Alembic

Our first rally, the four month Suzie Too Rally from Curacao to Belize in 2016, was such a great experience, so we decided to join another one called the Salty Dawg Rally. Suzanne Chappell organized the first rally on her own and she learned as she went. It was fun to be a part of this learning. She will repeat this rally, starting this November, and hopefully relax with the knowledge that she’s “done it all before”. However, we sailors know that no passage ever repeats itself. This was certainly the case this year with the seventh annual Salty Dawg Rally. While each year there are weather, boat, crew, and destination challenges, this year, new weather events created major modifications.

First, the destination had to be changed. Virgin Gorda was no longer an option; they were not quite ready for seventy boats to show up in their harbor after hurricanes Irma and Maria had so cruelly struck them. Antiqua became the new destination, as they were spared with Irma passing 30 miles to their north and Maria passing 40 miles to their south.

Second, many new ports were added to the trip as boats floundered about in uncooperative winds. The rally is designed to be a one shot passage from Norfolk Virginia to the destination, with plenty of preparation assistance beforehand and celebrations afterwards. However, we all found ourselves in conditions that varied from the normal “head east till the butter melts, then head south”. The steady tradewinds never really materialized, causing half the boats to end up in Bermuda, Florida, Bahamas, and various British and US Virgin islands. Most boats eventually made it to Antigua after brief stops in unplanned locations.

Alembic was part of the wandering set. First, we stopped in Bermuda to refuel, as our passage across the Gulf Stream had such light winds, except for the squalls that kept us focused. We used most of our 100 gallons of diesel to assist the sails during the calm winds. From Bermuda, we chose to pass Antigua and head directly to Guadeloupe in order to obtain our qualifying passage for the OCC. Finally, we sailed north again, arriving in Antigua, 16 days after leaving Norfolk. If you count only the sailing (and motoring) hours from Norfolk to Antigua (when we passed it on route to Guadeloupe) you get 11.5 days, not bad for a Whitby 42! We were one of the smallest boats in the fleet. Most were either longer, catamaran, or light racing boats. Full keel, heavy displacement, ketch rigged Whitbys are regarded for their safety and comfort at sea, not their speed. I must say that our stops added delightful additions to our trip, so we are certainly not complaining about any of our decisions to modify the original passage route.

While planning and completing passages are not new to Bill and I, having crew is! We thought we would “try out” this idea, having help aboard to take some night watches, to see if we would like to do this when we plan longer trips. Well, Sara Williams sure set the bar high! She had no previous offshore experience, and had only sailed on Alembic twice: an afternoon in Rockland, Maine and an overnight from Rockland to Onset, Massachusetts. Our conclusion is that Sara is welcome on any trip with Alembic! She eagerly jumped into every activity, asking important questions, and remembering each step. From day one, she stood equal watches, controlled and reefed sails, cooked excellent meals, went up the mast, and caught and cleaned fish (even I don’t do that!!) Additionally, Sara was a wealth of knowledge for all things bird, as she is a Wildlife Biologist. And her artistic skills kept us wowed and laughing.

Arriving in Antigua was exciting. Rally organizers did a great job setting up a schedule of fun events ashore where we gathered and swapped sea stories. A boom broke, a steering system failed, an engine died, many filters clogged, sails tore, an underwater escape hatch on a catamaran showed signs of failure, and a prop got fouled by fishing gear three times! We didn’t have much to contribute to these dramatic reports. Our stories were only of how we laughed, slept, caught fish, lazed around, and adjusted sails for short lived squalls or dying wind.

I love traveling on Alembic, and am so grateful for having had the opportunity this trip to share this life with another nature lover and adventure seeker, Sara.

Bill and I couldn’t be more proud of our daughter, Erica, for all of her choices and efforts in becoming the women she is today. Graduating in only three years, at age 20, is only a tiny sliver of her accomplishments. Yes, we were apprehensive when she decided to attend CSU, so far from Maine. Kenny and Lindsay had chosen schools 40 minutes and two hours away, and that suited us. How would we communicate? Visit? Take care of her if she became sick (both Kenny and Lindsay had events where we rushed to them)?

In Erica fashion, all of our worries were unsubstantiated. She managed communicating, traveling, sickness, and all other challenges with calm intelligence. Thankfully, she called us whenever she had scary or wonderful news to report, and processed many decisions over the phone. Rarely did Bill or I have a solution that she hadn’t already formed. We were simply her sounding board for well organized thoughts.

 

New support networks were formed on day one. One long-lasting network has been Wes and his entire family. On the first day of class, Erica approached him and asked if she could sit beside him. (She told me that he was the cutest boy in the room!) Coffee after class that day must have been a magical elixir, because they are still together! A musically talented, outdoor-loving family with three boys and no girls, they welcomed her with open arms, treating her as a well loved sister and daughter. For this, I will be unconditionally grateful.

Our visit to CSU for the graduation was a blast, in addition to all of the pride bursting within us.

Kenny and Jenna flew out for the week and James had just moved into his first home, not far away. Unfortunately, medical school had a grip on Lindsay, with many tests during this week, so she couldn’t attend in person.

