Gus, Rosemary, and Annie, you can skip this one. You’re not old enough for this.

Surfers can relate to the exhilaration of being between two lines of breakers. You look seaward and see the huge crashing waves, creating a jagged line somewhat parallel to the beach. Then you look toward the beach and see the foam take shape and dissipate repeatedly along the shore. You wait for the perfect wave to come your way, to catch, pop up, and ride. You are pumped with anticipation for the adrenaline rush this next wave will bring.

But this time, beneath us was not a trusty board. We were riding Alembic. Our home. Our everything.

We were sailing through the Devil’s Backbone, along the north coast of Eleuthera. We had just sailed all night to get here and we were tired. The wind was picking up from the northeast, and we were second guessing our plan to do this. Last year, we ducked around the west end of Eleuthera, into the peaceful Royal Harbor, skipping Harbor Island entirely. We could do that again. Or we could do what most first timers do: call for a pilot. Little Woody would come out in his boat, get on Alembic, and pilot us in through the “hazards”.

Instead, we were heading in. On our own. My biggest regret was that I didn’t take any pictures. I couldn’t. Bill was at the wheel, white knuckles holding tight. I was at the bow, clinging to the forestay as the boat plunged up and down in the seas. I wish I had the set up for a camera strapped to my forehead to take video while my hands were occupied with keeping me on the boat. I was pointing out the coral heads as Bill navigated through the surf. In order to release a hand to point, I had to wrap my leg around the stay to keep from getting tossed overboard.

Gorgeous turquoise water was strewn with coral heads that looked black from the surface. How could something so colorful below look so black from above? And how could these beautiful structures which we admired during our daily snorkel adventures be so potentially destructive to Alembic? One glancing blow could knock off our propellor, gouge our hull, or even knock us sideways to the sea. We focused on avoiding them.

Waves broke as the water got shallower, so Bill aimed for where there seemed to be a lull in the foam. Our charts showed a deep channel very close to shore. Very close. At times, we were forty feet from the beach to starboard (the right side of the boat) and thirty feet from large breaking seas to port (the left). This channel was by no means straight. Alembic looked like a drunk as she swung right then abruptly turned left to stay in the deepest water and dodge coral heads.

Bill and I couldn’t talk over the cacophony of the crashing seas. We had to trust each other and know that we would keep focus until we reached the end. I stared intensely straight down, maybe fifty feet ahead at all times, so I wasn’t sure where the end was. Bill had a better perspective, as he focused further ahead for the best path through.

If you love to live in the moment, you could probably enjoy this. There was no time to consider: could one of these waves knock Alembic over? what if Alembic ends up on the beach? what if her propeller gets knocked off and we have no engine to push us through? could I swim to shore if I had to? would the coral snag me on my surf ride in? Nope, no time for those thoughts. Just focus on the next coral head in our path.

The racket subsided. I remained transfixed on staring below. Finally I could hear Bill’s voice: “I think we are through!” I stood, stretched out my crimped back which was wound around the forestay, and breathed. We made it!

Motoring the last five miles south to Harbor Island was a chance to clear our heads, get our hearts to stop pounding, and count our blessings yet again. We didn’t bother to raise a sail because we were too exhausted. Dropping anchor was like a final sigh.

You’d think that after this crazy ordeal, we would stay at Dunmoretown a few days to revel in our accomplishment and take it easy. Nope. We stayed only a day, and headed back around again! This time, retracing our steps along the yellow line back to the northernmost point (the chart shows that blissful white area, signifying deep water) seemed doable as we survived this already. But then we had to deal with the hardest part of all, Salt Kettle Bay, Ridley Head, and Gun Point. All of these were wild with breakers, coral heads that came up twenty feet like spikes ready to tear off our propellor, and even a few barely visible rusty metal markers that were supposed to guide us, but actually endangered us further!

I wish I had taken photos of the crashing seas, almost knocking us over at times. Again, clearing Gun Point was the big relief. Now we just had to negotiate the strong current and shallow waters as we turned down the channel to Spanish Wells. Dropping anchor was once again like getting tucked in to bed after an exhausting day. But bed was not our plan. We quickly launched the dinghy and set off to explore this new place.

