S/V Sunshine

New Blog Site

2011-12-13T14:40:00.000-05:00

Hello to all....sorry for the detour, but we have moved our blog to www.sunshinepdq36.wordpress.com. See you there....

Phil and Margaret
s/v Sunshine
Rio Dulce, Guatemala

RIO DULCE...THE SWEET RIVER

2011-04-21T18:47:00.001-04:00

"In a few moments we entered the Rio Dulce. On each side, rising perpendicularly from three to four hundred feet, was a wall of living green. Trees grew from the waters edge, long tendrils descended to the water, as if to drink and carry life to the trunks that bore them. It was, as its name imports, a Rio Dulce, a fairy scene of Titan land, combining exquisite beauty with colossal grandeur. As we advanced the passage turned, and in a few minutes we lost sight of the sea, and were enclosed on all sides by a forest wall; but the river, although showing us no passage, still invited us onward." .... John Lloyd Stephens, 1841.

That description of entering the Rio Dulce by John Lloyd Stephens is still accurate today, 170 years after it was first written. It's breathtaking and beautiful. You feel as if you've stepped back in time.

If you look very carefully in the middle of the picture, you can see a Mayan boy paddling his cayuco along the edge of the river in the shade.

The view over Phil's shoulder as we enter the Rio Dulce.

The river twists and turns for six miles through a spectacular gorge. Maya Indians in their dugout canoes (called cayucos) paddle along the edge of the river where it's shady and they can escape the strong current running down the middle of the river. The only other evidence of civilization is a traditional Maya thatched-roof home here and there.

Literally thousands of Great Egrets roost in the trees and swoop low across the river in front of our boat.

After six miles, the river opens up into a wide lake called El Golfete. We anchored the first night at Texan Bay just off the lake.

The next morning, a short 8-mile trip brought us to Mango Marina which will be Sunshine's home for the summer while we return to Indiana.

Right now, we are one of two boats at this marina. Other cruisers will be coming in soon to leave their boats for the summer.

This is the view from our deck across the wide Rio Dulce.

And our view to the south shows the mountains.

Snuggled up between the dock and the land, Sunshine should be safe from strong storms. We don't need to worry about hurricanes up this far on the river.

We are glad we found this little marina. When there are more boats here, everyone meets under the palapa at 5:00 for happy hour to discuss the day's activities. There's also a television with cable if we need to watch the news (which we don't very often), a kitchen that we are free to use, and a refrigerator stocked with beer, which is on the honor system. If you drink a beer, you just put a mark by your name on the list by the door. Ten beers: ten marks.

The nearest town, Fronteras, is a 10-minute dinghy-ride from our marina. It's an unusual town in that it isn't built around a public square, as are most Central American towns and villages.

Fronteras grew up along either side of the only main road in or out of this region. It consists mostly of small tiendas, or stores, crowded along the highway. There are no sidewalks, and pedestrians share the road with buses, cars, cattle trucks, and semi's. The drivers speed along and it's up to the pedestrians to stay out of the way. Amazingly, we have not seen any accidents...so far.

This is the Dried Fish Store. You can't really appreciate this store without experiencing the aroma. I am sure there are delicious dishes that can be prepared from these dried fish. I try to be ready for new culinary adventures. Someday I will be ready for this, but not today...or tomorrow...or next week...or next month.

I call this the "Plastic Store," for obvious reasons.

This store has lots of plastic, plus other kitchen ware.

Herbs and spices of all kinds, for both cooking and medicinal use.

My favorites are the fruit and vegetable stands. The widest variety of fresh produce I have ever seen. My biggest problem is how to get the melons, papayas, mangoes, bananas, and strawberries into the dinghy and then back to the boat.

The Easter Celebration here is a week-long festival of parades, carnival rides, food, dancing, drinking, and, oh yes, Catholic Mass. This day's parade was celebrating agriculture.

The horses and tractors in the parade had traffic stopped for miles. Remember, there's only one road through town.

We called him "Table Man," a walking furniture store.


Street food, Fronteras style. We haven't tried any street food here yet. Not sure whether the board of health has checked out these stands right along the dusty street. But it still smells very good.

Here's where this adventure ends for now. We'll be catching a bus Sunday morning for a 6-hour ride up into the mountains to Guatemala City. (I hope to God it's not a chicken bus.)

Then a flight to Ft. Lauderdale. Then a rental car to Tampa, where we left our car last November. Then a two-day drive home to Indiana. If all goes well, we'll be in Greenwood by Wednesday or Thursday.

You're all caught up on our adventures for this season. It's been a great winter. Thanks for following our blog. We hope to return here in the fall and begin a new cruising season.

Fair winds and following seas....

Phil and Margaret

s/v Sunshine

GETTING TO THE RIO DULCE

2011-04-18T21:28:00.002-04:00

When we left Key West in December, our plan was to sail to Isla Mujeres, an island near Cancun. We got comfortable in a marina at Isla Mujeres and began learning our way around town, and picking up enough Spanish to get by.

Several other cruisers at our marina had been to the Rio Dulce, a river leading inland from the Atlantic coast of Guatemala. It sounded exotic and beautiful and everyone said we HAD to go there. So, after two months at Isla Mujeres, we headed south.

We took our time, making day trips and stopping at night to anchor. Sometimes, the anchorages were in the lee of a remote island.

Other times, we stopped at small fishing villages along the coast. Once, we stayed several days at a marina associated with a four-star resort. Our marina fee was $25/night and included use of all the resort amenities.

In no particular hurry, we day-hopped down the coast of Mexico, then on to Belize. There were a couple of overnight runs when there wasn't a good anchorage, but most of our trips were slow and uneventful.

The second largest reef in the world extends down the Yucatan coast. In Mexico, it comes and goes very close to shore. In Belize, it is several miles off shore in some places and we could travel between the reef and the shoreline, giving us protection from any bad weather.

Cay Caulker is a small island off the coast of Belize. It's very laid back, as you can see by the sign in front of this bar advertising "happy day" instead of "happy hour."

There are dozens of islands off the coast of Belize between the mainland and the reef.


I asked these kids if I could take their picture and they immediately went into "pose" mode.

Finally, we reached the Rio Dulce. I'll show you what we found in the next post.

STREET FOOD

2011-04-18T16:16:00.000-04:00

So far, we have found street food in every city, town and village that we have visited this season. All through Mexico, Belize and Guatemala, folks sell food they have prepared themselves. And it's usually delicioso!

Both men and women sell street food. Sometimes they set up card tables. Some have carts. Some even have customized bicycles. Street food can be as simple as fresh squeezed orange juice or as complicated as deep fried empanadas.

Corn on the cob is always a favorite.

Spears of fresh fruit...good and good for you!

We never found out what Pibes are. My Spanish dictionary says a pibe is a "kid"....seriously!

Nice presentation!!!

Pies, cakes and flan. Flan is the national dessert of Mexico, I think. Egg custard with caramel sauce.

You can translate this even if you don't speak Spanish.

Don't know what he is offering, but he's obviously very proud of it.


This young man is making marquesitas, rounds of waffle-like dough cooked on a grill, spread with Nutella and Edam cheese, then rolled up.

Pappas y churros. Churros are fingers of dough, deep-fried then rolled in cinnamon sugar.

Your choice of chicken or pork, on a bun....with hot peppers.

Always bebidas whever you go...these are very sugary.

Mango man...and there's Waldo in the background.

Pork rinds and bebidas...m-m-m-m-m. Don't you get the feeling he loves his job!

Can't remember what he was balancing on his head. And there's Waldo again.

Watermelon...and Waldo.

And I just had to take a picture of this little princess.

ROAD TRIP!!!

2011-04-18T15:35:00.000-04:00

Phil and I had been talking for several weeks about visiting Merida, a beautiful town founded by the Spanish in the 1500's.

We first planned to take a bus while we were docked at Isla Mujeres. For one reason or another, that didn't happen. Then, we thought about taking a bus from Puerto Morelos. That didn't happen, either.

Finally, when we were "weathered in" at Puerto Aventuras on the way down the Yucatan coast, the time seemed right. As it turned out, the timing was perfect.

I had sent an e-mail to Luz en Yucatan, a small hotel rated #1 on TripAdvisor, but had received no answer. When we got there, we discovered that they had been sold out, but someone had canceled right before we arrived, so they had a room for us. Our first stroke of luck!

We stayed two nights in this amazing, beautiful town. It was founded by the Spanish in 1542 on the site of a Mayan city. The architecture makes it look like Old Spain, with beautiful churches and government buildings, cobblestone streets, and plazas every few blocks where people gather in the evenings.

As we checked in, we found out that it was Carnival weekend in Merida, and our hotel was just half a block from the parade route. Our second stroke of luck!

The weekend we visited Merida, the town of a million grew by many thousands as villagers poured in to celebrate Carnival with music, dancing, food and FIVE different parades, one per day.

It's difficult to adequately describe the costumes and the music. Friendly people and food vendors crowded all of the downtown streets.

Carnival Merida 2011 ran from March 2-9, with float parades five straight days beginning on Friday the 4th. Over 2,300 people participated in those parades, not counting thousands of staff and hundreds of police officers who controlled the crowds and kept everything on schedule. More than 30 musical groups performed on different stages all over town.

The parade that we watched on Saturday night lasted at least two hours. I lost count of the floats and groups of dancers in elaborate costumes. They must have come from all over Mexico and perhaps even further.

It was our first road trip of the season and we felt fortunate to have participated in our first Carnival and visited such a beautiful place.

TIME TO MOVE ON

2011-02-22T15:29:00.000-05:00

We have spent two wonderful months at Marina Paraiso in Isla Mujeres, Mexico. We love the small, friendly village with beautiful beaches and great restaurants, and none of the hustle and bustle and touristy feel of Cancun.

However, we still have lots of the Yucatan Peninsula to explore and the time has come to head south.

Making chaps for our new dinghy was a 10-day project and I'm glad it's finished! The sun is brutal to dinghies and they last a lot longer when they're covered. With the chaps completed, we are preparing the boat for travel and hope to leave tomorrow.

Since we haven't moved the boat in two months, there is lots to do. Stowing things that might fall is at the top of the list. We also need to top off the fuel and water tanks, make sure the engines are running smoothly, check the electronics, and do final provisioning at the local grocery.

Our first stop is Puerto Morelos, a small fishing village about 30 miles south of here. Winds will be out of the east at 10-14 knots, which should provide good sailing.

We plan to stay in Puerto Morelos for a few days before heading further south to Puerto Aventures, another 30 miles. We hope to meet up with my cousin Tobe and his wife Ginny, who have a home in nearby Akumal. They will be arriving on the 27th for two weeks. We believe that Puerto Aventures is as close to Akumal as we can take the boat. Akumal itself has an anchorage, but the only way to enter the Akumal harbor is a 12-foot opening in the reef that protects the harbor and our boat is 18 feet wide!

Then on to Belize, where there are several beautiful places to anchor with great beaches and snorkeling.

Our final destination will be the Rio Dulce in Guatemala.

We'll keep you posted as we travel!

GETTING TO KNOW ISLA

2011-01-09T13:22:00.001-05:00

Funny thing. We've met lots of new friends here and most of them, like us, have a harrowing story about crossing the Gulf of Mexico. I had thought our high winds, towering seas, sea sickness,dinghy catastrophe and emergency layovers in Atlantis (see last post) were unusual. Not so much.

The only difference seems to be our tolerance for uncomfortable sailing. I'll admit it. My threshold is very low. Our cruiser friends who have been sailing far longer than we have take bumpy crossings (that's a euphemism) in stride.

I don't know if I'll ever get to that place. I like calm seas with enough breeze to fill the sails. I always thought of myself as a fair-weather sailor. I guess I'm really just a wimp.

As the bumpy ride fades into the recesses of our memory, we are having fun getting to know Isla Mujeres, or "Isla" as the locals call it. This island is a 20-minute ferry ride from Cancun, but worlds apart in many ways.

Bedroom at Las Palmas Hotel. $80 per night.


Phil resting at the entrance to Las Palmas Hotel, which has an open-air rooftop lounge with a dipping pool.

There are a few fancy hotels, but most accommodations are small hostels that surround open courtyards filled with tropical gardens. Prices range from $25 to $150 a night, but many nice hotels are in the $50-$80 per night range.

When you depart the ferry from Cancun, you are certain to be within walking distance of your hotel. In fact, you are within walking distance of nearly everything...beaches, restaurants and shops of every description.

Fresh fish caught, cleaned and delivered.

Restaurants line the beaches. Some are pricey, but many offer a full dinner for less than $10. Seafood is featured everywhere, and it doesn't get any fresher than this. As we sat near the water having lunch the other day at one of our favorite places, we watched as the crew of a small fishing boat tied up, cleaned their day's catch, and delivered it to the kitchen of our restaurant.

Local menus usually include grouper, snapper, shrimp, lobster, octopus and conch, served fried, blackened, grilled and sauteed. Hot sauce and hot-hot-hot sauce are usually offered with any entree. Corn or flour tortillas are part of every meal.

Street food is everywhere. Most street vendors operate from bicycle powered carts. One vendor offers orange juice that he squeezes while you wait. Another offers tortillas filled with refried beans, cabbage, hot sauce and a hard-boiled egg. (I haven't tried that one yet.)

Others offer Mexican ice cream. Another chops the end off a coconut and sticks in a straw. Still another offers Marquesitas, made from a thin waffle-type batter spread with Nutella (hazel nuts mixed with chocolate) then covered with shredded Edam cheese and rolled up.

Finally, you'll always find local senoras in front of the grocery store serving home-made tostados and tacos from a folding table.

The beaches are big, with soft white sand and shallow enough that you can walk out 75 yards and still be only waist deep in the water. Beach-front bars offer margaritas and pina coladas.


Isla Mujeres has white sand beaches and clear turquoise water.

Most taxi drivers and shop keepers speak a little English, but it's best if you know some Spanish. Phil and I both took French in school, so we are learning Spanish. The locals seem to appreciate our humorous attempts to communicate in their language.

We are waiting for our new dinghy to arrive next week. Our old dinghy was damaged in the crossing and resisted all attempts to repair it. With a dinghy, we'll be able to leave the marina and anchor nearby, getting us back within our cruising budget. For a small price, we can still use the marina facilities (hot showers, internet, laundry and, most important, happy hour with $1.00 cervesas and other cruisers at 4:00 p.m. daily.

IT WAS THE BEST OF TIMES, IT WAS THE WORST OF TIMES

2010-12-28T14:43:00.004-05:00

Poor Old Boat

Hello to everyone from Isla Mujeres, Quintana Roo, Mexico.

There were times I wasn't sure we would get here. This trip was a life lesson that you can do only so much preparation and planning before Mother Nature makes a joke of your efforts.

Updating from the last blog post, we did make the 50-mile trip from Marathon to Key West without incident. Then we waited out a severe cold front in a protected marina right in the midst of downtown Key West. Andy and Jill arrived from Seattle during record-setting cold weather and we all hunkered down in the boat.

Wednesday, December 15

We had planned to travel with two buddy boats, Restless Rosie and Perception, but they each were experiencing problems with their boats and decided to postpone their departure.

Weather guru Chris Parker suggested the best time to leave for Mexico was Wednesday, December 15th, so we took his advice. His report to us included specific waypoints designed to chart us on the safest course best suited to sailing as much as possible. Wind speeds the first day were supposed to be in the 10-15 knot range. We should arrive in Isla Mujeres Friday night or Saturday, just ahead of a strong cold front predicted for Saturday afternoon.

Forecasting is perhaps more art than science. Within an hour of leaving Key West, we were experiencing 27 knot winds on the beam, causing our 36-foot catamaran to pitch wildly from side to side. The crew began to make trips to the rail. It only got worse as the trip progressed. Seas that were predicted to be 3-6 feet were 6-9 feet and confused. If we weren't being tossed side to side, we were tossed front to back.

Thursday, December 16

Poor davit. It bent down, bringing the stanchion with it.

By the second day, weariness and seasickness were beginning to take a toll on all of us. Captain Phil had the worst of it. Unable to keep down even sips of water, he was showing signs of dehydration. Then things got even worse. Late in the afternoon, a loud snap from the back of the boat caught everyone's attention. Before our eyes, the starboard davit broke off, sending the dinghy stern-first into the water. As we tried to secure the dinghy in the rocking boat, the port davit followed suit and snapped in two, taking a solar panel with it. With the turbulence fighting our attempts, we did manage to lash the dinghy to the stern of the boat.

Poor dinghy, after being pulled behind the boat for 300 miles.

On the heels of the dinghy catastrophe, the port engine overheat alarm sounded and we had to shut it down. The starboard engine continued to run, but the RPM’s rose and fell.

At that point, we decided we could not go on and would have to seek refuge somewhere. A quick scan of our charts showed a large land mass about 35 miles south, with a deep water protected harbor and no reef to cross. For future references in this post, we will refer to that land mass as “Atlantis.”

It was dark when we reached the harbor. There were no lighted markers, so Andy and Jill stood watch with flashlights as we entered. We soon found a place to anchor off the main channel and for the first time in 24 hours the boat was calm. Those who were able to eat had a light snack and we prepared for some much-needed rest.

Just as we were all nodding off, there was a loud pounding on the side of the boat. Andy, who is fluent in Spanish, went out to the cockpit. Two men in uniform identified themselves as border guards. They were in a dilapidated rowboat which was missing part of its back transom. They had rowed from somewhere nearby.

They asked questions until they had written down everything they could think of to ask us about our boat, then checked our passports and boat documentation. They finally left and we all fell into bed.

Thirty minutes later, they were back, asking again to see our passports. They had neglected to copy down our passport numbers and asked for a sheet of paper to do so.

Friday, December 17

The guards returned at 7:30 the next morning. This time there were three of them. They told Andy we were too conspicuous where we were. This wasn’t a tourist type of harbor and they needed us to move the boat. They told us to move the boat close to their office so they could keep an eye on us. We were not to come ashore. They wanted to know how long it would take to make our repairs and we estimated we could leave by noon.

At 11:45, one of the guards rowed out to our boat to confirm that we were leaving by noon. Phil had replaced a broken hose clamp on the port engine. Andy and Jill had retied the dinghy. I had baked brownies, hoping to improve international relations. We offered the brownies to the guard, who radioed his boss for permission, but was told he could not accept any gifts.

We left exactly at noon. The boat was repaired and we were well rested. The wind and seas were favorable as we cruised westward along the Atlantis coast.

By late evening, the seas and wind increased to the point that we took down the sails and only motored. We began taking waves over the bow. Later, to my chagrin, I discovered that I had left a hatch open over the place Phil and I had stored our clean clothes. Everything was soaked with salt water.

Saturday, December 18

Sometime before sunrise, we heard a friendly voice on the VHF. It was Alan from Perception, one of our original buddy boats. He had left Key West several hours after we did, but his boat was slower and he was just catching up with us. Restless Rosie had gone on ahead and Perception was alone, fighting the same bad weather we were. Alan has been sailing for several years, but said he had never sailed in weather this bad. We decided to travel together to Isla Mujeres.

Around mid-afternoon, the RPM’s on both of our engines became unstable, a sure sign of clogged fuel filters. Phil replaced them, but then neither engine would start! We were making headway with only the sails, but we had another 24 hours of travel to Isla Mujeres, requiring that we cross the Yucatan Channel, with its strong northerly current. We also knew that a strong cold front was due in a few hours.

Once again, we took refuge along the coast of Atlantis. Our cruising guide described a marina on the northwest tip of the island about 12 miles away. We began sailing in that direction.

Again, it was dark when we arrived. Andy hailed the dockmaster on the VHF. At first he told us we could tie up at the dock, then he called back to say we should anchor for the night and come in to the dock in the morning, when customs officials would be available.

Sunday, December 19

We had a quiet night. Around 9:00 a.m., we pulled the anchor and headed into the dock, along with Perception. These Atlantisians were much more welcoming. This marina was far from civilization and the staff came in for week-long shifts. They couldn’t have been more helpful. None of them spoke much English, but Andy was able to communicate well with them and we all quickly became friends.

I knew our families would be getting concerned, so we asked if there was a phone we could use to call home. The closest phone with long distance capability was at a hotel two miles away. Andy, Jill and I walked to the hotel to call Andy's brother, Matt, but we were unable to make the connection. A recorded message said “all lines are busy.”

Back at the boat later, we remembered that Alan on Perception had a SAT phone and we borrowed it to make our call. As expected, everyone at home was worried about us and I was glad we were able to let them know we were all safe.

The cold front that was forecast came through with a vengeance. Even though we were tied to the dock, our boats were buffeted by the wind and waves, causing our dock lines to chafe against the jagged concrete dock. We spent most of the day trying to chafe-guard our lines, without much success.

Monday, December 20

The dockmaster, who was also a mechanic, came on board to help Phil assess the problem with our engines. Neither of them made any progress, so the dockmaster called a mechanic and arranged his transportation from 50 miles away. The mechanic arrived and diagnosed water in the fuel line In short order, both engines were purring.

Andy and Jill were scheduled to fly back to Seattle on Wednesday. Fearing that they might not make their flight if they stayed with us, they decided to make their way to the capitol of Atlantis, about three hours away, where they could catch a flight to Cancun. They spent the night there and flew to Cancun on Tuesday. They pleaded hardship with the airlines and were able to delay their flight until Thursday with no extra charge.

Tuesday, December 21

Phil and I left Atlantis around noon, heading due west toward Isla Mujeres. The engines performed well and we motor-sailed through the night, arriving at Isla around 1:00 p.m. We checked into the Marina Paraiso. Andy and Jill showed up from Cancun shortly thereafter with news that they were now engaged!

The Best of Times and the Worst of Times

The engagement news, along with spending time with both of them on this “adventure,” was the best of times. The trip itself, maybe not the worst of times, but definitely an experience we’ll all remember.

Next blog: Isla Mujeres....worth the trip!

WAITING OUT WEATHER

2010-12-09T11:25:00.011-05:00

As I finished our last post we were leaving Marco Island heading south to Marathon. The first morning, we were bundled up with several layers under our foulies plus hats and gloves. As the day wore on and the sun came out, we peeled off the layers and enjoyed a beautiful sail with a strong tailwind giving us 7-plus knots at times.

We pulled into Little Shark River and anchored as the sun was disappearing behind the horizon. It was a dark, quiet, eerie night. There was one other boat anchored downriver from us. In this part of the Everglades, there are few people, no cell towers and no VHF communication.

Sometime in the middle of the night I began to hear the put-put of a small engine. I thought it was probably fishermen and tried to go back to sleep. Then scenes from the movie Deliverance began to flash in my mind. The engine noise seemed to come from behind the boat, then beside the boat, then in front of the boat. I listened for any noise that might signal intruders, but soon the engine noise began to fade and then disappeared. I admonished myself for the wild imagination and went back to sleep.

Up early the next morning we ate breakfast underway and had another fine sailing day, reaching the Keys at mid-afternoon.

We are currently moored at Boot Key Harbor in Marathon. It's a lovely protected harbor in the Middle Keys, about 50 miles east of Key West. See

www.ci.marathon.fl.us/index.aspx?NID=26 and
www.bootkeyharbor.com.

We are experiencing a string of bad weather days. "Come on," I hear you say. "It's minus 20 degrees here in Indiana with five feet of snow and you're complaining about 60 degrees and high wind."

Well, here's my answer. if you're living in the north country, you expect bitter cold weather. If you have come to the tropics for the winter, you expect good weather, at least most of the time. It's all in the expectations.

Our normal sunny blue skies and 80 degree
weather have morphed into cold and windy.

