless to say, her dreams are bigger than mine were at her age. We all learned a lot at the Ford Museum and the Newseum was another big hit.

Air and Space Museum

Jeanette working on her Junior Botanist Certificate at the National Botanical Gardens

Polka dot orchid (not it's real name, but it should be!)

National Gallery

Women's suffrage monument

Dedication of the Disabled Veterans for Life Memorial

Old Friends, New Friends

We had the good fortune of catching up with a number of old friends while we were in DC. From childhood friends and schoolmates, to colleagues and family, we enjoyed catching up and seeing favorite places through locals’ eyes. I also experienced my first “Boat Moms Night Out” hosted by Tanya on Take Two, and met some of the cruising families from the marina. While Take Two was soon on their way, I connected with Kimberly from Ally Cat and Monica from Flipper, two moms of 10-year-old only girls – a definite score for Jeanette. She had a great time playing with Ally and Lucia, who hooked her into the marina kids and took her trick-or-treating at the air force base. Our friends on Makai also came to DC for a couple of weeks and we had a great time exploring the sites with them. We even got to see the President dedicate a new memorial to Disabled Veterans – the first time any of us had seen a sitting president! Our stay also overlapped a business trip for our San Francisco friends Michael and Lisa, as well as a business trip for my brother Joe and his wife, Debbie. It was so easy to be in DC – and so much fun – that we had a difficult time pulling ourselves away!

Getting ready for our State Capital tour with the Makai kids - Roy, Marie, and Genny

Michael and Lisa in D.C.

Serena and Jeanette plotting to beat the pants off us (Florence, Martin, Luke, Ken, and me)

Jeanette and Genny

Marie, Genny, and Jeanette

Colleagues JoAnn and Karen pow-wow on Dream Catcher

Going Off The Mall

We also took some excursions off the Mall. We spent a gorgeous fall day picnicking and hiking at Great Falls with my childhood friend, Florence and her husband, Martin. Later, they hosted us at their home for a dinner with their three wonderful children. It was fascinating to see their high-school- and college-age kids and trying to imagine Jeanette at that age. I’m so grateful that parenting is a gradual process and that one generally has time to adjust to the rapid development of children! Ken’s cousin, Andrea, took us on several outings – Gettysburg, the Woodlawn Mansion, Frank Lloyd Wright’s Pope-Leighey House, Alexandria, Harper’s Ferry, Arlington Cemetery, and the Claude Moore Colonial Farm. It’s a wonder Jeanette got any schoolwork done!

Florence and Beth at Great Falls

Great Falls, VA

Jeanette and Andrea at Harper's Ferry

Ken and Jeanette at Great Falls

Woodlawn with Andrea

Wreath laying ceremony at Tomb of the Unknown Soldier

Underway Again

Golden leaves and dropping temperatures were our signal that it was time to move south once again. My business trip to Portland, OR in early November kept us in DC longer than we originally intended, but the moment I returned – literally – we weighed anchor and set off. Nine days later, we are in Charleston, SC, sitting out a blow and waiting for our next weather window to sail to St. Augustine, FL. Forecasts like those for tomorrow night (25 degrees!!!) are a great motivator for moving south as quickly as possible. Eighty degrees can’t come soon enough!

Sailing wing-on-wing up the Neuse River in North Carolina

12 Months of Memories

2014-09-17T11:58:00.000-04:00

What Were we Thinking?!

Only crazy fools would leave for an extended cruise on Friday the 13^th, but that’s exactly what we did a year ago in September. We sailed away from our home in Milford, CT to new horizons.

With this, our first year of cruising behind us, I thought it'd be fun to take a look back. It would be an impossibly tedious blog if I tried summarizing all our experiences – both on land and at sea, so these are just some of the highlights and lowlights.

Key Statistics

Distance travelled so far: According to our log, we’ve travelled 3,120 nautical miles from CT to Bahamas and then back up to the Chesapeake (where we are now).
Longest passage: From the Abacos in the Bahamas to Norfolk, VA., which took 4.5 days and covered 660 nM (roughly 6 knots average).
Longest stay: Two months in Georgetown, Exumas.
Fastest boat speed: 11 knots.
Most wind: While sailing is 30 knots. The most at anchor is 40 knots.
Scariest moment: When the boat dragged in Portsmouth and we weren’t on it.
Best moment: Swimming with the dolphins for an hour or more in Eleuthera.
Second-best moment: Spending Christmas at the Exumas Land and Sea Park in Warderick Wells with dozens of cruisers and several families and discovering just how jaw-droppingly beautiful the Bahamas really are.
Worst moment: Figuring out why the head clogged and then cleaning up after I made one small mistake…
Biggest surprise: How incredibly helpful the cruiser community has been to us. We've had strangers open up their homes, boats, cars, and hearts to us. There is an incredible generosity amongst the cruisers we’ve met; I hope we get a chance to pay it back.

