Alembic

Yesterday was a record day for happenings worth noting. We came to Staniel Cay the afternoon before to snug up to the island and get some protection from the forecasted windy weather. Staniel Cay offers plenty of great spots to tuck in as well as a variety of things to do on the water and on shore in case we felt it was too windy to sail comfortably.

Our first night, I stayed up late to finish sewing the awning/rain-catcher. This was a challenging project for many reasons. One, I was making it out of a worn out old main sail that I had cut up last month. Two, no pieces were large enough for the pattern, so they had to be cobbled together. Three, space down below on Alembic is limited and I ended up doing gymnastics to lay out the pieces. Four, the previous days were sweltering hot, resulting in a sauna like situation, with me beneath a bulk of sail cloth, pushing it through the sewing machine. Finishing it at night, with the cooler air, was worth staying up late for. Disclaimer: staying up late is 10:15. Usually we are in bed by 8:45!! If any of you know me well, this is quite a switch. I used to stay up to midnight every night and be up by 6 every morning. Out here, I get nine hours of blissful sleep a night.

Back to our eventful day. I started off by tying the new awning in place. The photo shows that it looks more like bird trying to fly than a functional addition to Alembic. The sewing is done, but now I have to bring it to shore to bang about sixty grommets and snaps into it to hold it in place. Then, I’ll have to figure out how to invert it, install a drain hose somewhere, and start using it as a rain-catcher as well. I decided to procrastinate about this a bit because the mail boat was coming in, which was far more interesting.

While Bill was working on some navigation electronics, I dinghied over to the government dock (a rickety wooden pier) when the mail boat tied up. This boat had been in dry dock in Nassau for maintenance for a few weeks, so the locals were going to be celebrating the arrival of fresh produce, letters from loved ones, and supplies to continue work on ongoing projects. What a scene. Everyone helped everyone load their boats, trucks, golf carts, and bicycles. People sat patiently for hours for their treasures to come off the boat.

While waiting for her deliveries, Sister Vivian told me of the many challenges and joys of living on this small island. There is a one room school house for the six island children, and Dr. Battie is the teacher. “A very creative woman, who can teach K-12” When kids are ready for high school, they leave the island, most going to Nassau. Vivian’s daughter started there this year, and, sadly, they won’t see each other until Christmas. Locals depend on this mail boat for produce because the island soil is too hard to grow anything except a few bananas. There are chickens everywhere, but eggs are hidden and hatched before any humans can get them! So many more stories from Vivian helped me to understand these people and their beautiful island.

After warm goodbyes from the residents, I checked in on Bill. He had acquired a trigger fish from a local and learned a new method of skinning it which saves so much more of its delicious meat. You can even eat the meat in its face, we learned.

Bill spears and cleans these fish, but learning from the experts bumped him up a notch.
We headed to the town dock and were greeted by dozens of shark. Nurse shark swam around my feet as I walked up the stone steps and they allowed me to stroke their sandpaper-like skin. Locals stood at a table, cleaning fish and throwing the guts into the water here so the shark were well fed and not interested in tasting my fingers or toes.
We headed out the cut (the water between islands which gives access from the banks which are shallow to the sound which is deep) to find fish and conch. While the snorkeling was beautiful, there were no dinner fish anywhere. Plenty of beautiful reef fish, but none of these are good for spearing and eating. I think the expert locals here know where to go. Maybe they will share some secrets.

Empty handed, we headed for the grotto. This is also known as Thunderball Cave. A James Bond movie was filmed here and I can see why they chose this spot. You can snorkel into a huge cave with several tunnels below the water and beams of sunlight from above which come from a few holes in the ground thirty feet up. I tried to take photos of this spectacular scene, but my skills are in need of tuning.

Sufficiently waterlogged, we headed back to the boat to cook that trigger and fresh veggies. We are definitely eating well on this journey!

After dinner, we again took the dinghy to shore, this time to check out the night life. Walking through town, we could see only two or three customers in the two local restaurants. Where is everyone? I guess we are early. Many more visitors will be coming to this island in a few weeks, bringing good business for the winter months. We reluctantly headed back to the Staniel Cay Yacht Club and were welcomed warmly. We are not Yacht Club types, preferring to hang with locals and learn about their communities, but we were willing to give the Yacht Club a chance.

This Yacht Club is not your typical US club. What a hoot. You could play pool, try to swing the metal ring on the string to catch it on the hook (so sorry Mr Handsome for hitting you while trying!), chat with the 90 year old cheerful man who still rides his bike all over the island, learn from Mr. Watermaker (forgot his name) who has been working the water makers here for over thirty years, have an insightful conversation about religion and homosexuality with a man my age who grew up here, join the new sorority of women who have a special way of bonding in a room full of testosterone. We finally had to leave when we realized that this party was never going to end.

Dinghying home to Alembic, I reflected on what a rich experience this is. Sewing and creating, participating in a big mail boat event, snorkeling for fish, exploring nature’s tunnels, dining on exquisite food, and mingling with such a diverse group of people all in one day. I am one lucky lady. My heart is full.