We did have some beautiful days until about a week ago. Since then, two cold fronts have come through almost back to back and we are expecting the daddy of all cold fronts on Sunday. It's early for this kind of weather in Florida, with fronts coming one on top of the other.

Our son Andy and his girlfriend Jill are due to arrive at the same time as the cold front on Sunday. We are hoping for a break in the bad weather so we can all sail to Mexico next week. Time will tell. If we can't go to Mexico while Andy and Jill are here, I hope at least to have some warm weather for them.

In the meantime, we are busy with boat projects. Phil is installing LED lights in the state room. They draw much less power than regular lights. I am updating my blog, baking brownies and researching marinas in Key West.

Baking brownies serves two purposes. Good to eat
and the oven makes the boat toasty warm.

Initially, we planned to stay on a mooring ball there, but the Key West mooring field has no protection from the north. Thirty-five knot winds from the north are forecast on Sunday, which would make for a bouncy night or two out on the water and a soaking, cold dinghy ride to go ashore.

All this assumes we can get a break in the weather to sail Sunshine to Key West, about 50 miles west of here. If that doesn't happen, we'll rent a car and pick up the kids at the airport on Sunday.

In the meantime, we'll pray to the weather gods and I'll keep baking brownies.

NOTHING COULD POSSIBLY GO WRONG NOW!

2010-12-02T17:23:00.007-05:00

Rather than talk about what has broken, let me tell you what is fixed. The head is fixed. The engines are fixed. The alternator is fixed. The freon leak in the refrigerator is fixed. And as I write this, Phil is installing a new line on the jib to replace one that had frayed.

So let the fun begin.

Early tomorrow morning (Phil says "at sparrow fart"), we plan to depart Factory Bay and head south to the Little Shark River, about 40 miles away. Loyal blog readers will remember the Little Shark River as the place where we were stranded for several days last spring. I hope to spend only one night there this time and be on our way the next morning.
Saturday we'll continue heading south to Boot Key Harbor at Marathon, another 50 miles or so. The weather forecast is for north to northwest winds for the next two days. Since we are going south, we should make good time with the wind behind us.
I'm a little hesitant to say where we are headed because our experience has been that wherever we are headed, the wind is always on our nose. We are convinced that the weather forecast changes based on where we are trying to go, with the result that the wind is always against us. So please keep our plans to yourself.
In a recent post, I showed "before" pictures of our boat when we first arrived at Snead Island. Below are the "after" pictures that I promised.

Here is the galley, all cleaned up

Our stateroom, ready for tired sailors

This is the companionway (wish I could figure out how to flip this picture)

The cockpit

The salon, our living room

WHY ARE YOUR STORIES USUALLY ABOUT THINGS THAT BREAK?

2010-11-28T17:35:00.001-05:00

One of the lessons we have learned in our four seasons on the boat is that things break...all the time. Some of our land-based friends and family have questioned whether we are not more prone than others to mechanical misfortunes. Some have even questioned whether we are ready to give up this cruising life and settle down on land where things don't break as often.

It's hard to convince some people that fixing things on your boat is part of the fun and adventure.

Our dear cruising friend Chris Erickson penned this eloquent explanation. With her permission I share it with you in the hope that the non-believers will begin to understand:

Definition of cruising: "Fixing your boat in exotic ports of call"

Dear Non-cruisers: imagine your house, your lovely house, with fully equipped kitchen, bathrooms, bedrooms, living room, spectacular outdoor patio, and deck.

With your house comes a sewage treatment plant, your own electrical grid, water tanks, and fuel. Now imagine that house being rocked side-to-side, front to back, leaned, pivoted, and quite often dropped (off waves) in varying degrees of severity 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. Oh yeah--and it is sitting in sea water whose only job is to seize, rust, oxidize, and eventually eat everything around you.

Now--how long do you think your house can take it before things start to break? Even brand new boats require constant attention. Sailboats even more than motor boats because of so many moving parts.

It's impossible to stay ahead of it all. So--the endeavor of cruising takes a certain personality type. It takes someone who can embrace their inner project junky and find challenge, humor, and a good story in the mishaps and mis-adventures.

When cruisers get together, do you really think they talk about how last night's sunset compared to the one the night before? No! They exchange stories of battles won with a recalcitrant head ("toilet" to landlubbers), struggles with an engine, near-misses in the dark, lines wrapped around props, ant invasions, ripped sails, dead electronics, and on and on.

It's the stuff that goes WRONG that makes good stories! It may not be what you want to deal with at the time, but it is the triumphs over the trials that you remember as much as the beautiful locations, great sails, and new friends. Take heart, Landlubber friends; cruisers aren't complaining. Engine woes et al are just part of a good tale being told.

Keep the tales coming Margaret!

Thanks,Chris. You bet I will.

CRUISING IS FIXING YOUR BOAT IN EXOTIC PLACES

2010-11-23T15:55:00.001-05:00

As we sailed out of Snead Island Boat Works the sun was shining and the sky was blue. There was a light breeze and all was right with the world. For about 15 minutes. Then the overheat alarm sounded on the ystarboard engine.

We ended up anchoring for the night within view of the boatyard we had just left. The next morning we tried again with the same result. Phil even tried removing the thermostat. No help.

We headed south down the Intracoastal Waterway on one engine. As we traveled, we began to notice that the head (toilet) was not working properly. Soon it wasn't working at all. Things were getting serious now. In two days we arrived at Naples, where we were able to secure a mooring ball for only $10 per night, which includes shower and restroom facilities and laundry.

We have found a diesel mechanic to fix the engine and Phil is quickly becoming an expert at head repair. Why does Phil get stuck repairing the head, I hear you say? Well, it's because on a cruising boat there are blue jobs (for boys) and pink jobs (for girls). Repairing the head is a blue job. Normally, I would complain that was a sexist approach to job sharing. This time, however, I'm not saying a word.

There are no pictures this time. I'm sending this from my smart phone and I'm not smart enough yet to know how to put the pictures in.

Happy Thanksgiving to everyone!

Margaret

HALLELUJAH...THE ANTS ARE GONE!

2010-11-13T09:20:00.002-05:00

No sign of any ants this morning. I even got up around 2:00 a.m. and inspected the entire boat with my flashlight. Not an ant to be seen anywhere. We bow in respect to the manufacturers of Terro Ant Killer.

The major work is finished. The boat is clean, the motors have been tested, sails have been checked, chartplotter works, radar works. We made our second provisioning trip to WalMart yesterday and have enough food for several weeks.

I'm looking forward to a weekend of rest. We'll take care of last minute boat jobs, do some laundry and watch the Colts play on Sunday. On Monday, we'll set sail south, destination Key West.

We have several friends to visit along the way and hope to share Thanksgiving with my brother Allen and his wife Dorie. They are in Palm Beach Gardens and have offered to drive over to meet us wherever we are anchored by Thanksgiving.

Go Colts.

--Margaret

THE ANT WAR CONTINUES...

2010-11-12T08:17:00.000-05:00

The large ants appear to be gone; however during the night last night, the tiny ants regrouped and invaded the boat en masse. Hordes of the little devils made a dark, throbbing line between our state room and the head.

I happened to notice them about 2:00 a.m. Armed with a flashlight and my trusty ant spray, I caught them unawares.

We see no more alive this morning, but we are headed to Home Depot for a product called "Terro" which, according to several sources on the boating forums will rid the boat of ants once and for all.

Once this ant problem is resolved, we can finish up our work and get underway. Then I'll have more interesting and exotic topics to write about than ants.

BIG ANTS AND LITTLE ANTS

2010-11-11T16:53:00.000-05:00

As we were getting the boat cleaned up and stowing things away, we noticed lots of tiny little ants in the salon and the state room. I checked outside and found a steady stream of them crawling along the electrical cord that extends from the boat to the hookup on land.

We got some ant spray and ant traps, and sprayed where we had seen them, and soon most of them had disappeared. We're still seeing an occasional tiny ant, but I think we've won that war.

Yesterday, I found three large ants on our bunk (fortunately, they were on Phil's side of the bed). I dispatched them with a Kleenex. A few hours later, there were three more large ants, right in the same place. And then three more, and then nine more, and this morning, nine more again. (Wonder if it means anything that there are always multiples of three.)

We figured they must be dropping down from the ceiling, so today Phil opened a section of the headliner above where we were finding the ants and shot ant spray inside. Scores of ants fell onto the towel we had spread out on the bed. As he removed the headliner there were many more ants, plus white pods that resembled the pods on Invasion of the Body Snatchers, only smaller.

Everything is cleaned up now and no more ants have appeared. We are leaving the headliner off for a while to let things air out and to be sure there are no stragglers.

And you thought the cruising life was just white sand beaches, gin clear water and sundowners.

WHAT A MESS!

2010-11-10T14:10:00.001-05:00

The cockpit is where the "stuff" first lands as we empty
the car. Notice the captain checking to see if the dinghy
will hold air and float.

Usually when we return to the boat after it's been on land for the summer it needs a little sprucing up, but not a major cleaning. I don't know why, but this year the boat needs much more than sprucing up. It needs deep cleaning, inside and out.

The car was loaded to the gills on the trip from Indiana to Florida. It was so full that we had to stuff in the last items and close the doors very quickly so nothing fell out.

We've been here two days. I've cleaned the salon and the galley and Phil has brought the last items from the car. He has also filled the dinghy with air and attached the motor, reinstalled the sails, and is preparing to install the bimini (sunshade).

Now we begin the sorting and stowing.

Here is the "before" look:

The galley (kitchen), with a view of the garage. Not one
empty inch of counter space.

Looking into the state room.
We were fortunate to
locate the bed last night.

The salon (our living room).

I hope to bring you "after" pictures very soon.

TIME FOR A NEW ADVENTURE

2010-11-04T10:17:00.000-04:00

If you're new to our blog, welcome! We are Phil and Margaret McGovern from Greenwood, Indiana. In 2007, we purchased a PDQ 36 sailing catamaran. It was our first boat and we didn't know how to sail. In fact, other than taking a few boating courses in a classroom, we didn't know much about boating at all. Most people thought we were nuts.

Slowly, with lots of practice, reading and research, and assistance from many cruising friends, we have learned what we needed to know to travel safely, anchor securely, read a chart and plan a trip. We haven't sunk the boat or damaged another boat (okay, maybe I once put a tiny little scratch on a fancy power boat...but I don't count that). Most important, we've never lost anyone overboard.

We have had many wonderful adventures. Some were scary. But when we look back, we wouldn't change a thing.

We are about to begin our fourth season of cruising.

Indiana Summer has turned into Fall and it's time for us to go back to the boat. We'll load the car and head out on Sunday morning, hoping to reach Snead Island Boat Works near Tampa early enough on Monday to get Sunshine splashed and move on board.

It's been a fine summer. We spent time with our kids, grandkids and siblings. The grandkids gave the pool a good workout and had some fun sleep-overs. (What happens at Grandma's stays at Grandma's.) Phil completely rehabbed two of our rental homes. We put them on the market, but they didn't sell. We were able to rent both of them, which is the next best thing. I pretended to sell commercial real estate, but buyers were scarce.

With snow flurries predicted this week, we are eager to head South.

Our plan this winter is to stretch our wings a little and have a new adventure. During the last three winters, we have explored the Bahamas, the Keys, and the east and west coasts of Florida. It's time for something new and Mexico will be this year's destination.

We will spend a month working our way south from Tampa down to Key West, where our son, Andy, and his girlfriend, Jill, will fly in from Seattle. If the weather gods smile on us and we get favorable winds while Andy and Jill are visiting, they will join us on a three-day sail to Isla Mujeres, Mexico, a small island just five miles from Cancun on the Yucatan Peninsula.

Stay tuned as we begin Cruising Season Four.

--Margaret

STRANDED IN THE LITTLE SHARK RIVER

2010-03-11T14:01:00.003-05:00

(Blogger’s note: This adventure occurred last month. We are now safe and sound, our engines have been repaired and we are exploring the Gulf Coast.)

The entire month of January, our 36-foot catamaran, Sunshine, was happily attached to a mooring ball in Boot Key Harbor in the middle Keys, among 250 other boats. Life was easy there, except for a week of record-setting low temperatures in January that chilled us to the bone.

Early in February, we decided to head up the Gulf Coast seeking new adventures. We left Marathon early one morning, accompanied by good friends and buddy-boaters, Mickey and Lillian, on their boat Carpe Diem.

About an hour into our trip, our port engine alarm began to squeal as black smoke poured from the engine. We switched off that engine and continued on using only the starboard engine, not losing much speed.

Forty-five minutes later, the starboard engine began to vibrate. We shut it off and dropped the anchor, glad that we were in fairly shallow water. We hailed Carpe Diem on the VHF radio to let them know we were dead in the water.

Carpe Diem offered to tow us the 25 miles to Little Shark River, a safe haven in the Everglades wilderness of Southwest Florida where we had planned to anchor that night. We hooked on tow lines and took off, traveling at 4.5 knots.

By 4:00 p.m. we were still south of the Florida mainland and still 20 miles from Little Shark River. At that rate, we wouldn’t reach our protected anchorage until well after dark. A front was moving in from the Northwest later that evening, bringing strong, gusty winds. It was not a good time to be out on the ocean.

About that time, a large trawler named Samantha motored by and offered to take over the towing and get us to the lee of Cape Sable, about six miles away, where we would have some protection from the coming storm. Samantha was headed that way and she had bigger engines that could tow us faster.    We quickly accepted the offer and were soon traveling at seven knots.

Our three boats arrived at Cape Sable after dark. The winds were beginning to blow. Samantha pulled us to a good spot and we dropped the tow lines and our anchor. The wind set the anchor for us. We were exhausted and fell into bed.

Even with the protection of Cape Sable, the wind and waves tossed us about all night long. The next morning was clear and sunny, but the winds remained strong.

Late in the morning, Samantha radioed that it appeared we were drifting.   Our GPS confirmed that our anchor was dragging. The starboard engine would not start at all, so we fired up the port engine, but it was too weak to overcome the current and wind which were pushing us into shallow water.

Samantha came to our aid again, risking going aground in the shallow water to tow us back closer to the shore.   A close look at our anchor revealed that the shaft had bent during the night. Phil quickly swapped our back-up anchor for the damaged one and we were secure again.

High winds marooned us at Cape Sable a second night. Mickey and Phil spent the next day working on our engines. The starboard engine refused to start, but Phil was able to hot-wire it with a screwdriver. It needed a new water pump, so he swapped out a water pump from the disabled port engine, but then the screwdriver trick failed to work again.

We finally contacted TowBoat US (AAA for cruisers), who sent a towboat from Islamarada to take us up to the Little Shark River. That was the limit of their towing area.   We arrived there late Thursday afternoon along with Carpe Diem and anchored up the river in a protected area.

The tow boat captain warned us that we would have no communication. That meant no cell phone coverage, no internet and no VHF. He promised that he would contact the TowBoat US folks in Marco Island to come and get us as soon as the weather allowed.

Another storm was predicted for the next day and this one was the worst we have ever encountered. Even though we were about a quarter mile up the river, with wind protection from all directions, a squall came through that tossed both our boats around like toys.   Fortunately, our anchor held this time. We later learned that the winds in that storm had exceeded 60 mph.

On the third day, the weather calmed. Finally, that afternoon, a second tow boat arrived and took us the eight hours to a Marco Island marina.

Things we learned from this experience:

1) Don't believe that the words "unlimited towing" on your TowBoat US card really mean "unlimited towing."

2) The Little Shark River is beautiful and remote, but it's not a good place to get stranded.

3) Cruisers are the best people in the world. Especially the folks on Carpe Diem and Samantha.

ALLIGATORS, SWAMP BUGGIES AND WILD PIGS

2010-01-31T12:43:00.003-05:00

I wrote our last post in Ft Lauderdale on Christmas Day and here it is more than a month later. It's been a busy time.

You can't rely on the winter weather in Florida. Our son Andy and his girlfriend Jill arrived at the marina in a drenching rain, which continued for the next two days. After the rain stopped, it turned chilly and windy.

In spite of the weather, we had a great time during their six-day visit. Jill, a high school and college swimmer who now competes in triathalons, worked out several times at the Swimming Hall of Fame just a couple of blocks from our marina. She and Andy also ran on the beach several times. We dined on seafood, explored Ft. Lauderdale by water taxi and explored the Everglades in a swamp buggy, where we saw alligators and wild pigs up close.

Andy and Jill left right before Christmas on a 10-day cruise with Jill's family destined for Aruba, Dominican Republic and the Panama Canal.

We shared Christmas dinner with new friends on the boat next door to us at the marina. The next day, we headed out to sea for the trip south to Miami. We would have stayed on the Intracoastal Waterway, but there is a fixed bridge just north of Miami that won't accommodate our 57-foot mast.

South of Miami at No Name Harbor, in Bill Baggs State Park at the south end of Key Biscayne, Phil retrieved his fold-up bicycle from the park ranger. It had been stolen the year before and later recovered by folks from the parks department, who kept it for us until we returned. Kudos to Bill Baggs State Park!

Two days' of sailing, with a stopover at Isla Morada, brought us to Boot Key Harbor, in the middle of the Keys. There are nearly 300 boats here, either on mooring balls or anchored. Every morning at 9:00 o'clock sharp, the Cruisers Net is broadcast over the VHF radio. The moderator welcomes new boats to the harbor, bids farewell to those who are leaving, and provides a forum for announcements, questions, comments, requests for help and an on-air flea market. Nearly everyone in the harbor tunes in.

The first couple of weeks in January, we endured record-breaking low temperatures here. We were not equipped for the cold weather, either physically or mentally. The temperature dropping into the upper 30's at night and we piled on blankets and sleeping bags to stay warm. During the day, we thought up things to bake in the over, just to heat up the cabin.

But the cold weather finally passed and it has warmed up again. Many days reach the 80's, and we have stowed the blankets and sleeping bags.

We will stay here another week or so. The marina hosts a Super Bowl party and we'll be sitting on the front row to watch the game. We have discovered a few other Indiana cruisers here, including folks from Kokomo, Southport, Noblesville and Valparaiso. We will all sit together and cheer on our team.

Soon after, weather permitting, we will begin our trek up the Gulf Coast. We plan to meet up with Phil's sister, Betty, and her husband, John, who will be camping near Ft. Myers. That same week, my brother, Allen, his daughter, Melissa and his grandson, Fox, will spend a night on board with us. We are looking forward to seeing them all.

Warm wishes to all of you up North. Spring will be along soon.

"AIN'T NO SUNSHINE WHEN YOU'RE GONE...."

2009-12-25T15:44:00.000-05:00

We left our home port of Titusville, Florida on Thursday, December 10th, and headed south on the Intracoastal Waterway. The weather was overcast, windy and threatened rain. It wasn't great traveling weather, but at least the wind was coming from the North, which pushed us along at record speed.

We anchored out each night and in the first three days of traveling had covered 136 miles.

One of our favorite anchorages is at West Palm Beach. It's near the winter home of my brother, Allen, and his wife, Dorie. The night we anchored there, we enjoyed dinner at their home and met Dorie's brother, Jim, and his wife, Geri. It was a great evening.

The next morning, as we pulled our anchor and motored out of the anchorage, a friend on a neighboring boat whom we had just met the night before, stood on the deck of his boat and serenaded us with, "Ain't no sunshine when you're gone..." We chuckled all the way out of the anchorage.

The engines have been overheating at times, for no apparent reason, so we stayed "inside" on the ICW rather than taking the faster route off shore. This section of the ICW has many drawbridges and we had to negotiate 20 of them between Palm Beach and Ft. Lauderdale.

Some of the bridges open on demand, but most have scheduled openings every 30 minutes. The timing is a challenge. If you arrive at a bridge too late, you find yourself treading water for a half hour, waiting for the next opening. On the other hand, it's good practice to attempt to hold 11,000 pounds of boat in one place, especially when there's much wind or current.

We arrived in Ft. Lauderdale with ample time to prepare for a visit from our son, Andy, and his girlfriend, Jill. They flew in from Seattle to spend a few days with us.

THE BOAT'S JOB IS TO BREAK. YOUR JOB IS TO FIX IT.

2009-12-03T22:37:00.000-05:00

The big Travel-Lift came beep-beep-beeping for us about ten days ago.   You've heard that sound that big machines make when they back up. The Travel-Lift backs up with the slings unhooked in the middle until it straddles the boat, then the two straps of each sling are hooked together under the boat and it is lifted up. The driver S-L-O-W-L-Y moves the boat to the launching area, drives out on narrow concrete pathways barely wider then the tires, then lowers the boat into the water!

It's always nerve-wracking to watch. Your home and a good part of your retirement kitty are hanging in the air, supported only by a couple of slings that you hope-to-God are not frayed.   Owners tend to stand close and watch their boats intently, as if there would be something they could do if a sling broke or one wheel of the Travel-Lift missed it's mark and drove off the concrete path into the water.

But none of that happened and we were pulled by hand around the corner to a dock. Then the hard work began.

My list included making an awning, called a bmini, to replace the old ragged one that came with the boat. The bimini shades the cockpit. I figured it would take about a week to complete. Phil's list including checking out all the mechanical and electrical systems to make sure everything was in working order.

Everything wasn't.

First, the port engine wouldn't start. The starboard engine did start, but soon was leaking oil. The starboard windlass that drops the anchor and retrieves it did not work. The gears are not acting like they should. And, of course, the head was not flushing as it should. (The head always makes it onto the list.) All of these things (except the gears) were in good working order when we left the boat last spring.

The boat's job is to break. Your job is to fix it.

Today is December 3rd. We need to have all of the items on our lists completed and/or fixed by December 8th in order to have a leisurely trip down to Ft. Lauderdale and get settled in by the time our son, Andy, and his girlfriend, Jill, come to spend some time with us.

I think we are going to make it with time to spare.

All the pieces of the bimini have been cut out and I hope to have it all put together in two to three days.

The oil leak has been fixed. The alternator on the port engine is being repaired and should be ready for pick-up tomorrow. Phil has a diesel mechanic on stand-by in case he runs into any problems installing the alternator. The head has been repaired and is working fine. The windlass is in pieces on the front deck and the jury is still out on that one. Fortunately, we have another windlass, which does work, on the port bow which we can use in a pinch. The gears are still not working like they should.

Phil just read my unfinished blog and pronounced it "somewhat negative." He's right. I have been concentrating too much on the things that needed fixing.

Here's what doesn't need fixing:

Every morning I see Osprey sailing overhead with fish in their claws.  They settle on the top of a mast in the harbor and make their Osprey calls.

Manatees abound in this harbor. All you have to do is cast your gaze over the water and you'll see that familiar hump of grey emerge, then you can watch the tail appear as it submerges. Often, in the morning, the water will churn with groups of manatees doing whatever manatees do in large groups.

Occasionally, the eyes of an alligator will appear off in the distance. Just the eyes, and then a tail about six feet behind the eyes.

We have boat kids here at the marina. Boat kids are special. Raised on a boat, they are worldly, interesting, used to adults, and inquisitive about absolutely everything. Our current boat kids are Maya (aged 7) and Fynn (aged 6), whose parents, Leighia and Cam, sailed here from New Zealand.

The weather is perfect. High 70's to low 80's most of the time.

We have met many, many friends here who would drop what they are doing at a moment's notice to come to your aid if you needed help. Tony and Karen, Mike and Rana (fellow Hoosiers), Cameron and Leighia, Don, Doreen, Trishia, Rick, Jerry, Tommy, Glenn, Brian and Sheila, Pam and Yelda, David and Pat, Rito and Sally, Billy, Scott, Kathy and Fred and many more.  Our fellow cruisers are special people.

