Let’s be real

Posted on March 18, 2012 by Laurie

3/9/2012

**author’s note: I wrote this a couple of weeks ago and hemmed and hawed about whether to share something so, well, personal. But, I’m deciding to do it because this is all part of the journey, too. Please read this as it occurred to me: a moment in time. I’m fine, really. Just had to get it out.**

A year and a half ago my life – our lives – looked completely different. And now, sitting here “snowed in” in Nassau, in all of this change, I’ve had some time to think.

Aside from the beautiful water, beaches, and fun “new-ness” of everything – not to mention not working right now (wo-hoo!)– there is another side, at least for me.

I have doubts. I have fears. I have insecurities.

Sometimes I worry about our safety aboard but mostly I worry about money and how we’re going to “pull this off”. Generally I find it pointless and mentally exhausting to evaluate whether “I’ve done/I’m doing the right thing” on a daily basis. But, that doesn’t stop the questions from coming and the doubts from keeping me up at night, getting me out of bed and to the computer where I write this post.

I find some comfort in the assumption that most people who are doing something totally new and perhaps radically different from what they’ve done previously have a lot of these thoughts – do they? I also wonder if my distress is something intrinsically female as I recall words of older women I’ve read over the years: when asked things like “what would tell your younger self?” inevitably they say things like “don’t worry so much”.

I’m generally not a worrier. To the contrary, I’ve been faithful in my ability to pull it out when needed and this has gotten me through a lot in life. I hold the same faith now, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t hold the doubts, as well – and they seem louder than they’ve ever been. Actually, they’re probably just as loud as whenever I’ve done big stuff in life – like my first Legislative Session “on my own”.

Speaking of doing “big stuff in life”, I suppose I should share a bit of how I got here in the first place:

We had stable jobs, owned a home in the same town we grew up in, had a healthy savings account and no debt (something we worked many extra hours for years to build). In other words, we had done the things you’re supposed to do (and these financial choices, have allowed us to be where we are today).

Secretly though (to some more than others), I had longed for years for a life abroad. And, yearned to stop secretly hating the Tuesday morning kayaker I spied on my commute to a weekly agency meeting – how’d he get away with that!?!

So, we left on a controlled, self-designed sabbatical of sorts to backpack in Central America “For three to six months” – notice the end date already established. While we were out, everything was nicely packed away: our home, dog, car and all of our worldly possessions were being well looked after, bills were paid in advance and “for when we came back”, we had the house and our savings account intact (having saved separately for travel).

Fast forwarding through our travels on and off the backpacker trail through Nicaragua and Costa Rica, something happened in Panama.

While living eight miles out by boat from the nearest town, on solar and water catch, we got it in our head that we wanted more “like this”. And, because of our experiences on sailboat, we allowed ourselves to dream of becoming live-aboard sailors. Then something even bigger happened: we allowed ourselves the opportunity to move forward with the dream. We put pen to paper, crunched the numbers and thought “maybe we can actually pull this off”.

Admitting this to others was more difficult. Aside from my parents, who are wonderful, supportive and have the appropriate amount of parental concern for our future, my biggest insecurity was the reaction of those in my professional network.

I think a lot of my identity in Austin, in the political scene, was wrapped up in being taken “seriously”. Was it because I was young, a woman, working in a field where I was constantly challenged by “authority” for my credentials, the serious nature of the work I did, or all – or none – of the above? It doesn’t really matter; I still felt that way, strongly. And, it mattered that people perceived me as serious about what I did.

Selling everything (selling out?) to move aboard a boat and travel in the Caribbean didn’t seem like something a serious person would do, so I floundered. I protected my secret, like I protected my original traveling plans.

For me, part of the allure of the new path we set out to take was practicing ways of being that I had discovered in Panama; it seems cliché but I distinctly remember being anchored off the coast of no-where, stargazing and thinking about how small we all are – and take myself so seriously gained a new perspective. I knew that I had changed, shifted – or, “crossed over” as another cruising couple calls it.

One thing I learned about myself while “on the road” in Central America in 2011 was how adaptable I am to my environment – or conversely, how much my environment affects me. And, I knew that when returning to Austin, it would be important for me to clearly define for myself and re-introduce to others shifts I had made/am making which are important to me. Some weren’t surprised at all, most had a lot of questions and for a few, shifts that were made were deal-breakers. Of course, in the six months we were gone, everyone else had exciting changes, too, which I in no way mean to discount; it’s just I can’t speak for them, only for me.

Upon return, I was also keenly aware that I was more of the “Tuesday morning kayaker” than the “agency meeting commuter” but without an absence from my professional network, my community – I didn’t have a “kayaking network” – I would have been a lot harder to build muscle memory for a new path within an old context.

So, here I am, getting everything I asked for: a thrilling adventure into the unknown (which is by nature, uncertain). Funny how that comes with the territory, eh?

xoxo,

Little Harbour Cay: You Welcome!

Posted on March 4, 2012 by Laurie

2/27

Flo's Place

After the dragging incident, we couldn’t be happier to be anchored in the hurricane hole of Little Harbor Cay.

We had heard that in addition to an excellently sheltered anchorage, the only inhabitants of the island run the infamous “Flo’s Place”. It was touted as a quintacencial island bar complete colorful staff, strong rum punch and yummy seafood. We couldn’t wait. As we rounded the corner, we saw the place: mountains of conch shells littered the beach and up the hill was the bar with a huge “You Welcome” painted on the top.

Arriving around lunch time, we hailed Chester and got the all-clear to come up. It wasn’t two minutes before the two women, Lovely and Marvel, working the bar noticed my henna’d feet and just like that we had arranged a trade: henna and nailpainting for supper. I couldn’t wait.