What might not be obvious is that there were many more positive memories than negative ones. We’ve had no real storms to face or “I’m glad we survived” moments. Yes, we’ve been in bigger waves and wind than we wanted, but the boat did fine in those conditions. It’s taught us to be patient and wait for decent weather.

Creature Encounter

Along the way, we ran into many kinds of animals in the wild. Some visits were brief, some longer.

Alligator (South Carolina)
Manatees (Florida)
Sharks, Bull and Reef (Bahamas)
Dolphin (Chesapeake and points south, Bahamas)
Bald eagles (Chesapeake, Dismal Swamp)
Osprey (everywhere)
Heron, Pelican, etc. (everywhere)
Turtles (South Carolina, Bahamas)
Moray eel (Bahamas)
Nutria (Bahamas)
Brown Racer Snake (Bahamas)
Iguana (Bahamas)

Departure, September 13th, 2013

We left on a clear, crisp sunny day. I remember being nervous about sailing so far away to the Bahamas, but it’s like eating an elephant - just taking small bites over a long period of time. On our entire trip to the Bahamas, we only sailed for 24 hours once. All the other jumps were simple day trips.

September 13, 2013 - We begin our trip from Milford, CT

Traveling down the East Coast

After leaving Milford, we boogied for NYC to time our trip through the East River. Instead of staying in NYC like we planned, we kept going due to favorable weather. We had to get south along the New Jersey coast and we wanted to do that in good conditions. We never went ashore until we reached the Chesapeake.

Motoring by the UN building in NYC

The trip down was mostly rushed and too much motoring or motor-sailing. It wasn’t until we reached the top of the Chesapeake that things began to slow down and we could turn back into a sailboat. The weather was much colder than we anticipated. We had to resupply with thermal underwear before too long. We were a little too eager to leave our winter gear behind us...

Chesapeake City - at the very top of the Chesapeake

Fun in Baltimore

Annapolis, MD: Hanging off a mooring

Annapolis, MD: Watching the America's Cup with like-minded sailors

We certainly took advantage of the historical areas. We visited sites key to the Revolutionary war, War of 1812 and a few of the Civil War sites. Here on the East Coast, they have “historical recreation” (otherwise known as "living history") sites where people dress up as the inhabitants and tell you their story. I don’t remember anything like that on the West Coast – other than the Renaissance Faire!

Williamsburg, VA: boot making 101

Yorktown, VA: attacking the British

Jamestown, VA: We want our next boat to look like this

St. Michaels, MD: After the crab-feeding frenzy

Leaving the Chesapeake

In mid-November, my mom joined us as we left Norfolk, VA and headed down the ditch to parts south. Amazingly, she held up well in some admittedly rough conditions – the roughest of our trip in fact.

Nofolk, VA: Heading down the "ditch" with Mom

You can motor a boat from Norfolk, VA through the Intracoastal Waterway (ICW) all the way to Miami. It’s commonly referred to as the "ditch" – which is what it looks like in many parts. I think we must have spent 50% of our passage in the ditch, the rest was out on open water. Personally, I’d prefer to do much more on the open water, but conditions determine which way we go.

Somewhere in South Carolina: The ditch goes on and on...

Roanoke, NC: Sunrise (which means Beth took it as I'm still sleeping)

I think Roanoke was my favorite resting point along the way. There is a historical site of the "lost colony" of Roanoke - it's very well done. We had the anchorage to ourselves and I discovered “Shrimp and Grits” there. Grits are basically the same thing as polenta. The dish contains small bits of spicy sausage, shrimps, garlic, cheese-infused grits, country ham, green onions, Cajun spice and a little chicken stock. Now that’s some Southern cookin’! Best enjoyed while watching the shrimp boats pull into the harbor.

Roanoke Indian Village: This is all we'll be able to afford after we sell the boat...

Roanoke, NC: Time to relax

Shrimp 'N Grits!