She certainly was a huge presence this day in Erica’s heart, as she always has been. They have the ultimate sister relationship that distance cannot diminish. Luckily, Lindsay’s dear friend, Kayla, was there to step in as Big Sister.

Although Colorado is a long way from Maine, and any place Alembic may be, it is always worth the trip. The hikes are spectacular and the weather is second to none. Erica proved to be an excellent tour guide and wasted no time in scheduling a full agenda for us.

Three Cheers to you, Dear Erica! Keep your eyes and heart on your dreams! We Love You!

Our failed attempt to reach the east coast of Florida, or even the Dry Tortugas, turned out to be a welcomed adventure. Last year, we rode a front from Belize to the Dry Tortugas, which was a rough trip, so we chose this year to take the settled tradewinds when we left Isla Mujeres. Basically, this means that we had good winds, maybe a bit too strong last year, with threats of squalls and lightning, while this year the steady southeast wind would provide a gentler trip. But the wind was just too much on the nose, almost directly from the east, and we kept turning more north, instead of northeast, to sail faster. At one point, we said “maybe we will land in Texas!”

After three and a half days of sailing, we arrived in Fort Myers before dawn. It was weird to be back in the US, with all of the amenities and sounds and people. We had one task to focus on, and this was to repair the crack in a casting for the hydrovane we had purchased in Belize and planned to mount this week. A gentleman was able to make this repair quickly and cheaply in his tiny shop while sharing his memories of growing up in Nicaragua. Not ready for the full US immersion, we headed north to quieter anchorages for two days.

Refreshed, setting off at night, we had a lovely sail south to Shark River, the northern boundary of the Everglades. Here we anchored Alembic and explored by dinghy. The wildlife was spectacular. Birds, raccoons, snakes, turtles, and mangroves created a paradise. Mosquitos keep this area from being overridden by tourists.

Our sail south then around the corner of Cape Sable to Marathon was simple, and we gratefully accepted the invitation to tie up to the dock at Lynne and Russell’s home. What a spectacular spot! Their creativity with architecture, furnishings, gardening, and open air space filled their property with artistic and playful themes. We thoroughly enjoyed their company and the quiet dock for installing our new-to-us hydrovane.

Motivated to get to Maine, we headed north with brief stops in Miami and Ft Lauderdale. We headed out to sea with a floatilla of boats viewing the spectacular air show. We did not linger, however, as Alembic was pulling on her sails and bringing us home.

Leaving Belize, like finishing a good book, left us with a grateful heart and eager to become engrossed in new stories. Mexico would be that next adventure. And a bird would guide us there. Our Mexican travels aboard Alembic would be full of birds.

The first was a sweet black bird, who came aboard in the evening, and flew about the cabin for a while, trying out perches on our overhead handrails, barometer, swinging lantern, fruit basket, and hat pile. While I sat in the companionway, journaling, and making course adjustments on the plotter, Bill announced from below that the bird had left the cabin. I was certain it had not, as I would have noticed a bird flying by my face. Evening became night, and we stood our watches in the cockpit while the other slept below on the port berth. Soundlessly, as the sun rose, our feathered friend scrambled out of the bookcase, right beside Bill’s snoring face, and flew out the companionway. He’d been in that cubby for eleven hours! And my favorite cookbook, The Boat Galley, had the pile of ick on the top edge to prove it. How ironic: my favorite food prep was now covered in bird poop.

Having been escorted safely to Mexico by our guide bird, we docked at El Cid in Puerto Morelos, Mexico. After a 42 hour sail and thirty hour check in process, we were finally free to walk about town. Artists abound here, making tippy lighthouses, spectacular sand art, and delicious pastries. After three days, half of which we were confined to the marina for check in, we departed for Isla Mujeres, only a 5 hour sail away.

Arriving just before Easter, we were privileged to observe the magnificent celebrations. First there was the dramatic parade, culminating at a spectacular ancient cathedral. Then the service we attended, struggling to understand the Spanish prayers and hymns. And finally the many churches we saw throughout the island which decorated their sacred spaces with simple, yet beautiful messages of their risen savior.

Monday, the day after Easter, we raised our anchor and began our three and a half day journey for Florida, in the company of Passion Rebelle. Our second guide bird took his last trip when he boarded Alembic as he migrated north. He was so friendly, even letting Bill and I carry him around. The wind was howling, but I didn’t want anymore disgusting presents below, so we carried this little guy to the protected hatch beneath the dodger. Here we gave him a cracker and a bottlecap full of water, neither of which he touched. All night, he entertained us with sweet little chirps and what looked like hopscotch around the screen beneath the open hatch. Finally, he went to sleep while standing up. In this standing position he remained for many hours. Curious why he wasn’t waking up, I nudged him. He tipped over; dead. I suppose he couldn’t keep up with is flock, and resting on Alembic gave him his final nap.

Next, another single bird came aboard who was more shy than the first two. Again, we tried to help this little guy find shelter for the night. He chose to crawl into a cockpit cubby, stay the night, and depart at dawn. Then our bird drama ramped up.