A perfect shuttle launch right in our backyard!

2009-11-16T15:35:00.000-05:00

BACK ON THE BOAT!!

2009-11-15T16:39:00.000-05:00

When we return to Sunshine after being away, I like to walk on board and yell, "We're home!" I think she misses us when we are in Indiana for the summer and is glad when we return.

Florida was frigid when we arrived earlier this week. It felt about the same as Indiana. The passing cold front moved on and the temperature has returned to the upper 70's and low 80's. Just about perfect.

It's exactly 1,000 miles from our home in Greenwood, to our boat in Titusville. This trip, we had the car packed so tightly I worried that if we had been bumped by anyone, the doors and trunk would have flown open and all our stuff would have exploded out of the car.

Finding places for all that stuff has been challenging, but we are sorting and sifting and making room. Some things are being returned to the car for safekeeping while we're off cruising this winter. We won't need any of our Bahama charts and books, since we plan to cruise around the Keys and up the Gulf Coast. For everything new we bring aboard, something old has to go.

We took a two-day hiatus to attend the Seven Seas Cruising Association Gam in Melbourne on Friday and Saturday, about 45 minutes south of Titusville. We enjoyed time with many friends, including Shirley and Mac from Cat's Paw, Daniel Grant from Psyche and Mike and Rana from Raven.

We also attended some interesting seminars. I especially enjoyed one entitled, "Staying Afloat with Two on a Boat." You can guess what that was about. I discovered that, after 40 years of marriage, Phil and I are already doing lots of the things they recommended to couples trying to get along in a small space.

So now the fun begins: getting Sunshine ready to cruise. We each have a long list of boat projects. Phil's list includes fixing the refrigerator, which seems to have lost its Freon, and repairing the dinghy, which seems to have lost it's air. My list includes constructing a new Bimini, which is the canvas awning that protects us from the sun when we are cruising.

We hope to get the boat "splashed" (back in the water) within a week or so. Then I'll begin work on the Bimini. I hope it won't take more than a week or two to complete.

We purchased the fabric at the Annapolis boat show in October. I got 25 yards of Sunbrella for about half price. It may have been marked down because it is blue and white striped. I have been looking at dozens of other boats and have yet to see any with striped Biminis. Oh well, Sunshine will just be easier to find in a crowded anchorage :)

In the meantime, we are fairly comfortable on the boat. We have electricity, water, a stove, a temporary refrigerator, a comfortable bed to sleep in, a television, and a computer with internet. It's kind of like camping out, but we have to climb up about 15 feet to get in our "tent."

We have many friends here in the boatyard who are also working through their lists of projects, getting ready to cruise. The cruising life involves a lot of hard work, but it's all worth it when you release the dock lines and sail away.

I'll try to post more often this winter, since we'll have continual internet access along the coast.

Thanks for following our blog.

Go Colts!

Picking Up Where We Left Off

2009-09-12T19:17:00.001-04:00

Several folks have complained that we left you hanging in the Bahamas last March. I admit they are correct. Our last post was from Hope Town in the Abacos (a northern chain of Bahamian Islands).

Early in April, we crossed the Gulf Stream without incident and arrived safe and sound at Ft. Pierce, Florida. The trip took about 24 hours and, once again, neither one of us took naps along the way. We get too excited to sleep. Phil handles it better than I do and, by dawn as we arrived in Ft. Pierce, I was seeing things that weren't there. I was driving and Phil took the wheel immediately after I complained that there was a wall in front of us and we were going to hit it. (There was no wall...my eyes were just playing tricks.)

We left the boat "on the hard" (on land) at Titusville and returned to Indiana in mid-May.

It's been a great summer. I am back at work as a real estate broker and Phil has been getting two of our rental homes ready for sale. The first went on the market in mid-August and we accepted an offer only three weeks later!

We've enjoyed lots of time with family and friends, trying to get our "fix" before we leave again for the winter. Last weekend, we hosted an end-of-summer pool party for both sides of the family and had 32 guests. We both come from large families and our get-togethers are what I miss most when we are cruising.

Our plans are to head back to Sunshine in mid-November. We'll spend this winter exploring the Keys and the Gulf Coast. Phil also wants to go to Mexico. I want to go to Cuba. That's the extent of our planning at this point.

I'll try to be more regular with our updates and promise to never leave you hanging again.

HEADING HOME, THROUGH THE ABACOS

2009-03-18T11:36:00.000-04:00

(To enlarge the pictures and read the captions, click anywhere on the picture. Use the back button to return.)

We are so glad we decided to return home by way of the Abacos. We could have come back to Florida the way we came, through Nassau, but chose instead to go farther north before we turned west.

Leaving George Town, we traveled back up through the Exuma Islands then hopped over to Eleuthera, anchored there for the night, then continued north to Little Harbour, at the bottom of the Abacos. We spent a couple of days anchored at Little Harbour, then traveled a half day to Hope Town.

Hope Town has special meaning for us. It was there that we chartered a PDQ 36 catamaran for a few days three years ago, trying to make a final decision on whether to purchase Sunshine, also a PDQ 36.

Hope Town is a charming place and we loved being able to sail our own boat back to that harbor. We looked up Peter Michie, the owner of the boat we chartered, who came along with us on our trip in 2006. Peter, a former RAF pilot, lives in Hope Town with his wife, Trish. They are out of the charter business but are still in the vacation rental business. Delightful people!

After two days in Hope Town, we moved on to Marsh Harbour. It was only a six-mile trip, but that was enough time for the port engine to burst a radiator hose and the mainsail to rip in several places. We limped into Marsh Harbour on one engine and with flapping sails.

Phil replaced the radiator hose and pumped out the bilge full of sea water in short order on the first day. The second day, we dinghyed into town and bought sail repair tape. Our friend, Graham, came over and helped Phil bring down the mainsail and I got out my trusty Sail Rite heavy duty sewing machine. It took all afternoon to repair the rips in the sail. When Phil and Graham reinstalled the sail, it looked like new. I was very proud.

Marsh Harbour is the third largest city in the Bahamas, next to Freeport and Nassau. That means we are in the midst of civilization for the first time in months. We have real grocery stores, liquor stores with a nice wine selection (for her), hardware stores and marine supply stores (for him), and lots of good restaurants.

The first of two cold fronts came through last night and so we will be stuck here for a few days before we can move on. We are not complaining! This is a great place to be stuck!

Yesterday, we did two weeks worth of laundry and resupplied the galley. The grocery prices were still high, but not as high as in the Exumas. We bought fresh milk (as opposed to boxed milk) for the first time since December.

And best of all, the internet connection on the boat is excellent. We are using the computer so much we've had to run the generator for a while each day just to keep up with the power usage.

We'll probably head out next week as the weather calms down, on our way across the northern edge of the Abacos and on to West End, on the west end of Grand Bahama Island. It will take at least three days, with stops each night, to make that trip. From Grand Bahama, it's a one-day trip across the Gulf Stream to West Palm Beach.

We'll check in as we can.

ESCAPE FROM CHICKEN HARBOR!

2009-03-06T20:51:00.000-05:00

At dawn on Wednesday, March 4th, we pulled the anchor on Sunshine, our 36’ catamaran, and headed north out of Elizabeth Harbor. With us were three British monohulls: “Rasi,” “Ten Years After” and “La Danza.”

The Elizabeth Harbor anchorage, better known as “George Town,” had been our home for several weeks. It wasn’t intentional. When we arrived in January, we had planned to stay in George Town only a few days. Inertia prevailed.

George Town is a large Bahamian community that caters to cruisers. The winter season brings hundreds of boats into the harbor, sometimes as many as 400. This year, even with the bad economic conditions, there were at least 300 boats.

George Town boasts one of the larger grocery stores in the Bahamas, along with two liquor stores, several restaurants, two laundries, a source for propane refills, free water, a dinghy dock and friendly locals.

We loved reconnecting with old friends and making new friends in George Town. It was especially difficult to leave Harold and Val on La Buena Vida, Clay and Rita-Kay on Carleigh, Doug and Marlene on Solar Eclipse, Roger and Darlene on RollsDoc, Mickey and Lillian on Carpe Diem Philadelphia, Barbara and Ken on m/v Barbara, Ed and Sandi on Genesis, and Laurence and Joan on Better Than Working, plus many others.

The cruiser community in George Town is highly organized, which we found interesting at first and overwhelming after a while. Each year, the cruisers host a regatta early in March. This regatta isn’t a Bahamian celebration. It’s strictly a cruiser function. The organizing for regatta begins early in the year and by late February, regatta planning is at fever pitch. Multiple committee chairmen recruit dozens of volunteers, whose reason for living becomes the regatta.

Regatta activities include a pet parade, a sailboat “pass in review,” a dinghy coconut retrieval race, a talent show, a no-talent show, a bocci-ball tournament, volleyball tournament, a sailboat race, an opening show, a closing show, a dance, and many more activities too numerous to mention.

Many folks come to George Town to enjoy the cruisers’ regatta, and we wish we were among them. The regatta drumbeat became so strong that we felt compelled to make our escape from George Town before the festival began. Evidently, some others felt the same way. We had lots of company on our trek north.

The weather report for our retreat from George Town called for 10-15 knot winds and 2-4 foot seas. The reality was 20-25 knot winds, gusting to 30 knots, with 5-8 foot seas. The bad news was that we were tossed about, with waves constantly breaking over the bow. The good news was that we made good time. Motor-sailing with full sails, we averaged seven knots, sometimes reaching 8.5 knots.

We went “inside,” after about six hours, at Galliott Cut, our first good opportunity to escape the big seas. Once inside, we continued north, protected from the full force of the east winds by the Exuma Islands. We still made very good time motor-sailing and reached our destination by mid-afternoon.

We are now anchored at Staniel Cay, where we can receive a satellite internet signal and re-stock our pantry before heading north. The weather continues windy, but with protection from the wind, the sun is bright and feels warm. The islands are beautiful and the sea is aquamarine. If the wind subsided, we would be complaining about the heat.

Our plan is to leave here in the next day or two and head north to Norman’s Cay. From Norman’s, we will wait for good weather to make the crossing to Eleuthera. Up the west side of Eleuthera, we will then cross over to the Abacos. From the northern tip of the Abacos, we will head north and await our chance to cross the Gulf Stream to Florida.

STUCK IN CHICKEN HARBOR!

2009-02-04T18:12:00.000-05:00

We had heard about people getting stuck in Chicken Harbor, but we never thought it would happen to us.

Chicken Harbor is a nickname for George Town, a community on Great Exuma Island at the southern end of the Exumas. The name fits, because people come here for a few days and end up staying a month or two or three. Some stay because the journey farther south can get a little rough, with overnight passages and high seas. Others stay because life is fairly easy here. For many couples, George Town is a compromise between the husband's desire to cruise the world and the wife's reluctance to leave the conveniences of home.

There are about 200 boats here, reduced by the bad economy from the usual 400 to 500. Along with a decent grocery store, internet cafe, laundry, library, straw market and liquor store, the harbor has many beautiful anchorages, which offer wind protection from nearly every direction.

Lots of folks come here to spend the winter and, as a result, the cruisers have organized many activities. Every afternoon you can choose among volleyball, basket weaving, bocci ball, bridge, dominoes, or just sitting around chatting. Some call George Town an "adult summer camp."

The gathering place is Volleyball Beach. It has a restaurant/bar called the Chat and Chill, many picnic tables, and dozens of lounge chairs for sitting in the sun or under a tree reading a book. A little stand offers fresh conch salad (ceviche), which goes extremely well with a cold bottle of Kalik, the local beer.

Although George Town has been fun, it's not really our cup of tea. If it weren't for this long stretch of bad weather, we would have left a week ago.

For a couple of weeks, the wind has been "blowing like stink" as they say, and the weather forecasters are calling for another week of the same.

Last night was especially exciting. Around sunset, the winds were approaching 30 knots (about 35 mph). According to my chart, 32-27 mph is a moderate gale that puts whole trees in motion and makes it inconvenient to walk against the wind. At that velocity, the wind makes a howling sound as it moves through the rigging. The boat pitches around and strains at the anchor line. Boats that have not anchored properly are inclined to drag into other boats.

The VHF radio was buzzing with nervous chatter. Suddenly, a female voice from a boat near us called to a neighboring boat that she was drifting and needed some help. We watched as the neighbors launched their dinghy, sped to the first boat and climbed aboard. After several minutes, they were able to raise the anchor and motor off to another location and possibly a more secure anchorage.

Within an hour after the first episode, another cruiser announced a "catamaran on the loose" in our anchorage. The owners weren't on the boat. Dinghies came from every direction to try to corral the moving boat. They managed to keep it from hitting another boat. The owners were located, returned to the boat, and re-anchored it securely.

The winds continued to howl all night long. On nights like that one, I have learned there is great comfort in taking a hand-held GPS to bed. Checking several times during the night to make sure our boat hasn't moved outside it's expected range gives me a better night's sleep.

As soon as we have a good weather window, we will join several other friends in a daytime cruise to Long Island, about 35 miles southeast of here.

VISITORS FROM THE STATES

2009-01-15T18:29:00.000-05:00

(To enlarge pictures, move the mouse over the pictures and left-click. Press the back arrow to return to the blog)

We spent ten days working our way down the Exumas. We would find a beautiful bay to drop our anchor and spend the night, then the next morning we would sail ten miles or so to the next beautiful place. If we especially liked an anchorage, we would stay for more than one night.

Our younger son, Andy, was flying in to Staniel Cay from Seattle to spend Christmas with us. Our only goal was to arrive at Staniel Cay in time to greet his plane. We got there a couple of days in advance, so we would know our way around when he arrived.

Andy stayed on the boat with us for nine delightful days. The weather was beautiful (most of the time) and we enjoyed his visit. We all slept late, read books, partied on the beach with other cruisers, and Andy worked hard on his tan.

Christmas eve we moved the boat a few miles north to Sampson Cay and had a wonderful Christmas dinner at the Sampson Cay Yacht Club, then returned to Staniel Cay for the remainder of his visit.

The James Bond movie "Thunderball" was filmed at Staniel Cay and Andy and Phil snorkeled into Thunderball Grotto nearby.

Andy flew home a couple of days after Christmas, tanned and well-rested. We hated to see him leave.

Staniel Cay is about 50 miles north of George Town, so we decided to make the trip in one day rather than hopping from island to island. Along with two other boats, Rasi and Pascana, we departed Staniel around 9:00 a.m. and headed out into the deep water of Exuma Sound.

When we travel in deep water, we usually put out a trolling line to catch fish. Within an hour of leaving Staniel Cay, we had a bite. Phil grabbed the pole and began to bring in the fish, a large Mahi-Mahi that danced back and forth on the waves as he reeled it in.

We weren't really prepared for a catch so soon and while we were rushing around the boat getting ready, Mr. Mahi bit through the wire lead and was on his way, taking the lure with him.

Phil attached another lure, dropped the line back in the water, and within 15 minutes we had snagged a second Mahi-Mahi. We were ready for this one and Phil landed him.

The other two boats weren't as lucky with their fishing. After we pulled into George Town about 4:00 p.m. and all anchored, we invited our friends over to share the catch. We fed six people that night and had fish left over. It was delicious.

George Town is the most developed island in the Bahamas. Many cruisers come this far and spend the winter. The harbor is about 15 miles long with numerous places to anchor. There are probably 200 boats here now, with lots of activities organized by the cruisers. There is a well-stocked grocery store and several other retail shops.

Phil's sister, Mary Anna, flew in to George Town on January 5th and spent a week with us on Sunshine. The weather was perfect and we all enjoyed her visit. She met some of our cruising friends, we walked the beaches, and Mary Anna and Phil climbed the highest hill in the area, getting a beautiful view of Elizabeth Harbour.

That brings you up to date on our travels so far. We are planning to visit Long Island as soon as the weather permits, about 35 miles away. I hope we get there in time to watch the inauguration on Tuesday.

MAC AND CHEESE, GUAVA DUFF AND CHICKEN SOUSE

2009-01-14T10:16:00.000-05:00

This post is especially for Daniel Grant, who requested recipes.

My sister, Julie, recently sent an e-mail asking if we were enjoying exotic fruits. The short answer is “no.” I was surprised to find that there are few exotic fruits and vegetables grown in the Bahamas.

I had expected to find mangoes falling from the trees. I thought we would shop at open-air markets featuring fresh-picked pineapples, bananas, taro root, papayas, guavas and lots of produce I didn’t recognize, but would soon learn to use in making fabulous new dishes. I was wrong.

The reality is that these beautiful limestone islands have only a thin layer of fertile soil. There is some successful farming in the Bahamas, mainly pineapples on Eleuthera and vegetables on Barraterra, but not nearly enough to feed the population. Most produce is imported and, for that reason, frightfully expensive.

At the local market in George Town, I paid 75 cents for a banana, $4.00 for a 3-pack of Romaine, and 50 cents for an apple. Most of the produce is imported from the U.S. or South America.

So, what do the Bahamians eat? Lots and lots of fish, prepared every way imaginable. Loads of French Fries. A ton of macaroni and cheese. Peas and rice. Johnny Cakes. Cole slaw.

In spite of a few exotic dishes like Fish-Head Soup and Chicken Souse that I mentioned in a previous post, the Bahamian diet is fairly limited and extremely bland.

The majority of the population came as African slaves on British plantations. The Treaty of Versailles in 1783 restored the Bahamas to England and Florida to Spain. Many British loyalists with plantations in the southern colonies of America relocated to the Bahamas to escape the wrath of the revolutionaries, tripling the population of the Bahamas in a short period of time.

The slave trade ended in 1807 and slavery was abolished in 1834. Hundreds of freed slaves learned to survive as fishermen and subsistence farmers. Their diet was limited by the lack of good soil for growing fruits and vegetables and influenced by the English dishes they were used to.

Local restaurants have surprisingly similar menus. You will usually find a variety of fish, shell fish and conch dishes, barbequed chicken and ribs and often meat loaf. Sometimes you will see pigeon meat and pig’s feet on the menu. Side dishes almost always include French Fries, Johnny Cakes, macaroni and cheese, slaw, and peas (pigeon peas) and rice.

The macaroni and cheese here is nothing like the Kraft Mac and Cheese that comes in the blue box. Bahamian macaroni and cheese is a rich, baked dish that puts Kraft to shame, but is guaranteed to raise your cholesterol.

Bahamian Macaroni

2 cans evaporated milk, 6 beaten eggs, 1 lb. grated cheddar cheese, 1 chopped green pepper, 1 chopped onion, 1/4 lb. butter, 16 oz. box macaroni, 2 T. Worcestershire sauce, hot sauce to taste, salt and pepper.

Boil the macaroni with the onion and green pepper. Strain. Mix eggs, milk, seasonings and 3/4 of the cheese. Add the macaroni and stir well. Pour into greased baking dish. Sprinkle remaining cheese on top. Bake at 350 degrees for one hour.

The one really exotic dish I have yet to try is Guava Duff. I have heard folks speak of it in raptured tones and it’s difficult to find. I’ve never seen it on a menu. I think you must go to a bakery to find it (or become good friends with a local cook). A visit to the Bahamas is probably not complete without tasting Guava Duff and I will persevere until we have sampled some.

I found a recipe for it and it sounds a lot like persimmon pudding. I hesitate to try to make it myself, not knowing how the finished product should look or taste. You might be more adventuresome. If so, let me know how it comes out.

Grava Duff

4 T. butter, 1 cup sugar, 3 beaten eggs, 3 cups flour, 2 tsp. baking powder, 2 cups guava pulp, 1/2 tsp. freshly grated nutmeg, 1/2 tsp. cinnamon, and 1/4 tsp. ground cloves.

Cream butter with sugar, add eggs, beat well. Add sifted flour and baking powder. The dough will be stiff. Roll the dough out to about 3/4 inch thickness with a rolling pin. Mix the guava pulp, nutmeg, cinnamon and cloves together and spread over the dough, leaving a margin around the edges. Moisten edges, roll up and seal the ends. Flour a pudding cloth (whatever that is) and wrap around the Duff. Tie the ends, leaving room for Duff to swell. Place on top of a saucer in a saucepan of boiling water. Cover and boil 1 hour. Slice and serve with Butter-Egg Sauce.

Butter-Egg Sauce

1/4 lb. butter, 3/4 cup sugar, 1 egg, separated. Cream butter and sugar, add egg yolk and blend. Beat the egg white until stiff and fold into the mixture. If too thick, add a couple of drops of hot water.

Finally, I have had chicken souse twice in the Bahamas and loved it both times. It's surprisingly simple to make, delicious to eat, and I understand it will cure a hangover.

Chicken Souse

One 2 to 3 pound fryer (or 2 to 3 lbs. drumsticks and/or thighs, or 24 wings, separated), 1 large diced onion, 4-6 peeled and diced potatoes, 3 diced carrots, 1 T ground allspice, 2 bay leaves, hot pepper flakes or bird peppers to taste, salt and pepper to taste.

In a large pot, cover the chicken with water and add remaining ingredients. Bring to a simmer, reduce heat to medium-low, cover, and continue simmering until chicken and vegetables are tender, about one hour.

Serve with lime wedges, grits and Johnny Cakes.

EXPLORING THE EXUMAS

2009-01-13T09:08:00.000-05:00

Nassau was fun, with interesting restaurants and sights to see, but it's basically a tourist town. The U.S. recession is taking its toll on the local economy. Rumors were rampant of 1500 employees laid off at Atlantis, a huge resort and casino on Paradise Island, just across the bay from our marina. Other hotels were offering reduced rates, trying to remain open and meet payroll.

The "out islands" couldn't have been more different from Nassau. Our first stop, Allen's Cay, is uninhabited, except for an endangered species of fairly large iguanas. We enjoyed a quiet night, alone in a beautiful cove, then dinghied ashore the next morning to meet the iguanas. They began to appear as we pulled up on the beach. First one ventured out, then two or three more, soon they were approaching from every direction.

We had brought along a plastic bag filled with lettuce and stale Ritz Crackers. They loved it all, scrapping for each morsel of food.

We returned to Sunshine, eager to continue our island hopping. A short ten-mile trip south brought us to Highbourne Cay. We anchored near a small marina and enjoyed a beautiful sunset, a quiet dinner and good night's sleep. So far, we had seen only a handful of other cruisers in the Exumas.

The next day was Phil's birthday. I told him he was forbidden to do any work on his birthday. That didn't last long. He is not happy sitting still. We pulled the anchor after breakfast and headed further south a few miles to Norman's Cay.

Norman's is well known as a former drug running headquarters. A Colombian drug lord purchased the island in the 1970's and installed an airstrip. Drug-laden planes from South America would land often and business was thriving. Finally, a few years ago, the U.S. convinced the Bahamaian government to shut down the operation and arrest the Colombian and his coharts. The only evidence left of the illegal activity was the rusted remains of a small plane that miscalculated the location of the airstrip. The fuselage is clearly visible at low tide and we gave it a wide berth as we looked for a good place to anchor.

We dinghied to the island and found the airstrip, still in good shape and used by a few local residents who have built homes there. On the beach side of the island, we met a Canadian couple, Menno and Liz, whose boat, Snow Shoo, was anchored near ours.

They had caught (maybe "collected" is a better term) five large conchs and were in the process of removing the meat. Locals can clean a conch in just a few minutes, but it's a learned skill. Menno had removed the meat from the shell and was pounding each conch until it was almost lacy. That's the secret to tender conch.

Back on the boat, the wind generator had stopped spinning. It appeared that the bearings had frozen up. The wind generator, along with four solar panels, create quite a bit of free energy for us. Fixing the generator will be high on our list of things to repair.