Kitty Hawk, NC

Weather was cold – even as far south as Hilton Head Island, South Carolina. It was 30 degrees on the boat one morning and we all resorted to sleeping together in one berth to stay warm.

Hilton Head, SC: Spanish Moss was everywhere

Charleston, SC: Carriage ride tour of the city

Mr. Repairman

Unlike many other cruisers, who have a history of meddling with tools and fixing things around the home, I was more wary of the “DIY” mentality. This was partly due to my upbringing and partly due to the fact that when I tried to fix something, I would usually make some bonehead mistake causing me more time, effort and money to repair than the original problem.

When you’re a cruiser and you break down in some remote location, you’re on your own. So unless your plan is to be the next Swiss Family Robinson storyline, you’re faced with dealing with these issues yourself. I reluctantly came to this decision myself as Beth refused to learn how to service a diesel engine. For me, the side effect has been many instances where I pay a price for the, “it seems I have an extra part left-over after assembling that,” or the “jeesh, how does that go back together?” or, my favorite, “it’s not the way you’re supposed to do it, but maybe it will work for awhile.” So, I randomly bleed, sweat profusely, swear and generally fumble my way towards a semi-functioning boat. Yes, there is a sense of accomplishment getting something to work, but there is also a dread of something suddenly not working when we need it. It’s the yin and the yang of maintaining a boat.

Dealing with melted watermelon in the vents

· What needed fixing:

Watermaker: Fatal blow out of end cap dumped water in the boat and then took a month to repair.
Generator: Multiple failures of impeller caused mysterious shutdowns.
AC: Fermented watermelon juice in AC ducts required replacing them in 90 degree weather.
Rudders: Both replaced due to cracks and fluttering.
Hulls: Had to fix large gelcoat gouges from big iron bolts when the boat dragged anchor and drifted away without us.
Heads: Both started leaking and required rebuilds, then there was the epic blockage…
Engine: Ate 3 fan belts in 9 months, constantly required tightening to prevent squealing.
Saildrive: A small crack developed in the housing (somehow) – which allowed sea water into the gear oil.
Propellers: On three occasions, we wrapped a line around our props (stalling the engine). Required me to twice dive into the water and remove lines in zero visibility water.
Windlass: Oil leak into the electric motor, required strip and rebuild.
Outboard: Bad fuel and decomposing fuel line crudded up the carb. For a month, we could barely go 100 feet without stalling.

This is a very small list of just some of the things that needed attention. There is the chore of routine servicing and replacement of parts that wear out. It seems we rarely go more than a month before something surprises me.

Florida

Coming into St. Augustine after 24 hours sailing from Hilton Head was a bit of nail biter – only because the seas were rough and there was a lot of outflowing current. That can create breaking waves, but we just powered through some rollers and got into calmer waters. It was such a huge change to be in FL. The weather was now tropical after the cool of HH. St. Augustine had lots going on – but we only stayed a few days before continuing down the ditch.

St. Augustine, FL: Welcome to sunny and warm Florida!

St. Augustine: We're back in T-shirt weather!

Beauty telling us to get up off our butts and feed her

We stayed in the ditch for most of Florida. There are only certain spots where you can leave/enter it, and generally the weather wasn’t decent to take the ocean route.

Because we were in the ditch, we were faced with lots of bridges. They come in two forms – those that are fixed and we barely clear with our mast; those that are movable and we have to time our arrival and/or call them on VHF to request an opening. Needless to say, bridges were necessary evils. A few times we were forced to wait for a lower tide before going under a fixed bridge. More than a few times we heard the "twang" of our steel whip antenna hitting the undersides of a bridge.

A rare sighting of a swinging bridge, most bridges were Bascule

Florida was also about visiting with Beth's family. We took our time going through and by December 12th, we were parked south of Miami, waiting for the right conditions to cross the Gulf Stream to the Bahamas.

Melbourne, FL: sailing with Beth's family

Melbourne, FL: After all the bridges we saw, we build one out of paper

Miami, FL: As we got further south, we saw the water color change

Somewhere in FL

Bahamas

After arriving in the startling clear, turquoise water of Bimini, six hours after leaving Miami, we hung around for a couple days before jumping down to Nassau. After a week fixing a few things, we headed to the Exumas - rushing down to Georgetown - cruiser's central.