I had a great birthday!  Thanks everyone for making it special.

Our sails were so salty from the passage from Charleston to the Abacos.  Every time we put the sail covers back on, they just collected salt, so we turned them inside out to wash them.  Finally, after a few days we got ten minutes of rain to accomplish the task.

We use old hoses to pour slightly salty water, at 50 cents per gallon, into our tanks.  Translation:  Airing laundry is sometimes better than washing it!

Hope Town at night was magical.  I need to learn my plants to tell apart the many types of palm trees.

Bill goes for a little exploration paddle early one morning outside of Hope Town Harbor.

The water is so shallow almost everywhere in the Bahamas.  A bit unsettling when you sail until you get used to reading the depths.  Alembic needs at least five feet.  Even the rare spots that are twenty feet are so clear, you can watch the lobster crawling underneath you.

Today is November 9th, two weeks after arriving in the Bahamas. Already, we are planning our return. We have met people that leave a boat here and go home for two months, return for two months, and keep this up for fifteen years!! I could get used to that.

There are many areas of the Bahamas and each area has it’s own character and offerings. We loved the Abacos and can see leaving our boat at Man o War Cay in the care of a gentleman we met who takes care of cruisers’ boats. Hope Town is a sweet little village with fabulous snorkeling. Marsh Harbor has everything you could ever need: an airport, huge grocery store, many marine stores, etc. Tilloo is spectacularly gorgeous, with its own Tahiti Beach and castle. Lynyard Cay is tranquil for a getaway, and Little Harbor has the most impressive Art Gallery I have ever seen. Pete makes bronze statues with the lost wax process which he learned from his parents who arrived here in the 50’s. When they arrived, they settled in the natural caves in the area and developed an artist colony. Evidence of the artists are everywhere.

Elueuthera is the next area of the Bahamas, fifty miles south of Little Harbor and has the most crystal clear water you can imagine. Our sail was a boisterous one, with enough wind to keep us on a beam reach, and enough fish to keep Bill busy running back to his reel. First he landed a large Dorado, then a good sized Mackerel. Yum. We didn’t stay long here, though, as we were so impatient to get to the Exumas.

Forty miles south of Eleuthera is the top of the Exuma chain of islands. We entered at Allens Cay and are now ten more miles south at Norman’s Cay. We like the Exumas best for exploring and snorkeling, but Abacos best for ease of entry for cruisers and visitors.

There are many other parts of the Bahamas north and west of us which we skipped this year, such as the Bimini chain, the Berry Islands, Grand Bahama, and the Andros Islands. And many more parts further south and east which we may visit on our way to the Western Caribbean: Long Island, The Acklins, Managuana, and Great Inagua.

Knock on wood, Alembic is in great shape now. The roller furling was fixed with no new parts, just a lot of sweat and creativity on Bill’s part. The dinghy motor is running fine now and and we have all the gear and food for traveling much further.

So far, the Exumas is not putting us in any hurry though. Our first stop between Allens and Leaf Cay was amazing. The prehistoric Iguanas on the beach of Leaf Cay were incredibly friendly and came running to us as we beached our dinghy. Unnerving at first, we soon realized that they were completely harmless. Birds and smaller geckos joined in the welcoming as well. Here, we peacefully rode out Tropical Storm Kate.

Chris Parker is a wealth of information and a stress reducer well worth the money we pay him. For less than $300 per year, we get unlimited weather reports sent to us via email and SSB (single sideband radio) and we can chat with him on SSB for specific questions about our travels. He alerted us to the development of this storm, and gave us reports several times per day to keep us informed about its movements. We chose this protected anchorage to ride out the storm. Luckily, the storm shifted its path slightly and passed to the east of us, heading northwest. If it had passed to the west of us, we would have seen 50 knot winds. We only saw 25 for about 20 minutes. The rest of the day was 10-15 knots. We would have been fine in the spot we stayed, just noisy!

As soon as the threat of more wind passed, we headed south to Norman’s Cay. Here, we anchored Alembic right beside a plane. Yes, a plane, in the water. This plane crashed maybe forty years ago and is quite a spectacular reef now. It’s weird to think that such a tragic event has developed into a beautiful source of life. The fish have made a home in all of the cavities and the exterior is covered by marine flora and fauna. Snorkeling is amazing around the surrounding small islands and we spent hours exploring and collecting a variety pack of speared small fish. Dinner was especially delicious with grunt, trigger, and conch.

Only two weeks in the Bahamas so far, with two more to go before Lindsay arrives to join us in Georgetown for Thanksgiving. We wish more of our friends and family could come join us for this amazing adventure. Our hearts would then be full to bursting!

Arriving at Great Guana Cay Bahamas on Monday was such a dream. But we always have to wake up. If we are still alive. So, wide awake Tuesday morning, we headed southeast across the Sea of Abaco to Marsh Harbor to clear customs. We were illegally hanging out in the Bakers Bay area, with our Q flag flying. Bahamas are pretty casual, with a well know reputation of “Bahama time”. This means that things will get done when they get done. I suppose we were just following this custom.