Next blog: Hawksbill Cay to Staniel Cay, Andy's visit, Christmas.

WOO-HOO, WE'RE BLOGGING AGAIN, MON

2009-01-12T11:35:00.000-05:00

To Terry Bentley of the Noblesville P.D., my brother Allen, my cousin Howard, and all the others who have complained about "Sushine Blog Withdrawal":

It's been a long time since you heard from us. Since early December, we have been mostly out of touch with the rest of the world. Occasionally, we located an internet cafe where we would stand in line, wait for a computer, and then do a quick e-mail check. Taking time to update the blog was not an option.

Technology arrived on Sunshine yesterday in the form of a high-power Wi-Fi antenna, signal booster and cable, all purchased from another cruiser. We can now pluck those magic signals out of the air whenever we find a "hot spot."

Picking up where we left off in early December:

After nearly a week in Nassau waiting for a weather window, the winds finally calmed enough for us to sail to the Exumas. As we prepared to leave, we discovered that the port engine would not start. It's always something, as Gilda Radner used to say.

Phil worked on the engine for an entire day, but could not figure out the problem. We knew it wasn't getting fuel and feared we needed a new fuel injector pump, which meant importing one from Florida, paying a 45% duty surcharge, and waiting days, perhaps weeks for it to arrive.

The dock master recommended a local diesel mechanic, who arrived with his helper soon after we called. Within an hour and a half, they had located a blocked valve in the fuel line and fixed it. Total charge: $85.00. We were beginning to love the Bahamas.

We pulled out of Nassau Harbour Marina the next morning (December 6th), stopping at the fuel dock next door to fill our diesel tank. Our destination was Allen's Cay, on the northern end of the Exuma Island chain.

There were some minor problems along the way:

1) We had heard stories of dirty fuel in Nassau, so Phil used a special filter as he filled the tank, which slowed the flow considerably. It took 45 minutes to get 41 gallons of diesel.

2) As soon as we were underway, but still in Nassau Harbour, a belt on the starboard engine loosened, causing black smoke to pour from the engine compartment. Phil tightened the belt.

3) After 35 miles, in sight of Allen's Cay, the port engine alarm went off. A water hose leak had filled the port engine bilge with several gallons of sea water. We continued into the anchorage on one engine and anchored in a beautiful bay.

4) The next day, the handle broke off that controls water flow to flush the head and the port engine belt began to squeal above 2,000 rpm. Phil spent the morning fixing the water hose leak from the day before, the head handle and the loose belt.

And you probably thought this was a vacation! The funny thing is, every time we have a mechanical problem, we learn more about this boat and how to fix whatever breaks. In conversations with other cruisers, we have discovered that most of them have the same difficulties. Things break, or wear out, and there's always something to be repaired or improved upon.

Cruisers take pride in learning how to keep their boats in good repair and fix nearly anything that breaks. They are also always willing to assist other cruisers. Best of all, we are fixing all these things in paradise. The weather is perfect. The surroundings are beautiful. We don't have a schedule.

Allen's Cay was the first stop in our exploration of the Exuma Cays. Southeast of Nassau in the central Bahamas, the Exumas are a necklace of beautiful, low-lying limestone islands extending 140 miles along a chain. A few are inhabited, most are not. Those that are have a sprinkling of residents in small communities. There are only a few marinas in the Exumas.

In the next blog, we work our way all the way down the Exumas, meeting up with friends along the way, exploring the islands, enjoying our son's visit over the Christmas holidays and Phil's sister's visit in January.

Margaret

FISH-HEAD SOUP

2008-12-02T12:07:00.000-05:00

Nassau is fun, even in the rain. It rained, no...it poured, all day yesterday (Monday, Dec. 1st). We had breakfast, did the dishes, then donned our bright yellow fowlies and headed out for some sightseeing.

Our marina is across the street from a shopping area. We wandered past all the stores, but most didn't open until 9:30 a.m. (remember...it's the Bahamas). So, partly to get out of the heavy rain, we hailed one of the jitneys that ply the streets of Nassau. The jitneys are actually large vans with regular routes, and for $1.25 you can go anywhere in Nassau.

Each jitney has it's own personality, dictated by the driver. Our driver liked reggae music and he liked it LOUD! It made you want to get up in the aisles and dance. We saw the east end of the island, away from the touristy areas, and got a good idea how the locals live. We didn't see the abject poverty that we saw in Puerto Rico or Quito, but Nassau could use some work on its solid waste disposal system. Lots of trash strewn around.

Our route also took us through the historic section of town. I want to go back and explore that on foot. At one of the stops downtown, 16 DePaul students and their teacher boarded our jitney. They were having a great time and the rain didn't seem to be bothering them, either.

We had the driver drop us off at the dock where the fishing boats tied up to unload their catch. We wandered through the stalls, each one painted a combination of bright colors. They offered conch served numerous ways, including ceviche, chowder, fritters, and stew. You could also buy bags of fresh-caught snapper and grouper and whole spiney lobsters.

We had arranged to meet our friends Mac and Shirley at a restaurant called Double D's, near the dock. It was highly recommended by a dock hand at the marina for it's authentic Bahamaian food at reasonable prices. We found the restaurant and tried the door, but it was locked. We heard a buzzer and tried the door again, which now opened. (We never did determine how they decided who could enter and who couldn't.)

Double D's was a large, poorly lit bar. One patron in back was drinking a Kalik (local beer), smoking a cigar and watching Barak Obama's TV press conference announcing his appointment of Hillary Clinton as secretary of state. A young man near the front was watching a rerun of Jurassic Park. We were the only other customers. Mac and Shirley had not yet arrived, so we ordered some conch fritters and a cold Kalik (me) while we waited.

They arrived a few minutes later, soaking wet from the downpour. We all began to look at the menu in earnest. The house specialties included fish head soup, sheep's tongue souse, conch souse, sheep's tongue stew, and chicken souse. You could also order barbequed ribs, roasted chicken, and grouper served various ways. Quite a menu for a bar!

The fish head soup intrigued me. After I determined from the waitress that the soup would not contain any fish eyes staring back at me, I decided to go for it. It was chunks of grouper heads in a flavorful broth that had just enough spicy taste to require a second cold Kalik. Actually, it was delicious and I would order it again.

Today the rain is gone and the sun has returned. It's still too windy outside the harbor for a comfortable trip south, but we're hopeful that we can leave by Thursday.

Phil has spent the morning trying to find and patch a hole in our dinghy. One side had deflated over the last few days. He had to remove the incredibly heavy outboard motor, then maneuver the sagging dinghy around the corner from the marina to an area where he could beach it and patch the leak. My morning's accomplishment was a simple load of laundry.

After the dinghy is repaired, we'll probably take another jitney ride to see the rest of the island and explore the downtown area.

WE MADE IT TO THE BAHAMAS, MON!

2008-11-30T15:19:00.000-05:00

Just after dawn on the day after Thanksgiving, we started the engines on Sunshine, raised the anchor, and motor-sailed out into the Atlantic, headed for Nassau.

We had waited several days for the weather to be calm enough for us to safely cross the Gulf Stream. Our weather window looked good for two to three days.

The Gulf Stream is a deep, wide river of water off the southeastern U.S. coast, with north-moving currents up to four knots. Ships heading north use the current to speed them along. Sailors like us, with relatively small boats, try to avoid crossing the Gulf Stream when strong opposing winds from the north can kick up mammoth waves.

Therefore, wise sailors wait until there are no North winds in the forecast. Any winds under ten knots from the south, southeast or southwest will usually give you a calm crossing. And that's what we had.

Once you enter the Gulf Stream, which this day began about four miles off the coast of Florida, the water turns a deep violet blue. As we traveled along, we spotted large jelly fish pulsating in the water. Creatures that looked like bubbles floated on top of the water. Perhaps they were another type of jelly fish. At times, the surface of the water was smooth. At other times, there was just the hint of waves. It was a beautiful day. The word that best describes our Gulf Stream crossing was "uneventful."

We approached the Bimini Islands about 3:00 p.m. Our course led us through a small cut between Gun Cay (cay is pronounced "key" in the Bahamas) and Cat Cay. (We didn't see any guns or any cats.) Once through the cut, the 2,500 ft. depth immediately changed to 10 feet of beautiful gin-clear, aquamarine water. In fact, it was so clear that we had to keep checking our depth sounder to convince ourselves it was actually ten feet deep and not two or three.

This was the Bahama Banks, the beautiful shallow sea of the Bahama Islands. We steered a careful course to make sure we stayed within the deeper channel. It would have been easy to go aground just a few yards outside the channel. But the course was relatively straight and, with the help of our chart plotter and auto pilot, we kept moving.

As the sun set, we watched for the famous "green flash" that people report seeing just as the sun sinks below the horizon (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Green_flash). We saw none, but Mac on Cat's Paw claimed he saw one. We'll keep trying every day until we have seen it.

Soon it was dark. Pitch black. The no-moon kind of dark. We traveled on through the night, following the light on Cat's Paw and carefully checking our course on the chart plotter. We also kept our eye on our radar screen to keep track of other boats in the area.

I discovered that depth perception, at least for me, is non-existent in the dark. With no land masses or structures as points of reference, it was difficult for me to tell whether a light was 20 feet away or two miles away. It was also difficult to tell if the light was moving or still. I may get used to night crossings, but it's going to take a while.

We had something that passed for dinner, but I don't even remember the menu. One of us ate while the other drove, then we switched and the driver ate. Late in the evening, we made a pot of coffee. We each took turns trying to nap, but one hour each was the best we could do.

About 2:30 a.m. we reached the end of the Bahamas Banks and the beginning of the Tongue of the Ocean, a 45-mile wide channel of deep water (4,500 ft) running north and south through the middle of the Bahama Islands. Where the Tongue of the Ocean met the shallow Bahama Banks, the waves were much stronger. At the same time, the winds had increased to about 15 knots, much greater than the 5-10 knot winds that were forecast.

Soon, it became rough enough that we had to hold tight when we moved around the boat. We couldn't see the wave action in the dark, but we could feel as the rocking horse movement began to increase. Even sitting at the helm, we had to hang on to keep from getting pitched out of the chair.

The rising sun around 6:00 a.m. was a welcome sight. Being able to see our surroundings lowered our stress level. We might as well have been in the middle of the Atlantic because we couldn't see land in any direction. We had been traveling 24 hours at this point and had another eight hours to reach Nassau.

The last 50 miles seemed to take forever. It was around 11:00 a.m. when we finally spotted New Providence Island in the distance, but it took another two hours to reach Nassau Harbor.

Once inside the harbor the winds calmed and the turbulence stopped. We glided past cruise ships and resorts. Hundreds of people were lined up to board a Carnival cruise ship. Young people on jet skis zoomed around the harbor, sometimes cutting recklessly close to our boat. The weather was beautiful and the water was the same clear blue-green that we saw on the Bahama Banks.

We followed Cat's Paw to a marina where we had reservations and within a few minutes both Cat's Paw and Sunshine were securely tied in our slips. We were not allowed to leave the boat until customs and immigration authorities had visited our boats, which happened within an hour.

This trip has been our most challenging experience so far and we are glad to have it completed. We are pleased to have made the trip, but I've decided that overnight crossings are my least favorite aspect of cruising. I would like to reserve them for times when we have no other option.

It's good to know that folks our age can actually remain awake and functioning for 31 hours straight. I do know that we were exhausted when we got here. We slept for 12 hours last night and are still not very energetic today. I'm hoping we'll be back to normal by tomorrow.

Today's activity consisted of washing one load of laundry here at the marina and visiting the grocery, which is right across the street. Food prices here are very high. A gallon of milk is $8.95 and bananas are $1.09/pound. We are going to have to alter our eating habits and learn to eat local. To that end, I bought Goombay punch, which we love, and pigeon peas, which I will fix with rice when I get my nerve up. Fresh pineapples were the only bargain in the produce department, so I bought one of those, too.

We are truly excited to be in the Bahamas. There is another northeastern front with very strong winds moving in tomorrow and prudence dictates that we'll be here until Wednesday waiting for it to pass before we begin moving down into the Exumas.

Isn't that a shame!!...stuck in Nassau for three days. We'll get another good night's sleep and then do some sightseeing.

Go Colts.

AN OVERNIGHTER ON THE OCEAN

2008-11-22T14:39:00.000-05:00

After several months of cruising, we had begun to feel that we are ready to handle a winter in the Bahamas.

We had sailed the Intracoastal Waterway from Georgia down the Atlantic coast to the Keys and up the Gulf Coast to Naples, then back to Georgia. No major problems. No accidents. No one overboard unintentionally. We had not destroyed, or even (significantly) damaged, our boat or any other boats or docks. We have become reasonably proficient at anchoring, piloting, maintenance and repair.

The one thing we had not accomplished, until a couple of weeks ago, was an overnight sail.

While we were anchored at Lake Worth, we met a couple, Dick and Jan, anchored nearby on a large catamaran named Cambia. These new friends, both retired music teachers, had been sailing for nearly ten years. As we visited, they mentioned that they were going to make the 12-hour trip "outside" from Lake Worth (Palm Beach) to Miami on Thursday, leaving about 5:00 p.m.

Traveling on the ocean instead of the Intracoastal would eliminate having to negotiate 20 draw bridges between Palm Beach and Ft. Lauderdale. The trip from Ft. Lauderdale to Miami would have to be outside anyway, since there is a fixed bridge north of Miami that our 57' mast is too tall to pass under.

Dick and Jan had made this trip before. The weather forecast was for calm seas and light winds. We took a deep breath and asked if we could go with them.

Just before 5:00 p.m., we fired up the engines and headed out to sea, following Cambia at a safe distance. About two miles out, we headed south. It didn't take long for the sun to set. Slowly, the light faded until we had to strain to see the water in front of us. I worried for a while about what we might run into, but finally decided it was useless to be concerned about something I couldn't control.

The ocean swells raised and lowered the boat, but there were no breaking waves, only a gentle swaying up and down. There weren't many fellow boaters, but the ones we encountered had the proper lights for the most part.

We lit up Sunshine like a Christmas tree by turning on every light available, even more than required. We wanted to make sure that other boats could see us. Phil drove and we scanned the horizon every minute or two and watched the radar for other boats.

The hours passed. We ate cheese and crackers for dinner, donned our "fowlies" as the weather began to chill, and played Nora Jones and James Taylor on the stereo.

About 1:00 a.m., we passed the Port Everglades inlet at Ft. Lauderdale and had to dodge freighters, cruise ships and barges that were entering and exiting the port. I was surprised at the amount of traffic in the middle of the night. Radar helped us estimate the distance between us and other boats, but I still worried about being on a collision course with an ocean liner. We made it past Port Everglades without incident.

We arrived in sight of Miami about 4:30 a.m., but it seemed to take forever to actually get to the inlet, called Government Cut. I was driving at this point and there were several cruise ships in the area. Some were anchored outside the entrance to the channel. Some were moving.

As we entered the channel, our path was marked by flashing lights. Red on the right. Green on the left. All I had to do was stay between them as we approached Government Cut. Luck was with us and no ships were following us into the channel or leaving as we approached.

Dick and Jan had arrived before us and talked us into the anchorage, which was not far from the inlet and on the southwest side of Fisher Island. We anchored near them at 5:30 a.m. As I looked to the west, the Miami skyline was almost on top of us. It was a gorgeous picture post-card view.

We fell into bed and slept soundly until late in the morning.

First overnight passage. Mission accomplished!

BLOB ATTACKS BOAT!

2008-11-22T07:58:00.000-05:00

Our trip down the Intracoastal Waterway from Titusville to Palm Beach was uneventful...until we arrived at our destination.

Motoring into the North Lake Worth anchorage, we heard and felt something hit the port hull and then bounce along underneath the boat. As we watched, an object bobbed up behind the stern and floated away. It appeared to be the remnants of a palm tree, barely visible above the surface.

Suddenly, the port engine began to vibrate, causing the whole boat to shake. We switched off that engine and proceeded into the anchorage using only the starboard engine. Once we got anchored, we tried the port engine again, and again the engine rattled and the boat shook. We both had visions of a broken propeller and another $400 haul-out to fix it.

It was nearly dark, so we had dinner and went to bed with somber thoughts of high-priced repairs.

The next morning, Phil donned a snorkeling mask and swam under the boat to inspect the propeller. He soon dislodged a four-foot mess of tree bark and fiber. We took the attached picture of the "blob" that had attacked our propeller.

Back on board, Phil started up the port engine, which now purred like a cat. Crisis averted!

We enjoyed a wonderful three-day visit with my brother, Allen, and his wife Dorie, whose lovely winter home is just a few miles from the anchorage. We celebrated an early Thanksgiving with them, made trips to WalMart and West Marine for supplies, and did our laundry.

We relaxed on their huge screened-in porch, enjoyed dinners in and out, chatted about politics and got caught up on family news. Life in Palm Beach Gardens is good.

We pulled the anchor late Thursday afternoon and headed out for our first overnight sail, which would take us from Palm Beach to Miami. I'll describe that trip in the next post.

Margaret

SPLASHED!

2008-11-10T17:15:00.000-05:00

In cruiser language, getting "splashed" means having your boat put back in the water. Sunshine got splashed last Thursday (Nov. 6th). Her bottom has been sanded and painted and her hulls have been compounded and buffed. She is like a new boat!

We decided to remain at the dock for several days to finish up some projects and work on our provisioning for the Bahamas. Although there are grocery stores in the Bahamas, most things are very expensive, especially paper products, toiletries, wine, American beer, soft drinks, canned meat and canned fruits and vegetables.

All the cruising guides and the Bahama veterans have told us to provision well, so that's what I've been doing. I've made two trips to Walmart so far and will need a third visit to complete my list.

It's difficult to anticipate how much toilet paper, detergent, sunscreen, paper towels, toothpaste, crackers, canned food, etc., two people might need during the next six months. We are also going to have guests on board part of the time, so I'm guessing on a lot of the items.

I hope we will be eating lots of fresh-caught fish and local fruits and vegetables. But in case the fish aren't biting and we can't find local veggies, we'll have plenty of spaghetti with canned tomato sauce, rice and beans and peanut butter to tide us over.

Finding a place for all these provisions has been a challenge, but I've been surprised at what I can stash here and there. I just hope I remember where I've put things.

The Bahamas does have a lot of food and drink bargains. Rum, of course, is cheap and plentiful. The local beer, called Kalik, is tasty and inexpensive. Several items are imported from the UK and are real bargains, including butter in tins. You can also usually find beans, rice and flour.

I have a few more projects to finish before we leave Titusville, including making a cover for Phil's bicycle and giving Sunshine a good cleaning, inside and out. Phil has been busy fixing mechanical problems and making sure we have all the spare parts we need for six months out of the country.

We had originally planned to spend Thanksgiving with family in Palm Beach, but have decided to advance our schedule a bit. We'll leave Titusville later this week, anchor out at Melbourne the first night and Jensen Beach the second night, where we'll visit good friends from Greenwood. Then we'll move on south to Lake Worth, where we'll anchor out and have an early Thanksgiving with my brother Allen and his wife Dorie.

Afterwards, we'll go a little further south, perhaps the Miami area, and wait for a "weather window" to cross to the Bahamas. We are thinking of going straight through to Nassau, a 32-hour trip. Sailing overnight will be a new experience for us and our first trip across the Gulf Stream should produce some exciting blog posts.

Margaret

On the hard in Titusville

2008-10-30T14:37:00.000-04:00

We arrived in Titusville, Florida on Sunday, October 18th. The wind was blowing about 20 knots, which made anchoring rather tricky.

Sunshine was bucking like a bronco and the wind was blowing us backward at about 4 knots as we let out the anchor. Phil was trying to balance on the bow as he monitored the chain coming out. I was at the helm, trying without much success to keep our backward motion to a minimum. The anchor caught suddenly and the boat jerked to a stop, nearly flipping Phil overboard.

We were glad when we got back inside the cabin and were able to settle in for the night.

By Monday morning, the wind had calmed and we dinghied ashore to Westland Marina, where we planned to have Sunshine hauled out of the water for a couple of weeks.

We checked in at the office and arranged the haul-out for Wednesday morning. Then, we took a short tour of Titusville in the car that our good friend Rich Tanner had kindly left for us to use. Rich, owner of a PDQ 36 named Feral Cat, had spent the summer at Titusville but headed south before we arrived.

In it's heyday, Titusville was home to most of the people who worked at nearby Cape Canaveral. NASA's diminished role in the last few years has taken a toll on this once flourishing town, but it still has the basic cruising necessities: a WalMart, a West Marine, and a boatyard with a lift to haul out our catamaran, and that allows you to remain on your boat and, most important, allows you to do your own work.

Marinas can make more money using their own employees to work on boats. As a result, do-it-yourself boatyards are becoming rare, and Westland Marina is one of the few remaining.

We were up early on Wednesday, getting ready for our haul-out. We motored Sunshine into the marina and tied up at the designated dock. When the traveling lift was in place, the dock workers pulled Sunshine into place. Slings were placed under the boat in front and back of her keel and she was hoisted up out of the water.

The travel lift carried Sunshine to an empty spot in the boatyard and lowered her so that she was resting on her keels, with two jacks in back to balance her 8,000 pounds.

We are able to live on board with most of the comforts of home, except for the head (bathroom). The bathhouse is a short walk away, so we are not suffering much.

We have been "on the hard," as they say, for a week and a half. Phil has completed sanding, priming and painting the bottom and I am working on buffing and waxing the hulls above the newly painted bottom.

We'll be out of the water for a few more days before we get "splashed," then plan to remain at anchor here at Titusville while we provision for our trip south, eventually winding up at West Palm Beach for Thanksgiving with family.

We are pleased with the results of our first major do-it-yourself project on Sunshine.

Margaret

SUNSHINE IS ON THE MOVE!

2008-10-16T17:55:00.000-04:00

Wednesday morning, October 15, 9:30 a.m., we untied the dock lines and backed Sunshine, our 36' catamaran, out of her slip at Brunswick Landing Marina and headed south.

After a month and a half docked at Brunswick, just north of the Georgia-Florida line, we had grown soft and lazy. We had indulged in hot showers, letting the water run and run, free laundry, cable television, nightly cocktail parties on Dock 10, and our car only a few yards away, ready for a quick trip to WalMart or West Marine.

Mid-October was bringing a chill to the night air and we had promised ourselves to always be where the butter melted, so it was definitely time to begin our trek south, first to Florida and then to the Bahamas, where we planned to spend the winter.

We had spent the summer back home in Greenwood, Indiana. While in Indiana, we visited the Sailrite sewing machine factory in Churubusco, near Ft. Wayne, and purchased a sewing machine designed to make and repair sails and do canvas work.

All serious cruisers have Sailrites. With this marvelous machine, you can sew up to eight layers of canvas! It's definitely not a sewing machine for wusses.

My first project on the Sailrite was to make dinghy chaps (see photo). Inflatable dinghy's are like a car for cruisers. The dinghy is how you get from the boat to shore when you are anchored out. UV rays damage rubber dinghy's, so wise cruisers put coats on their dinghys, called "chaps." Chaps also prevent passengers from getting the dreaded "dinghy butt."

My friend Val, from La Buena Vida, encouraged me to make the chaps. She had made a set for her own dinghy. She got the fabric for me (Sunbrella) at a great price and gave me advice on how to make a pattern and fit the chaps to the dinghy. It was a week-long project, but when I was finished, the dinghy had a new coat.

A neighboring cruiser saw our dinghy chaps and said he had thought about buying some, but the price was $600. If our dinghy chaps are worth $600, we've nearly paid for our Sailrite already!