Bimini: Everything we were hoping for

Bimini: Our introduction to the colors of the Bahamas

Nassau wasn't anything more than a tourist spot

The Exumas lived up to - and even exceeded - our expectations. Warderick Wells was our first stop, a natural trust site, so no fishing allowed. It was extraordinary photogenic. I still shake my head at the beauty of it all. We stayed a week for racing further down to Georgetown, skipping many islands on the way.

Warderick Wells: Paradise found!

WW: Spending Christmas with other kids made J smile

Exumas: Jeanette goes "au naturale"

We had it all there in Georgetown - beaches galore, shelter, rudimentary provisions and most importantly, other families! Jeanette instantly made friends and there were many rendezvous in the shade of Hamburger or Volleyball beaches.

Georgetown: Valentines Day on Hamburger beach with kids from Glass Slipper, Rollick and Hoodwinked

Georgetown: Sunday lectures from the local historian

Georgetown Luxury: Local hotel has a "cruiser's special" on Fridays - good place to take visiting friends

Georgetown: My sister and husband visit us and sample one of the many beaches

Georgetown: It's "race your coconut boat" day at the Annual regatta

When you're cruising, you don't use last names as much as boat names. So instead of, "Here's the Pimentels!" you'd hear, "It's Dream Catcher!". So, in that spirit, Rollick taught me how to spear fish for lobster and other fish, Makai helped me with various "fix-it" projects (along with their 13 year old teaching me about trolling for fish!) while Makana, Whistling Cay and Glass Slipper kept Jeanette busy. The community is amazing, helpful and welcoming.

Exumas: I speared my first lobsters!

Georgetown: Kid-fun!

Other than two trips to the Jumentos (south of Exumas), we stayed in Georgetown with 150-300 other boats. We were having such a great time and there wasn't a lot of incentive to go elsewhere. We were not on a mission to circumnavigate the Caribbean - we have nothing to prove to anyone. My girls just want to have fun!

Jumentos: Looking for lobsters in all the wrong places

Jumentos: Enjoying fish and lobsters caught earlier with other cruisers we ran into

Return from the Bahamas

We took our time bouncing up the Exumas and spent some incredible moments with the family on Makai visiting an amazing panoply of nature's best screen-savers. We left Makai at Normans Cay and headed to Eleuthera (and our super-sized dolphin experience) before reconnecting with Makai and going up to the Abacos. Eleuthera and the Abacos are really beautiful, but pale in comparison to the Exumas. It's odd to hear so many cruisers who only go to the Abacos. They don't have any idea of what they're missing - but it proves how expectations are set. We'd never waste any time in the Abacos if we could spend it in the Exumas. We're hoping this year we'll explore places that put the Exumas to shame - like the Jumentos seemed to.

Playing with the Makai kids

Eleuthra: Dolphin extravaganza

Eleuthra: Video from our dolphin experience

Cambridge Cay: Visiting the "Aquarium" with Makai

Thomas Cay: Impossibly perfect sandbars are picture-worthy

On May 9th, we left Manjack Cay in the Abacos, on our longest passage to Norfolk, VA. Since then, we've been busy fixing the boat, moving the last of our stuff out of the Milford house and transporting it to FL. Now we're sitting here in Washington DC, a half-mile from the Washington Monument. We might hang out here a month before moving south and starting another Bahamian adventure.

Where to Next?

We’ll remain in the Chesapeake until our insurance allows us to proceed south around the middle of November. Then we’ll boogie down to Florida before jumping over to the Bahamas. We’re definitely spending most of our time in the Exumas and some of the remote islands that are further east and south. We loved the Jumentos, so definitely more time down there.

Our house in Milford just sold – thereby fully casting ourselves into the future. We’ve already sold or given away pretty much everything we owned. What we have is on the boat and what could fit into a conversion van that we drove from CT to FL. The future is an open door, or an empty horizon in our case. At least for another year. We take things as they come, we don't plan beyond six months at a time. No, this can't last forever as we have to go back to jobs at some point and Jeanette has to go to High School, but leave us our dreams for now, on the good ship Dream Catcher!