Sometimes I wish we reveled a bit longer on our accomplishments, our decisions, our relationship with each other and with Alembic. But we keep moving forward. We are creatures of action. Our reflections show up in our plans for the next time…And there is always more adventure in store.

TMaybe is what we affectionately call our T Mobile service. We pay $70 per month to have unlimited data all over the US and Caribbean. Compared to exorbitant Verizon prices which give us zero connectivity outside the US, fabulous, right? Well, sometimes. Dead zones are everywhere, sometimes where you’d least expect. No service in Annapolis! In the Bahamas we are finding we can connect weakly to Facebook and to emails, but can’t open links, photos, or anything much more than text. So I have been getting behind on writing, knowing I can’t link to my blog to post. Bill is trying to do a bit of NxStage work, so we finally bought more service. Bahamas WiMax was $20 for a month, and completely useless, so we loaded up our old Battelco sim card, slid it in our dying unlocked i4 cell phone, and are limping along with that. Alembic is 36 years old, her crew are both 54 years old, and the equipment aboard is comparably old. I’m doing a little tech dance, hoping that the old phone, tethered to this MacBook (since the hotspot is toast) will link successfully.

Our three week route from Beaufort South Carolina, offshore to St John’s River Jacksonville, down the ICW to St Augustine then Fort Pierce, offshore to the Abacos, Eleuthera, and finally the Exumas have been full of adventure and excellent sailing. Yesterday was Thanksgiving, a perfect time to reflect on our many blessings. We are missing our families terribly, but know that we will soon be together for plenty of fun times and bonding experiences.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Lumpy seas were the norm for the offshore leg from Beaufort SC to Jax. EastNorthEast winds of 15-20 knots, gusting to 25, and 5 foot seas never really subsided as was predicted by our trusty weatherman, Chris Parker. So we sailed along, giving the motor a rest. During this trip, we were faster than Kismet, Blabber, and Antares, who were all faster than us last trip, reemphasizing that Alembic performs well in rougher conditions than most boats her size. Ping was another boat that we met via VHF and passed. Alembic is often the slowpoke, so passing others was a rare occasion.

Tying up to the free dock at Sisters Creek was a treat. We had lived at this exact location 30 years ago on our beloved Wings, a Westsail 32. Back then, it was a trashy marina with fixed 5 foot docks that were nearly impossible to maneuver into. I remember smacking our rugged little ship into the pilings and pushing off, getting splinters galore, just to pivot us against the raging current into our tiny slip. Now, those docks have been replaced with a spiffy long floating pier that you can just step onto and line handle your boat into the correct position. And it’s free!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Our next stop, Pine Island, was a sweet anchorage, just off the ICW, where ten boats tucked in for the night. St Augustine was next; we picked up a mooring here because Lindsay was about to arrive, and we wanted easy access to shore/showers/music/biking. We thoroughly enjoyed St Augustine, meeting many new and old friends,

 

 

 

 

 

 

and playing for four days with Lindsay. I’ve written a separate post about our time with Lindsay, because I couldn’t squish in all the happy times here! Suffice it to say that together we enjoyed meeting pirates, Cubans, and bikers, and experienced the most awful music (was that what the screaming hoarsely into the mic and banging on the keyboard was?) and then some delightful music, while dining in some quaint establishments ashore. And of course we had to add exercise into most hours of the day, as Lindsay is an extreme fitness person and we benefit from trying to keep up!

 

Saying goodbye to Lindsay was sad, but we realize that we all have plans to work toward our dreams. I love that each of our three children is so passionate about goals and lifestyles. They work hard, play hard, and fit in time with us when they can. I could never ask for more.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Southward bound, we headed down the ICW for two long boring days, dropping the anchor after dark at mile mark 842 Rockhouse Creek, and mile mark 925 Coconut Point. Hundreds of manatees broke up the boredom as they lazily rolled all around us, especially in Mosquito Lagoon. Photographing them was a complete megaflop as the water was darker than tea, hiding the beasts until they were right beside you. Each time I grabbed the camera, they were back below the dark surface before my finger could click a button.

Fueling up in Fort Pierce was our last US stop. We saw Bob and Doris’s catamaran and tried to walk over to them, but the locked gate prevented our reunion. We all lived aboard in a marina in Kittery Maine and I looked forward to catching up on their adventures. Alas, we had to get off the fuel dock, so away we went.