We dropped anchor in Marsh Harbor and took the dinghy to shore, backpacks full of all our papers: passports, Alembic documentation, cash. They didn’t like this. We were to go back, bring Alembic to the dock for a full clearing in. Ugh. We hate docks. Especially those with pilings and docks that I can’t jump onto. We are spoiled by New England’s floating docks. When Bill motors up, I take a flying leap and land on the dock with lines and quickly tie up before we crash into anything. Here, the docks were so high above the water, I’d have to be an Olympic High Jumper to land on the dock. We figured that we would sustain some damage as Bill motored up to the pilings with me frantically trying to lasso the pilings to bring us to a stop. Luckily, two boaters were there to catch our lines and prevent this damage. We scrambled up a ladder to thank Dean and Susan, our new best friends!

Back to Bahama time, the marina workers (who couldn’t leave their office to catch lines) considered the time, 3:30. “We close at 4, so it may be too late to call Customs” Knowing that I should adopt this new state of mind, slowness, I still wanted quick action. I’ll slow down soon, I promise. Summoning my kindest voice, I asked if they could please try to call. The woman considered this request for a while and finally dialed the phone. When she hung up, she said that they may come today, maybe tomorrow. Wow; I was working hard to adapt.

Walking back to Alembic on the rickety pier, I realized that life isn’t so bad. Waiting until tomorrow would not kill us. We couldn’t or shouldn’t galavant into town before being checked in, but what’s the hurry? Before I had a chance to lounge much, the customs and medical officers came aboard. Surprise! The two young ladies were incredibly efficient, friendly, and helpful. So, we untied the lines and headed back to the anchorage, where, I kid you not, a double rainbow welcomed us. No sign of rain anywhere. We lowered the Q flag (the yellow one which symbolizes entry into a new country and that we are in quarantine until the medical officers deem us healthy enough to proceed ashore) and raised the Bahama courtesy flag. Now we officially could wander about anywhere. So this is what we did. We dinghied to shore, walked around and stopped for a beer with Susan and Dean.

Marsh Harbor has a bad reputation for Bill and me. It represents work. This town (the third largest Bahama city) has an airport to the US, a huge grocery store that rivals any US store, and several marine hardware stores. It is the project town, not the swim and enjoy island. My project is to continue to provision to keep as much fresh food aboard as possible, and Bill’s project of the moment was a “quick” overhaul of the head. He had the overhaul kit, but needed just one part. Back at the boat, I busied myself with finding storage spaces for the abundance of food, and Bill started taking apart our head. My job was easy, but I broke out into a serious sweat anyway, and Bill’s was going relatively smoothly as well. Until he finished. This is when he realized he had barely begun. All put back together, with new seals, etc and the thing didn’t work at all. I had to zip over to the sailboat Copper Penny to tell George and Cindy we would be late for our Happy Hour date. After a miserable hour of messy, ugly exploration, Bill realized that he needed more parts, but the stores were closed, so we might as well go over to Copper Penny, after a cleansing swim of course.

Back to the hardware store early in the morning, Bill purchased the parts to “fix” the head, and we headed out of this project town. Our plan was to sail to Hope Town, and enjoy the glorious snorkeling there after the quick “fix”. We executed the plan: the sail to Hope Town, the “fix” and the snorkel. The sad part was that the “fix” wasn’t successful. I kept reminding Bill that we had another head, so this one could be decommissioned. Our other head is a compost head, with no plumbing (and no odor I might add). If you know Bill, this doesn’t sit well with him. He always has to fix things. He gets obsessed. To make a very gross long story short, he continued going to Hope Town’s tiny store to get more sanitary hose for the next two days and finally finished this “quick” job. Our old plumbing had become so calcified that when he cleaned the system with vinegar back in Marsh Harbor, all of the calcification deposits let go and clogged all of the hoses from the intake, past the head, and the exit of the head. The 2.5 inch hoses were reduced to zero inside diameter. No water could travel. Or anything else.

OK, enough of our gross details, and on to our glorious life of snorkeling, leisure walks about quaint island communities, and easy Abaco sailing. Hope Town has always been a special place for our family. Best know for its unique Light House, it also boasts a well protected harbor and friendly people ashore. Trick or Treaters were out and about on Halloween and the Sailing Club put on the scariest Haunted House that I have ever experienced. We snorkeled all three days we were there. Fish were everywhere the first day, and Bill speared two fish. Somehow, they both escaped between the end of the spear and the opening of the catch bag. How they swam so quickly with a hole through their bodies baffled me. Poor guys. We felt terrible injuring fish. The second day must have been a less than ideal spot, because there was much less edible fish. Plenty of beautiful reef fish, but we were in search of grouper, hog, snapper, or queen trigger. The third day was fabulous, but just as we were getting in the groove, Bill spotted a black tipped shark and back to the dinghy we swam, and fast. We will get used to the shark in these warm waters, soon.