Baltimore Bound

2014-09-16T20:19:00.001-04:00

Charm City

At first glance, Baltimore, a bit rough around the edges, does not seem exactly deserving of its nickname. I was curious about the origin of Charm City and discovered that it was part of a public relations move to promote the city at a time when urban decay was blighting the area. In response to a request from the mayor, the four leading advertising agencies in Baltimore came together in 1975 and brainstormed an image to sell Baltimore's appeal. Having walked around some of the neighborhoods, I can confirm that the city does exude significant charm. Old brick buildings, cobblestone streets, and flower boxes abound. Hipster bars and chic bistros stand cheek by jowl with older establishments whose walls one wishes could speak. Beautiful parks, green spaces, a waterfront promenade that goes for miles, and great outdoor venues for fairs, concerts, and farmer's markets lend themselves to enjoying the outdoors. Our anchorage, adjacent to "The Anchorage" Marina, was the perfect location for a stroll along the waterfront and quick provisioning trips to Safeway (across the street) and West Marine (a block away). For a cruiser, those two features make this an ideal place to hang out for a while. We had the added bonus of catching up with Bernie and Andrea from Rollick, and their 2 darling daughters, Alex (6) and Jordan (3).

Cart full o' boat kids

Alexa, Jeanette, Jordan

Girl Friends

We last saw them in the Exumas and it was great to spend time with them, share some meals, and plan for more warm-water adventures. Ken even managed to squeeze in three races with Bernie on Jester, a J-105 (finishing first in the series), while Jeanette and I did "girl stuff."

The official race picture (Ken on mainsheet, Bernie on jib)

Despite the age gap, Jeanette embraced the opportunity to play with kids and renew friendships. She especially loved joining Alex and Jordan at Port Discovery - an all-play (and, as Jeanette proudly told me "a no-learning") venue for kids. Having spent an afternoon there myself, I can confirm that this place is a kid's dream - climbing structures, tunnels, a play kitchen, a water play room, a bubble tube, crazy fun games, four floors of activities - truly a must-see for the under-12 set. We also spent an evening at the National Aquarium, which was more interesting for its unique layout than for any specific collection. They did have several of our familiar friends - black-tipped reef sharks - and an enormous loggerhead turtle named Calypso. She swam and glided so gracefully throughout the tank that it took a while before we realized that she only had 3 flippers! The switchback walkway from the top floor down to the lobby was really the most interesting part of the aquarium as it took us through different ocean environments in such a way that we felt submerged and surrounded by sea life at every turn - very cool!

Inner Harbor

National Aquarium

Calypso

One of my favorite discoveries about Baltimore was its free art museums and I love that the city has made a conscious decision to make art accessible to everyone. Although it was undergoing an extensive renovation that closed several exhibits, we really enjoyed the Baltimore Art Museum. There was a little bit of everything and a significant collection of Manet that came from two eccentric sisters who were avid art collectors. One of the more whimsical features of the modern art section was a bicycle-powered shower, which makes me think that we've just scratched the surface of "going green." We loved our afternoon there, Ken and Jeanette contributed some original artwork to the craft room wall, and we continue to use its excellent online resources for art activities.

Baltimore sunset over The Anchorage

As I said before, Baltimore is a little rough around the edges. The sirens and police helicopters flying overhead with searchlights scanning the neighborhoods were a frequent reminder of its urban problems. Closer to home, from a boating perspective, was the amount of garbage in the harbor. The city has set a goal of making the inner harbor swimmable by 2020 and they have their work cut out for them. It is such a problem that the city has come up with some innovative ways to help stem the amount of waste that finds its way into the water. One such innovation is a current- and solar-powered water wheel that catches garbage at the Jones Falls outlet between Pier 6 and Harbor East that catches trash (and not just your run-of-the-mill trash but things like mattresses) coming down from the Jones Falls watershed. Booms funnel the trash up to rake-like contraptions that steer the garbage to conveyor belts and onto dumpsters. Baffles, strategically placed near outflows, serve to contain some of the floating trash and facilitate cleanup. Even more interesting were the garbage boats - small barge-like vessels with conveyor belts that retrieve trash from the water and deposit it into a dumpster. Some had a screen that lowered in front to scoop up trash from the surface. In spite of all these efforts, the amount of garbage is staggering. Truly, I've never seen so much floating trash and the waste that poured into the harbor after a rainstorm was just appalling! Baltimore has such a gorgeous waterfront - and so much of it - that I hope their efforts to clean it up are successful!

Baffles along the shorefront

Cutest little garbage boat ever!