The second project was a screen for our companionway (another photo), which is the main door to our cabin, That project took only one day to complete and keeps the bugs out.

Our first day of travel took us outside into the Atlantic. Our traveling companions, Harold and Val on La Buena Vida, could not use the Intracoastal Waterway because their mast is too tall (66') to fit under some of the bridges and their draft (6') is too deep for the shallow ICW. Sunshine's mast is only 58' and our draft is less than 3'.

We had a fine wind and made good time with our sails up and the motor running, but the motion of the large waves and swells made both Phil and me a little green around the gills, so to speak, for most of the afternoon. Sometimes it takes a day or two to get used to the sea again after you've been away.

We anchored for the night in the shelter of Cumberland Island. The next morning, we decided to take the ICW and parted company with our friends on La Buena Vida.

The next two days on the ICW were calm and quiet. We motored seven or eight hours each day and found nice, quiet anchorages each night. Last night, we anchored in sight of the remains of Ft. Matansas, built by the Spanish in 1740 to try to keep the English from advancing down into Spanish-held Florida.

The ICW is not as fast as going "outside," but the scenery is incredible and the ride is fairly smooth. Some have described the ICW as how America looked before it was developed. There are no fast food restaurants, no filling stations, or malls, or subdivisions. In some places, especially in Georgia, you can travel for miles without seeing a house.

Now that we are in Florida, we see more homes, lots of other boats, and many people fishing. Wildlife is everywhere, including Great Egrets, Great Blue Herons, brown pelicans, white pelicans, gulls, terns, and ospreys by the dozens. Yesterday, I even saw a huge wood stork fishing along the water's edge. Dolphins play around the boat.

As I write this post, it's Saturday morning, October 18th. We are beginning our fourth day on the water. The weather has been beautiful and all the systems on the boat are working well. We should be in Titusville, by tomorrow afternoon.

Margaret

Ready for an ADVENTURE!

2008-09-20T15:28:00.000-04:00

Our catamaran, Sunshine, is docked at Brunswick Landing Marina, just across the Florida border in Georgia.

We're within a few miles of Jekyll, St. Simon's and Cumberland Islands, all "out islands" of Georgia's Atlantic coast, each with lots of history and beautiful beaches.

This is the land of plantations, shrimp and grits and low country boil.

There are about 150 boats docked at Brunswick Landing. About a quarter of them are occupied and more owners are returning every week.

Many people leave their boats here for the summer, then return in the fall and head to the Bahamas, South America, the Virgin Islands, Turks and Caicos, Dominican Republic, etc., etc.

It's a very social place. Every evening at 6:00 p.m., people from all over our marina gather on Dock 10 for cocktails.

Don't ask me why the party is always on Dock 10, instead of Dock 2 or 4 or 7. The people whose boats are on Dock 10 will tell you it's because they are the cool people. That might be. Those Dock 10 folks are definitely very cool. But there are cool people on the other docks, too.

Sunshine is on Dock 2. Val and Harold on La Buena Vida are on Dock 8. Doug and Marlene on Cop Out are on Dock 3. Our friend Dave Robbins is on Dock 7. We are all pretty cool, but we still gather at 6:00 o'clock on Dock 10 because that's where the party is.

The other evening at Dock 10's nightly gathering, Dave Robbins mentioned that he had been hired to captain a big, beautiful sail boat from this marina to the Virgin Islands in December. He asked if any of us knew someone who might be interested in going along as cook for the crew.

I immediately thought of a close friend of mine from Greenwood. I knew her job would allow her to take a few weeks off and I thought she might be interested in an adventure. I sent her an e-mail and she answered immediately: "You're really serious, aren't you? YES, I'M INTERESTED!"

I put her in touch with Dave and the two of them have had several phone conversations. I also invited her to come visit us for a few days so she could get acquainted with Dave and the boat. (The boat is a 56-foot Oyster sailboat, reputed to be worth more than $2-million.) My friend will be arriving in Brunswick next Thursday for a long weekend with us. We are looking forward to her visit.

If all goes well and she and Dave think they can work together, she'll be looking forward to a great paid vacation for the month of December, on a beautiful boat sailing to an exotic location.

Georgia is beginning to cool off. We've had a few beautiful days with high's in the mid-80's, dropping into the 60's at night. Perfect weather for boat projects.

Phil has changed the oil in both engines and replaced the fuel filters. He removed the motor from our 9-foot dinghy (no small feat), then hoisted the dinghy onto the dock so I can fashion some "chaps" for our dinghy, using my new Sailrite sewing machine. The Sunbrella material has been delivered and I'm working on a pattern. The chaps will cover the dinghy, protecting it from the destructive UV rays and also protecting the passengers from the dreaded "dingy butt."

This morning, I used my Sailrite and screening material called Phifertex to fashion a screen door for our companionway, allowing the breeze to pass through but keeping the bugs out.

We are in the middle of "love bug" season here in Southern Georgia. In the heat of the afternoon, thousands of bugs that look like small lightening bugs appear in the air looking for mates. They hook up and fly around, connected, driving people into fits of love-bug-swatting. We are hoping our new screen door will keep the love bugs out of the boat.

Life is good here at Brunswick Landing Marina. We are completing projects and getting organized for a winter adventure in the Bahamas.

We hope to have time for some exploration north of here in the Carolinas during October and early November. During that time, we'll have the boat hauled out for a bottom-painting. Then we'll head south to celebrate Thanksgiving with my brother Allen and his wife Dorie in Palm Beach Gardens, Florida.

Then...we'll cross the Gulf Stream to the Bahamas.

Margaret

A Hot Time in Georgia

2008-09-09T20:57:00.001-04:00

Don't let anybody tell you that Georgia starts to cool down in September. It's HOT here.

Today, we took a road trip with our friends Val and Harold from La Buena Vida. They are having engine problems that seem to defy diagnosis, so they need to find a marina that will "haul" their boat and let them work on it themselves.

Cruisers are a self-sufficient bunch and we like to do as much work for ourselves as possible. In the case of Val and Harold, this means finding a marina that will 1) haul their boat out of the water using a huge crane with straps, 2) let them do the work themselves (or have their favorite mechanic do the work), and 3) allow them to continue living on their boat while it is "on the hard" as they say. All of this must be at a reasonable price.

Most port towns have marinas, but services and charges range from reasonable to astronomical. Our road trip today took us to Fernandina Beach and Green Cove Springs, Florida. Harold and Val wanted to see the marinas and talk to the dock masters. Green Cove Springs, just south of Jacksonville, turned out to be what they were looking for.

We all enjoyed the trip and it was cool in the air conditioned car. We stopped for lunch at a local place in Green Cove Springs and Phil and I split the Tuesday lunch special...20 wings for the price of ten. I washed my wings down with an ice cold beer.

We returned to the boat around 4:30 p.m. The thermometer in the salon read 98 degrees. We got it down to 85 after opening all the hatches (windows) and turning on all the fans.

Around 6:00 p.m., we met with a young man named Trey, who the locals say is very good at teaching folks like us the finer points of sailing. We arranged for him to come aboard for a couple of days and help us hone our skills.

We are still waiting for the refrigerator part to be delivered. In the meantime, we make daily runs for ice to keep our perishables cool. I am looking forward to having a real working fridge on the boat.

Tomorrow, I will begin my first project using the Sailrite sewing machine that Phil and I purchased this summer at the Sailrite factory in Churubusko (Indiana). A Sailrite is a special heavy-duty sewing machine that can sew through eight layers of canvas. You can repair your sails and do many other boat projects with a Sailrite.

My first project will be to make a canvas "coat" for our dingy. It will protect the dinghy from the UV rays, giving it a longer life, but most important it will save me from the dreaded "dinghy butt."

Life on board is good...warm, but good. We have been spared the ravages of the recent hurricanes and tropical storms. We are keeping our fingers crossed until hurricane season ends in November.

I hope we'll still be here the third week in September. Brunswick is having a Shrimp and Grits Festival. It doesn't get any better than that.

WE'RE BACK!

2008-09-05T18:46:00.001-04:00

Our last post was in late May, as we were leaving Sunshine, our PDQ 36 catamaran, at Brunswick, Georgia and heading back to Greenwood, Indiana for the summer.

After cruising for five months on Sunshine earlier this year, the transition to dry land was not easy for me. It took at least a month after getting home for me to be comfortable with the change. We had loved our simple cruising life, and I found it difficult to return to our old life, and for me, to return to work.

But we persevered, and the summer turned out to be a wonderful time of getting reacquainted with friends and family. We accomplished many projects, hosted some great pool parties and get-togethers, attended four weddings, and spent precious time with our grandkids, ages four and seven. The best grandkid times were when they came for sleep-overs (or "awake-overs" as our 7-year-old granddaughter calls them).

With the approach of fall, Sunshine was calling for us to return. We left Greenwood Wednesday morning (September 3rd) in a car packed to the gills with "boat stuff." We stayed overnight just south of Atlanta and arrived at Brunswick Landing Marina Thursday afternoon.

Sunshine was just as we left her three months ago. She had been through a "blow" with Tropical Storm Faye a couple of weeks ago, but showed no signs of any damage. Several friends are here at this marina with their boats, waiting out hurricane season.

As we watch Tropical Storm Hanna work her way up the East Coast far north of us and listen to reports of Hurricane Ike ready to ravage the Bahamas and then possibly the Florida Keys, we are counting our weather blessings, so far.

We'll be here in Brunsick for at least a week or so. Phil is busy removing the old refrigerator and getting ready to install a new one. I'm still finding places to put away all the things we brought with us.

Brunswick is an old port city a few miles up a river from the coast. We can walk to the old downtown area, which has several nice restaurants and shops, and a great farmers market on Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays.

I visited the farmers market this morning and brought back spiced pecans, Georgia peaches, some home-made pure cane syrup (which I read was necessary for authentic Bahamian rum punch), blueberries, delicious large round grapes that no one knew the name of, tomatoes, and Perky Pear Relish and Hot Pepper Jelly, made by a guy named Richard.

About a dozen shrimp boats are docked just up the river from the marina. A sky full of pelicans over the boats signals their return each day and you can walk over to the boats and buy fresh-caught shrimp. The cost of fuel and over-fishing have diminished the catch and raised prices, but $5.00 a pound still isn't bad.

I'll add some pictures to the blog in the next day or two and give you an update on the refrigerator install. When the new fridge is in place and working, we hope to head north and explore the coasts of North and South Carolina, and perhaps get as far as the Chesapeake before cold weather arrives. After that, we'll head south and maybe make it to the Bahamas for the winter season.

Margaret

Winding Down

2008-05-22T19:28:00.001-04:00

We reached Brunswick Landing Marina this afternoon. This is where we will leave our boat for the summer. We are nearing the end of our first journey and we're not quite sure how to feel.

We are definitely looking forward to returning to Indiana and seeing our family and friends. But at the same time we have experienced a new way of life that we don't want to give up.

This trip began in January near Savannah, Georgia. With almost no boating experience but lots of enthusiasm, we sailed from Savannah south along the Atlantic Coast, down through the Florida Keys, up the west coast of Florida to Naples, back through the Keys and back up the Atlantic Coast to Georgia.

Along the way, we have learned to:

--find good, safe places to anchor

-- set the anchor on the boat so it doesn't drag (almost never)

--read a marine chart and understand markers and what they mean

--communicate with bridge tenders, the Coast Guard, and other boaters via the VHF radio

--maintain and repair most of the systems on the boat when they fail

--sail (although you never really stop learning how to sail)

--predict the weather (you automatically double NOAA's estimate of wind speed and wave height and learn that whatever direction you will be traveling, the wind will usually be coming towards you)

--live happily without television, a car, a washer and dryer, hair dryer, make-up, and a hot shower every day.

--catch fish, clean them and cook them

--live nearly "off the grid." In other words, we can produce almost enough electricity through solar panels and a wind generator to cover our power needs. Eventually, we hope to live totally "off the grid."

In addition to getting the best tans we've ever had and lots of exercise and fresh air, we have also met too many new friends to count. Cruisers are the most interesting, caring, adventurous folks you can imagine.

Getting to know other cruisers is almost effortless. Everyone wants to socialize and parties and pot lucks happen at the drop of a hat. We all have so much in common and so much to talk about.

Some of the people we've met have sailed around the world. Many spend their winters in the Bahamas or the Keys, some have traveled all of the Great Lakes, explored the Chesapeake, traversed the Panama Canal. Others have sailed to South America, Asia, the Phillipines, Fiji Islands, Australia, and New Zealand.

Many have raised their children aboard their boats. The children of cruisers we have met are amazingly social, interesting and very knowledgeable about the world.

Our cruising friends have also helped us "learn the ropes." They have shared their knowledge and encouraged us from the beginning when this project was just a dream.

I don't think we could have accomplished this journey without the help of our cruising friends....Rich on Feral Cat, Bonnie and Roger on Kokomo, Sam and Gina on Lady of the Lake, Harold and Val on La Buena Vida, Pam and Richard on Tisha Baby, Lloyd and Caroline on Amelia Rose, Brian and Lynn on Midori, Rana and Mike on Raven, Rick and Mary on Tranquillity, Don and Diane on Fitzcat, Chris and Bruce on Sojourn, and Russ on Bay Breeze.

We have learned so much from all of them and many others. Cruisers are a breed apart.

So here we are. We'll fly home next week and resume our previous life for the summer. Sunshine will stay here in Brunswick.

We'll give you a report on our adjustment to life on land as well as our future plans.

Thanks for listening.

Phil and Margaret

500 Miles to Brunswick, Georgia

2008-05-12T14:28:00.000-04:00

It was finally time to begin our journey north to Brunswick, Georgia, just across the northern border of Florida. We have made plans to leave our boat there for the summer while we return to Greenwood.

We vacated our mooring ball in Boot Key Harbor on Sunday, May 4th, and headed up the Keys in the company of two other boats, La Buena Vida (Harold and Val) and Bay Breeze (Russ).

The first day we made it to Rodriguez Key, just south of Key Largo. The second day we got to No Name Harbor, at the bottom of Key Biscayne, where we stayed for a couple of days to rest and enjoy the beautiful state park there.

We left No Name Harbor on Wednesday, May 7th, and turned north in Biscayne Bay, exiting through Miami's Government Cut out into the Atlantic. All three boats decided to go out into deeper water to see if the fishing was better.

We headed out about three miles and were soon in 600 feet of water, on the edge of the Gulf Stream. The water was a beautiful indigo blue. We could see for miles and the influence of the Gulf Stream gave us a fast ride north.

As we scanned the horizon to the east, we saw an island with high rise buildings and a large water tower. A quick check on the chart plotter indicated we were looking at Bimini, in the Bahamas! It was 42 miles east of Miami and clearly visible.

We both decided that being able to see Bimini from Miami made it seem close enough that we might actually be able to make that crossing next winter.

It was a great day of motor-sailing, but we did not catch any fish. We anchored that night in a quiet Ft. Lauderdale residential area called Middle River.

The next day's sail, to West Palm Beach, was not one of our better days. The weather forecast had called for five to eight knot winds and two to four foot seas. The wind began picking up late in the morning and we were soon dealing with winds gusting to 25 knots and 5-8 foot seas. It was a most uncomfortable ride and at the end of the day, we were pleased to have it behind us.

We rested and resupplied for a couple of days at North Lake Worth, then prepared to resume our journey on Saturday, May 10th. Our plans changed quickly when we discovered that Sunshine's port engine would not start.

The three captains conferred, tested, and conferred some more, finally deciding that our starter motor was the problem. After several phone calls and more conferring, they found a mechanic who was working on the weekend (it was Saturday) and who agreed to rebuild the starter. Phil quickly removed it and he and Harold dinghied to shore. They took a taxi to the shop and were back within a few hours, with a rebuilt starter motor.

That night, everyone came to our boat to celebrate with a steak dinner and strawberry shortcake. As we were preparing dinner, someone noticed that a boat that had anchored next to us, a catamaran named "Suitsus," was dragging its anchor. There was no one aboard.

Our three captains decided that immediate action was needed to keep the boat from colliding with pilings behind it. Quickly, they launched two dinghies, each carrying an extra anchor and plenty of line. The two additional anchors were soon secured to the wandering catamaran and it came to a stop, averting near certain disaster.

The boat's owner, his wife and son returned to their boat as we were finishing our dinner. They realized immediately that their boat was not where they left it, noticed the two additional anchors, and let us know how grateful they were for our help.

Sunday morning, we headed north again. The destination was Jensen Beach. Again, the weather forecast was incorrect and light winds turned into 30 knot winds by early afternoon. Fortunately, we had decided to travel on the IntraCoastal Waterway (ICW), which is an interior route. Even in the protection of the ICW, the winds were very strong.

As we were about to cross under a high-rise bridge, about five miles from Jensen Beach, we noticed that Bay Breeze was having problems. He was without power and was forced to throw out his anchor.

We turned around and came back to lend moral support. The winds were too strong to attempt any repairs, so Russ had called SeaTow for assistance. (SeaTow is AAA for boats.) Within a few minutes, SeaTow arrived.

At about the same time, Phil and I noticed that two young boys had overturned a kayak about 500 yards away. We watched as a boy on a jet ski rescued one of the boys, but a second was still waving his arms in distress. We alerted the SeaTow captain, who immediately went to aid the second boy.

After he took the boy to safety, the SeaTow captain returned and towed Bay Breeze to the anchorage. We followed behind.

As we pulled into the Jensen Beach anchorage, Phil and I noticed that Suitsus, the wandering catamaran from the night before, was also already there. We anchored beside him, not behind him.

With all three boats safely anchored, we all went ashore and had a great Mother's Day dinner at a waterfront restaurant called Conchy Joe's.

Today, Russ, a mechanic before he became a cruiser, was able to fix his boat. We are all getting together for dinner tonight and will likely resume our journey tomorrow morning.

The wind is still howling.

Key West Independence Celebration and Andy's Visit

2008-05-01T15:57:00.000-04:00

There's no place else quite like Key West.

It's only about 50 miles from Marathon, which we could have sailed in one long day, but we decided to take our time and make it a two-day trip. We anchored in Newfound Harbor, a little more than half the way. The next day (Tuesday, April 22nd), we sailed into Key West about two in the afternoon.

There were a couple of places to anchor right across the busy main channel near the "Old Town" area, which were already quite full of boats. There was also a mooring field, but it was located a long dinghy-ride away from the festivities.

I suggested we try to find some space in one of the anchorages closest to the festivities. The wind and current were both strong from the north, and the anchorage didn't provide a lot of protection, but we managed to get the anchor set well. We seemed to be far enough from the other boats.

We dinghied into the main Key West harbor (called Key West Bight) and walked around the bustling waterfront. We had an early dinner at the Turtle Kraal Restaurant overlooking the harbor, then returned to the boat around 7:00 for an early bedtime.

A loud air horn awakened us from a sound sleep around midnight. We rushed to the cockpit and discovered another boat precariously bobbing barely three feet in front of our bow.

I started the engines while Phil went forward to discuss the situation with the captain of the other boat. The other captain was determined that he should not be required to move, even though our boat was still in the same relative position as when we anchored and he had moved closer to us.

Since we were the last to anchor, and further negotiations with the other captain seemed fruitless, we upped the anchor. It was very dark and the wind was howling. We tried to re-anchor a little farther away, but couldn't get the anchor to set.

After two or three more tries, we gingerly made our way in the dark across the channel to a second anchorage with fewer boats. The first couple of tries didn't hold, and we discussed the possibility of just cruising around for the rest of the night in the dark, but a third try was successful and the anchor seemed well set.

Our anchoring faith had been tested, however, and we shared "anchor watches" the rest of the night, with one sleeping and the other awake to be sure the anchor didn't drag.

Daylight found us groggy, but safely anchored in the same place. We quickly decided that moving to the mooring balls was the best choice for guaranteeing a good night's sleep, even though the mooring balls were farther away from the festivities.

We spent Wednesday and Thursday nights safely attached to the mooring balls. Wednesday we rested and did projects on board. Thursday, we agreed we deserved to have some fun.

We dinghied to the nearest dock, about a mile away, and walked about a mile to the downtown area. We met friends for an early dinner and then headed down Duvall Street for the Conch Republic Independence Parade.

It was a most unusual parade, to say the least. Thousands of tourists lined Duvall Street. The parade featured the Conch Republic Hair Force (Key West locals wearing inflatable airplanes around their waists and big Marge Simpson hairdos): the Conch Republic CIA (Cuties in Action) consisting of women in bright costumes on roller skates; various Conch Republic dignitaries, lots of costumed pirates throwing candy and necklaces, and other floats that simply defy description. Everyone had a great time.

It was a total spoof of every kind of parade you have ever seen. The police presence was almost nonexistent, unlike parades we are accustomed to. The motorcycle officers we did see were wearing necklaces and leighs.

On Friday, we left the mooring field and moved to a marina on Stock Island, just east of Key West, to await the arrival of our younger son, Andy, who was flying in from Seattle to spend a few days with us.

Andy's plane arrived in Ft. Lauderdale after midnight Friday. He rented a car and drove the three and a half hours to Key West, arriving at the marina about 4:30 a.m. Saturday.

We welcomed him aboard, talked for a while, then everyone retired to our staterooms to finish our night's sleep.

The next few days, we enjoyed more Conch Republic festivities, including watching a "bed race" up Duvall Street. We ate lots of seafood, took Andy on a day sail in some pretty bumpy seas, and saw the sights of Key West. We also enjoyed just spending time with our younger son.

The visit ended too quickly. Andy headed back to Ft. Lauderdale around noon on Tuesday. We topped off the fuel tanks and headed out soon after, destined for an anchorage at Bahia Honda Key.

We had a nice sail to Bahia Honda, catching a large Black Grouper as we pulled into the anchorage around 5:00 p.m. We anchored with friends that night and shared dinner.

The next day, the winds picked up dramatically. Although we only had about eight miles to get back to Boot Key Harbor at Marathon, it was a rough eight miles. The winds increased to about 24 knots and they were right on the nose. We pounded our way through the waves, motoring and sailing, into Boot Key around noon, glad to be safely in the comfort of a harbor and secure on a mooring ball.

Grandkids, more fish, and fewer fears

2008-04-17T16:39:00.000-04:00

I have always loved the Gulf Coast of Florida. When I was a child, my family vacationed at Ft. Myers Beach every year, and I have fond memories of those trips.

Sailing up the West Coast last week to meet our son, Matt, his wife, Michelle, and our two grandchildren, Kailyn (age 6) and Tyler (age 3) in Naples was one of the high points of our journey so far.

We tied up at the Naples City Marina on Saturday, April 5th, and spent the day getting the boat ready for company. Matt called around noon on Sunday to say they had arrived at the condo where they would be staying and would come to the dock around 2:00 p.m.

Kailyn is a proficient reader. Since we were at the far end of the marina, I quickly made a series of signs and taped them along the docks leading to our boat. I knew the kids would love to follow the clues.

As Kailyn and Tyler found the last clue, they came running to the boat. We greeted them with open arms. Michelle's twin sister, Danielle, her husband, Brian, and their two sons Steven (age 6) and Ethan (age 3) came along also. After the kids made a thorough inspection of the boat, we all went out to dinner.

We spent a wonderful week with the extended family. There was lots of beach time, finding shells and starfish and making sand castles. We took a nice boat ride on Sunshine with the kids and their dads sitting up on the bow for a tour of Naples. And we ate lots of good seafood.

On Thursday, the Indiana visitors headed back home and we prepared for our journey back to Marathon and Boot Key Harbor.

While at Naples City Dock, we had met Doug and Debbie on Perigee, another catamaran, who were planning to head south about the same time we were. We left Naples on Friday morning and anchored that evening with Perigee at Jack Daniels Key, just south of Everglades City.