A crowd of at least twenty five flew noisily on and off Alembic as the sun set on our second day out. They clung to the dodger, the binnacle, the ropes all over the cockpit, and at least seven at a time clung to the wheel. The autopilot caused the wheel to swing back and forth as it kept us on our course, threatening to toss the birds off. But they hung on. For hours. For the whole night! These birds were hilarious, squawking at each other, jumping on each other (having sex??) and finally settling down for snoozing. Adjusting sails had the added task of first removing the sleeping birds, and being careful to not drop ropes on the others. By dawn, all but one had flown off. One clung to a rope until 7am, 8am…When I reached over to him to encourage him to join his flock, he tipped over, another death.

Nearing Florida, we had our final bird event. A very noisy chirping bird landed on our flaked mizzen sail and settled there for a nap. Soon after, a large bird circled our boat, signaling that we were approaching land. An hour later, we realized that that bully had quietly landed on our mizzen boom without our noticing and created a murder scene! Blood and feathers everywhere! These Mexican travels were full of birds. Birds travel, live, rest, feast, and die. It’s all part of their plan.

As a final nature scene, we were treated to a pod of dolphins, frolicking and leaping about as if to say “You’re Home!” as we entered the waters off Fort Meyers Florida.

Belize has become our entertaining playground. Our last week of guests was a blast. C&J fit right into the Alembic lifestyle. They arrived the day before George and Cay left, so we had 6 on the boat for a night in Placentia. This gave George and Cay a chance to show the newbies how we roll. Even though they have had oodles of outdoor adventures alone and together, C&J had never spent a week on a sailboat. You wouldn’t know it though, because they needed no time to get used to sleeping on a rolly berth, cooking in a tiny galley, and sharing small quarters with us.

Fishing was the main focus this week; we spent our days spear fishing while snorkeling, line fishing while sailing, and fly fishing from the dinghy. A record was set for the most amount of fish caught and consumed in one week.

While the guests probably found the adventure and the fishing engrossing, I was riveted by our conversations. They are both so intelligent, caring, and creative. I look forward to spending many more weeks together on Alembic or elsewhere, raising my awareness of the world and the possibilities ahead.

Sharing Belize, possibly our favorite “maybe we will retire here” spot, is so easy. Flights are reasonable, weather is usually perfect in April, there are plentiful islands to explore or tuck away, and the people are wonderfully friendly. So, when Cay and George arrived, a day after Erica and Wes left us, we were ready to continue to play. They had stayed a week on Alembic last year and were eager to revisit their favorite snorkel spots and add more spots to the list.

 

Not wanting to waste time in a marina, ten minutes after George and Cay stepped aboard Alembic, we set off. We sailed 23 miles to Colson Cays to find the “magnificient snorkeling” that Captain Freya Rauscher described in her usually accurate Belize Cruising Guide. Either she is crazy, the reef has washed away, or we are blind, because we never found this. No worries, the snorkeling on the west side was interesting enough. We found the blue hole (described accurately in her book) which was grassy and murky, but teeming with life.

Setting off early in the morning, we sailed south down the outer reef for spectacular water clarity, reefs galore, and fish just screaming “catch me”! Dropping anchor in the middle of what seemed like the biggest reefs, we snorkeled and shot fish, George with the camera and Bill with the spear. George caught hundreds, and Bill caught three: a trigger (sorry Cay), a lion fish (you’re welcome world), and a hogfish (delicious).

Back on Alembic, we continued south to Tobacco Cay for more excellent snorkeling. Swimming through bizarrely warm water, we found interesting squid, huge spotted eagle rays,

25 tarpon schooling around us, and hundreds of other edible and beautiful fish. No spears here; it’s a preserve.

Sailing through this pass the next morning, I thought of all the creatures we had seen which were now under our keel. Water depths dropped to 700 feet just a few hundred feet from the opening. Sailing southeast sixteen miles to Glover Reef turned out to be a breeze (like my pun?!) George and Cay are never seasick or show any fear of open ocean. Most guests, and also most charter boats, don’t leave the safety of the protected shallow waters inside the reef, but they miss out on this wilder part of Belize.

Our first snorkel, at the Southwest corner of Glover, provided spectacular viewing, but no catching. Bill, the only one who uses a spear, didn’t see the huge hogfish.

Luckily, Steve, a local fisherman fixed us up with his catch, so we didn’t go hungry. That night, we dinghied to Marisol resort to enjoy a drink in the Tiki Bar, and get some local knowledge from Whitney, a Dangriga local, and Zoe, a 29 year old dive master who has lived at this remote resort for years. We enjoyed a moment to celebrate George’s birthday aboard Alembic.

Much of Glover Reef is too shallow for Alembic, but we managed to explore up to Long Cay and Northeast Cay, 6 miles north of the southern entrance, where we came in and spent the first night. A few nail biting moments for me happened as we navigated by sight around the numerous treacherous reefs around this area: “Turn right, now left, now right, quick, okay, I think we can squeeze between those two heads, whatdya think?” Luckily I was wearing a bathing suit, so wetting my pants wouldn’t matter.