After hours of dinghy riding, Bill was getting concerned about the old 8 hp Mercury. It was overheating and not flushing enough cooling water. So, you know what this means: back to Marsh Harbor, the project spot. Many of you might imagine that our lives are pure pleasure and blissful days of warm sunshine. While Bill and I are ever grateful for this fabulous opportunity to travel, we continuously exert our minds, bodies, and wallets to keep up with our plans. Luckily, we fix almost everything ourselves, so the wallet part is the least challenging. We are working on patience as a new virtue. We are not there yet, but we all need goals.

Leaving the US and heading for the Bahamas was poorly planned. We knew we would be leaving within a week or two, but we thought we had a few more days to gather our provisions and our nerve. We are not the nervous types, but we had only done single overnights unless you count sailing occurring over a quarter century ago. Yes. We are old.

We left Charleston harbor expecting to spend two nights and one long day offshore, arriving in the familiar port of Saint Augustine, with our friends aboard Planet Waves sailing along side. This was going to be our warm up run, two nights, to see how we did with sleep, preparing food, and general stamina offshore. Bill and I are both challenged in our own unique ways. He deals with feeling seasick, and I develop insomnia. I sleep like a baby while anchored or in any stationary place, but once I get moving, wether by car, plane, or boat, I simply don’t sleep. Sleeping pills seem like a great solution; but, first of all, I don’t use any medications ever, and this could prove disastrous on a passage.

Preparing food underway is always difficult as well, so luckily I had made a large pot of split pea soup with tons of veggies. We could heat and eat this quickly and effortlessly, right? Wrong. Here’s the list of steps for this activity: Raise the lid to the fridge; rest the hinged lid on your head while you stick your arms in to move stuff around to find the huge container of soup. Remember that you have to place big heavy and wet items lower, so they don’t crush other stuff or leak and spill over everything. Set the container on the counter, close the lid of the fridge. Don’t let go of the container or it may fly! Open the lid of the container; place the lid in the sink because it will fly and make a mess on the floor and you will certainly slip on this later. Pour contents of the soup in the pan, which rests on the gimbaled stove. Make sure you already set the pan holders in place so that the pan won’t get launched when the stove swings. Place the lid back on the container and put back in the fridge. Now light the stove, and breathe. Get bowls ready. If you are feeling ambitious, and I’m always ambitious about trying to fatten up Bill, open up some type of sausage or precooked chicken and cut into the pan. Don’t bother with the cutting board because the board, the chicken, and the knife, all need to be held and you don’t have three hands. Now comes the tricky part. Try serving hot soup in a rolling boat. I have learned to make my soup very think, with no water visible, but I am still challenged about getting it into bowls without splashing. Place one bowl in the sink, fill the other with a mug. Pass it to Bill. Fill the second and take on deck to dine. Deal with the messy mug in the sink and pan locked onto the stove later.

So, you may ask, why not make chicken, rice, and veggies, something not soupy? Nope. Doesn’t work. You can’t serve multiple items on a dish or the containers will fly, you can’t operate a knife and fork, because there is no hand left to hold the dish. Trust me, I’ve tried everything. Soup it is. Except for lunch when I try to make sandwiches. What a challenge this is! Get out the board, put two slices of bread down. Hold the board with your elbow while you open the mustard. Quickly spread the mustard between one wave and the next (5-7 seconds). Hold the board with one hand while you open the fridge with elbow, drop the mustard in and take the chicken out. Place a few pieces of meat on the bread and back it goes in the fridge. Ditto for a slice of cheese. Okay, tomatoes and avocado are great, right? Yep, they’re worth the effort, so keep your elbow on the board, hoping the bread is sticking enough to not move on it. Hold the tomato with one hand while you cut with the other. Ditto for the avocado. Lettuce? Forget it! Washing it, keeping it from getting crushed in the fridge? Not worth it. Now twenty minutes have passed and Voila! Don’t serve on dishes, because they go flying when you use two hands to hold your sandwich. Who thought a simple sandwich was so difficult?! And who knew your elbows were so useful?!

Bill and I dealt with our challenges of seasickness and insomnia well. Those Scopolamine patches are amazing, and I proved, yet again, that I really don’t need much sleep. My first night was actually restful, maybe because we had strolled all over Charleston that day and I was sufficiently exhausted when we raised anchor at 5 pm. The second night was noisy in the Gulf Stream and the sleep evaded me. But I stood every watch and was awake enough to perform all of my tasks. The third night was getting better, and if we had stayed offshore a few more nights, I might just get the hang of sleeping in a noisy boat.