Although I love my D, getting some girl-time in was welcome retreat. So, I spent the afternoon with the gals gabbing, painting nails, doing henna and hair (they weaved, I watched) while the men retired to the kitchen cooking ribs (only venturing out to kindly deliver us some rum and cokes and a huge sun shading umbrella) – it’s the same everywhere, isn’t it?

Supper was amazing: we had BBQ ribs, potato salad and rice that would make any Texan proud and we were even treated to an octopus salad. Delish!

Chester, Lovely, Marvel and Lover could not be more gracious hosts and we look forward to spending the next couple of days with them.

Here’s to Little Harbor Cay!

Hoffman’s Blue Hole Bday

Posted on March 3, 2012 by Laurie

2/25

Why yes, that *is* a Texas-sized birthday card made out of a Miller Lite box - what?

For D’s birthday week, we checked out the southern Berries and it was awesome! It was an easy trip up to Hoffman’s Cay where we spotted two other Geminis sitting in a quaint little anchorage.

At first, we had a bit of trouble anchoring in the high current and grassy cove, but soon moved about and found ourselves sitting right on the beach (well, about six feet off the beach). We could literally step off the boat, into 4 feet of water and walk 10 steps to the shore. Drafting so little and being able to stand next to the boat is also super-helpful in cleaning the bottom (which I did while D hunted for lobster; teamwork, right?).

After a beautiful first night, D and I took the dinghy out on a little ride up to Hoffman’s Blue Hole. After scraggaling up hill, we turned the corner and there it was: a giant, seemingly bottomless blue hole. Apparently, they’re all over the Bahamas and get their water from trickles in the limestone (there’s no “out” to the hole).

Even though it didn’t seem likely there were any sea monsters calling this blue hole home, we opted not to jump in less we scraggle up some mossy-yet-sharp rocks to get out. Plus, there was a cool cave just under the main ledge and we had fun cooling off, checks out old firepits and the flotsam and jetsom of previous explorers.

We found a happy dog in this cave!

And, he found a nap

Once getting our fill, we headed back to the big boat and D got ready to go hunt for some lobster. After about three hours of locating his catch and getting his technique down, we were rewarded! D came home with his 1^st lobster, yes, 1^st as in “1”. Aww, well. One seabug is better than no sea bugs, right?

D's first lobster catch (of many we hope!)

Anywho, it was another great day on the water – here’s to birthday weeks!

Homemade macaroons!

Talk soon,

L, D and Mr. K

Dragging Anchor

Posted on February 27, 2012 by Laurie

No one wants to drag anchor – it can put you up on the rocks, slam you into another boat or at best, leave you stranded on a sandy shoal until high tide. Suffice it to say, it always sucky, scary and sometimes life-threatening.

We’ve experienced this phenom twice so far and we’ve only been out a month. The first time, we were in Rock Harbor. And, that time we were lucky enough – we heard a transmission about a dragging boat on the VHF radio “right by that catamaran” and even though we thought at the time we were in imminent danger of being hit by a rogue boat – it turns out the dragging boat was across the harbor and secured again before even coming close to us (different catamaran, luckily!). It was one of those life lessons which shouts at you to pay attention while sparing you from any harm; I like these life lessons.

Two nights ago, we weren’t so lucky. For two days, we had already sat in a lovely and picturesque bay just south of Hoffman’s Cay in the Berries. This little harbor is surrounded by several (rock lined) Cays, there is a significant current, especially when the tides change and most of the harbor is grass (poor holding). But, after three attempts, we anchored just meters from the beach in the soft sand, which Damon dug in by hand on the slope of the shore. And there we sat for two days.

We had some company – on the first day we joined two other Gems and a small sailboat – and then, a trawler moved in comfortably to our west. On the third day, the Gems and the small sailboat left and I watched as another, bigger sailboat sped into the harbor, dropped anchor in the grass and quickly went about coming to shore. I was a bit concerned about how easily they anchored given we tried three different spots before hooking in a nice sandy spot without much current. But, they were comfortably to our south, the trawler was to our east and so we sat in a quaint little triangle in the anchorage.

Now, we have a 35-pound CQR with 70 feet of chain we can put out, D usually dives down on it to make sure it’s set and, up until now, I’ve slept like a baby knowing we should really be over-anchored for our boat (the only other time I felt nervous about dragging in the middle of the night was when we anchored at 2am on the churning Shoals on the Great Bahama Bank where only the GPS assured our holding; man was I glad when the sun came up 4 hours later and we skee-daddled on out of there having not moved a degree from our position).

But, on Saturday night, we expected some significant wind to come out of the north – 20-25 knots – which we have experienced before so no problem, right? And, D dug the anchor in and we were over-anchored, right? Hmmm. It’s hard to say exactly what happened that caused the evenings dragging-anchor shenanigans (was it us, was it them, what did we/they do wrong, and most importantly: how can we prevent this in the future?). But, here’s how it occurred to us at the time*:

7pm (dark): D and I were goofing around in the salon, listening to the wind kick up when I got the urge to go out into the cockpit, you know, just to look around. And, what did I find? All three boats in the anchorage (including us) were lined up side-by-side instead of the nice little triangle with plenty of room to swing we were in for the last 24 hours. It just takes a second to go from “hey, wasn’t that third boat much farther away?” to “oh shit!”**.

7:01pm: D and I grab our head lamps and our huge spot light (thanks again, Dad!), scanned the beach and sure enough we were much further off than where we were “securely anchored” just an hour before.