Snorkeling all around Long and Northeast Cays didn’t measure up to the southern end, but we still enjoyed the adventure and the interesting resorts. one resort was set up as a school, and a group of high school students were enjoying the safety of their cage, as the sharks swarmed them.

Our trip west again, back to the protection of the reefs, was uneventful and required motoring to assist the sails. Entering at Southwater Cay, we dropped our anchor nearby and snorkeled the south side of the cut. Snorkeling never gets old, especially when Cay pores over the books to identify every fish, coral, and sea creature, and George hones his photography skills filming and snapping pictures of every new species or activity. When we aren’t snorkeling, we are viewing footage (or stealing Georges photos for my blogs!!) and participatiing in Cay’s classes of “what was this?” and “let’s search for these next time”

Since we were running low on fresh veggies and fruits, we decided to adventure into Dangriga. Bill stayed aboard Alembic, as the anchorage was completely exposed to any wind or currents, while Cay, George and I ran the dinghy aground OOPS trying to find our way into the river. Once inside the serpentine entrance, we were guided by many locals. Kids on the beach shouted hello, pointing to the town, and at least five men came down to the dock to help us land our dinghy. We needed no help, as I can park a dinghy better than I can park any car at this point, but we accepted their assistance gratefully, knowing that a few bucks would go their way later.

Charles seemed to be in charge, or perhaps they have a system of taking turns. He quickly assessed what we were looking for and walked us around town to find each item. This assistance was truly helpful, as we would never have found the grocery store or the fresh market about a mile away, through dusty windy streets. He arranged for a quick ride back to the dinghy because we ended up with more provisions than we could comfortably carry, and also because poor Charles was wheezing so bad from his emphazema. Back at the dinghy, we paid everyone: the taxi driver, Charles, the “dock guy”. Even though the town was pretty run down, I felt a real sense of community there. Riches don’t buy you the community connections we all hope for.

On to our new favorite spot in Belize: Hideaway Caye. A young couple, Dustin and Kim, bought this tiny mangrove island in Pelican Cays 13 years ago, and after saving their tips from bartending in Key West, began building their home. Now, they rent one small cabana, but make more money serving delicious food and drinks at their open air Robinson Crusoe-like restaurant. Ya gotta go there to fully appreciate it; I can’t possibly describe the jungle/perfection they have created by hand.

Treats abounded the next day. First, a spectacular snorkel at Queen’s, where we swam alongside several huge turtles. Cay almost sat on one by mistake as she surfaced for air while the turtle swam just beneath her. A Belizean fishing boat was anchored, and all hands on deck were cleaning conch to make room on their crowded vessel for more. Tossing the parts overboard caused a traffic jam of fish, shark, turtles, and other creatures to crowd the area and scavenge every morsel raining down from the boat. Acting oblivious to the humans in the area, the sea animals remained focused on their meal, while I tried to focus the camera!

Queens Cay was not safe as an overnight anchorage, as it was too close to the open ocean, so we headed back in the lee of Hatchett cay as the daylight dwindled. Safe on the mooring, we headed into shore for overpriced drinks and a spectacular sunset. This fancy resort reminded me that all sorts of folks enjoy Belize. Honeymoon packages are about $5000 for 6 nights! One beer was about all we could afford, and we had our fantastic meal and a comfortable night on Alembic

After Hatchett, we ventured on to North Long Coco for more glorious snorkeling.

 

Jacks Cay proved to be an awesome place for the most wildlife. Birds entertained us continuously in the harbor, as they dive bombed the shores for fish, and the fish on the north side of the island were more plentiful than anywhere we had seen. We even saw a manatee which, unfortuneately eluded our camera.

Reluctantly, we headed for Placentia, via Cary Cay, which meant our two weeks were coming to a close. More adventures are in store for the four of us, I’m sure.

Finally Erica and Wes joined us for a week in Belize! They’ve spent so much time with Wes’ family in Colorado over the last three years, we were beginning to feel left out. Of course coming to us is challenging for two college students with very busy schedules. This journey to us was definitely complicated. An overnight flight, a taxi to the bus station, then a three hour unairconditioned bus ride, another taxi to the Hokey Pokey, a twenty minute water taxi, and finally a wet trip out to Alembic by our tiny dinghy.

While I waited for them to arrive by bus, I wandered around the bus station and the nearby market and school. Part of me felt sorry for the locals, seeing the dilapidated state of affairs. But how can I judge? Here I was, eager to spend time in this paradise: warm breezes, tropical fruits, idyllic underwater scenes, and safe anchorages among the hundreds of islands. My expectations and experiences from growing up in suburban US do not necessarily pertain to the folks here. Meeting Ibrahim, and hearing his life’s story helped me to recognize, yet again, that every human has a story, and every culture has its own set of essentials.

After wandering all over Placentia, collecting provisions and indulging in a few offerings from local tiny outdoor restaurants run by entrepreneurial women (Yoli’s and the Juice Bar), we were ready to sail away to outer islands.

Our first adventure was to head to Ranguana. Here, we sailed past the island, anchored in the cut of the reef to enjoy excellent snorkeling. Bill shot three lion fish with his Hawaiian Sling. These invasive fish consume ridiculous amounts of the local reef fish and have become a true threat, so killing them helps the ecosystem. As a bonus, they are also delicious, if you can remove the 13 venomous spines without poisoning yourself. Swimming with an enormous spotted eagle ray was another treat at this snorkel spot.