Good bye US! Some people may think we were running from the crazy post election results, but, no, this was our plan, and we were sticking to it. Donald Trump had just won the Presidential election two days prior, and most of the world, including his supporters, were in the state of shock. We carried on.

Dolphins guided us out to sea. Leaving the Fort Pierce jetties was so mellow, with 12 knots of NE wind. We sailed with the main and working jib while the motor did most of the driving. Winds soon became light and variable, topping a whopping 7 knots! The seas were bizarre; large but so smooth and far apart. At times, while seated in the cockpit, we couldn’t see any horizon because we were in a trough, but the motion was slow and gentle. We tried every sail combination, ranging from two to all four up. Around midnight, when we arrived on the Little Bahama Bank, with winds from the south, we shut off the motor for a nice quiet beam reach sail while Bill slept. This trip goes down in the record books as the easiest ten hour Gulf Stream crossing ever!

After a spectacular moonlit night (full moon was the next day), we were gifted with a magnificent sunrise on the shallow banks, near Great Sale Cay, our destination to anchor for a rest. Given the mellow trip, we had no need to stop, so we continued on.

Catching a 2 foot barracuda broke up the monotony of the motorsail. We usually release barracuda but this one was small and we recalled eating so many that others caught last year and never contracted the dreaded Ciguatera. So Bill made a bloody mess on the aft deck and soon we had dinner in our fridge.

Becoming antsy with too much sitting, and figuring that we had excess amps, given the hours of motoring, Bill brought out the sander and began working on our weathered shroud rollers. There are definite benefits of having an overachiever for a husband! Always working on something!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Manjack was a welcoming sight. Never having been there, but hearing so many stories from friends, we knew we wanted to explore this beautiful spot. Bill and Leslie Harrington settled here 25 years ago and have built a remarkable homestead. Their home, gardens, free range chickens and goats, docks, and beach reveal their many talents as architects, builders, artists, and farmers. They welcome cruisers to their land and share everything they have built.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We checked in through Customs and Immigration the next day at nearby Green Turtle Cay, but came back to Manjack for two more days of playing and exploring the land and sea.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Then on to Great Guana to visit Nippers and the Alburys. A quick stop at Man-O-War Cay for fuel and water, and on to HopeTown for a night at a mooring.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

This year, we have been focusing on hitting the spots we missed last year, so we buzzed through the Abacos quite quickly, skipping Marsh Harbor entirely. We stopped for one last partial night in the Bight of Old Robinson, just north of Little Harbor. We tried to snooze in the rolly anchorage until midnight, then we raised anchor and set off under moonlight through the cut south of Lynyard Cay, Eleuthera bound.

Focusing on seeing new spots, we knew we had to get to Dunmoretown; after all, Bill’s Mom’s maiden name is Dunmore.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Very few cruisers go here, as getting there means you have to either go a very long way around Eleuthera and enter through a cut south of Harbor Island, or test your bravery going through Devil’s Backbone. Most boats use a pilot to guide them through this treacherous route, but we decided to try it ourselves, even after a night offshore with little sleep! I’ll spare the details here, and just tell you that we made it! Once though, we enjoyed the peaceful bay, five miles long and one mile wide. Romora Bay Marina welcomed us to tie our dinghy here, making this anchor stop free and easy.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Glad we came, but happy to leave the next day, Dunmoretown seemed bipolar. Plenty of rich folks pouring off their docked Megas congregated in the heart of the beautiful town, while the black locals huddled in the northern end, with zero cruisers, except Bill and I, to span the gap. Cruisers, like us, mingle well with all types, rich and poor, local and foreign, with constant curiosity and no obvious affluence. My favorite part of meeting cruisers is that you don’t know, or care, if the folks are rich or poor, had lofty careers or not; we are all working hard to keep our own sailboats floating and moving, while we travel slowly far from home.