7:02pm: The trawler seems to be in the same place, but the sailboat is now a beam to us, all 4 aboard (including an infant) are out on deck, headlamps on, scrambling and tugging up their anchor. They have clearly dragged north and are having trouble getting their anchor up. Our hulls are about 50 feet from each other.

7:05pm: D runs up on the bow and lets out scope so we fall behind them. We scratch our heads a bit wondering “how did this happen?”, “what do we do now?” and “where are they going”? With the engine on, I’m able to hold us in place as we trail them a bit to their starboard (their dinghy is probably 15 feet in front of our bow).

7:08pm: After tugging on their anchor, they yell to us that they’re hooked on our anchor and we should come up on them (um, okay) while turning into them (sure, that seems safe-r, not!). But, getting close enough to have the leverage to unhook from each other was the only option so we went for it. D was up on the bow, I was manning the wheel and with our big engine we were able to maneuver safely up beside them and get unhooked.

7:10pm: What now? We were free from the sailboat – and they from us. But, where were they headed and would they/we drag again? Given we had enough of trying to anchor in the grass a couple of days ago, we opted to head back to the beach and stick again in the sand – this time with two anchors out. We had started this ordeal with them on our port, now we were behind them and they were slipping sideways in the current to the starboard. In a flash, I gunned the engines and came around their port, slipping between them and the trawler (whose captain was watching all of this madness with baited breath I’m sure) towards the beach.

7:12pm: We eased up on the beach with that (hopefully) perfect speed of enough juice to keep us under control while making sure we don’t beach the boat (we actually can in a Gem but didn’t want to have to dig it out in the morning when the waves and current pushed us aft-in). Within a couple of minutes we had two anchors in, D had set both by hand (in the dark I might add) and we huddled in the cockpit to recap the play-by-play and figure out just what the hell happened.

And, after much head scratching and some geometric drawings, here’s a couple of likely scenarios:

Scenario #1 aka “It was their fault***”: The sailboat south of us had been slowly dragging all day following the current north. At some point their anchor crossed ours and when the winds picked up from the North, they drug us south, too, so we were all in a line side to side. Then, when they realized they were dragging, they tried to pull up on their anchor and we let out scope, causing us to be behind them. Although it’s still scary-as-hell, we take a little comfort in this scenario because it means our anchor was set correctly and held – our boat, until it was pulled by another boat.

Scenario #2 aka “It was our fault”: Yes, we held for two days anchored on the slope of the beach but then the wind changed, and by a lot. This is when we should have either reset, added another anchor or both. It’s possible that when the when changed we swung around and the anchor lost footing, so to speak, in the slope of the beach. With the wind coming from the north, and a dragging anchor, we would have drug south. But, in this scenario, I don’t get how they sailboat came ahead of us (unless we caught each other and they pulled up on their chain), which leads me to scenario #3 . . .

Scenario #3 aka “It was both our faults”: If we drug south (with the wind after dark), they drug north (with the current all day), then our anchors could have crossed and created the sitch. And, we should both know how to prevent this in the future (them with better ground holding and us re-setting with the changing winds).

There is one other, most troubling, possibility:

Scenario #4 aka “Who knows?”: This is most troubling, of course, because if we don’t know how it happened, we can’t prevent it from happening again. Yes, all the safety precautions in the world don’t stop freak accidents, but you sure as hell try to do everything you can to come out on top.

It should come as no surprise, that after the dragging incident that night it was hard to sleep: both ‘cause we were pumped up from the incident and ‘cause the last thing you want to be woken up with is a dragging boat (theirs or ours, again!).

Needless to say in the morning, everyone moved: the trawler and the sailboat apparently had a really rolly night off the beach and moved across the harbor. We are fortunate enough to have a shoal-draft boat and headed into the hurricane hole of Little Harbor Cay where we’ve been riding out the wind in total comfort (Chester and everyone at Flo’s Place have been awesome!).

Life on the water a funny thing: we can literally see their boats rolling in the anchorage from two miles south in our sheltered cove, but they can’t get here. Yet, last night I couldn’t sleep because I was worrying about dragging again (I’m one of those folks who handle an emergency like a pro, only to freak out later – when danger has passed and I have the space to process it).

I don’t post this to freak you out (Mom, Dad, we’re ok) but to share with you that life on the water takes vigilance, constant education and respect for the wind and waves.

We’re so happy to have another SIBC moment with no real consequences behind us and are on our toes for the next one which I’m sure is around the corner somewhere.

L, D, and Mr. K

*It was dark, there was a crisis, so, no, you have no pictures in this post. But, I think you understand why.

**Sorry for cursing, Mom. But, in this instance, it was warranted. I will put a nickle in the jar next time I’m home.

***Assigning blame to shake our finger at someone was never our intention in determining whose “fault” it was. But, we feel very strongly that figuring out if we or they – or both of us – could have done something(s) differently is paramount to staying out of this situation again.

Honeymoon Harbor to Chub Cay

Posted on February 21, 2012 by Laurie

Hey y’all!

Here we sit in Chub Cay. Well, we’re not “in it”, we’re on the outside. Which, if you follow the link, you’ll understand why we’re on the “outside”, squatting in the harbor like the hippies we are. It’s weird here. It’s supposed to be super-fancy but it’s deserted: the victim of the economic collapse. Supposedly Shakira has some property here which she wanted to turn into a mega-sports complex and highfalutin concert venue but, alas, that too is on hold.

We don’t care, though! The 40 or so workers who live here full-time have been happy enough to accommodate me squatting on our anchor in their bay (their boardroom, too) as I use the ‘ole internet to update this lil blog. So, “thanks a ton, Chub Cay Club!” – or should I say, “Thanks a ton, Chub Cay Club Staff”.