The weather forecast showed a cold front arriving from the North on Sunday afternoon, so we decided to leave the anchorage at dawn on Saturday morning and try to make it all the way to Marathon in one day.

The trip was about 65 miles, farther than we had ever gone in one day before. We pulled the anchor at first light, about 6:40 a.m., and followed Perigee out into the Gulf of Mexico.

All day, the wind was "on our nose" as they say. That means we were heading directly into the wind, which isn't very productive for sailing. We motored with the sails up, but finally decided the sails were slowing us down, and we pulled them in.

Motoring at about five knots, it was slow going. Our speed increased to six knots as we passed the southern tip of Florida. We said goodbye to Perigee, as they were headed to the Upper Keys, and we proceeded directly south on our own towards Marathon.

Although we weren't moving very fast, Phil did manage to catch two more large Spanish Mackerels during our trip. I filleted one and Phil filleted the second. They tasted great the next day!

There was a third fish, which we are calling the MONSTER fish, that chomped on our bait during the trip. I was at the helm. Phil was inside the boat. I suddenly heard the line make a "whee-ee-ee" sound. Before I could even pull back on the throttle and get Phil's attention, the MONSTER fish had emptied the reel of its line. There was a split second when I thought maybe I could begin to reel it in, but the 60-pound test line snapped before I could even consider grabbing the pole.

We'll never know what grabbed that line. I would like to think it was a huge Mahi or a Yellow Fin Tuna.

We passed under the Seven Mile Bridge about 7:30 p.m., close to sunset. It took us another half hour to reach the bascule bridge leading to Boot Key Habor. However, the bridge tender had gone off duty at 7:00, so we had to anchor right outside the bridge.

The light was disappearing quickly as we dropped the anchor. The first try didn't set, so we pulled the anchor and tried a second time. This time, the anchor set and we were secure for the night, just as the last light was fading.

We had been underway for nearly 14 hours and decided the cook needed a break. We dinghied to Burdine's Chiki Tiki restaurant nearby and enjoyed a fine dinner, then dinghied back to the boat and fell into bed.

First thing Sunday morning, we pulled the anchor and hailed the bridge tender, who welcomed us back to Boot Key Harbor. We managed to claim the same mooring ball (out of 226) where we had been before, and felt we had come back home.

We've been here at Boot Key Harbor for several days, stocking up on groceries, doing our laundry, and enjoying the camaraderie of old friends and meeting new friends. There are not many harbors that make you feel as welcome as Boot Key.

This weekend, we'll head to Key West. The Conch Republic Independence Celebration will begin on Friday, the 18th, and continues to the 27th. Our younger son, Andy, is flying in from Seattle to spend a few days with us beginning on Saturday, the 26th, and we are looking forward to his visit.

In case I haven't told you about the Conch Republic Fesitval, let me explain:

Back in 1982, the Navy was trying to stem the tide of Cuban refugees coming to the Keys by boat, so they installed a checkpoint at the north end of the Keys. The result was a traffic jam so great that few tourists could make it to Key West.

The mayor of Key West petitioned the Navy to remove the checkpoint, which they refused to do. So, the mayor filed papers of secession, Key West declared war on the U.S., and attacked the Key West Navy Base with rotten tomatoes. The Navy responded with water hoses.

Key West surrendered (the same day they declared war) and applied for $5-billion in foreign aid, which, of course, they never got. However, the massive publicity caused the Navy to remove the checkpoint.

After that, Key West residents began calling themselves the Conch Republic and, although the secession was mostly a publicity stunt, I think a lot of folks in Key West consider themselves separate from the United States.

We are looking forward to helping the Conch Republic celebrate the 26th anniversary of their independence from the U.S. I'll try to take lots of pictures, because I don't think I'll be able to accurately describe this event in words.

Finally, I thought it might be time to review the list of "fears" I had at the beginning of the trip:

Here was my list from February 4th:

1) The dinghy scares me. I am ashamed to admit this, but this little inflatable boat that is our "car" is difficult for me to get used to.

I am no longer afraid of the dinghy. It's still a little difficult for me to get in and out of, but it no longer scares me.

2) It scares me to go sleep on an 8,700 pound boat being held in place by single anchor. I get up during the night to make sure we are not dragging the anchor.

I still get up during the night to make sure we are not dragging the anchor, but it no longer scares me. I sleep well on the boat at anchor.

3) It scares me to try to dock this 36' by 18' yacht and then help get it securely tied up.

I think everyone is apprehensive about docking, but it no longer scares me. I've learned some techniques about estimating the effect of the current and the wind, and I've learned to slow down. I now enjoy the challenge of docking.

4) It scares me to try to pull away from a dock without crunching the back of the boat, or going aground (as I did a few days ago).

We're still working on this one, but I can't say I'm scared any more. It's definitely a challenge to pull away from the dock gracefully, especially when the wind and/or the current is pushing you back into the dock.

5) It will really scare me when we "go outside."

We have "gone outside" several times now. It is no longer scary. We watch the weather and don't take chances.

6) Learning to sail will scare me. We have very little experience at sailing and we have a lot to learn. As we learn, I will be less scared.

We have sailed a number of times and there has been nothing scary. We have both learned how to raise the sails and pull them back in. We have learned how to trim the sails to get the best effect from the wind. We are not expert sailors in any sense of the word, but we are learning a lot.

7) Our first overnight passage will scare me.

We haven't tried an overnight passage yet, but I don't think I will be scared. I will probably have a hard time staying wake, but it no longer scares me to contemplate an overnight passage.

Life is good,

Margaret

2008-04-03T17:00:00.000-04:00

A Fish Fry for Eight Hungry Sailors

Boot Key Harbor, halfway between Key Largo and Key West, is possibly the most comfortable. friendly place you would ever want to spend some time.

The one and only thing that would cause us to leave the comfort and safety of Boot Key Harbor and travel the unfamiliar territory of Southwest Florida and the Gulf of Mexico is a chance to meet up with our son, his wife, and our grandchildren, whom we haven’t seen since we left Greenwood in early January.

Fortune again smiled on these inexperienced cruisers. At a Wednesday night “meet and greet” at the Boot Key Harbor Marina, we were introduced to Lloyd and Carolyn from Minnesota on the sailboat “Amelia Rose” who were planning a trip to Charlotte Harbor, north of Naples. They had made this trip many times and invited us to join them.

A third boat, owned by Ken and Joanne, also from Minnesota, which we all christened “Bubba Boat” because none of us could pronounce her Spanish name, would also be joining our caravan.

We said goodbye to Boot Key Harbor at 8:30 Saturday morning and headed north, on our journey up the wild, mostly uninhabited Gulf Coast of Southwest Florida.

The sun was shining, the temperature was climbing into the 80’s, the winds were calm, and the sea was smooth.

We motored through the Moser Channel just outside of Boot Key, under a fixed bridge with 65’ clearance, and north into the Florida Bay. As we cleared the bridge, we all raised our sails, trying to catch a little wind to add to the speed produced by the engines.

This day would be another first: our first sail out of sight of land. I watched as the Seven Mile Bridge disappeared from view behind us. A few small keys laid to the west, but after an hour of sailing, all land disappeared and the horizon was only turquoise water for 360 degrees.

Phil and I took turns at the helm, one hour on and one hour off. Porpoises came and went, diving under the boat and playing in the wake. The chart plotter told us we were about 10 miles off shore, but we could see no land. The sun was shining brightly, but a steady breeze kept us cool.

I had been apprehensive about our first voyage out of sight of land, but like so many other aspects of this adventure, my fears gave way to wonder and exhilaration. Motor-sailing along at six knots with the boat gently rocking and no land in sight gave me a feeling of peace and comfort.

A full day of traveling brought us to the Little Shark River, part of the Everglades National Park. We traveled in to shore on a well-marked route and soon were anchored in a wide river that could easily have been the setting for a horror movie. Hurricane Wilma had left it’s mark on this beautiful river, decimating the mangrove and hardwood forest that lined the river. Even after several years of new growth, the devastation was still evident. Ichabod Crane would have felt at home here.

We anchored with the other two boats about 6:00 p.m., had dinner and settled in for an early bedtime, closing up the boat before the hordes of mosquitoes attacked at dusk. Before we went to sleep, Amelia Rose hailed us on the VHF and asked if we could be ready to leave at 7:30 the next morning, because we had 65 miles ahead of us to get to Marco Island.

Like clockwork at 7:30 a.m. Sunday morning, all three boats headed out of Shark River. We traveled about ten miles offshore and then turned to the north.

As soon as we reached deeper water, Phil prepared a fishing line with an artificial lure that looked like a small minnow, and let out the line behind the boat. Within the first hour, we had hooked a fish. I took over the helm while Captain Phil worked the line. I could see a good-sized fish bouncing along the water as he reeled it in.

We identified the catch as a Spanish Mackerel. It was about two feet long and was pretty upset at being dragged onto the boat. I put the boat on auto-pilot, and using a tip from a fellow boater, rinsed a small towel in sea water and covered the fish. He immediately stopped flopping around.

Another boater had recommended subduing a catch with a squirt of alcohol in the gills. We had no gin or vodka on board, but I did have some rubbing alcohol. A quick squirt in the gills dispatched our fish quickly, with a smile on his face.

We stored the mackerel in a cooler and covered him with ice. We hailed the other boats and bragged about our catch. Bubba Boat wanted to know exactly what kind of lure we were using, so Phil described it in detail.

Phil let out the line again and within an hour, we had hooked a second Spanish Mackerel. Again, he managed to adroitly bring the fish on board and, again, it was at least two feet long. We applied our tried and true subduing methods and the second fish soon joined the first fish in the cooler.

The line went out again and before long we had snagged a third Spanish Mackerel. After depositing fish number three in the cooler, Phil took over the piloting of the boat and I proceeded to filet the catch. Although I didn’t have scales to weigh the filets, it looked like enough to feed an army.

We arrived at Marco Island about 6:00 p.m. and all three boats were anchored in Factory Bay by 7:00. We invited the other two boats over for a fish fry. As soon as we anchored, we put potatoes on the grill to bake and prepare two frying pans with enough oil to fry the catch.

Our fellow boaters arrived around 8:30 p.m., bringing salads and dressing to round out the meal. I dredged the fillets in bread crumbs and corn meal and dropped them into the hot oil. Our feast was complemented by lots of wine and soft drinks. The party lasted until nearly midnight.

We spent the next two days resting, doing odd jobs on the boat, reading, and enjoying the beautiful scenery and weather in Marco Island.

On Wednesday, we said goodbye to our buddy boats and traveled a few miles north, anchoring on a pristine river near a large lake called Rookery Bay, a protected nesting area for water fowl. Although we were within a few miles of both Marco Island and Naples, it seemed as if we were in the middle of a wilderness.

We tried our hands at fishing in the river using the same artificial lure that had caught the mackerels, but had no luck. On a whim, I attached a small piece of leftover pork roast to a hook on a line and soon felt a tug. On my line was a 12” catfish, which Phil carefully de-hooked and released. We did take a picture (see above) to prove that I had actually caught a fish.

Today, (Thursday) we have moved a few more miles to the southern outskirts of Naples. This time, our anchorage is in a small bay, surrounded by multi-million dollar homes. We’ve gone from the sublime to the ridiculous, but our internet, cell phone and television reception are all exceptional.

We’ll probably hang out here in the land of the rich and famous for a couple of nights, then move to the Naples City Docks to await the arrival of our son, daughter in law and grandchildren on Sunday.

Life is good.

The Most Organized Cruising Harbor in the US

2008-03-18T14:03:00.000-04:00

The Marathon City Marina, which controls the 226 mooring balls in Boot Key Harbor and also provides services to another 50-75 boats that are anchored, may hold the record for having the most highly organized harbor for cruisers in the U.S.

A mooring ball is a floating plastic buoy that is attached with thick rope to some type of structure on the bottom. Municipalities and marinas are the usual providers of mooring balls that are available to the public.

Here in Boot Key Harbor, they likely drilled a hole in the bedrock, filled it with hydraulic cement and placed a 12" stainless steel rod with an eyebolt on the end directly down into the grout. A second, shorter rope with an eye-splice is attached to the top of the mooring ball. You secure your boat to the eye-splice with a dock line.

The mooring balls are lined up in rows and each buoy is identified with a letter and a number (we are in Row L, Number 10). There is enough "swing room" between each ball and each row that you won't hit another boat, even if the wind moves you 360 degrees around your mooring ball.

When the wind is strong, as it has been the last few days, the boats resemble a precision drill team, swinging together one way then another.

When we signed up for our mooring ball at the marina office, we received a "Cruisers' Guide to Boot Key Harbor," which included a welcome from the harbor master and pictures of the harbor staff, and a list of amenities included in the fee for the mooring ball (parking, if you have an automobile, shower facilities, pump-out, dinghy dockage, bicycle storage, garbage disposal, lounge, library, storage units, ice, water, laundry, battery charging, and project room).

The guide also included contact information for the hospital, fire department, taxi service, National Weather Service, Coast Guard, and the local sheriff, a map of the Middle Keys, information on hurricane preparedness, WiFi, tours, shopping, restaurants, and the weekly schedule for the "pump-out" boat, which comes to your boat to empty your holding tank.

Most everyone in the harbor tunes in to VHF Channel 68 every morning at 9:00 a.m. sharp for the "Cruisers Net." The first morning we tuned in, I walked out onto the back deck and could hear the Cruisers Net in stereo, echoing through the harbor, because so many of the 300 boats here were tuned in.

The Cruisers Net starts out by welcoming any newcomers and offering farewells to those leaving. Then there are announcements of interest to the cruising community, offers to buy, sell or trade items, requests from anyone needing help or assistance, questions about local services, and finally a trivia question for the day. The broadcast usually lasts about a half hour.

The first day we were here, there was much discussion about a boat that was dragging its anchor and bumping into other boats. No one was living aboard and the local officials were having trouble locating the owner. By the next day, the owner had been tracked down in another state and the boat had been re-anchored by a friend.

Every evening as the sun goes down, a symphony of conch shell horns from several boats salute the setting sun. There's something spiritual about it.

It's amazingly quiet and peaceful here, considering how many people are co-existing in this relatively small harbor. Everyone is friendly and eager to share information on local events, the best restaurants, groceries, boat stores, land transportation, doctors, and more.

There's even a "buddy boat list" on a dry-erase board in the marina office where people can locate others wishing to travel together to their next destination.

Most of the people here appear to be cruisers rather than live-aboards. Most are retired. However, there are also folks traveling with children, some even very young children. I was surprised at how many cruisers have dogs and/or cats on board.

We are enjoying our time here in Marathon. It's fun to meet so many other cruisers, the weather is delightful, and there's a lot to do here.

We'll be moving on next week as we begin our trip up the Gulf Coast. We are anticipating some beautiful Everglades scenery and wildlife and maybe some sea adventures.

For now, Boot Key Harbor is a lovely respite.

Boot Key Harbor

2008-03-14T18:49:00.000-04:00

It's Friday afternoon and we are anchored at Boot Key Harbor, at Marathon Key. This is a popular place for cruisers. There are probably 200 boats anchored here. Many cruisers come here to spend the winter.

They even have a "smorgasboat" that makes the rounds of boats, selling newspapers, coffee, pastries, and pump-outs.

We pulled the anchor at Islamarada about 9:30 this morning and headed to a nearby marina to top off our diesel tanks. I called ahead to the marina to make sure it was deep enough for us to get in and out.

My charts said they had 2-3 feet of water, which is barely enough for us. The dockmaster said, "Sure, you can get in here. We have a 48-ft. catamaran docked here right now." (Our catamaran is 36 ft. long and needs at least 2'8" of water to float.

We followed the markers into the channel. About half way in, our keel was stirring up mud and the depth sounder said 2.7 feet. I revved up the engines and we plowed through some mud. As we entered the marina, I felt that old familiar thud as we hit bottom.

Phil took over the controls and managed to power us off the shoal, and we continued on to the fuel dock. We topped off the fuel and water tanks, left them a bag of trash, and were on our way out of the marina by 10:30.

As we exited the channel, our keels began to dig into the mud. I revved the engines and we powered through, leaving a wake of muddy water. Once we got out into the deeper water, we opened the sails and were soon doing 6.5 knots.

Prior to Islamorada, I got nervous when the depth meter dropped below five feet. My new "nervous threshhold" has been reset to three feet.

It was a beautiful, sunny day and the wind filled the sails. We kept the motors going as well to augment the sails.

A few miles down the Intracoastal, we found Channel Five, which led us through a 65' fixed bridge and out into the Gulf of Mexico for out trip to Marathon.

At first, it was fairly calm. Motoring with our sails, we were averaging 6 knots. Soon the seas grew to 3-5 feet, on our beam, which caused enough turmoil on board that we needed to hang on tight to keep from being pitched from our seats.

Then, the wind moved from the south to the west, so it was "on our nose." Waves on the beam (towards the side of the boat) and winds on the nose (coming straight at you) make for an uncomfortable ride. But, I'm getting used to uncomfortable rides. You just have to hang on tight.

We have figured out how to keep the books on the shelves (bungee cords) and have repaired the clasps on the cupboards to keep things in the cupboards. I'm still learning how to wedge myself into the cockpit or the first mate's chair to keep from being flung across the deck.

Several people have talked about having a "beautiful sail" from here to there. I would like, just once, to have a beautiful sail, with the waves and the wind coming from behind. Is that too much to ask?

Sooner or later, we will have a "beautiful sail."

Our next chance may be as we travel up the southwest coast of Florida, on our way to Naples. Our son, Matt, his wife, Michelle, and our grandchildren Kailyn and Tyler, are planning a trip to Naples for spring break. About the same time, we heard from Phil's sister, Jane and her husband, Tom, that they will be coming to Naples as well.

We have now commited ourselves to making the trek from Marathon to Naples. We're not sure yet what that will involve, but Eleanor Roosevelt said I must do what I think I cannot do.

So, Naples it is. The whole point of this trip is to explore, experience, learn, and operate outside our comfort zone. We are accomplishing all those things so far.

Key Largo

2008-03-10T16:55:00.000-04:00

When I last posted, we were anchored at Elliot Key, enjoying a quiet evening and beautiful weather.

After 12 days at anchor, I needed a "marina fix," so we stopped in at Blank Point Harbor Marina, across Biscayne Bay from Elliot Key. As if on cue, the head (toilet) stopped working.

To spare you the details, we found a mechanic the next day who repaired the head in about two hours. We haven't gotten the bill yet, but whatever he charges, it was worth it. Nothing dulls the spirit like a non-working head.

Black Point Marina has a great restaurant overlooking the water and live music on the weekends. It is apparently "the place to be" in Cutler Ridge, Florida, and we enjoyed wonderful food and music.

We left the marina mid-week and decided to explore Boca Chita Key, a few miles to the north. Originally purchased in the 1930's by Mark Honeywell of Honeywell Computers and other early high-tech products, he sold it after his wife died on the island from a fall. Ownership passed through other families until the U.S. government bought it in 1985 and made it part of the Biscayne Bay National Park.

Boca Chita Key is enchanting, with a small, protected harbor and a seawall where you can dock your boat. It has a beautiful beach on the Atlantic side, picnic tables, grills and campgrounds. On the down side, it has hordes of mosquitos and no-see-ums, so much so that we quickly re-named it "Bugga Chita Key." We spent one night there and moved on early the next day.

We motored north again back to No Name Harbor, where we met up Saturday morning with my brother, Allen, his wife, Dorie, his daughter Melissa and her fiancee, Greg. They had driven down two hours from Palm Beach Gardens, Allen and Dorie's winter home. Melissa and Greg were visiting from Washington, D.C., where Melissa is an attorney with British Petroleum and Greg is a staff attorney for Verizon.

We had a wonderful visit, which included a birthday lunch for me at a great Cuban restaurant in Miami and a trip to Home Depot for needed supplies, a treat for us boating people without cars.

After the family left to head North, Phil and I stayed at No Name Harbor on Saturday and Sunday nights, enjoying a pitch-in Sunday with the other cruisers anchored in the harbor.

This morning (Monday), we began our Keys exploration in earnest. About 9:30 we headed south motor-sailing (using both sails and motors) at nearly seven knots the entire day. By 4:30, we had covered 44 nautical miles and are anchored in Tarpon Basin, about the middle of Key Largo.

To give you some perspective, it's another 20 miles to Islamarada, then another 35 miles more to Marathon Key, then 48 miles more to Key West. That sounds do-able to us.

We are taking the "inside route" to Key West so far, which is possible because our boat has a draft of only 2.8 ft. The inside route is fairly shallow, and because we are a catamaran and don't need deep water, we can go places that monohulls can't go.

The alternate route around the Keys is the Hawk Channel, which is on the Atlantic side of the Keys, a deep-water channel between the reef and the shore. We may take that route on the way back, just for something different.

Our son, Matt, and his family are planning a spring break trip to Naples, on the West Coast. If we get our courage up, we might continue on up the West coast of Florida and visit them in Naples.

Two new things we have learned:

1) If an engine starts, but dies when you put it in gear, look over the side and see if you forgot to secure your dock line and it's wrapped around the prop.

2) If you start the engines but the boat won't move, and it's low tide, you may be aground, and you won't get to take your brother and his family on a cruise around the bay. There's nothing to do but wait until the tide comes back in.

We Sailed!!!!

2008-03-01T16:12:00.000-05:00

I know we haven't posted in a while. Several of you have inquired if we are okay. We are fine...we were just relaxing and socializing for a few days in a very special place called No Name Harbor.

Earlier in the week the wind had begun to pick up and strong storms were predicted. No Name Harbor was across Biscayne Bay from our anchorage at Dinner Key, so we sought refuge there late one afternoon.

No Name Harbor is a small, protected, natural harbor on the east coast of Key Biscayne, near the south end. It's part of a state park and has room for about 20 boats to anchor, if they are tightly packed. It also has a restaurant that serves great Cuban food, a pavilion, lots of walking and bike paths, a beautiful beach on the Atlantic side, a washer and dryer for cruisers, and friendly and helpful park rangers.

We spent the week there, and nearly every night there was a cruiser get-together in the pavilion. Sometimes it was appetizers and wine, sometimes it was a pitch-in. We got to know lots of interesting folks.

Some had been cruising for years, some were single-handing their boats. Most were cruising couples. Most were veteran cruisers. All had fascinating stories to tell.

We laughed about needing name-tags. Many of the cruisers had boat cards, the cruiser equivalent of business cards. I had just designed some boat cards and printed them (see above), so we were glad to have cards to exchange.

This morning (Saturday), the anchorage was beginning to fill up, so we decided we needed to move on. We upped the anchor about 9:00 a.m. and headed out into Biscayne Bay.

Without a real plan, we began to motor south. The sun was shining, it was about 75 degrees, and there was a northeast wind blowing about 15 knots. Great sailing weather.

We looked at each other and said, "Let's raise the sails." We have no real sailing experience. We only knew what we had read in our sailing books.

All of our sails are "furling" sails, which means they roll up into a vertical mast. There is a main sail, which unfurls from the main mast, and two smaller sails that unfurl from masts at the front of the boat.

To unfurl any of these sails, you must release one line attached to the lower edge of the sail, while taking in another line that wraps around the mast. So, each sail has two lines to control it.

We decided to put up the main sail first. The winch that controls that sail was balky and didn't want to work. Phil gave it some expert attention and it finally began to unfurl.

We headed into the wind and opened the sail completely. Then we turned the boat south and we began to move! We kept the engines idling, just in case we needed them. Soon we were doing three knots, solely from the wind!