Speaking of the Gulf Stream, we navigated this with the help of Lindsay. Yep. She was in Boston, on a computer, when we texted with our favorite new toy: our Delorme InReach. She let us know, from a website, where the elusive eddy was that we were searching for. The Gulf Stream is much more diffuse up at this latitude, compared to down near Miami, where we had crossed many lumpy times. The seas were not difficult but the loss of forward speed was disheartening. Our knot log was reading 7.4 knots, while our GPS told us we were only making good about 4.8 knots. Ugh. We wanted to find this eddy to make better progress. Thanks Lindsay. We directed our course more easterly to get there, and soon were making better time.

Bill caught another Dorado in the Gulf Stream. Yum. He managed to gut the bugger on the back deck but there was no way we could BBQ in these conditions, so into the fridge it went. We dreamed about all of the ways we could prepare this delicious treat. Knowing that we should not take more fish aboard, we only take as much as we can consume, Bill put his hook back in the box. This did not stop the fish from coming aboard though, as flying fish were everywhere. They sail through the air, often landing on surfaces they had not intended.

Land HO. For us, not the fish. Seeing your first glimpse of land when you have only seen water is always an exciting moment. We were both so comfortable sailing, we could have continued further, but this was a thrill. I immediately texted the kids. This is always my response when something thrilling happens. I wish they were aboard with us to share every new experience. Actually, we had been here before. Once on Wings, our beloved Westsail 32 in 1989, and a few times with our kids on April vacations.

As we were planning to head in the cut on the north end of Great Guana Cay, a tiny bit of panic set in when we realized we had no cruising guide, or Active Captain, to show us the way. Since Maine, we have had the support of guides to tell us what the charts can’t. First of all, we have such redundancy in charts, it is silly. We have a Garmin Chart plotter, Navionics on my iPhone, and paper charts for every place we have been and intend to go. But these don’t tell you “watch out for area to the East of ___ because the water can build up breakers there,” or “line up the radio tower with the bright pink house to get the best approach into the cut”. We have no wifi out here, so Active Captain was not available, and we could not find our Bahamas Cruising Guide when we left. We decided to try Chanel 16 and call for general help. “Anyone with information on coming in the Great Guana Cay cut today, please advise.” Immediately, a warm Bahamian voice came back. “Just came in, Mon. It’s easy today, Capt Bub” Thank you! These 15 knot east winds were not enough to create an unsafe passage through the reefs.

So in we sailed, right into the anchorage at the north end of the Cay. We quickly jumped overboard for a delightful bath and snorkel. Just as we remembered: clear, warm, full of fish, bright white sand.

But the land…what had happened?!? The last time we were here, about ten years ago, we explored the defunct Cruise Ship playground. Erica sung to us on the broken down outdoor stage, Lindsay found friends from Falmouth Maine to run through the paths with, and Kenny wondered if the many pirate artifacts were real. Now there were gigantic homes, most still under construction, a rolling golf course, and endless gardens which obviously needed an enormous amount of fresh water and unsustainable practices to keep them alive. We had to explore this new development. So we dinghied to shore, and walked barefoot around this ridiculous new neighborhood. Later we found out that this is Baker’s Bay, and that no one is allowed to enter without an invitation. OOPS. You can’t even go into the marina there because they are always busy offloading celebrities who wish to remain unseen. We wondered why huge black yachts, with no one on deck, were always whizzing by our boat. These were the taxi services for the celebrities to come and go from the airport at Marsh Harbor, ten miles away. We were lucky to not have gotten thrown in jail! We were not even checked in through customs yet. Shh. Don’t tell anyone.

Coming back to our boat was wonderful. We are in the Bahamas! Everything felt right. We were not even tired from the passage. We BBQ’d that dorado, added rice pilaf, sugar snap peas and wine for an amazing first night. The sky was lit up with all the shades of red and purple just before the full moon came out. Life just doesn’t get any better.

Most sailors get pretty wound up when they leave the US. Do we have the right amount of cash? Fresh food? Rice and beans? Do we have adequate safety items? Harness, jackline, lee cloth? Did we pick the right weather window? Should we wait another few days for perfect weather? Did we stock up on enough maintenance supplies? Did we say all of our goodbyes as we lose our beloved cellphones and wifi? Are we properly rested?

Maybe we would have gotten wound up. I don’t know. We left Charleston, SC and were headed, with another boat, to St Augustine. We were planning to get wound up there! This trip was going to be about 35 hours along the US coast. We had a mooring arrangement there that would make all of our final provisioning and trips to town very convenient. As we turned south out of the Charleston jetty, with Planet Waves just behind us, we realized that the southwest course to St Augustine was going to be a motorboat ride. Sailing was not ideal. But turning more southeast, toward the Bahamas, would be a better point of sail. So, Bill asks “should we just go to the Bahamas now?” I quickly responded “Yeah!” And off we went.

Sorry Planet Waves, we will see you soon when you come to the Bahamas in a week or two. This is cruising. Go with the wind. Don’t say goodbye. You never know when you will leave, return, or meet up again. Meet ups happen daily. Sometimes with new people, sometimes with long lost friends. Sometimes planned. Sometimes by chance.