One more note about Chub Cay and it’s crazyness: it’s $4.25 per foot here to tie up in the marina!!! For those who don’t compare prices on marinas (I know, I know), that’s a lot! And, considering at least a couple of these yachts are 100 feet, that’s over $400 per night – wow! I guess if you have a 100 foot yacht, $400 per night doesn’t scratch the surface of money concerns – or maybe that’s how we got in this financial mess in the first place, hmmmmm . . .

Anywho, I digress.

The last post left us triumphantly checked into our little marina in Bimini ($1 per foot, I might add) after having successfully crossing the Gulf Stream. What a breeze, we thought! Now, onto cross the Great Bahama Bank – no sweat.

Well, apparently, sweating would be required. And, I’ll get to that in a minute. But, before I allude further to our tenuous crossing, let me tell you about our beautiful anchorage just south of Bimini where we spent a couple of days: Honeymoon Harbor.

Honeymoon Harbor is a picturesque little bay sandwiched in between an island and a spit of land just south of Bimini. Along the way, there is a huge wreck you can dive or snorkel. It’s a great reminder to check your depths in these shallow waters.

Shipwreck off Bimini

We pulled into Honeymoon Harbor and spent a couple of days chilling on the beach, running Kemah and D even made a lobster catch(ing device) in an attempt to score some dinner (not this time! but D is getting his technique down so watch out you tasty little sea-roaches!).

Here’s a handy little tour of our anchorage in Honeymoon Harbor:

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fGSt6MfAW-o&list=HL1329852584&feature=mh_lolz]

While we waited for a crossing of the Great Bahama Bank, we were surprised to find our little secluded anchorage fill up with party boats on the weekend. I guess being the closest picturesque bay from Miami has it’s draw. It was the first time I saw a huge yacht with an eerie blue aft light shining in the water after dark. I tried to take a picture of it but found out quickly that taking a night-time still on a rocking boat doesn’t quite work.

This is what happens when you try to take a night-time "still" on a boat 🙁

Here is what it, basically, looked like:

This photographer was standing on solid ground - no fair!

After a couple of days of R&R, we were ready to leave our little harbor for the Berry Islands, across the Bank.

We’re not quite ready to discuss all of the details of our Bahama Bank crossing but let’s just say it was long, it was overnight, involved a close encounter with a ghost-tanker and anchoring in the rolling “shoals” at 2am. Rightly so, we were left seriously considering how we could side-step some of our mis-steps in the future. Fortunately, it was another day on the water where we were ultimately safe, made some good decisions but were definitely uncomfortable. Give me a few beers and I might tell you the story but for now, we’re going to let the past lie and the lessons live on. Moving on . . .

Needless to say, we’ve been really enjoying sleeping in a calm bay in front of Chub Cay and are looking forward to shoving off to explore more of the Berries in a few days. As a former cliff-jumper at Paleface and numerous other spots, I’m really looking forward to trying this out at Hoffman’s Cay:

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DfW8yKC0ttE]

And, in case you’re keeping track, it’s almost Damon’s birthday! I’ll let you know what we end up doing, but it’s safe to say, it’ll involve some beers, coconut, mac&cheese and beaches.

all the best to you and yours,

Laurie, Damon and Mr. K

Gulf Stream Crossing . . . Aloha, Bimini!

Posted on February 16, 2012 by Laurie

Well, not exactly, “Aloha”, but maybe irie, mon.

Here we sit in Bimini, in the Blue Water Marina, which we pulled into around 5pm after traveling 12 hours across the Gulf Stream. Wa-hooo!

For those, like me, who always flip through the pics in National Geographic before reading the articles, here’s the slideshow:

We cannot display this gallery

This was by far the biggest – and most serious passage we made to date and I was nervous (although very well-versed and prepared, as much as one can be for something so HUGE you’ve never done before).

A note about the Gulf Stream: you can google it if you want and learn all about it. But, I’ll give you the synopsis of what we learned in preparing for this serious passage:

The Gulf Stream is an “ocean river” which is about 45 miles wide, ever shifting and has a current of about 4 knots (2.5 miles) heading North.
Because you have current pushing you North, use it, by leaving from south of where you want to arrive, heading due East and then only turning North as you’re about 10-15 miles from your destination (and presumably out of the eastern edge of the stream).
Don’t go if there is any wind from the North (headed south) because the wind will kick up the waves as the current (headed north) heads against the wind. When the wind is coming from the North, even 10 knots can make the seas high and definitely dangerous for a craft like ours under 35’ and even 5 knots of wind can make them surely uncomfortable. So, we wait for the wind to clock around from the North to another direction, preferably none, but anything is better than North.
At about 50 miles to go, it will be our longest passage yet requiring us to leave before dawn to arrive before sunset (we aim never to arrive at any new anchorage after sunset). Although folks in past have said to leave at night and arrive before noon, this is now eschewed, hence our pre-dawn departure.
The Gulf Stream is deep, like the depth sounder stopped working at about 270 feet deep. It marks the end of one plate along the US, then the (deep) Gulf Stream, and the beginning of the Bahamas Bank. So, the water will change along with the depths from the beautiful clear-ish green of the Florida Upper Keys to a deep, deep, ocean blue back to the turquoise, clear Bahamas shallows. I’m looking forward to this (and not much else about this crossing).
Like any passage, you can always turn around. Which is exactly what we’ll do, if we need to.