Traveling back across the Devil’s Backbone the next day was even hairier than the day before because the wind had picked up, and we added the second crazier part, Salt Kettle Bay. But we made it safely. Turning into the narrow harbor between St Georges and Charles Island, we exited the western end and anchored just south of Russell Island, for a peaceful night with no boats in sight. Visiting Spanish Wells, the town on St Georges Cay, was mellow. We dined on greasy conch fritters and Kalik beer for a mere $24 total; cheap for the Bahamas!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I wanted to go out of our way to explore more new places, so we headed east toward the Glass Window the next morning. Why is this off the beaten track? It was amazing! Eleuthera becomes very skinny here. The spectacular limestone arch, created by the crashing Atlantic seas clawing their way through, finally collapsed, falling into the opening where the ocean water flows at high tide onto the shallow banks. A bridge was built where the arch had been so cars could still get across. This bridge ended up getting shoved 7 feet westward during a hurricane. Imagine driving a car and the bridge jogs abruptly. Yup.

While exploring the Glass Window and the Queen’s Baths (deep pools smoothed out by crashing seas on the Atlantic side) we met a nice family who have been living and vacationing here for over 20 years. They introduced us to Michael Albury, who guided us through huge caves nearby.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Carrying on down the west side of Eleuthera, we enjoyed snorkeling and SUPing by the cliffs at Annie’s Bight and anchoring in the protected harbor at Hatchet Bay. We had to stop at the Front Porch here to meet Frances, famous on Active Captain! He was recovering from a horrible accident which required him to be airlifted to Nassau for surgery on his arm and head. Despite some cognitive issues and morning arm pain, he is recovering well, working at the restaurant, and truly grateful to be alive. An inspiring man for sure.

Before dawn the next morning, we snuck through the narrow gap in the cliffs, heading due west to Finley Cay. We had a delightful twenty mile downwind sail with the genoa poled out and the mizzen up (Jib n Jigger). Raising the main as we rounded Finley Cay and headed south, the trip became a pleasant beam reach in crystal clear water, about 15 feet deep. Bill and I chilled, reading, writing, and relaxing as we sailed briskly in rising winds. Just as we hit the Middle Ground, the winds piped up to 25 knots and we began a romping slalom course through the black coral heads. I’m sure they were delightfully colorful below, but to us they were black in color and in significance. Hitting one could end our trip abruptly, with no TowBoat to call.

Reef the mainsail in the middle of this slalom course?? Yes, with no brake pedal on Alembic, we had to, unless we fancied the idea of hitting one of these beauties with tremendous force. Once reefed, we sailed a bit slower, with more control for quick darting turns. Visibility was hindered by the sun in our eyes, making the sea look sparkly. We couldn’t see the coral heads until we were about 100 feet from them. I wasn’t sure what I liked better: turning around, facing north, I could see the all coral heads up to a mile away, looking like an impossible route, or facing our direction, south, where I could only see the ones I was about to navigate around. I decided I liked our direction. Is this a metaphor for my life? Viewing only what’s right here, instead of looking far down the road? Yes! Living in the moment.

We were supposed to be exploring new places, and had planned on dropping anchor at Finley Cay, Middle Ground, or Sail Rocks, but these are all very exposed to wind, and anchoring would have been unpleasant at best, so we carried on to a familiar spot, Allans Cay. After jumping in for a refreshing swim, a peek at the iguanas on the beach, and a visit with the Germans nearby, we prepared for a quiet night. Quiet was not the case, however. The winds picked up to almost 30 knots and the current snorted through this cut, causing Alembic to swing in huge arcs and toss around as if we were at sea. Too bad Andreas on BossaNova didn’t know we had a secure anchor; we learned that he lost sleep worrying we might drag onto his catamaran. We all left the next morning in search of a better spot.

Highbourne Cay was that better spot. On the charts, it seems more exposed than the tight channel of Allans, but after one night there, we found no current to pivot us sideways to the wind, and the coral sandbar blocked the seas from wrapping around the island and rolling us. Like Dunmoretown, Highbourne caters to the mega yachts and has a marina, store, and restaurant with exorbitant prices. No matter, we enjoyed the free anchorage, the excellent snorkeling where Bill speared another two lion fish, and the peaceful spot to cook up a big Thanksgiving meal. We sat alone in our cockpit, dining on cornish game hen, wild rice, potatoes, green bean, and pumpkin pie and shared our many thankful thoughts. It was weird to celebrate alone, without any other family. My thoughts drifted back to the many Thanksgivings spent at our house or my brother Paul’s with vast numbers of children and adults. I miss those times. Even last year, we had Lindsay with us to celebrate a caribbean version of the holiday.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

On holidays and most other days, I miss our dear friends and family, but truly appreciate Bill and all of the adventures we manage to pack into our lives. Please come visit us sometime, so we can share these glorious places and experiences with you!!