So we realized we were short a jar or two of peanut butter, we should have napped first, and we could have used a boom cheek block that we twisted on our downwind slog to Charleston. But there is always something missing, and we could deal with this. Improvisation is the best skill a cruiser can develop, a life skill that we rarely develop when Amazon is just a click away, and grocery stores are available daily.

Charleston was a happy memory and we realized that we would have to come back someday. We reflected on our fun visit with our York friend Kathy and her friend Linette. Kathy lives in a sweet carriage house that you could never find in New England. A short walking distance to King Street, we enjoyed a salad and drink at a piano bar.

As we were heading out, we realized that we never took a single photo! This is often the case when you are having such a nice time and you don’t stop to click. So we documented our exit, with it’s classic Charleston charm. Mansions lined the waterway just before the Battery. We love our AIS, which indicated that the huge cruise ship was not underway in our path yet. And our final click was the less charming, but highly noteworthy, Fort Sumter, where the American Civil War started.

Out to sea, after we radioed Planet Waves to tell them of our plan change, Bill set out a hook and soon had a dorado. Seeing how easily we could fish, we regretted not having a freezer. We couldn’t take more than one fish; it would go bad in our fridge. So we kept our hook on board after this catch. The only fish we caught after this were flying fish. Poor buggers; we only found them after they died on deck. This is one of the many times we missed Captain, our beloved cat, who cruised with us last time and took care of all birds and fish that ended up aboard. She was not so good at clean up though, as we often found carcasses and feathers in messy heaps.

Switching course to the Bahamas proved to be the right decision. We had a grand time and arrived in the lovely Bakers Bay three hours short of three days after departure. Not bad for a Gulf Stream crossing and 400 miles of southeast work. This time of year, the wind is usually from the southeast, so going in this direction can be problematic. The wind stayed east, sometimes a bit north of east, and kept steady at about 15 knots the whole way. Can’t ask for a better trip. Okay, it would have been better if we could have shared this experience with family or friends, but we can’t have it all.

Finally, after four days in the Intracoastal Waterway, we headed out to sea where we feel much more at home. We did enjoy our stops in the ICW, though. Oriental was a quaint little town with friendly people everywhere we turned. We stopped at Outfitters to borrow bikes to take to the grocery store. The woman at the store encouraged us to try the bicycle built for two. Bill blamed the tires being flat, but I think we just don’t have the coordination to ride this! Maybe if we weren’t so pressed for time we could have mastered this skill; the bikes had to be back by closing time in 45 minutes. A quick stop for a beer and a snack after the bike ride yielded many more lively and friendly people.

More ICW traveling the next day yielded many dull and exciting moments. We were in a narrow channel for much of the day. Sometimes, the water appeared wide, but the deep part was very narrow. See the photo of our GPS. White is navigable, blue is too shallow (see the 3.9 foot mark? we need 5 feet), green is often exposed grass, and yellow is land, but all were slightly submerged this day, given the floods. See the other photo with the trees mid channel! We were entertained by many interesting boats. I especially enjoyed the sailing kayak and the many fishing boats. The bridges were much less welcome and/or enjoyable.

Beaufort was a surprise. I had imagined this town as industrialized, like Norfolk, but it was far from it. This town is the first one on our journey where I could imagine myself living. Taylor Creek lines the sweet town, making anchoring and walking to town a synch. People were incredibly friendly, inviting us to their potluck Sunday Dinner, and other events. SUPing (Stand Up Paddle board) to the island with the wild horses was a treat. These horses have lived there for generations, digging up ponds with their hooves to create drinking holes without salt, and building several herds and their own territory rules. Ocean, town, and wildlife live harmoniously here.

But we wanted to head south, so we sailed out of Taylor Creek Monday morning at the crack of dawn in a stiff north breeze. Brrrr. I had just laundered all my bulky clothes, thinking I would stash them away in some remote cabinet on the boat. Nope. I needed every piece of clothing to not freeze out there. The forecast was for 15-25 knots of north wind and a 6-9 foot sea. We were pleasantly surprised to find no sea at all. The exit out of the harbor was simple, and we enjoyed our second breakfast of the morning.

Unfortunately, those promised seas did materialize, but they were dead astern, so the boat just rolled over the bumps instead of crashing into them if they were coming toward us. Bill set out his line soon after departing and BOOM it was gone. A huge fish took the squid and a hundred feet of line. The poor guy is swimming around with a pierced lip. While some teenagers opt for this decoration, most fish would not choose this outcome, I am certain. But a more reasonable sized Mahi Mahi took the next hook.

Life at sea just kept getting better. A school of dolphins joined us for the ride. They flew up to the top peaks of the waves, turned quickly and zoomed down the waves, right for our boat, diving down beneath our keel, then popping up at our bow. They did this for hours! I wonder if they were aware of the humans on board. I’d like to think they were playing with us. When our kids were younger, we took many vacations in tropical waters on chartered boats. They experienced this often and I longed for their company again. Magical experiences are always magnified through the eyes of children.
As the sun went down, the sky turned pastel pink and blue. I tried to capture this in a photo but, as usual, the photographer lacks skills. We have become accustomed to sailing at night, and enjoy the peacefulness. The Coast Guard, however, kept breaking our peace and announcing “hazards to navigation” throughout the night on our VHF radio. Apparently, an unmanned, drifting 44 foot boat was on our line of passage. Our moonlight and radar never revealed its presence.