Turns out, the passage was great! I think the key was really no big secret: wait until the weather is in your favor. Good news, bad news is that the wind was directly on our nose so we chose not to to sail much, in exchange for getting to our destination quicker We did do some motor sailing and as such made great time. And, the motor worked great! So far, so good 🙂

Although I didn’t really enjoy getting up at 4am, I joked with D that it felt like Election Day (those days and traveling days are about the only ones I’m up at 4am). But, the key difference between Eday and Gday (Gulf Stream Day) is that I’ve done tons of Edays before! It was one of those days I kinda wish I could be hit by a bus so I wouldn’t have to do “it”, while knowing full well that I’ll be so glad I did – when it’s over.

The morning was black – before sunrise, ya know – so it was our first time moving the boat in the dark. Luckily, my father got me an awesome spotlight for the holidays (Thanks, Dad!) and we had traversed the channel out to the ocean from Key Largo going in. So, we just followed our tracks (literally, on GPS) and kept an eye out for markers with the light.

They always say if you get out to the stream (about 7-10 miles out) and it doesn’t look good, you can always turn around. While we navigated in the dark, and I anticipated “The Perfect Storm” conditions (which never came), I kept the “turning around” option close to heart. BTW – most of you know I’m not a “religious” person, per se, but I am super-spiritual and I definitely asked for blessings before we left (among other things, “Grant us safe and swift passage – wait – not too swift, okay?”).

After a couple of hours, the sun was coming up, we hadn’t hit a crab pot yet, and the seas were 1-3 feet as predicted. So far, so good. We had heard that “once you hit the Gulf Stream, you’ll know” and we kept waiting . . . and waiting . . . and waiting for the sign(s) (flying fish, sea grass moving north, deep blue water and the depth sounder drop off). Well, these were happening but “was this really, it?”. It was. Turns out the Gulf Stream was even calmer once you’re in it than approaching (maybe folks know this but I didn’t, after being skeered half to death with warnings of “elephant waves” – look it up, it’s scary).

All-in-all, the day was uneventful – which is awe-some on a boat. We enjoyed watching the deep blue deep roll by, listening to mixes our friends made us before we left (apparently “Super Bass” is sung by Nicki Minaj, too, and not just those two little girls from Essex) and watching the flying fish soar (they are soooo cool!).

Oh, one eventful thing did happen: D has been determined to go fishing as soon as we set foot aboard. Alas, we did not have a Florida fishing license so the minute I stopped being freaked out by simply being “out in the Gulf Stream!!!”, he dragged a couple of lines. We had heard the edges of the stream were great places to troll for sporting fish and about 15 miles out from Bimini, D got a bite! “It’s probably some sea grass”, we thought given it was our first-ever line to drag – what are the odds on actually catching a fish, right? But, low and behold, D and I watched as he reeled in a 25-30 pound mahi-mahi. As we salivated about our dinner options, the fish popped the line as it was only 20 feet from the boat – awww, man (at least it surfaced for us before the line snapped so we knew what was fighting on the other end of the line)! Oh well, now we have 100 pound test line on all the rods and are prepared for when “the big one” does come aboard.

As our mild disappointment waned, D spotted Bimini (he actually said “Land ho”). We could see the water turning just of the shore from the deep blue to the clear turquoise – you can see 30 feet down! In just under an hour, we were in a slip (apparently it’s the customary thing to do and at $1 a foot, I’ll take it!), customs forms filled out, the quarantine flag was down and the Bahamian flag up!

We can’t really believe we’re here and we’re so excited, grateful and, well, tired.

We’re catching up on “the real world” tonight (Whitney Houston died???), including checking the weather for our next big passage across the Great Bahama Bank (70 miles of beautiful shallow water until the Berries, Nassau, Eluethra, etc). If we don’t post for a bit while we check out these uninhabited islands, forgive us. We’ll catch you up in a couple weeks when we hit Nassau with tons of great pictures and stories.

Because I mean it from the bottom of my (our) hearts and because, yes, we opened a bottle of champagne to celebrate our crossing, thank you, thank you, thank you (yes YOU!) for believing we could do this, supporting us with your kind words, gentle jabs and serious doses of “reality”. All of the advice, love and kind thoughts have made it with us to the Bahamas and promise to keep buoyed as we adventure on.

xoxo,

L, D and Mr. K

ps. A note to cruisers with dogs: one thing I wasn’t sure about was how strict they’d be about Mr. K. I know the (contradictory) rules made mainly for air travelers as well as got a lot of advice from cruisers who said “we’ve never had a question or a problem”. Turns out, this was the case. D sailed through customs and then said “oh, yeah, I need to pay for my dog” and $10 later, that was that. Even though I suspected the ports-of-entry pet shuffle to be very lax, we went ahead and made sure we met the highest bar for (almost) all of the Caribbean countries (I don’t want to quarantine K at a facility – on our boat, fine). K, being up-to-date on all of his shots, having a micro-chip and otherwise in handsome-health easily got his health certificate back in Punta Gorda from a very generous and sympathetic vet who post-dated his international health certificate (Form 7001). If you have any questions, feel free to buss me or my friend, Rachel at PetRelocation.com. Rachel hooks pet owners up with transports all over the world and will likely expense a trip to the Caribbean aboard Mother Jones as a site visit – right Rachel? 😉

pps. I know you’re wondering what I made for Valentine’s Day because I’m such a foodie. And, while pictures can not do it justice (they photograph like barf), I made chili-con-carne enchiladas (with Pasilla chiles and then some TVP and Velveeta – you work with what you have), macaroons, jalapeno deviled eggs and no-mayo-tuna-salad with capers and red-onions. Yum!

I can see Miami from my house!

Posted on February 15, 2012 by Laurie

Squint, it's there!