Fun Facts

Baltimore's skyline is concentrated around the Inner Harbor, drawing the eye away from the industry surrounding the rest of the harbor, including the Domino's sugar plant. It would be easy to dismiss this rusty old refinery but for the fact that sugar accounted for Baltimore's rapid growth in the 18th century due to its involvement with sugar-producing colonies in the Caribbean. When the wind blows from the right direction, it carries the scent of burnt sugar or, as I prefer to think of it "Crème brulée."
The Second Continental Congress met here between December 1776 and February 1777 making Baltimore the nation's capital for a brief time.
And let's not forget Francis Scott Key who was aboard a British ship while U.S. forces successfully defended Fort McHenry in Baltimore Harbor from British attack during the War of 1812. Upon seeing the American flag (the original "Star Spangled Banner" that was sewn by Mary Young Pickersgill in Baltimore) still flying from the fort the next morning, he wrote a poem about the defense of Fort McHenry that became the national anthem in 1931.
Construction of the first railroad - B&O Railroad (Baltimore and Ohio) - opened up a corridor to Midwest markets making Baltimore a major shipping and manufacturing center. The first umbrella factory in the U.S. was established here in 1828.
The first U.S. post office, first newspaper, and first stage coach route were begun in Baltimore.
The first Clipper was built here and for a time Baltimore was known as Clipper City.
Many, many, many other "firsts" due to Baltimore's strategic position on the Chesapeake and within the mid-Atlantic states.
Snowballs (slushies, snow cones, etc.) were invented here during the industrial revolution.
During the 1800's, Baltimore was the second largest port of entry for immigrants.
Billie Holliday, Thurgood Marshall, Babe Ruth, and Michael Phelps were born here. Edgar Allan Poe died here.
And to leave this strange compilation on a whimsical note.... In 1946, the Baltimore Zoo had an elephant named Minnie who played "St. Louis Blues" on the harmonica.

Baltimore Waterfront

Fort McHenry

Fruit Fly Farm

One of the last things we did before leaving St. Michael's was to buy some fresh produce, including a watermelon. A couple of days into our Baltimore stay, we decided that it was time to cut into its juicy flesh and cool off with a watermelon salad. As I reached under its bright green orb expecting to find a firm surface, my fingers sank into wet, sopping, rotting watermelon flesh. Eeeewwwwww!!!! I quickly scooped it up and brought it outside to be dealt with later. Grabbing rags and cleaner, we set to work cleaning all watermelon juice-soaked surfaces. Sadly, said watermelon had been placed over an air conditioning vent, which was cleaned as well as it could be. Several days later, I couldn't help but notice a noxious odor emanating from the a/c vent behind me. We immediately set to work on re-cleaning the vent, this time with clouds of fruit flies buzzing overhead. To make a long story short, over the course of several decontamination attempts, I discovered watermelon juice in various stages of drying/rotting deep within the a/c venting. I ended up removing several lengths of vent hose, which Ken gamely replaced with new venting. Whew - what an ordeal! So glad that's over! Except that it's not. Nope, the juice actually trickled down much farther than we could have imagined; and while the upper vent has virtually no odor now, the lower vent (read "my bedroom") smells like it's connected to a vomitorium. I am convinced that all of the venting needs to be replaced, while Ken is convinced that, given time, it will just go away. He's been diligently running the a/c to diffuse the smell, simultaneously wearing down my resistance. Whether it's the cooler weather or whether the juice really is just in some final stage of decomposition that no longer smells, the odor does seem to be dissipating and the fruit flies are almost gone. Stay tuned!

Bahamas Bound

Now that we've left our northernmost stop and have turned south, we are officially on our way back to the Bahamas. I know it's a bit premature as we still have two months of hurricane season to sit out, but every time we raise anchor now we are moving, slowly, southward to those warm, clear waters.

Chesapeake Daze

2014-09-10T08:27:00.002-04:00

Summer Sloth

After the busy-ness of the boat yard and Florida, we came back to Dennis Point and slipped into low gear. Jeanette, along with Genny and Marie from Makai, crocheted, cross-stitched, and played minecraft with plenty of swimming breaks in between. I worked on making the boat livable again, giving the interior a deep cleaning and organizing the clutter. Ken ticked off his low-priority projects and placed more orders to Defender and West Marine. For a complete change of scenery, we joined Jackie, Genny, Marie, and Roy for a drive out to their friend's farm where the kids fed the pigs watermelon rinds.

Dream Catcher and Makai - together again.