Nothing makes us happier than having the opportunity to spend time with our kids. When they were small, I quit my engineering job to spend every day with them. Running a daycare in our home was supposed to be for earning money, but really, it gave me the opportunity to hang out all day, every day with my small humans. While it is obvious that Kenny, Lindsay, and Erica share DNA with Bill and me, they have their very own personalities, drives, and interests. Marveling at their development is something that I continue to be enthralled by, even more so now that they are in their twenties. And spending a few days with Lindsay would give us a chance to again listen to her ideas, hopes, dreams, and plans, all of which seem to develop at a whirlwind rate.

Lindsay has developed a reputation for bringing strong winds with her when she visits. Last year, when she visited us in the Bahamas for Thanksgiving, the winds blew almost fifty knots each of her four days with us. This year was a bit less, but still packed with 25 knot winds from the north. Dinghy rides were soakers, so she quickly agreed to dress up in my spare tattered rain pants. Once ashore, we ditched the silly foullies (sailors’ name for foul weather clothing) and enjoyed our dry breezy days.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

St Augustine was a great place to play for 4 days, with all of its rich history. For starters, Bill insisted on a Cuban sandwich for lunch, and Lindsay, almost a vegetarian, politely split one with me as well. I’ll bet that’s her last Cuban sandwich! Next, we toured Flagler College, which has taken over the old Ponce de Leon Hotel and I’m sure has some connections to Hogwarts Castle as well. Pirates were everywhere, roaming the streets, drinking in outdoor bars, hanging out at the piers, riding motorcycles even! Why I didn’t take a single photo of their fantastic costumes is beyond me.

Later that day, we headed across the river to go to a tiny restaurant Bill and I discovered the day before. They serve only grilled cheese sandwiches and craft beer, but their selection of both are outstanding! We were eager to show Lindsay this quaint spot and enjoy the live music that was scheduled to start at 9. Lindsay had been up since 3 am to catch her flight, so she was a great sport to try and stay awake till then. Well, 9 turned into 9:30, then 10, then 10:20! Finally the music started, but I don’t know who called it music. A single guy sat on a bar stool banging on a toy keyboard and screeching into the microphone. We thought this was a joke, a 3 minute joke, and waited for the next number. Introduction to the next one was “this is a song about masterbation!” At this point, we looked around the room to see if anyone was “into” this type of performance. Most looked equally shocked and were wide eyed and confused. The girls playing pool nailed it: “My ears are BLEEDING!” We agreed, and we left. Sorry Lindsay!

The oldest masonry fort in the US, Castillo de San Marcos, was interesting to explore. You could almost feel the throngs of people building, standing guard, and seeking refuge there.

Across the harbor, the climb up to the lighthouse gave us a spectacular view of the old city and the protected harbor where Alembic swung on her mooring. Actually, the harbor protection was not adequate a month ago, when Hurricane Matthew slammed the coast and put many boats here up on land. Amazingly, most of those boats are now floating again and the docks and moorings are back in service.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Keeping up with Lindsay was a challenge when we rented beach bikes and bombed around the surf’s edge and into some jungle paths. In between bike touring, we stopped at the Chowder Fest for some live music and tasty chowder samples.

Shh, don’t tell Logan, but Lindsay did sneak in a few runs. She was supposed to be taking a brief break from her marathon training, but she broke down a few times. Once was when we sailed Alembic up the river fifteen miles to Nocatee Preserve. While strolling, Bill and I were eaten alive by bugs, but at Lindsay’s pace, those pesky critters couldn’t catch her! Finding a high school track adjacent to the trails, Lindsay added a few sprints to her workout.

On our final day, we toured Jacksonville, had salads on a riverfront balcony, and made plans for Christmas together with Erica, Kenny, and Jenna. While we all love these balmy southern temps, we also look forward to chilly days on the snow. Thanks for taking a break from med school to hang with your parents! We love you!!