Next, we unfurled the jib, a small sail in front of the main sail. The boat began to sail faster. When we were doing 4.5 knots, we finally turned off the engines.

It was suddenly quiet. All we could hear was the sound of the water beneath the hulls and the wind against the sails. We felt like the crew of Kon-Tiki headed to the Polynesian Islands.

The wind remained steady from the Northeast, and we kept sailing south at four to five knots. At one point, we reached nearly six knots. We traveled 18 miles under sail today.

About 2:00 p.m. we arrived at Elliot Key, which our guide books described as a good place to spend the night. We anchored in about five feet of crystal clear water, about 100 yards from land. Several other boats are anchored here.

Jimmy Buffet is on the stereo. The sun is beginning to set in the west. There's a light breeze from the north to keep us cool.

We didn't hit anything. We didn't tip the boat over. Nobody went overboard. And we sailed 18 miles today! It was a monumental day!!

The picture on the left is our boat card. The photo on the top right is Miami in the distance. You have to look very closely to see it. The photo on the bottom right is our anchorage at Elliot Key.

Paradise Found

2008-02-25T17:13:00.001-05:00

After nearly losing our boat at the Atlantic Avenue Bridge earlier on Thursday, we dropped the hook about 4:00 p.m. that evening in a quiet, protected anchorage at Lake Sylvia in downtown Ft. Lauderdale.

We discovered both new and old friends there.

The old friends were Rick and Mary from Tranquillity, the couple who had circumnavigated the globe and whom we had met a couple of weeks earlier at our Lake Worth anchorage.

The new friends were Don and Diane of Fitzcat, a PDQ 36 just like our boat. There aren't many PDQ 36's out there, and Phil had gotten advice from Don on the phone a few weeks ago when we had an engine problem. But we had never met them. Here they were anchored next to us at Lake Sylvia! We spent an enjoyable evening getting to know them. They have lived on their boat for eight years and had many wonderful stories to tell.

We knew we had to go "outside" between Ft. Lauderdale and Miami, because there is a fixed bridge, the Julia Tuttle, inside on the Intracoastal Waterway, with only 57' of clearance. Our mast would likely not fit under it.

We listened to the weather reports and it looked like Monday would be the first day with northerly winds. Until then, winds were predicted from the south, which would make a rough trip.

Lo and behold, Rick and Mary called us early Saturday morning and said the weather report had changed and it looked like calm seas with winds from the east between Ft. Lauderdale and Miami. Rick and Mary planned to exit to the Atlantic at the Everglades Inlet just north of us and motor the 25 miles to Miami. They invited us to follow them if we wished.

We jumped at the chance to experience our first "outside" trip with veteran cruisers like Rick and Mary. We upped the anchor around 9:15 and followed them out of Lake Sylvia and through the Everglades Inlet.

It was a little "bumpy" as we exited the cut to the Atlantic, especially with a huge container ship entering the channel as we exited. But we held our own and followed Rick and Mary due east until we were about 1-1/2 miles offshore. Then we headed south at a heading of 180 degrees.

The first half of the trip was exhilarating. We could see Miami, even make out people sunbathing on the beach. They were only dots, but we could clearly see them.

As we moved south, the wind picked up and the seas became "bumpier."

Within an hour, we had 20 knots of wind on our nose, causing waves in the 3-5' range. Our row of books in the salon tumbled to the floor. Cabinets that weren't secure opened up, spilling out their contents. The HD TV, attached by an arm to the wall of the salon, began to move back and forth in a dangerous arc.

Phil found bungie cords to secure the television and we took turns going inside to pick up items that had fallen and secure them. In the cockpit, the turbulence soon forced us to wedge ourselves in with a foot here and a strong arm there. We took turns at the helm, giving each other needed breaks.

Amazingly, during this rough ride, we caught two good-sized fish on a trolling line we had set off the back of the boat. One was a Tunny and the other was a Spanish Mackerel. Somehow, we managed to fillet them en route and put them in the fridge.

We made it to the Miami Inlet about 3:30 p.m. and turned west into the channel that would take us back inside. As we turned, another huge container ship was heading toward us, needing the middle of the channel for water deep enough to float. We edged over to the right as far as we could, watching Tranquillity in front of us bobbing and weaving precariously close to the container ship.

At the same time, high-powered pleasure boats were entering and exiting the same channel with little regard for the turbulence they created. It took us nearly an hour to reach calmer water and head south. We anchored near the Eddie Rickenbacker Bridge a couple of miles inland and were thankful for a respite from the excitement.

Early the next morning, Tranquillity left for points south. We took our time and upped the anchor about 9:30 a.m. and headed south into Biscayne Bay.

A couple of hours later, we found an anchorage at a place called Dinner Key. There are many boats anchored here, including several catamarans.

Biscayne Bay is paradise if there ever was one. The water is like glass first thing in the morning. Later on, the winds pick up and sailboats appear everywhere. Biscayne Bay is a huge, protected area south of Miami where you can sail to your heart's content. The water is 8-10 feet deep throughout the bay, protected from the Atlantic by the upper Florida Keys. It's a perfect place for us.

As I write this post, the skies are blue, the temperature is about 80 degrees, there is a wonderful refreshing wind across our bow, and life is good.

It took some effort and interesting experiences to get here, but Biscayne Bay is everything we hoped for.

We will now learn how to sail this boat!

An event that almost ended our trip

2008-02-22T08:25:00.000-05:00

We left Palm Harbor Marina in Palm Beach on Wednesday and headed south again. The most significant factor in this part of the Intracoastal Waterway is the large number of drawbridges.

We encountered five of them between the marina and our Wednesday night anchorage in Lantana, Florida. Four of the five did not open on request, but were restricted to every 30 minutes. Sometimes, that meant "treading water" for a while until it was time for the bridge to open. That was good practice for both of us.

Thursday's trip to Ft. Lauderdale required that we pass under 15 more bridges. Thirteen of them were restricted. Number four, the Atlantic Avenue Bridge, was the one that nearly ended our trip.

I was at the helm. When we were in sight of the bridge, I hailed the bridge tender on our VHF radio to let him know we were nearing the bridge. There was a three-decker tour boat in front of us, who also hailed the bridge tender. The tender acknowledged both of our calls.

As we approached the bridge, I notified the tender again that Sunshine was right behind the tour boat. Again, the tender acknowledged my call.

The tour boat started under the bridge. The tour boat captain and the bridge tender were in conversation on the VHF. As the tour boat cleared the open bridge and we started through, I saw the spans begin to come down.

I grabbed the VHF and yelled, "Hold the bridge, hold the bridge. We are coming through." At the same time, I jammed the engines into reverse, although in reality it was too late for us to stop in time.

As we looked up in terror, waiting for the bridge to begin crumpling our mast, the spans stopped coming down. Our mast slid through the opening...with barely enough room.

As soon as we cleared the bridge, I hailed the tender again and asked, "Did you forget we were there?" He said, "I guess I did. I was talking to the other captain."

I said, "Atlantic Avenue Bridge, you just took about five years off my life." An unidentified voice on the VHF added, "Yes, he took about five years off my life yesterday."

I am trying to do something every day that scares me, as Eleanor Roosevelt suggested. I think I'm covered for the next six months!

Salvation at Palm Beach Marina

2008-02-19T17:16:00.000-05:00

I've discovered that nine consecutive days at anchor is my limit, at least until my coping skills improve.

After several days in our wonderful anchorage near the Publix grocery and my brother's home, we had moved to a less protected anchorage about a mile south on Friday afternoon in order to be closer to Cameron, our electrician, who was now scheduled to show up on Saturday.

Friday evening, Cam invited us to join his family and his other clients Mike and Rana for dinner at the Palm Beach Sailing Club. Turns out Mike had graduated from IU Law School at Bloomington just a few years after Phil. Mike's career had been with the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency, while Rana had produced and directed documentaries all over the world. Of course, they were also IU basketball fans. We liked them immediately and found a lot to talk about.

Saturday was windy and the boat was rocking and rolling all day. I stared at our huge pile of dirty laundry and our bare cupboards and contemplated how I was going to get that much laundry to shore in the dinghy, locate a laundromat and grocery store within walking distance, then transport the clean clothes and groceries back to the boat in such choppy water.

Cam finished up the electrical work on the boat about 5:00 p.m. on Saturday. That evening, we dinghied ashore to meet Mike and Rana at a local sports bar to watch IU beat Michigan State. By the time we returned to the boat it was almost midnight. The wind was beginning to pick up and the dinghy ride was bouncy and damp. That night the boat was pitching so much I couldn't sleep. About 3:00 a.m., I moved to the settee, where I could see out the back of the boat and at least know that we weren't dragging the anchor.

Sunday morning, the lack of sleep and the daunting domestic tasks were getting the best of me. I got out my journal and that's when I realized we had been at anchor for nine straight days. Phil sensed my distress and said, "Why don't we check into a marina for a day or two."

Of course! That was the answer! I jumped at the suggestion. We pulled the anchor before noon and traveled about a mile south to Palm Harbor Marina, where Mike and Rana had already been docked for a couple of months while Cam worked on major problems on their boat.

Palm Harbor Marina is in the heart of West Palm Beach. The beautiful downtown area is just a short walk away, with wonderful restaurants, shops, museums, and galleries. The marina has four washers and six dryers, plus hot showers with unlimited water. It's a little pricey, but a marina every nine days is within our budget.

My spirit is revived. The clothes have been washed and put away. Our electrical problems have been fixed. Tonight, we'll meet Mike and Rana at a local pub to watch IU take on Purdue. Tomorrow morning, I'll walk across the Flagler Memorial Bridge to the Publix Supermarket and replenish the cupboards.

I plan to work toward gaining the skills I need to be less "marina-dependent," but for now, I need a marina fix every week or so.

The first two pictures are Sunshine in her berth at the marina and the view from the marina of beautiful downtown West Palm Beach.

The third picture is one of the two splices I made today in our anchor line. Splicing line is an ancient art that involves re-weaving rope around a loop or a metal thimble to make a strong connection. I have been studying line splicing and this was my first completed splice. May not look that difficult, but I practiced a long time to figure out how to do it and was very proud of my new skill.

Tom and Roberta, good weather and the sailing club

2008-02-14T17:18:00.000-05:00

On Tuesday, our very dear cousins, Tom and Roberta Green, drove over from their vacation home in Venice on the west coast to visit us here on the east coast (note picture of Roberta driving the boat).

They live in Indianapolis, where Tom works for SBC and Roberta works at St. Francis South Campus.

We had lunch on shore, then dinghied to the boat and took them on a two-hour trip to see the local sights. Tom and Roberta have been following our blog faithfully and I think secretly hoped to be mentioned in this post.

Visiting us on board, especially when you have to drive three hours to get here, automatically qualifies you for being highlighted in this blog.

Wednesday we had a farewell lunch with my brother, Allen and his wife, Dorie, at a local seafood restaurant, a pre-celebration of Allen's birthday on Valentine's day. We have enjoyed visiting with them and meeting lots of their interesting friends.

That evening, we dinghied to shore for dinner at Duffy's Sports Bar, where we had previously determined we could watch the IU-Wisconsin basketball game. As we entered the bar area, we noted a couple of women wearing IU shirts. We stopped to visit with them and they invited us to sit with them to watch the game. They were from the east side of Indianapolis. Our whooping and hollering wasn't enough for an IU win, but we enjoyed watching the game with "home-town" folks.

Today (Thursday) we worked on projects until lunchtime, then "upped the anchor" to leave our beloved North Lake Worth anchorage and headed about an hour south to a new anchorage be near our electrician in the morning.

By the way, on the way south we stopped to top off our diesel and water tanks. Sweating bullets, I approached the North Palm Beach Marina fuel dock. After making a 180-degree turn in the middle of the channel I slowly brought the boat around, then slid gently alongside the dock on the starboard side, inspiring awe on the part of the young dock hand who assisted us. My confidence is building.

We are now anchored just south of Peanut Island in the middle of Lake Worth. As I was writing this post, Phil called me to the back deck to watch a gaggle of small sail boats entering the anchorage. Each small boat had one occupant who appeared to be middle-school age. There were about 30 boats flooding our anchorage. I'm guessing they are sailing students from the Palm Beach Yacht Club, which is across the channel from our anchorage. I shot several pictures as they practiced their sailing skills.

Life is good,
Margaret

It blew like crazy, but we're still here

2008-02-13T07:41:00.000-05:00

It's daylight, the anchor is still holding, and there's no apparent damage. But it was a wild night.

Early in the evening, after my "storm" post yesterday afternoon, we had some wind and rain for an hour or so, then it calmed down. We had dinner and went to bed early. Just as we were getting to sleep, the wind began to howl and the boat started to pitch back and forth.

We began hearing noises we hadn't heard before. Some sounded like metal scraping on metal, causing me to get up more than once to make sure that we hadn't drifted into another boat.

The wind noises increased, as did the pitching and rolling of the boat. Soon there were waves slapping loudly against the hulls, making it impossible to sleep.

I got out of bed and relocated to the settee, where I could see out the back. My view changed as the boat swung on the anchor, back and forth. With each swing, I could see that we were in the same position relative to other boats, which was comforting.

Although the movement of the boat was uncomfortable, the strange noises were the most unnerving. The "thwap" of the waves hitting the boat, the sounds of metal on metal, the howling of the wind and the creaks and groans from within the boat all combined to keep me wide awake.

The worst part of the storm lasted until around midnight. As the wind settled down and the noises began to subside, I went back to bed. That's when the hard rain began. It seemed as if the sky had opened up and was pouring tons and tons of water directly on us. I kept thinking, "It can't rain any harder than this," and then it would rain harder.

Sometime around 1:00 a.m., the rain let up and all was quiet. We slept well until about 7:00.

More storms are forecast for this afternoon as a cold front comes through. I'm not too concerned. Last night was a "confidence-builder," as Phil likes to say.

Is this the Perfect Storm?

2008-02-12T16:26:00.000-05:00

It's 4:30 p.m on Tuesday, January 12th. The National Weather Service has issued a severe thunderstorm warning for Palm Beach County until 11:00 p.m....right where we are. There's also a tornado watch in effect. Winds are expected to gust to 60 mph. There will be thunder and lots of lightening.

I'm writing this post to calm myself down.

The rain is coming down in sheets. The boat is rocking and rolling. It's our first big storm aboard Sunshine.

We had planned to have dinner tonight with my brother and his wife. We dinghied to shore right after lunch to run some errands. Even then, there were white caps and the dinghy ride in was pretty choppy, but we made it safely, just a little damp. We walked about a mile to West Marine to donate some more of our money, then stopped at Publix grocery to replenish the pantry. The skies were beginning to get dark.

The waves were a little stronger on our way back to the boat and there was light rain. Just as we pulled in to our boat, the skies opened up. By the time we tied up the dinghy and got our purchases aboard, we were soaked to the skin.

After we stowed the groceries and dried off, Phil and I discussed our options. We could probably make it safely back to the dinghy dock in time for Allen and Dorie to pick us up for dinner at 6:00 p.m., but the dinghy ride back to the boat after dinner, in the dark, was problematic.

We could leave the boat and spend the night with Allen and Dorie, but what would happen if the anchor began to drag and we weren't here? We discussed the fact that there were going to be storms and we might as well get used to it. We weren't always going to have a place to run to.

I called Allen and postponed the dinner. We will stay on board for the duration of the storm. We have battened down the hatches and secured everything we can.

I am scared. Always have been scared of severe weather. But there's also something exhilarating about storms.

I'll let you know how this comes out.

Thanks for listening.

Margaret

`

Fascinating People and Dinghy Butt

2008-02-10T17:11:00.000-05:00

It's been a while since I posted an update, for two reasons. First, we haven't been traveling much, so there haven't been any groundings or scary adventures. Second, we have been busy meeting many interesting people.

We left Ft. Pierce last Monday, after a whirlwind of sightseeing and socializing with the Thompsons. An uneventful four-hour cruise brought us to Palm Beach, where we planned to visit with my brother, Allen and his wife, Dorie.

First, however, we needed to make contact with Cam, our marine electrician. Phil had been communicating with Cam by e-mail and we were eager to meet him. Cam specializes in marine applications of renewable energy. In other words, he could make our auxiliary power more effective.

Our boat is powered by a bank of batteries, aided by solar panels and a wind generator. When we are traveling, the two diesel engines keep the batteries charged. But when we are at anchor for more than a day or two, the batteries drain quickly. We had felt for some time that the four solar panels and the wind generator weren't providing much help.

Cam had given us the latitude and longitude of his anchorage on Lake Worth, where he lives on a boat with his wife Lee, and their two children, six-year-old Maya and four-year-old Fynn. Using our GPS system, we quickly located their boat among the 100 or so boats anchored at Lake Worth.

Cam and his family dinghied over to our boat. The children don't have television on their boat, so I tuned our TV to children's programming and they were mesmerized. With a snack of crackers and juice, they were soon talking of moving onto our boat.

While Phil and Cam talked about electronics, Lee talked about the challenges of raising children on a boat. Maya and Fynn are now in public school, but Lee is considering home-schooling them on the boat. I told her that all the cruising children I had met so far who were home-schooled seemed exceptional, both academically and socially. I'm not sure why.

Phil and Cam arranged that Cam will begin work on our boat next Wednesday (Feb. 13th). That gave us several days to spend visiting with Allen and Dorie. We moved to a marina near their home on Wednesday and spent the next few days enjoying many dinners with them and their friends.

My brother is a retired political science professor and his wife taught high school English in Kokomo. They spend winters in Palm Beach Gardens and have cultivated a fascinating group of friends here. We enjoy several dinner parties with interesting guests.

After a few days, we left the marina and found an anchorage that is also close to my brother's home. It's in a quiet, protected area with about 50 other boats. Best of all, a large grocery is just a dinghy ride and a short walk away.

Speaking of dinghy rides, the more we use the dinghy, the easier it gets for me. At this anchorage, the dinghy dock is a five-minute ride from the boat. There is a small beach and some posts where we can secure the boat.

There was a gentle rain the other evening when we dinghied ashore for a dinner party. I had heard the term "dinghy butt" before, but had never experienced it until that ride in the rain. The seat of my slacks soaked up a good portion of the rain. Spray from your wake can also cause a good case of dinghy butt. I think I'll take along a towel to sit on next time.

We have met cruisers from two other boats since we anchored here. First was a fellow named Jim, on a 47-foot schooner that he built himself. We ran into him on the way to the grocery the other day. He said it took him, his ex-wife and three girlfriends to finish the boat. (I don't think they all worked on it at the same time!) Jim has been cruising for 27 years. He said he raised his daughter on the boat, home schooling her. She graduated from Notre Dame last year.

The next day, as we were walking to West Marine (the boater's favorite store), we met Rick and Mary from Block Island, Rhode Island. They had just finished sailing their 37-foot boat around the world! It took them six years. On the way back from the store, we stopped for a beer at a local pub and got lots of good tips on cruising, plus some wonderful stories.

After our electrical work is done, we may have to go out into the Atlantic for part of our passage south. That should produce some scary stories. Stay tuned.

The pictures above include one of our solar panels, the wind generator, a view of the other boats in our anchorage and the Palm Beach skyline, our dinghy and my latest horticulture experiment, a pot of geraniums.

Do something every day that scares you.

2008-02-04T16:07:00.000-05:00

Yesterday, I watched Maria Shriver's speech on television endorsing Barack Obama. She included a quote from Eleanor Roosevelt: "Do something every day that scares you."

I have always admired the wisdom of Eleanor Roosevelt. In another famous quote, she said, "You must do the thing you think you cannot do." I came across that quote several years ago and pasted copies of it in places where I would see it every day.

That advice has really hit home on this trip. Every day I find myself doing things that scare me, as well as doing things I didn't think I could do. For instance:

--The dinghy scares me. I am ashamed to admit this, but this little inflatable boat that is our "car" is difficult for me to get used to. I know how to swim, but I'm having trouble getting comfortable in this small boat. It's necessary that I get used to it, because when we anchor out, the dinghy is how we get to shore. I will get used to it.

--It scares me to go sleep on an 8,700 pound boat being held in place by single anchor. I get up during the night to make sure we are not dragging the anchor. After I am comfortable that we are in the same place as before, I ask myself "What's the worst that could happen?" Usually, the worst that could happen is that our anchor could drag and we would move a few feet, possibly coming close to another boat anchored nearby. We have anchored 11 times so far, and the anchor has never dragged. I'm becoming less scared each time.

--It scares me to try to dock this 36' by 18' yacht and then help get it securely tied up. My confidence waned a little when I accidently "kissed" a fishing boat as we left our home port on the Ogeechee River. I am slowly getting my confidence back, but often ask Phil to take over when we dock.

--It scares me to try to pull away from a dock without crunching the back of the boat, or going aground (as I did a few days ago). Recently, I've been asking Phil to do this, but I'm getting more confident and will try again to do it myself.

--It will really scare me when we "go outside." For the last 375 miles, we have been in the relatively safe confines of the Intracoastal Waterway, not out on the ocean. We have heard there is a bridge under construction south of here that will force us to leave the safety of the ICW and travel a few miles out into the Atlantic Ocean, then head south to reach Miami. More on that later.

--Learning to sail will scare me. We have very little experience at sailing and we have a lot to learn. As we learn, I will be less scared.

--Our first overnight passage will scare me. When we travel to the Bahamas, there will be some passages from one place to another that cannot be accomplished in one day. It will require that we take shifts at the helm, usually four hours at a time. One person is on watch while the other person sleeps. Many people circumnavigate the globe with month-long passages taking four-hour shifts. I will learn to do overnight passages, but it scares me.

That's enough of the scary stuff. We spent this past weekend anchored at Ft. Pierce, where we had a wonderful visit with our good friends Jeannette and Kenny Thompson, who spend winters in this area.

Today (Monday), we traveled about 40 miles south and are now anchored just north of Jupiter. We have crossed into the area of beautiful mansions along the ICW. Today's scenery was one million-dollar home after another, complete with a $500,000 yacht docked alongside.

Tomorrow, we'll stop to visit with my brother, Allen, and his wife, Dorie, who live in Palm Beach Gardens. We'll also spend an extra few days in this area getting our electrical system worked on.

After that, there will be some more scary things. Stay tuned.

*Note to Barb Robison. Thanks for the e-mail. If we can do this, you and Earl can do it too.

**Note to Aunt Ruth: We are glad you are enjoying our reports. The picture above of "Captain Phil" is for you. Also, for you, picture of Phil pretending to catch huge dorado. This will really happen when we get our fishing licenses.

***Botanical Note: This is an experiment at growing herbs on board: cilantro, oregano, marjoram, thyme. We'll see how this turns out.

It's Always Something

2008-01-30T17:36:00.001-05:00

Just like Rosanne Rosannadanna said.

With our clean boat bottom and new fuel filters on the two diesel engines, we traveled over 60 miles on Monday. All day long, Phil kept saying, "Something's going to break." But nothing broke on Monday. We found a nice anchorage Monday evening near a bridge at Daytona Beach and enjoyed another beautiful sunset and a quiet night.

Tuesday morning, we were up and ready for an early start, planning on another 60 miles. Phil started the engines. Both started, but a warning light came on at the port engine ignition, followed by an ear-piercing squeal, designed to make sure you didn't ignore the warning light.

The problem appeared to be a worn-out fan belt on the internal cooling system. My husband, who used to be a lawyer but is quickly becoming a diesel mechanic, had a replacement belt on hand and within a couple of hours had fixed the problem.

As Rosanne said, it's always something. So much for the early start.