Waking up in the tranquility of remote Ranguana was spectacular. Luckily, Erica and Wes didn’t complain about the rolly anchorage. When you are far away from the mainland, and just inside the cut of the reef, swells can roll around a small island. Dinghying to shore, we enjoyed exploring, playing with Blue, and beach flyfishing. Permit were everywhere, but they are a significant challenge to hook.

Erica and Wes tried again to flyfish when we arrived at Hideaway in the Pelican Cays later that day.

Here, Erica caught a starfish and Wes caught a barracuda, right in the eye, unfortunately. Visiting with Dustin in his open air thatched roof home was a delight, especially for Wes, who pondered: “I could do this…build a home on a mangrove island, fish all day, and entertain guests at night”. Wes saw that Dustin had built his dream home for himself and his wife (and now 4 year old daughter) and was embracing every moment.

Stormy weather could have socked us in the next day, but we knew our crew could handle a bit of rough seas, so we sailed off north to explore more special places. We had hoped to go to Tobacco or South Water Cay for awesome snorkeling, but it was much too rough, with winds blowing 25-30 knots. We tucked into Twin Cays for a quieter anchorage up a creek. Erica and Wes took off in the dinghy again to explore the island.

We made it to South Water Cay the next morning, even though it was still blowing like stink. Here, after anchoring, we prepared to snorkel, leaving our Hawaiian Sling on Alembic because it is a preservation area. The IZE (International Zoological Expedition) Resort on South Water Cay has built tables underwater where they are growing coral experimentally. Snorkeling around these tables was interesting and I thought of all the lucky students who get to study here. Bonefish lined the shore, tempting any flyfisherman!

Back on Alembic, we readied ourselves for a wild ride to Colson Cays through large swells building in the Victoria Chanel. This channel is usually flat calm, but with this relentless 25 knot north wind, seas had a chance to establish themselves. Erica and Wes proved to be mighty fine sailors, helping when we needed a hand, and relaxing enough to play Backgammon and Mastermind even though the boat was pitching back and forth.

Colson Cays was our final anchorage before heading to the marina the next day. Erica and Wes again took off in the dinghy to explore this last set of islands. Even though the weather was still a bit dreary, they had fun. Bill and I knew that this weather was unusual for Belize this time of year and were bummed that we couldn’t show the kids the spectacular endless sunshine and calm harbors, but Erica and Wes seemed so happy to just be out in the warm air, adventuring in a unique area and sharing time with us on our floating home. It warmed my heart to see their endlessly cheerful approach to all of these new experiences.

After one last dinghy ride the next morning, we headed for Cucumber Beach Marina in Belize City. The marina is a few miles from the actual city and is more of a resort. Erica and Wes headed straight for the water park while I taxied to town to get a rental car. We enjoyed our last night together at the resort restaurant then locked ourselves in Alembic, behind screens, to keep out the annoying no-see-umms. Good name, as you can’t see the little bugs coming at you, but you can sure feel their bite, and, in Erica’s case, you could certainly see the evidence of their existence all over her legs the next day.

Before dawn, we drove to the airport to watch Erica and Wes head back to Colorado. Sleepily, we said our goodbyes. Walking back to the car, it seemed so quiet, just Bill and I. Erica and Wes had filled our week with such joyful sounds, chatting with us and with each other and laughing readily through all of our adventures.

I am having the hardest time putting into words how I feel after spending a week with my youngest child and her dear friend. How has this happened? She was my baby for the longest time, wanting to be held (by me or anyone!) until she was about five, and holding my hand (still!) through many more years. Now, she lives in Colorado, is about to graduate from college at age 20, and is a mighty strong woman. I only get a glimpse of her now and then. And my heart is bursting. Bursting with pride that she has accomplished so much with her jobs and studies. Bursting with joy that she has found love that is so mutually supportive. Bursting with longing for more time to be with her. Being a mom is hard. And wonderful. Especially when you have a delightful, appreciative, inquisitive, confident daughter like Erica. I will always be grateful for any moments together. Anywhere.

Sad to see Kenny and Jenna leave, but excited to have Erica and Wes, just one week later, we prepared Alembic for the three day voyage to Belize. Easy, right? A three day sail and 6 days to do it. Well, not so easy this week. Winds were blowing above 30 knots and kicking up huge seas. Alembic can handle these conditions, but Bill and I prefer a mellower ride. So we waited. And waited.