The second day of sailing was less exciting. No fish were caught, no dolphins were seen, and the seas were laying down. We sailed lazily toward Charleston. Entering the breakwaters was a bit hairy though. The outgoing current and incoming wind created steep waves that rolled our boat wildly. Then three ships came toward us. We scooted as far out of their way as possible, but one set up such a huge wake that surprised us. Next time, we will try to plan on arriving in an inlet during daylight. This was just after the sun set and our light was completely gone. Even our spotlight went out; it blew a fuse as soon as we turned it on and there was no way one of us could go below with all the chaos on deck. But we were soon safely in the harbor and dropped our hook, eager to explore Charleston. After a good night of sleep.

Annapolis is many things to many people. For us, it is a sweet spot to stop to fill our hearts. Family, friends, boat, in that order, are our priorities. We had the great fortune to fill up on all three in this sailors’ town.

Originally, we were not going to come into the Chesapeake Bay at all. We were going to sail from Cape Cod Canal or New York City, straight to North Carolina. We tore our main sail one last time two weeks before departing Maine, and realized that we needed to replace it. The patches were overlapping and the material was as threadbare as my favorite jeans. Bacon Sails would have it ready for us in Annapolis if we came through this way. So we changed our plans, routed ourselves up the Delaware Bay and down the Chesapeake. Just before leaving Maine, Bacon said the sail was complete and they could mail it. We took this offer and carried on with our Chesapeake plans anyway.

Arriving in Spa Creek, we passed the Boat Show location and were amazed by how many sailboats could be crammed into this tight spot. Just a mile down the creek, Eric caught our lines at his dock where we stayed for three nights. Eric and his wife had sailed an Island Packet throughout the Carribbean and across the Atlantic, and generously filled our heads with fabulous ideas and enthusiasm. Anne and Jim met us soon after to shuttle us around Annapolis. We cruised with them 27 years ago on our sailboats in Puerto Rico, Turks and Caicos, and other a few other places, and this day we cruised in their car. They took us to pick up six new batteries, and after this delivery, back to West Marine to pick up an anchor.

Jim and Anne invited us to dinner, along with their son Bruce, and Eric and Carleen for an evening of wonderful sea stories, great food, and even better company. Cruisers are like family; no matter how much time goes by, reunions feel like you never were apart.

The Boat Show was overwhelming. A new Sailrite sewing machine was my huge hope, and I made a beeline for their booth. Sewing eight layers of leather sold me. This machine goes through it like butter. Next, Bill had a few things in mind: another anchor (we returned the Rocna to West Marine!) and plenty of rope. This show has something for everyone. Many people go to examine the many new and used boats for sale, others want to find fancy clothing and accessories. We skipped these offerings completely. We did appreciate all the free advice the booth staff had to offer. We now have a much better understanding of how to employ our spinnaker chute, maintain our Yanmar, manage our boom brake, clean our dodger windows, and anchor our boat. Thank you folks!!

Next up, was our visit with my brother Rick, his wife Mañana, and their two sons, Nick and Michael. They chauffeured us, and our heavy purchases from the Boat Show to the boat. That walk would have been a killer! Rick and the boys were immediately comfortable on the boat. Rick has spent weeks sailing with me and with others and it shows. The boys are just naturally athletic, intelligent, and eager to try new things, so they also quickly adjusted and set up their sleeping quarters for the night as if this was perfectly normal for them. Mañana was a bit tentative at first, needing assistance to get aboard, and not sure what to make of this type of living arrangement. But she soon made herself at home, which for Mañana, is cooking. My role was to show her where everything was: pots, bowls, knives, veggies, chicken, and spices. Within an hour, we had a fantastic meal and she was ready to cook more meals. Watching her move through the stages from confusion to “I love to cook on a boat!” was heartwarming for me. Sometimes I feel that people think I’m crazy to love this boat life, but watching Mañana adapt so quickly makes me want to bring everyone aboard.

The Farmers’ Market the next day was amazing. Maine’s Farmers’ Markets are nothing in comparison. I stocked up on all my fresh produce needs. Thanks Bruce and Sue for taking me! They have a Whitby 42 and three children; Sue teaches high school math; they both have engineering degrees… Bill and I have been living parallel lives with them! If we lived in Annapolis, I’m sure we would be together often.

After more meals aboard, complements of Mañana, more visits with Jim and Anne, and one more quick stop to the Boat Show, we had to shove off the dock and carry on heading south. Good Bye Annapolis; you’ve treated us very well. We will be back some day.

Two firsts to add to our Yay moments.

We saw our first palm trees today.