Although Pennekamp SP was awe-some (and, if you’re in the area, you should definitely check it out), we made the move north to Angelfish Creek by way of Jones Point off Adam’s Key (yes, I know that’s the long way ’round, typical me). Angelfish is where a lot of cruisers stage to cross the Gulf Stream to the Bahamas and that is exactly why we went.

Along the way, we had no wind but it looked like it would pick up all week (30-50 knots!), so we motored. Motoring can be a real drag because it costs money and it’s boring. Well, apparently not exactly boring as we were about a mile off shore when our motor started to sputter . . . and then it died . . . a couple of times. We had this problem* before (but only on the port gas tank – weird) so we switched over to the starboard. Same problem. Great. Not really, but not horrible either. We do have sails, afterall. And, there was no wind.at.all which made for a really great time (no wind=no waves) to be a mile off the coast with engine problems (and sails :).

Well, what to do. We figured if the engine wasn’t getting gas (hence the sputter) then something is clogged. So, fuel lines, fuel filter or the air-intake was clogged. We had a spare filter on board, so we changed that. We couldn’t really bleed the fuel lines under way, so that was postponed. And, the air-intake is on the outboard so that would require getting in (the ocean).

Damon is apparently the designated get-out-in-the-ocean-if-something-is-wrong (see previous post about running aground in Florida Bay) so off he went, clipped to the boat with a harness (of course, Mom!) while I handed him ratchets and took pictures for Facebook (which he did not appreciate but I know you do ;).

Engine repair underway

He took off the cover to the valve, cleaned the air-intake of sea-grass and within about 5 minutes (out in the ocean!) he was back aboard. BTW – you may want to know what anxiety-prone Kemah was doing during this time; he was napping, of course.

Once aboard, we started the engine up again and gingerly pressed on, all-the-while scoping out the next place to duck in just in case we couldn’t get to our destination (only 3 miles or a half-hour) away. Luckily, there was a very-exclusive “town” of Ocean Reef just a mile away so I’m sure they would be happy to have us taking up a million-dollar slip if we absolutely had to duck in.

Anyone who has ever had engine problems knows that your ears get highly attuned to the noises of said engine when you’ve experienced a problem and hope it’s fixed: is this normal? did it sound like that before?, etc, etc.

After a lot of listening and 15 miles through Angelfish Cree and around Biscayne Bay, “so far, so good” (which is an attitude I employ for a lot of things). On advice from some fellow Gemini cruisers (with a dog), we chose to anchor in a little nook north of Adam’s Key in Jones Point. And, there we stayed for the weekend.

We loved this little anchorage (you can see Miami from your house!) but unless you draft less than 4’, which we do, I wouldn’t suggest it.

Skipbo at sunset in less than 3' - I love my boat!

We sat here and waited, waited, waited for the weather. And, boy-o-boy, did the weather come. Some smart sailor says something like “it’s always good weather, it just depends on what kind”. Well, this weather was of the wind variety. It apparently (see how I made a little wind joke, eh?) blew about 50 knots of cold front in to South Florida while we slept soundly in our berth tucked safely and comfortably in Jones Point. We happily dinghied to the dock on Adam’s Key a couple of days in a row and met a very nice couple who lives full-time on the small island, where they steward the park for the National Park Service – what.a.life.

Because the weather is looking up – although cold (low 60, high 75) – for our crossing, we opted to motor down to Angelfish Creek today. And, here we sit awaiting our Wednesday crossing.

Hopefully, in 48 hours, I’ll be updating you over conch fritters and local rum from Bimini, The Bahamas!

Best,

L&D

Kemah’s 1st Swim off Mother Jones!

Posted on February 10, 2012 by Laurie

This morning, D decided to get up early and scrub the bottom, which is one of the many reasons why he is the best!

It wasn’t too long before Kemah decided to figure out what all the hubbub in the water was about. So, we rigged up his fancy swim step (PVC, a industrial kitchen mat, and zip ties) and he hopped right in! Well, it took some encouragement for our scaredycat, but he took to it (almost) right away.

Check it out:

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Co15Wyp-MZg]

Everglades to the Keys . . .

Posted on February 9, 2012 by Laurie

also known as “Rounding the Horn of Florida”. Okay, so no one but me says that but they should, right?

Since the last time we visited, we were in Smokehouse Bay on Little Marco Island where we successfully patched up are little leak (from the OCEAN to the inside of our boat!!!), sailed into the Everglades, around the tip of Florida, across Florida Bay and up a couple of Keys – yeah!

We are currently sitting in John Pennekamp State Park, which is a fantastic park in Key Largo. If you’re in the area, you should definitely stop in.

On the way here, we had several adventures, which I’ll detail for you, below. Here goes:

Little Marco Island

Little Marco Island is funny to us because D’s oldest, bestest friend is Marco so we had a big day of all the funny things we could see his name on. Here’s a real winner:

As in, "let us all pray, and pick up big savings on aisle 9"

We stayed in Little Smokehouse Bay, which is a great little anchorage along the “Esplanade” as in “don’t tie up your dinghy on the “Esss-plaaa-naude”. We did. And then when we came back from running our errands, it was gone! Stolen? At the “Esss-plaaa-naude”??? Serves me right for asking (and then answering): “Shouldn’t we lock the dink up? Nah, it’s too fancy here”. Well, still my beating heart, it had just been moved by the dockmaster who was really a great guy just “doing his job” at the “Esss-plaaa-naude”. Lesson learned.