We raised the anchor and decided on the spur of the moment to top off the fuel tanks at a marina across the channel. I'm proud to say I steered the boat gently along side the dock (Phil gave me a grade of eight out of 10 points). We pumped 24 gallons of diesel into the tank and filled our water tank as well.

My exit from the dock wasn't so successful. I made a sharp right turn to leave the dock and return to the channel, but about 50 feet into my turn, there was a dull thud and the boat came to a halt. We were aground.

I called the dockmaster, who had gone back to his office. He said, "Oh, did you hit that oyster bar?" I thought oyster bars were places you went for appetizers and drinks.

No amount of gunning the engines would move the boat, so the dockmaster and two burley helpers came down to assist. Phil got in the dinghy and took them a line. The three men pulled and pulled and finally we were free.

Our early start became a noon start. We headed south and began checking our charts and listening to the VHF. The Coast Guard was issuing a warning that a bridge a few miles south would be closed for repairs until 5:00 p.m.

It's always something.

We found an anchorage a couple of miles from the bridge and settled in for the wait. It was quiet and peaceful, with lots of dolphin and bird activity. Phil explored a nearby beach in the dinghy, while I updated our log and took a shower.

We got to the bridge for the 5:00 p.m. opening, along with three other sail boats, a large commercial fishing boat and a huge barge. We all lined up and, when the bridge opened, we went through one by one. We were fortunate to find an anchorage about a mile south of the bridge, just as the sun went down.

Another quiet night. We kept reminding ourselves that we're not on any schedule. That makes it so much easier when we are faced with delays. Our only goal is to get to where the butter melts. We are getting closer each day.

Today has been interesting scenery and beautiful weather. The morning was a bit windy, but it was a warm wind. The afternoon was perfect. We anchored about 3:00 p.m. at Titusville.

The Intracoastal Waterway has changed over the last few days from marshland to mangrove islands. We travel for miles through densely populated areas with beautiful homes, then we have a few miles of wilderness, then more homes, each with a jetty jutting far out into the waterway.

Waterfowl, dolphins and manatees are everywhere. As we motored this afternoon, we came upon a gathering of thousands of ducks, cormorants, pelicans, egrets and gulls. They were floating, flying and diving into the water, directly in the path of our boat. As we approached, I worried that they couldn't all get out of the way, but one by one they scattered as we approached, gathering again behind the boat. It reminded me of a scene from Alfred Hitchcock's "The Birds."

We are having the time of our lives. We are learning things each day. Even the problems turn out to be learning experiences.

As Rosanne says, "It's always something." That's not really so bad.

*Note to my brother Allen: Yes, those red and white things hanging behind Phil in the picture might look like bikinis to you, but they are the lines (ropes) that raise the sails. Sorry.

**Note to Terry B. and Mike (who work with our son, Matt): If we can do this, you can do this. Glad you are reading our blog.

***The picture above is one of the bascule (draw) bridges, opening to let us through. When you approach a bascule bridge, you hail the bridge tender on the VHF and request an opening. The tender stops the traffic and raises the bridge, trying to time it so traffic is interrupted for the shortest amount of time. We heard a story of a bridge tender lowering the bridge before a sailboat made it all the way through, coming down on the mast and driving it through the bottom of the boat.

It's always something.

A New Lesson Learned

2008-01-27T17:46:00.000-05:00

We ended up staying at Palm Cove Marina for three nights. That was more than we planned, but the weather was nasty and cold and, as we've said before, we're not on any schedule.

We watched IU get whipped by Connecticut on Saturday, walked to WalMart, West Marine (the boaters' favorite store) and the grocery, and took more wonderful hot showers while we waited out the bad weather.

This morning (Sunday) dawned clear, sunny and perfect for motoring. We made our preparations to leave, topping off the water tank, stowing items that might fall, unhooking the electrical connection, and checking and re-checking the tide tables to make sure we wouldn't go aground again as we left the marina and returned to the Intracoastal Waterway.

We also called the bridge located immediately south of the marina, a bridge that we had to pass through on our way south. The McCormick Bridge is a "bascule" bridge (drawbridge) that stops traffic to open and allow yachts with tall masts (ours is 56 feet) to pass through. A new, high-rise bridge is under construction next to the old bascule bridge, and the contractors are behind schedule and are working on weekends to make up time.

When we checked on Saturday, the contractors had moved two old, rusty barges into the passage under the bridge to hold their cranes. The bridge was closed to traffic on Saturday and might be impassable on Sunday also.

As we prepared to leave on Sunday morning, this was the conversation with the bridge tender on the VHF radio:

Us: "McCormick Bridge, this is Catamaran Sunshine, requesting information on bridge openings this morning."

Bridge Tender: "Catamaran Sunshine, this is McCormick Bridge. Our bridge will open upon request, but there are construction barges in the channel and you only have 30-foot horizontal clearance."

Unidentified Voice: "Doesn't look like 30 feet to me."

Bridge Tender: "It may only be 25 feet. What is your beam (width), Sunshine?"

Us: "Our beam is about 20 feet."

Bridge Tender: "You should be fine."

Unidentified Sailboat: "McCormick Bridge, we're approaching from the south. Our beam is 16 feet. Can we make it?"

Bridge Tender: "Sure, we have had tugboats wider than you go through this morning."

Unidentified Sailboat: "I'm approaching the bridge. It looks a lot narrower than 25 feet. I don't think I can make it. We are turning around."

Phil and I wonder what we should do. I call the bridge tender and ask if the situation will improve tomorrow. He says no. Phil and I talk it over. We try to figure the worst that can happen. We can put fenders (rubber cushions) on each side of the boat so we don't scrape. But the worst that can happen is that we'll become wedged in the passage as we go under the bridge. If that happens, we will have to call TowBoatUS to come and extract our boat. That could take a long time and our boat could be damaged in the process.

After much discussion, we decide to try it. We motor out of the marina channel and enter the IntraCoastal. The bridge looms immediately to our right. I call the bridge tender to announce our arrival and request that he raise the drawbridge. The opening looks plenty wide to me.

Us: "McCormick Bridge, this is Catamaran Sunshine requesting an opening."

Tender: "Catamaran Sunshine, since we last talked, the barges have been removed and you have wide open clearance."

We'll never know why the contractors moved the barges. All we know is that an anticipated dangerous situation had not materialized. The worst that could happen didn't happen.

We chugged under the bridge at 6.5 knots and never looked back. It was a beautiful afternoon of motoring. Our clean bottom made a huge difference in our speed and we traveled farther in three hours than we had in an entire day before the bottom cleaning.

Lesson learned: Prepare as best you can, make an informed decision, then go for it.

We are anchored for the night at Mile Marker 769.5 on the Tolomato River, about six miles north of St. Augustine. Latitude 20*59.988'N Longitude 081*20.127'W. We enjoyed a beautiful sunset and a phone call from our son, Andy, in Seattle.

Nothing broke today. Life is good.

Definition of a Good Day

2008-01-25T17:32:00.001-05:00

Our definition of a good cruising day is that we didn't hit anything and we didn't run aground. According to that standard, Thursday was not a good cruising day.

It started out well enough. Before we left our Fenandina Harbor anchorage, Phil spent an hour or so changing the fuel filters on the diesel engines. Diesel engines thrive on clean fuel and new filters make the engines purr. We raised the anchor and, with the current on our side, we were soon doing six knots.

The weather was reasonable, but couldn't be considered warm. With an open cockpit and a strong breeze, we donned our "foulies" for part of the trip.

Florida has replaced several "bascule" bridges, sometimes called draw bridges, with new high-rise bridges with 65 foot clearance, meaning that our 56-foot mast can safely glide under them. With a receding tide, these bridges can be difficult to navigate. Strong currents under the bridges tend to play havoc with steering and you hold your breath as you cross under, trying to maintain a straight path and not hit the sides. What would a cruise be without a little suspense?

We also crossed the St. John's River, which leads to Jacksonville, and fought some very rough tides that tended to move our boat sideways as we were trying to move forward. Fortunately for us, there were no container ships or cruise vessels entering the St. Johns while we crossed it.

After several of these exciting episodes, we were looking forward to a safe haven at Palm Harbor Marina, a few miles south of Jacksonville. I called ahead to reserve a spot and the harbormaster said they would expect us. He failed to mention that we would be arriving at low tide and they had not dredged their channel into the marina for several years.

There were channel markers as we entered the creek leading to the marina. Although we tried to stay in the middle of the markers, our depth sounder alarm went off immediately, marking five feet, then four feet, then three feet. Our "draw" (the portion of the boat below the water line) is about three feet. When the depth meter hit 2.7 feet, we thudded to a complete stop. The current pushed us farther ashore and we were totally and completely stuck in the mud.

I was incensed that the harbormaster had not warned us about the shallow channel, but Phil was much more philosophical and noted that it was another "adventure." A small boat was dispatched to assist us, and we were soon floating again, only to go aground a second time. Once more, the small boat pulled us free and we were guided into a deeper channel and a safe docking

Palm Harbor Marina has turned out to be a wonderful stop for us. After we were securely tied to the dock, we discovered that a world of commerce awaited us a short walk away, including WalMart, West Marine, Walgreens, Publix Food Market, and all the fast food restaurants you could want. The Marina itself had wonderful hot showers and a laundry, along with a lounge that provided cable TV, loaner books and DVD's, telephone and wi-fi.

In addition to dockage for many boats in the water, this marine has several huge warehouses that provide "dry storage" for boats. Huge mechanical fork lifts can raise boats out of the water and deposit them in multi-level compartments inside the warehouses.

When we inquired about getting our bottom cleaned, we were immediately put in touch with a local bottom cleaner who showed up this morning and spent a good two hours underwater, breathing through a scuba tank, scraping several months worth of barnacles and "stuff" that had attached itself to the bottom of our boat.

Our one-night stop has turned into two or three nights. The weather is chilly and windy, the marina is safe and comfortable, the showers are hot, the washer and dryer work, and IU plays basketball at 1:00 p.m. tomorrow afternoon. We will wait for warmer weather to move on south.

Arrival in Florida!

2008-01-23T18:11:00.000-05:00

We crossed into Florida at 3:45 this afternoon. Funny, there was no "Welcome to Florida" sign on the Intracoastal Waterway. We simply crossed the St. Mary's River and there we were.

But let's back up a little. When we last talked, I was getting ready to put a couple of loads through the Maytags at Two Way Fish Camp Marina. Luck would have it, the first load went through the wash cycle, but the Maytag Dryer had evidently dried its last load. No amount of cajoling would make that dryer work.

We hauled two loads of dirty laundry, and one load of clean, wet, clothes back to the boat. Fortunately, I had lots of clothes pins and the sun was shining. We pulled out of Two Way Fish Camp Marina with sheets and underwear hanging from the life lines, flapping in the breeze. Wish I had taken a picture. Suffice it to way, we looked like the Beverly (or Greenwood) Hillbillies floating down the ICW.

Tuesday was a fine day for motoring. Temperatures were moderate and we even enjoyed some sunshine. We haven't been moving very fast, because our bottom needs cleaning (the boat's bottom, not the crew's). When a boat sits for a while, lots of flotsam and jetsam grows on the bottom and needs to be scraped off. But even with a dirty bottom, we managed about 30 miles. We ended the day anchored off Jekyll Island.

Jekyll Island, Georgia, is famous as the winter home of the Rockefellers, Astors, Goodyears, Morgans, Pulitzers and Vanderbilts. In the 1880's, the ultra-rich and famous built what they called "cottages" where they could ride out the northern winters.

Each "cottage" was huge, what we would call mansions, but none of the homes included kitchens. The families took their meals at the "club," a main building where a staff from Delmonico's in New York prepared the meals.

By World War II, the membership of the Jekyll Island Club controlled one-sixth of the world's wealth. However, in 1942, a German U-boat torpedoed a tanker in nearby St. Simons Sound, and the US government decided the island was too temping a target. The island was evacuated and, in 1947 the state of Georgia purchased the island. Today, the mansions have been restored and are open to the public and Jekyll Island is a tourist destination. (Thanks to "Managing the Waterway" by Mark and Diana Doyle for the historical information.)

Early Wednesday morning, we pulled the anchor around 7:45, headed for a dilemma. On our trip north last June, we had endured high, turbulent seas as we crossed the St. Andrews Sound, just south of Jekyll Island. (A sound is an entrance from, or exit to, the ocean.) A bad combination of high winds from the north and strong current from the south had tossed us around like a toy boat in a bathtub with a three-year-old. The boat held up well. The crew took the brunt of the punishment. We'll never forget that experience.

So, here we were, staring at the mouth of the dragon once again. Our choice was to brave the crossing of St. Andrews Sound, which forced us out into the Atlantic and back to escape shoaling at the mouth of the sound, or take the "chicken route," which would avoid St. Andrews Sound but would add five miles to our trip.

We called TowBoatUS, the towing insurance that we carry, to ask about local conditions. The young man who answered assured us that we wouldn't have a problem. We forged ahead. Phil called it a "confidence builder." I hoped he was right.

As we motored into the sound, a thick fog enveloped everything. We switched on our strobe light, hoping that would make us visible to other boats, especially the large freighters that might be entering from the ocean.

We encountered some significant swells (the rising and falling of the seas), but no breaking, pounding waves like before . It took about an hour to navigate the sound and return to the more protected area of the ICW. We had indeed built our confidence.

It's now Wednesday evening and we are securely anchored in Fernandina Beach, Florida. We can see the lights of the old city across the bay in the nighttime sky and we are glad to be here and to have made it to Florida. We've cooked dinner on the grill and are enjoying the peace and quiet of this anchorage. The weather is getting warmer and for now, everything on the boat is in working order.

That won't last.

Two Way Fish Camp and Mudcat Charlie's

2008-01-21T18:12:00.000-05:00

I was foolish to think that a little sunshine was going to make Sunday an easy day of cruising. It was definitely sunny, but it was so cold that three layers of shirts under the "foulies" and three pairs of socks masquerading as mittens still didn't keep us warm. I don't think the temperature got above 40 degrees and there was a 25-knot wind in our faces much of the day.

Now, I know that doesn't sound very cold to all you Hoosiers who are enduring sub-zero weather right now, but we traveled straight through from 7:00 a.m. until 4:00 p.m. We took turns at the helm so one of us could go inside the cabin to warm up.

In spite of the chill, we managed to log 31 miles. Our day of motoring ended at Two Way Fish Camp Marina, four and a half miles up the Little Altahama River from the ICW.

The difference between staying at a marina and anchoring out for the night is like the difference between camping out and staying at a motel. Camping out can be lots of fun, but after a few days, a motel has a lot to offer. Two Way Fish Camp Marina has friendly folks, hot showers, Maytag washers at 75 cents to wash and 75 cents to dry, and best of all, Mudcat Charlie's Restaurant.

Mudcat Charlie's and the Two Way Fish Camp Marina are about two miles from Darien, Georgia, a small fishing village, population 1,800. We are reliably informed that "Two Way Fish Camp" got its name because there are two ways to fish from there -- to the west is fresh water or go east and you're in saltwater. After we docked, checked in at the marina and straightened up the boat, we made our way across the docks to Mudcat Charlie's.

Mudcat Charlie's looks like a lodge, with knotty pine paneling and floors. The walls are decorated with stuffed deer heads, huge fish, and one nasty-looking wild boar. There is a bar in the middle and about 50 tables, which filled rapidly after we arrived, leading us to believe that Mudcat Charlie's might be the cultural center of Darien.

The waitresses were friendly and informal. Phil ordered the grouper dinner and I had the home-made crab stew, a deep fried soft-shelled crab, and cheese grits. Talk about heavenly..... these coastal Georgia cooks know how to prepare seafood. The Giants/Packers game was on several big-screen televisions and beer was flowing freely at Mudcat Charlie's.

We planned to leave Two Way Fish Camp Marina Monday morning, but once again, the Georgia weather changed our plans. We awoke to a rocking boat fueled by a fierce 35-knot wind that made us feel we were riding out a hurricane. The howling wind continued all day, convincing us that Two Way Fish Camp was the place to stay for now.

We checked in with the marina office about a taxi to town. (Some marinas offer loaner cars, but Two Way Fish Camp is not the loaner-car type of marina.) Darien had no taxi service, but a waitress from Mudcat Charlies came into the office and overheard our conversation. She said, "I have a truck that y'all are welcome to use." She didn't even ask our names, just handed us the keys. We gratefully accepted and drove the two miles (and four bridges) into Darien's only grocery store, a Piggly Wiggly, where we stocked up on what we expected to need for the next week or so. On the way back, we filled up her tank with gas. It was the least we could do for such generosity.

It's Tuesday morning. The hurricane winds have given way to sunny skies, calm water and an expected high today in the lower 60's. After we finish the laundry and fill the diesel tank, we'll continue our journey south.

Margaret

On the road (water) again...

2008-01-19T16:45:00.000-05:00

We are headed south! Phil spent Friday morning installing a new motor in the head. He finished about noon and we unhooked the lines after lunch.

Getting out of the marina was not easy. In that area of Georgia, there is a very strong current. The difference between high tide and low tide is nearly six feet. We were tied up between two docks, with a couple of very expensive fishing boats between us and clear water.

We started the two diesel engines and Phil unhooked all but the aft (back) dock line and jumped aboard. I was at the helm and, I admit, it had been a while since I had driven the boat. This is not a gimpy boat. It's 36 feet long and nearly 19 feet wide...picture a floating tank.

With about three knots of current having it's way with my steering, I tried valiantly to clear the fishing boats on the port (left) side, without hitting the dock on the starboard (right) side.

OK...here's the whole story. I missed the first fishing boat. Then, the current caught our boat and began to drive it toward the 2nd fishing boat. I "kissed " the 2nd fishing boat (Phil would say "scraped"). Actually, we traded some paint, but no denting was involved. As I was working to miss the 2nd fishing boat, I over-steered toward the dock on the starboard side and "kissed" the dock (Phil would say "scraped"). Long story short, we exited the marina with no discernible damage to our boat or the expensive fishing boat, and we were on our way south.

The sun was shining for the first time in several days and we felt free at last. Given our late start, we only made a few miles before anchoring, but we were overjoyed at being on our own. We anchored around 4:00 p.m. a few hundred yards up Queen Bess Creek, just off the Intracoastal Waterway. There were dolphins playing around our boat, pelicans dive-bombing for dinner, and geese and ducks everywhere. After we had secured the anchor, we enjoyed a beautiful sunset. We had a simple dinner and slept soundly that night.

The rain began around midnight and continued through Saturday morning. We awoke early and had breakfast, firing up the generator so we could watch the weather on TV. Forecasts were bleak...calling for rain most of the day. We considered staying in our cozy anchorage, or heading south. The wanderlust won out and we pulled up the anchor around 9:00 a.m. We donned our newly-purchased "foulies" (foul-weather jackets), which were supposed to keep us warm and dry in our open cockpit. They did a fairly good job and we traveled six hours in rainy/foggy/chilly weather. About 3:00 p.m., we found a secluded, protected anchorage and called it a day.

It's nearly dinner time. We have provisioned well and I'll come up with something comforting for dinner. The rain continues but is supposed to taper off around midnight. We are looking forward to a sunny but chilly day of travel tomorrow. Sunny/chilly beats rainy/chilly every time.

We hope to reach St. Simons Island, Georgia, by tomorrow afternoon. I've got my eye on a marina there, which could mean long, hot showers and a nice restaurant for dinner. Plus a free loaner car to the grocery for milk and bread.

Thanks for reading this blog. We appreciate all your e-mails and your support.

Margaret
Anchored just south of Wahoo Island, Georgia

We were so close to leaving...

2008-01-16T15:28:00.001-05:00

We spent yesterday preparing to begin our journey south. We studied navigation charts, plugged in the GPS, chart plotter and other electronic aids, and stowed items that might fall off shelves. The weather reports weren't too promising, but we were ready to go.

When we awoke this morning, we discovered how uncomfortable Georgia's winter weather can be. Brisk winds were stirring up white caps on the Ogeechee River and the boat was straining at the dock lines, rocking back and forth. The sky was gray and the temperature was about 40 degrees, and not expected to go much higher. A low front was moving in from the west and would bring rain by early afternoon.

All of a sudden, a day of motoring down the Intracoastal waterway in an open cockpit didn't have much appeal. We reminded ourselves that we are not on any schedule and decided to spend another day or two at the dock in our warm, comfy boat, waiting until the weather could provide a more comfortable trip.

Delaying our trip turned out to be a good idea. Not long after making the decision to wait, the head (toilet) stopped working. Most systems on this catamaran are electrical, and the head is no exception. You push a button on the wall and the toilet flushes, or at least it's supposed to. Phil took the system apart and discovered that the pump that is supposed to make the flush happen had died from old age (the boat is 13 years old).

A few telephone calls later and a new pump was ordered and would arrive tomorrow. We made arrangements to borrow a car for the trip to the store, since we had turned in our rental car yesterday.

So, if you're picturing us snorkeling in gin-clear water and sunbathing on the front deck, just replace that vision with tools all over the bathroom floor, howling wind and chilly rain. The snorkeling and sunbathing will come soon enough.

For now, we've learned two good lessons. First, when you live on a boat, the weather determines your plans. Second, something will always need to be fixed.

Margaret

Almost Ready

2008-01-14T17:09:00.001-05:00

Thanks to all the well-wishers who read the article in the Daily Journal and sent us messages. We appreciated your kind thoughts. And thanks to Annette Jones and the Daily Journal for a fine job.

Who knew it got so cold in Georgia? The days have been spring-like, but last night it dropped into the low 30's, and that's cold on the water. We have a small heater on board that we fired up this morning to take the chill off.

Our trip from Greenwood to Savannah took only three hours. The air travel was uneventful, except for having to horse four big suitcases and some very heavy carry-ons, loaded with lots of books. One thing all cruisers seem to have in common is being voracious readers. We do have a television on board, but we don't seem to watch too much TV. (Except for the Colts and the IU basketball game yesterday. A sad loss for the Colts and another great win for the Hoosiers.)

We have spent the last few days "provisioning." That basically means going to WalMart and Sam's Club to stock up on everything you think you might need on a two-week trip down the IntraCoastal Waterway. We will probably have access to stores from time to time, but you never know for sure. Even when we are docked at a marina (rather than anchoring out), we may not be within walking distance of a grocery. Some marinas have loaner cars, some don't.

We are hoping to leave Ft. McAllister early Wednesday morning. We will turn in the rental car tomorrow (Tuesday) afternoon, then make our final preparations for casting off. There is a lot to do, not the least of which is studying the charts, , testing the engines, topping off the diesel and water supplies, and making sure everything on board is tied down or stowed so it won't come crashing down if we encounter turbulence from a passing speedboat or high winds

If all goes well, we can make about 50 miles a day. I haven't figured out how long it will take to get to Miami averaging 50 miles a day. I don't want to know. We'll get there when we get there. That's the point of this adventure...we're not on a schedule. When we find an interesting place where we want to linger on the way South, that's what we'll do. Cumberland Island is one such place. On the way north, when we were on a schedule, we passed by Cumberland Island and saw wild horses from a distance. This time, I'd like to anchor out nearby and hike through that wilderness, and maybe take some pictures of those horses to post on this website.

Phil and I have been married for 38 years. We have lived in Greenwood most of our lives and have raised two children. As we move into retirement, we have chosen an unusual path. We are embarking on an adventure into the unknown.

We have much to learn. We'll do our best to describe for you what it's like to start from scratch, moving onto a 36' catamaran sailboat with hardly any boating experience, but lots of enthusiasm. We'll share our triumphs and our failures. I promise only that we'll try to be honest and accurate in our descriptions.

Margaret McGovern