Down on the Farm

Jeanette avec l'oeuf

Pigs in the woods

Solomon's Island

Summoning the will to leave was no easy task, but we cast off in late July, just over a week after our return from Florida. We spent a rainy-ish weekend at Solomon's Island anchored the off the Calvert Maritime Museum, which just happened to be hosting a concert Sunday. Hanging out on the boat on that afternoon, as the skies cleared and the sun came out in full force, we listened to the Gin Blossoms and Smash Mouth play to the crowd long into the evening. Summer in the Chesapeake was turning out to be not so bad.

Happy to be underway again.

Whitehall Cove

We rose early the next morning. The forecasted 15 kts abating to 10 kts turned out to build, instead, to 25-30kts and we were well reefed as we roared into the West River where we spent a quiet night. With Dream Catcher's hulls so thoroughly cleaned, we can now see just how fast she sails. The next day, as we breezed by Annapolis to Whitehall Bay, we passed monohulls left and right as if they were standing still. Gliding into the inner reaches of Whitehall Cove, we settled into our hosts' dock, right next to our sister boat, Lux. We first encountered the crew of Lux (Terry, Peggy, Michael, Georgiana, and Carol) in 2011 at Alligator Marina where a handful of catamarans had ducked in to wait out a blow before crossing Albemarle Sound. We were delivering our boat north to Connecticut from South Carolina, and they were bringing Lux up from the BVIs. Leopard owners are a tight-knit group and their yahoo forum is hopping with questions, advice, and recommendations. The Leopard forum was the conduit for meeting the crew of Makai and for staying in touch with others, like Lux, whose path we happily crossed this summer. Terry and Peggy could not have been more gracious and we thoroughly enjoyed their hospitality. I remembered the many custom touches they had added to their boat in 2011 and, this trip, was able to watch their work up close and in progress. These people are professionals, having recovered their salon settee cushions so beautifully they look brand new! The cockpit area has summer and winter enclosures with all of the bells and whistles one could hope for. We were the lucky recipient of a couple of cast offs, which far surpass my sewing abilities. They were full of advice for me and had my head swimming with ideas. It's not an exaggeration to say that we had to pry ourselves away. Well refreshed and newly inspired to begin the sewing projects that have been looming in front of me for months, we said goodbye after two weeks in their beautiful, peaceful cove.

Beautiful Whitehall Cove (with Lux)

One of many horse farms in the area

Shady lane

Having a blast biking around

St. Michael's

On the move again and heading north towards Baltimore, we decided to swing by one of our favorite places from last year: St. Michael's. A quaint waterfront town on the Eastern Shore, St. Michael's earned a place in history by playing a trick on the British during the War of 1812. With an imminent attack at hand, the militia hung lanterns in the treetops outside of the town so that the enemy cannons aimed too high and missed all of the houses - except for one, the Cannonball House. Like much of the bay, the town is built up around the waterfront, which serves as the hub for activities and events. We love it because everything is within walking distance of the dinghy dock - groceries, supplies, and a great farmer's market on Saturday mornings. St. Michael's is also home to the wonderful Chesapeake Bay Maritime Museum. During our week's stay, we visited the museum twice. Jeanette and I especially enjoyed the lighthouse, imagining what it must have been like to serve as a lighthouse keeper during the long winter months when ice floes crashing into the foundation sometimes shook the lighthouse so badly the lighthouse keeper could not stay on his feet!

St. Michael's waterfront

Love this museum!

Ferry

St. Michael's farmer's market

Baltimore

Charm City deserves its own post so I will be brief here and just say that we lingered in Baltimore for nearly 3 weeks. We ticked off more "to do's," caught up with friends, took care of some medical necessities, began cultivating a fruit fly farm, met some more cruisers, went to museums, and enjoyed being in another walkable city. By the end of our stay, the unusually cool summer was giving way to weather more typical of the Chesapeake - hot, hazy, and humid. We would have been tempted to stay longer if it weren't for the fact that being stationary (i.e., anchored) was just too uncomfortable, so we sought relief out on the water.

Dream Catcher in Baltimore

Chesapeake Challenges

The Chesapeake Bay Maritime Museum had a more poetic way of describing the pests, obstacles, and other deterrents that can make spending the summer in the Chesapeake a bit of a challenge, but this is my take on the spoilers.