On the way into and out of Smokehouse Bay, you wind along million-dollar homes (Alan Jackson lives here, sometimes) on a little channel that can be *quite shallow* at times, so stay within the markers! Which, btw, are topped with Osprey nests. See:

Osprey

Osprey up close

I think this is super cool and like to imagine if there’s some sort of debate between boaters and enviros re maintaining the signs – or the nests. Hmmm . . .

We had a nice day leaving Marco and heading down to Ten Thousands Islands, which as you might imagine, is ~~hundreds~~ thousands, of mangrove islands. We were making great time and could have pressed on, but decided to stop at Indian Key early in the afternoon and dinghy into Everglades City. And, we were glad we did.

Indian Key was super neat: on the eastern tip of the island is a spit of beach that was covered in white pelicans. I hadn’t seen them before and I haven’t seen them since. Only on Indian Key. I couldn’t get close enough to take a proper picture without bothering the wildlife (no moleste!) so you’ll have to trust me on this.

Indian Key, outside Everglades city. I actually got cell reception here to call my Mother on her birthday!

The Channel up to Everglades City is awesome, beautiful and wild. And, the channel inside the City is lined with cute little bungalows which made me want to move here (all it takes is a cute bungalow on the water, really, that’s all). Oh, and fantastic seafood! Bungalows, check, water, check, seafood, check.

Outward Bound School in Everglades City - sign me up!

So cute!

Stone Crab in Everglades City

Stone Crabs!

But, alas, we left. Apparently, if D, Mr. K and I did move there we might push the population over 1,000 so perhaps it’s good that we moved on – I wouldn’t want them to have to change the sign.

The next day, we ran down to Snake River and anchored in the mouth right before dark – Pfew! We were lucky to be greeted again by a welcoming dolphin (I’m beginning to see a trend – or a stalker!). But, as soon as the sun went done, the real wild-life came out: bugs! As you might imagine, being in the middle of the ‘glades – a swamp – there are a lot of bugs and even though it’s technically winter here, so there are less bugs, there are still a lot of bugs. I’d hate to be here in summer – yuck!

Oh and also, funny thing: I read about little popcorn noises on the side of the hull being the noise of barnacles attaching and guess what we heard in the mouth of Snake River: yup, barnacles. Even though I’m definitely an animal lover, I think there may be such a thing as too much wildlife.

While we had planned on staying and exploring Snake River – I here it’s kind of neat – we opted to get going the next day. We were eager to get to the clear water of Keys and thought we might just make it to civilization in time for the Superbowl (ads).

Rounding “The Horn of Florida”, we got our first big waves and the Gulf and Florida Bay smashed into each other. It was a great reminder of what we have taken on and, while it wasn’t dangerous, it sure was uncomfortable. Since the morning, I had been diligently checking the water, waiting for it to turn from the green-brown of the Gulf to a much lighter aqua of of the Bay and sure enough, turn it did! While we comfortably had 12-20 feet under us in the Gulf, we now had to keep a close eye on our depths, while dodging crab pots which were conveniently on our rhumb line.

As we approached the Arsenic Bank (a dotted line of sandbars), we cautiously read the water and approached the marker on our starboard – even though it sure looked shallow! Well, it was. And, we ran aground. But, it was sea grass, D took a dip, pushed us off and we carefully navigated our way out to of the Bay and to the Atlantic through the Channel 5 bridge. Hooray!

Running aground in Florida Bay

The Atlantic! We made it!

We spent that night in Long Key State Park and while it was definitely protected on three sides, we got wind on the one that wasn’t protected – of course! For those who’ve never experienced something like this, it can be likes sleeping on a trampoline – fun, right? Not. Plus, while it was a nice, uncrowded anchorage, there were really no nearby services or docking opportunities so we opted to head up to Key Largo for the next couple of days.

Being too cheap to pull into John Pennekamp (where we are now), we opted to spend two nights in Rock Harbor – which I would not recommend. We had heard the anchorage was poor holding (“rock” would have been a big clue) but there were at least a dozen boats there (some on mooring balls) so how bad could it be, right? We plopped our anchor down, checked in and it seems to stick immediately. Plus, we had a CQR out on 70 feet of chain and the wind was only supposed to be 10-20 – no biggie, right? Wrong.

Night #1 was fine. And, the next day we dinghied out to the “Dive Inn” and heard more about the bottom being crappy: the “moorings” were actually attached to “transmissions”, “tractors” and all sorts of flotsam and jetsom. Awesome. Wonder what we were caught on? (answer coming soon . . .)

Night #2 there was a storm. Although brief, it caused a neighboring boat to drag anchor on this rock shelf bottom. It definitely caught our attention when the radio chatter mentioned “yeah, we’ve got ‘about’ 25 feet of rode out and we’re dragging right by that cat”. So, needless to say, we leaped up and started to keep watch. Luckily, there was no damage to anyone’s boat, D and I got to practice our re-setting drills and the storm passed in about an hour. But, as anyone white-knuckling an hour can tell you, it’s a long time to be wondering “are we dragging? are they? I can’t tell, are we getting closer to each other?”.

The next morning, when preparing to leave, we checked out landmarks and were pretty sure we didn’t drag, but we couldn’t swear we didn’t, either. The GPS coords were off – a little – could this just be from the swing? Aww, well, we were just trying to up and adios but we couldn’t pull anchor. Rock Harbor! With me on the helm and D on the anchor, we tried a few things and realized we were dragging while not unsticking – weird. About that time, we realized we needed to do something ASAP – we were 15 yards and closing on another boat. So, D dove down and discovered we were stuck on 2 cinder blocks tied with some line. As soon as we were free (and our chain was up, not laying down) we bounced across the rock within 50 feet of the other boat before high-tailing it out of the harbor to John Pennekamp State Park. Lesson(s) learned.