Wednesday was Bill’s birthday, so we celebrated by bracing ourselves for an exciting exit out of the tranquil North Sound of Grand Cayman and into the unknown. Three days would bring us to Saturday, the day Erica and Wes would hop on a flight in Colorado to join us for a blissful week in the sunshine; we had zero extra time. Remembering Kenny and Jenna’s experience at the airport, where they were asked “which hotel are you staying at?” and their reply was “a sailboat named Alembic”. The authorities would not clear them at the airport if Alembic had not already cleared through customs. Luckily, we had accomplished our clearing a few days prior to their arrival. We were worried that when asked, the authorities would find no cleared boat named Alembic in Belize, and send our darlings back home to Colorado. And clearing through Customs, Immigration, Agriculture and the Port Authority in Belize could take all day, and was closed on weekends!! We were pushing for Friday arrival. No pressure. None at all…

You know how you’re oblivious to stormy weather if you are hunkered down in a windowless basement or hanging out at the mall? Well, that’s how it feels when you are tucked into a creek, off a sound, with glorious sunshine overhead. The weather is delightful, with a steady 15 knot breeze to keep you from getting too sweaty hot. Our weatherman was not wrong. Unfortunately. He told us of the 25 to 35 knot winds, with 15 foot seas, just outside of the North Sound entrance. But, not to worry, the winds were subsiding, and the waves would settle also, probably in the next day or two… We didn’t have another day or two!! So off we went.

The biggest waves we’ve ever seen greeted us as we exited the sound. The entrance buoys were leaping up against their chains with the huge swells. As soon as we rounded the corner, with deep Caribbean blue to our right, and gorgeous reefs to our left, we were committed. As those 15 foot swells came steaming in to meet the reefs, they stacked up to be super steep and pointy waves, less than a boat length apart. This means that Alembic was either going straight down, or straight up a wave, with no space in between to regain her momentum.

Our progress forward was slowed down to a crawl. Revving our beloved engine up to 2500 rpm (usually we cruise at 1600-1800), we found traction. Never has this engine let us down. Thanking previous owners yet again for re-engining Alembic with a 100 hp turbo Yanmar (most Whitby 42’s have 45-65hp) we punched through some pretty awesome mountains of water, sending walls of saltwater over the bow to bulldoze the dodger. Alembic repeatedly shook off the water with a booming shuttering shake as if to say “Give me some more!”.

Soon, we were able to turn the corner on the island and head southwest, allowing the northwest swells to kick us in the rear, a much more pleasant angle than on the bow. Now the waves seemed to be raising us up and pushing us along our way. We loosened our grip on whatever we clung to and settled into our cockpit positions, bracing our feet against rigid surfaces so the rolls wouldn’t cause us to somersault across the boat. This was much more pleasant than hanging on with both hands and both feet for every soaking crash.

Unfortunately, Alembic was not so pleased with the downwind run as we were. Once we cleared Grand Cayman, the swells rolled in from the southeast, while the winds continued to howl from the northeast at 25 to 30 knots. This gave us a twisting corkscrew kind of motion for every wave. Preventers on our sails helped keep the booms somewhat in place, but there was no preventing the banging and slatting when the boat lifted and spilled the wind. Seven failures happened as a result of this crazy banging.

First, the mainsail kept snagging behind the top spreader and getting stuck there, hung up by the stiff upper batten. I was sure that we would tear the sail as we yanked and twisted it from down below to free it. Somehow it never ripped. Next, Bill noticed that the main mast was shifting and twisting with the largest of waves. He removed some of the woodwork in our cabin below to see that one of the wedges that keeps the mast in place where it goes through the deck had fallen into the bilge. This required some major effort to reinstall it while underway. Third, a loud snapping sound developed in the cabin near the aft bulkhead door. A tab that holds the bulkhead to the hull probably snapped. We will have to look into this later. For now, it is just incredibly annoying as it snaps with every wave, making sleep nearly impossible.

This list is long! Fourth, we both heard a very loud pop from behind us as we stood in the cockpit. Being pitch dark, we couldn’t find the source, but daylight revealed the origin: a collar for the life raft had popped.

Luckily, the huge life raft didn’t explode out of its tiny enclosure like a Jack-in-the-Box! Bill tied a safety line in its place to contain the beast. Fifth, another very loud BANG! The extension line to the whisker pole broke. What a stupid design. The pole holds the genoa out so we can capture the most wind possible without the sail collapsing. This part is excellent. And the idea that the pole telescopes is also helpful, as we roll up that sail to make it many different sizes. The stupid part is that there is a skinny line that you pull, to make the pole longer. This leaves a tremendous load on a tiny line. Well, it broke, leaving us with only one possible size pole: the shortest. UGH. Bill’s great idea of making it adjustable with through bolts is perfect, but we did’t have the supplies onboard to fix it underway. And the sixth failure was the scariest. The gooseneck broke. Actually, a bolt broke, which caused the track that holds the gooseneck to separate from the mast. We had to drop the mainsail. Now we were stuck with a much-too-small genoa and mizzen. Luckily, we still had a lot of wind, and we carried on Jib and Jigger (term for just these two sails).

Many say that the seventh one is a charm. Well, this was no charm. Saltwater dripping down on our Single Side Band radio (SSB) is not welcome. This is one rugged installation. It has taken saltwater across the top before and seems to be unfazed. Again, we packed towels around the beloved source of most offshore communications. Soon, Alembic was decorated with hanging wet towels.