We have our first main sail recycled project installed: a navigation station clutter reducer.  Our retired main sail will now become many new things.

Somewhere, someone said that your true creativity blossoms when you are totally bored.  Well, I have been seeking this creativity burst, and maybe today is the day.  I used to be so creative.  In high school, I made most of my Christmas presents from fabric, dried flowers, paint, wood, beads, etc.  Perhaps the receivers of my creativity were not impressed, but the feeling of making and giving was good for my soul.  As a poor college student, I continued to be creative, making dorm lofts, cutting everyone’s hair, sewing outdoor gear that met the needs of my lifestyle in Vermont.  Making my wedding dress and most of the dresses for the ceremony again lifted my spirits and kept the cash flow in check.

Moving onto a sailboat soon after our wedding, when we were 22, gave me plenty of opportunity to get creative.  Being an engineer, having children, then running a day care, kept me constantly inventing new pieces of gear and useful things.  Then something happened.  I must have gotten tired, and became more inclined to buy stuff than make it.  Or do without.  My creativity withered to the point that even if I had a great idea, I would only think about it, but not begin the process of actually bringing it to reality.  I long for that feeling of satisfaction when you stand back and say “that is good”.

Hence, I am seeking boredom.  I’m not feeling the surge of creativity yet, but there’s hope.  The boredom is here.  Right now.  We are driving this boat (note that I am not saying sailing) down the ICW or Intracoastal Waterway.  These are the directions:  stare at the GPS screen, make sure you keep steering down the white path, don’t veer two feet left or right, and take quick glances at the depth gauge so you can verify the GPS data.  Don’t drive down the center of the water, the shallow spots are in weird spots.  Only the GPS screen knows where the deep water is.  Be prepared for the monster power yachts coming up astern that wish to pass you.  They usually hail on the radio and ask which side they can squeeze by.  Slow down, move a few feet over and say a little prayer so that you don’t get stuck in the mud again.  Yes, again.  Then, when a gigantic tug approaches and you have to pass each other, make sure you have recently relieved your bladder, because you may just do it in the cockpit.  Then count the tires that they have hanging over the side and give a sigh of relief, knowing that when you collide, the landing will be padded.  This is where you hope you have managed to place yourself in a section of the 40 mile canal where the width can accommodate the two of you. Note that you have almost no control of this.  The tugs come when they come.  You can’t turn around in this ditch.  Don’t forget to note the one canal marker in the twenty mile narrow stretch of the Alligator River, #59A, a green lit day-mark.  This ditch is so long and so straight, that you can probably see this marker at night for twenty miles in either direction.  But don’t try this at night.  The stumps sticking out of the water everywhere will certainly be invisible and unwelcome. Also, be prepared for the greens and reds to switch sides.  The 59 green is to port, but the 27 green is to starboard.  You will go under many bridges.  Some are at least 55 feet, our mast height.  Be careful though, as you may be off center and hear the antenna go pling, pling, pling.  Many bridges have to open for you, so call the bridge operator first.  They always sound like a grandpa, so enjoy these conversations and be sure to say Thank you.  One section of this ditch has eight bridges in ten miles.  Get ready for the locks.  You may will have to throw your fenders over to protect your boat from the concrete wall.  Tie up to the wall, wait for the locks to close, notice the water level drop, and adjust lines accordingly, then untie and carry on when the locks open.  Appreciate when the ICW widens for a bit.  You may actually get to sail, or at least loosen the death grip you have on the wheel.  Enjoy the scenery, which is mostly boring.

Wait, I said I was bored.  Those directions make it sound thrilling.  The excitement lasts only a few minutes at a time, then the boredom returns for another half hour.  So the ratio of excitement to boredom is five to thirty.  This should be a good start.  Maybe a few more days of this will yield some amazing results!

I have no idea how people do this alone.  At least Bill and I can take turns being bored and wetting our pants.  Speaking of pants, that is another boredom breaker.  When we started this morning, we were chilly, wearing pants, jackets, even a hat in my case.  Then the stripping begins and you get into your skimpy shorts because the heat is on, especially down below where the engine cranks the temp up.  But keep those clothes nearby because when the wind howls down the ditch, you will need them again.  We are not used to so much engine use.  We raise sails, but they are almost useless in the ditch.  This is our second day in the ICW, and we have one or two more to go, depending on our decision to stop at Oriental NC or go straight to Beaufort.

So far, this journey south has not been boring, I must say.  We have been on the move every day since mid August, except when we repaired the hull for three days, went to a wedding, watched Lindsay receive her White Coat at Tufts, stayed put five days waiting out Joaquin, then three days for a Whitby Brewer Rendezvous, then three days at Annapolis for the Boat Show and enjoying the visits with friends Jim and Anne, and family Rick, Mañana, Nick and Mike.  Every day we meet people who inspire us, and find situations that challenge us.  I love all this learning and growing, but also long for that boredom in hopes of leaps of creativity.  I guess I should stay in the ditch a few more days.  Or not.