Needless to say, I’ve never been more happy to pay $21.50 to the gov and be on a ball, in a protected bay, with showers, laundry, water and pump out – oh, and they have a snack bar with pizza and coke (with ice), too!

Finally, while the amenities were definitely appreciated, the coolest part about being in Pennekamp is that my friend Susan happened to be in town. While we planned to meet up over the last couple of days, I wasn’t sure when she was coming. Imagine my surprise when walking through the parking lot I heard my name being shouted from a familiar voice – how weird was that!?! I hadn’t run into anyone I knew (except family visiting) in about 6 weeks!

Laurie and Susan in the Keys

Susan was a god-send and offered to drive us (in a car!) to the gas station, grocery store and local West Marine. It was a very welcome offer which we happily took her up on. And, now, we are fully provisioned, which feels nice (and expensive!).

One super-cool thing that happened while Susan was here is that a couple of manatees decided to hang out all day close to the shore. While I had seen them up in Crystal River, the even more natural setting, and clearer water, here made the experience really amazing. Although I later found out it’s illegal, it was also such a trip to watch them bee-line it over to an opened faucet and lap up the fresh water like frat boys to a beer bong. Their tongues and gums are so weird looking!

While it’s been a couple of days of alternating overcast, rain or humidity, we have really enjoyed our time in Key Largo. Kinda makes us not want to leave. But, we are excited for the possibility of a weather window next week where we’ll head to the Bahamas! Until then, my friends . . .

Rainbow looking north from Largo Sound

Should I be concerned?

Posted on January 31, 2012 by Laurie

“Should I be concerned?” heretoafter referenced as “SIBC?” is a healthy way of dealing with the unknown, right? Well, it’s my strategy so far – let me know if you have some better approaches. With so much to learn in this transition, I figure I’ll save my freak-out moments for when they are truly warranted. Until then, SIBC will help me navigate when and what is warranted for a full-blown freak out. And, as a loyal reader, I’ll let you know when that happens 🙂

Here’s what prompted this SIBC? strategy:

Yesterday morning we planned to leave Ft. Myers Beach headed south but awoke to a lot of wind which prompted a “small craft advisory” with “light chop” off-shore. Well, we were planning on heading out on a 6-hour passage, off-shore, in our “small craft” – what to do? Hmmm . . . should we risk it? Or, in other words, SIBC?

After doing a bit of research, we learned that we aren’t really a small craft (this is, like all things in boating, is debatable) and we weren’t really going “off shore”, just, you know, “off-the-shore” about a mile (you can still see land and into the 1%’s houses – with binoculars ;).

And, the wind? Well, 15-20 knots is perfect and the occasional 25+ knots “off-shore” wasn’t really something we could expect on the mile off the shore line we were headed on. So, we decided to go for it. Afterall, wind is what powers our sailboat (duh!) and (after the appropriate amount of considerations) we both admitted we were being a bit chicken in preparation of our first “sail” on the ocean — SIBC? Nah, just prepared.

Out in the channel through Ft. Myers Beach there definitely was some chop, some shallow spots (nothing like a trail of mud through 2.9′ to make 4′ feel deep, right? Good thing we draft 18”!). And, there was the absence of any (not one!) other boats which was cause for another (#2 SBIC? moment) – um, should we be going if no one else was??? After assuring ourselves that it was, a Monday, after all, maybe everyone was at work (not us!) and we could always turn around, right (through the shallows again . . .)? “Yes, turning around is always* an option” is/was the answer and we pressed on. *always in boating is another matter of great, and justified debate . . .

As we approached the Big Carlos Pass bridge, we were excited to have the (our first!) opportunity to be referred to as a “Captain of Mother Jones” as we stopped traffic and the bridge was raised for us – fun huh? Yes! But, of course, when you are past the point of no return going under a bridge with your mast, you do have the “I checked the bridge heights 5 times and we totally fit under, right?” moment (#3 SIBC? moment).

We cannot display this gallery

Once out in the Gulf, we found the perfect wind, 1’waves, a few dolphins and TONS of crab pots (watch out Mother Jones!). We motored for a while, then raised the jib and voila!, just like that we were sailing!!! And, it was glorious! Because the winds did creep up to 25 knots and we figured we’d take our time getting to know Mother Jones, we opted not to raise the main and just enjoyed the quick clip down the coast at an average of about 8 knots – not bad for our first day “out”.

As we approached Gordon Pass at about 3:30pm, we had a choice to make: either continue on to Smokehouse Bay on Little Marco Island (another 2ish hours) or cut in for the night. Well, given our speed, we opted to head to Marco Island and arrived just as the sun was setting – nice – but in the future we’d love to arrive well before, of course.

After settling in with our nachos, I headed into the pantry to restock the fridge with some brews and discovered that the carpet was wet – and the next thoughts were: “Really? Wet?”, “What kind of wet?”, then “f#, it’s saltwater WET!” followed by a calmer, “D, SIBC???” (#4!). After some detective work on D’s part, we were relieved to discover that we had a very slow leak from a small hose which intakes from the ocean that simply needed to be tied off. After ripping up the carpet, relieving a couple bilges of 5 buckets of water (yes 5!, after each I said “that doesn’t look good” and D replied “just keep watching Mildred Pierce, it’ll be fine”), a trip to the hardware store this morning, I think I believe him: we will be fine. It seems this “little” leak had been happening for some time (by the damage to some wood under a bilge) but it was so slow, it wouldn’t have been notice-able — until, that is, we went through ocean waves for 6 hours – lucky us!

Water affected areas, hose leak to the right