Those wet towels were soon put to a second use as we sopped up a black, silvery, sooty mess in the cockpit and around the aft companionway. Those huge waves earlier in the trip had given our boat a thorough wash-down, including funneling water through our boom, cleaning years worth of aluminum corrosion. Aluminum is a funny metal. It reacts to saltwater slightly, creating a surface oxide, which actually protects it from further reactions. Well, we washed out the inside of our boom. Stuffing towels into the aft end was the only way we could stop the black drips.

Gladden Spit was a most welcome sight! Dolphins greeted us as we entered through one of the openings of the 560 miles of Mesoamerican Barrier Reef System. We felt like we were home. Maybe it was the relief of ending this crazy journey, maybe it was because we sailed here last year, and most likely, it was because our baby girl, now a brilliant strong woman, was about to arrive and join us for a week. We played with the dolphins, watched as black clouds skirted by us just a mile north, rinsed off in the light sprinkles, and headed into Placentia to anchor.

This marvelous quiet anchorage, with friendly cruisers who are willing to share tools, was the perfect spot to fix all of our broken pieces. Alembic was back in fine working order just in time for a delightful, failure-free week with Erica and Wes!

My heart was filled to bursting when Kenny and Jenna arrived at Grand Cayman. Missing our children is the single most challenging aspect of this lifestyle of cruising. I have to remind myself that they are all loving, growing, learning, and creating their own journeys independently now. Some days I’m relaxed with this concept of distance, while at other times I just want to fly home and move in to their homes.

When my babies were small, I quit my engineering career to be with them every moment. Two days after my last day on the job, I opened my day care. This allowed me to be with them while they learned to navigate a complex world filled with others. Ok, I admit it; I manipulated their world to bring in kids who would enhance their development. Wonderful kids their age, including two cousins, filled their days with continuous opportunities to grow as healthy, cooperative, curious, and adventurous people. Every day I marveled at their progress and couldn’t imagine missing one moment. So every chance I get to again be side by side is a gift.

Less than 3 days after our arrival at Grand Cayman, we were ready to show Kenny and Jenna “our island”. Visitors may think we’re ready to be tour guides when they visit us, but rarely do we actually have a clue about these new places we visit! Eager to get started, and disregarding their travel fatigue, we brought them from the airport back to Alembic to dump their small bags, went to the marina restaurant for a quick bite, chatted with the fish tournament participants as they showed off their gigantic catch, untied Alembic, and headed out into the sound.

On our way into Governor’s Creek, we rescued a Pirate ship. Yes, no typo. Earlier this morning, when we sailed toward the airport, Bill and I noticed that this ship was aground. Figuring that they knew how to kedge off or that someone would help them, we hurried along to meet Kenny and Jenna. Finding them still aground surprised us. No one had offered assistance? So many power boats in the area pass this spot regularly. Rarely can a sailboat offer assistance to such a large vessel, but we had to try. They tossed us a gigantic rope which I secured to a cleat and put all 100 horses to work. Most Whitbys have 75 hp or less, Alembic’s 100 was appreciated today. After a few different angles of pull, they slowly pivoted and floated free.

Early the next morning, we sailed out of the North Sound to snorkel at the deeper Stingray City location (there are two Stingray City spots nearby). Here we saw a few stingrays and assorted other fish, but with the strong winds and rolly anchorage, we didn’t stay long, and headed back into the tranquility of the sound. Taking the dinghy ashore and exploring by land seemed like a better idea, so we headed to Cadillac Jacks, a fun beach bar in the sand of 7 mile beach on the Western coast of the island. Here we met some Brits who were cooling off by swimming while wearing their elegant clothing and trying not to spill their drinks!

Cost U Less doesn’t seem like a fun touristy place to visit, but we needed food, and Kenny and Jenna helped choose our week’s menu here. After storing our purchases, we ventured out of the sound again, this time making it around the northwest corner to sail south to an anchorage off the city. We swam from the boat, snorkeled in the clear beautiful water, and came ashore to appreciate terra firma, a welcome stability after a few hours of trying to master sea legs. Seeing the Green Flash at a sweet little bar where the waitress kept calling me Mum, capped off our day.

By morning, we knew we had to get back into the sound. All of the boats on the western side of Grand Cayman were perfectly safe, but rolling around all night and day was not a great plan for us. So we let Kenny and Jenna off on land to explore the town more, while Bill and I sailed Alembic up around the corner again, back into the sound. Alembic was thoroughly soaked with salt spray by the time we arrived back in the harbor. The bus ride north was much more pleasant for Kenny and Jenna. And the sail across the sound to Kaibo was even more tranquil!

Kaibo is an excellent anchorage to access the beauty of Grand Cayman. We dinghied around the corner to Starfish beach, then enjoyed fabulous snorkeling at Coral Gardens and a daiquiri at Rum Point. Dinghying after dark to luminescent Bay was interesting too, with swirls of magical light when you drag your hand through the warm water.

A rental car was our mode of transportation the next day so we could cruise the entire island. Snorkeling at Barefoot on the eastern shore, lunch at Eagle Rays, and more snorkeling on the south coast at Spotts Beach to frolic with the carefree huge turtles made for a full day. Dropping off the car near Camana Bay gave us a great spot to appreciate Happy Hour while we waited for the water taxi to arrive to bring us back across the sound to Alembic.