Mosquitos and No-See-Ums - Fortunately, we haven't encountered too many of these this year. Aside from swarms of midges that develop an unsettling affinity for our cockpit in cloudy weather, the only real bites we've had have been from flies. Yesterday, we experienced hordes of biting flies while we were underway. The cockpit looked like the killing fields by the end of the day!
Sea Nettles - No plant life here, sea nettles are a type of jellyfish whose name says it all. Some people go to great lengths to avoid sea nettles while enjoying the water. Setting up a netted enclosure for bathing is one method. Although there have been some days hot enough to want to go swimming, we are impossibly jaded and wouldn't even consider getting in this water. Gazing over the side, we watch, instead, the graceful sea nettles pulsing by.
Crab pots - Sailing on the bay requires almost constant vigilance. The color of the water and frequent white caps often obscure the floats, which often favor white. Currents and tides can change the way the buoy sits in the water and may even pull them just under the surface. Crab pots litter nearly every route at some point and we have somehow already snagged two of them.
Fish weirs - As if crab pot buoys aren't bad enough, there are, at times, fish weirs to dodge. Rising up in the distance, their spindly poles and draped netting are enough for me to swear off night sailing in the Chesapeake for good!
Stink pots - Okay, I had to say it.... Most power boaters have no clue what it's like to be on a sailboat when one of them goes roaring by with their gigantic wake. On a busy weekend, the constant "waking" from motor boats can almost ruin a perfectly enjoyable sail.
3 H's (Heat, Humidity, Haze) - The prevailing conditions of a Chesapeake summer.

Fish weir

Birds of a feather

Fortunately, we've not only experienced an unseasonably cool summer, but have really enjoyed being here - exploring, discovering, and visiting. I'm pretty sure this is due to the superior manifestation skills of my husband. I had warned him that we would be miserable staying in the Chesapeake all summer, and he was determined to prove me wrong.

Backtracking

Much to our surprise (well, mine, because I'm pretty sure Ken had this planned out all along), Baltimore is as far north as we'll be making it with the boat this summer. With a promise to meet friends in DC at the end of the month, we have made our way south to the mouth of the Potomac. A short hop to Rock Hall the first day, notable for our dragging a crab pot into the anchorage with us (sigh), then Herring Bay, Solomon's, and Dennis Point. Makai is now on the hard, undergoing a similar maintenance schedule that we did in June, and we will be spending some time at Dennis Point lending our support and giving the girls some time to catch up.

Dream Catcher

Farewell Bahamas!

Path to Cuba

In the Wake of Cristobel

Cuban Waters

Clearing In

Double the Currency, Double the Fun

Puerto de Vita Details:

Guide Books

Gibara

Holquin

Santiago de Cuba

Santiago Handlers

A Visit to Santiago's Rock

View1, Castillo de San Pedro de la Roca del Morro, Santiago de Cuba

Santiago Central: Parque Céspedes

Santiago Market Economy

Our ride back to the marina

R-rated: Museo Aborigen Chorro de Maita

Baracoa and Beyond!

Villa la Gran Piedra

Baracoa and Chocolate

Plaza Independencia cathedral, Baracoa, Cuba

Museo Arqueológico ‘La cueva del paraíso’

At the top of Museo arqueológico ‘La cueva del paraíso, Baracoa, Cuba

Problems in Paradise

Barfing in Baracoa

Adios Amigos

Stormy Season

Showdown with the Low-down

Jumping to the Jumentos

Return to the Raggeds

The Atlantic Journey Journal - from Jeanette

The first day

The second day

The third day

The fourth day

Experiencing a Derecho

A Gentle Wind?

Headed to Normans

A Day to Remember: January 6th

Getting Nervous

Beyond Nervous

We’ve Been Derechoed!

Chaos Documented

Plans Go Awry

Chesapeake Apology

Europe!

Europe?

Maryland!

A Shattering Coincidence

Christmas

Hurricane Watching

Like All Plans...

Joaquin?

Bahamas

Drip, drip, drip

Crossing the Bar*

Mother Ocean

Water Cure

Final Passage

Saying Goodbye

Changes in L’Attitude

The Elimination-Challenge

Best Laid Plans

Changes in Latitude

Soft Landing

Peanut Island

Cumberland Island

Charleston

Sand Bar, Oyster Bar, Whine Bar

Favorites Old and New

Roanoke Island

Chesapeake Bay

Birthday Boy

What Lies Beneath

Beauty Abounds

Undersea Magic

Can You Hear Me Now??

Staying Connected

A Day to Remember: January 6^th