Even with oodles of tourists pouring off the charter boats, we had a blast swimming among the sting rays. Used to being fed daily by humans, these creatures came up to and onto anyone, especially if you had a bit of squid in your hand. They seemed aggressive, but never hurt anyone. Ready to move away from the increasing crowds, we dinghied a bit farther north and snorkeled around the dramatic reefs which enclose the North Sound.

A gentle sail back across the sound brought us back into Camana Bay. Here, we tied to a dock for the night. No dinghy was needed to step off, have a beer or enjoy another Gelato!

Each of us was a bit subdued the next morning, knowing that our blissful week was over. Worries about travel swirled for each of us. The younger set faced taxis, multiple plane rides, and a long drive home, while the older folks were facing a rough ocean passage to Belize to meet Erica and Wes in 7 days. But my heartache was the realization that Kenny and Jenna had to return to Maine. Grateful as I was for their wonderful visit, sadness prevailed that day as they departed.

I have been reflecting since their visit how magical Kenny and Jenna are together and as individuals. They flow seamlessly from adventurous activities to total relaxation which is a gift in our hectic world. And their love for each other is an inspiration to all. Endlessly kind and playful, they bring Joy to every day. Our next time to be together will be in Colorado for Erica’s graduation, so I am buoyed with more wonderful thoughts of togetherness.

Let’s just start with We Love the Bahamas. Maybe it’s because we ventured here so many times on Wings, our beloved Westsail 32, back in our twenties. Maybe because we meet so many peers out here. Maybe it’s the easy going lifestyle. How can you explain when you love a place? I guess it just feels like home. Maine will always be home, but the Bahamas is our second home.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Four flights after leaving Boston, we arrived in Georgetown and took Elvis’ water taxi to Alembic.

My presumption of finding a boat full of mold and bugs was quickly cast aside when we came below to the scent of …. nothing. Those of you who have spent time aboard Alembic will know that I’m a bit neurotic about bugs. When I find one teeny tiny crawly thing, I tear the boat apart, scrubbing every surface, and repackaging all food. If you know of a good Bug Haters Anonymous meeting, let me know.

Why do I always forget to take pictures of good friends? I guess I’m too busy enjoying their company to think of it until it’s too late. Dinner aboard the Hallberg-Rassy Balance with friends Staffan and Kicki and another visit on Echo with Jeff and Mary were two such events that I wish I had captured with photos. Cruising is challenging, socially, because we repeatedly meet wonderful people whom we have to keep parting with. Luckily, as our itineraries continue to move us in meandering paths, we often meet up again. So we never say Goodbye.

Staffan took this picture of us just after we used the boat hook to pass them a book as we departed Georgetown. Nothing like a near collision at dawn with all of us looking a bit sleepy. Speaking of sleepy, our trip to the Cayman Islands was five days of sleepiness. With not enough wind to push us along, the diesel engine earned its keep. An unusual passage, with no spray flying over the rails, Bill brought out his computer and telecommuted. What a brave new world we live in where we can sail through the Caribbean while remaining connected to our careers.

This could have been a lovely time for Bill and I to just sit back and enjoy each other while Alembic crawled for five days around Cuba, but other plans were in the making. Bill had burned his mouth at the airport on a hot potato (no, I’m not joking) and this burn developed into a full blown miserable mess. Barely able to eat, he conversed via our inReach with my brother, Dr. Paul, and our med school daughter, Lindsay, to figure out how to cope. Message to all: test your potatoes before you toss them back into your delicate throat.

 

 

 

 

 

 

One of these days we will visit Cuba. Kenny and Jenna were about to arrive in Grand Cayman, so we admired the spectacular mountains while only about 10 miles off the coast for 200 miles. The coastline fell away from our route at that point, and the remaining 600 miles of Cuban southern coast disappeared from view.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Good ole Chris Parker, our weatherman, nailed it again. He said “get in by Wednesday at noon; a strong northwesterly will make further travel perilous”. Our boring five days sure didn’t feel like anything was brewing, but we still motored along quickly enough to heed his warning. We arrived at dawn Wednesday, cleared customs by ten, and headed for shelter as those winds kicked in. The massive cruise ships which had arrived with us that morning struggled to get their guests aboard that afternoon. One ship, Monarch, had to move to three different locations to manage to board everyone safely and head away from the dangers of a rough coastline.

While the west coast of Grand Cayman began to get battered by the huge waves, Alembic rested quietly in the North Sound. I wouldn’t recommend coming here if you draw more than 7 feet; you would struggle to get into the safe harbor. Luckily, with only 5 feet below the waterline, we were able to drop our anchor in many tranquil spots and fully enjoy this unique island.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Such a bizarre combination of humanity intermingles here. Banking is the main industry, and it shows, with the many fancy hotels and well dressed polite people. Weaving around this fanciness, you find glamorous homes in tranquil canals, fishermen selling their catch, chickens everywhere, cruise ships disgorging thousands of people each day, and endless young people from all over the world finding work in the resorts, shops, banks, and restaurants. Undefinable in their diversity, Grand Cayman has something for everyone.