Conditions: March 9th-10th
Location: Hopetown
The basin in Hopetown was crowded. There were boats from all over the U.S. floating on moorings around us. Two from Connecticut, one from Texas, two from the Great Lakes, etc. but my favorite boat there was an all teak ship that was made in China. It was gorgeous, and the kind of boat you imagine Captain Hook to live aboard. Instead a family with a bunch of kids made up the captain and crew. They would take out island kids for 'adventure' lessons consisting of snorkeling, sailing, and general exploring. Exploring is the reason most of these boaters are here. For some it is just a stop along the way further south, but for most it is one of the last stops until home. For many the wanderlust is near over as they head back to the states from the Exumas, Virgin Islands, Puerto Rico, or the Dominican. The more people we meet the more I feel like we didn't travel far enough. The Bahamas seem tame now, the Virgin Islands would be an adventure, the Panama Canal would be an exploration, the journey could be endless.
Ashore on Hopetown we found another quiet, cozy island like Man-O-War except with fun. We got drinks at the local dive bar, key lime pie, and sweet potato french fries. Stephanie and I checked out an artist's gallery where we each bought postcards. Dad found some realtor brochures. We were all interested to see the prices that the houses went for, like everywhere in the world it depended on the house. Undeveloped land ran pretty cheap but only because it's ridiculously expensive to build out here with limited access to supplies, machinery, and labor. All I'd need is a cottage to put my stuff in and a boat. Jack found the local yacht club. Most of the members seemed to live the low key island life. Although one woman clearly thought she ran the New York Yacht Club of the Bahamas. Their club houses was as basic as they come, one small room draped in flags from all over the world. No one inside was under sixty, but they all acted as if this was their tree house where they could escape the outside world. Who can blame them? Dad and I went to the beach on Monday and did some snorkeling. We didn't see too many fish, one pod of bright blue surgeon, a few yellow black and gray striped fish, some navy and turquoise colored fish, and a fat brownish fish that I think was a grouper. The reef was mostly rock encased in coral creating many deep crevasses and caverns for fish to hide in. I expected to see morays when I dove down to get a closer look but for the most part they were vacant. The real star of the reef was a single elk coral standing sentinel at the edge of the ocean. It was a bright orange and stood like a tree on the far edge of a cliff. The dark blue of the depths presses in upon you as you stare out into the abyss. The waves that roll over the reef gently pull you, making you feel as if some mythical force is slowly enticing you further out into the sea. Dad loves reef watching. The marine biologist in him is fascinated with the ecosystem that supports such a variety of life. Many of the Bahamians not only owe their commercial fishing to the reefs but also their protection. Most of the islands are flanked by reefs on their ocean coasts, dulling the forces of hurricane waves. I know Dad is just itching to visit one of these offshore reefs but we really have to fix our shaft problem before we can accomplish such a trip.
Sunday, April 20, 2014
Log Book: March 7th-8th
Conditions: 15 knot W
Location: Man-O-War
We arrived in Man-O-War just an hour before sunset. Dad fooled with the radio all day and we were able to hear Stephanie and Jack at least some of the time. At the harbor entrance you could go to the north mooring field or the south mooring field. The recorded depths inside are few and far between, even on the paper charts, so we really just had to wing it and hope for the best. Dad and I went north while Stephanie and Jack went south. The north end of the harbor turned out to be right along Main Street, with innumerable dingy docks to tie up to. This made it a very popular spot. The boats were so close together here that you could practically jump from bow to stern up the harbor. Dad and I picked up an empty mooring and Dad, still testing his radio, called Jack and Stephanie to tell them that there were extra moorings up our way. We didn't hear a response so Dad tried a few more time, or around ten more times. I knew if I heard the click of the radio mic turn on one more time I was going to blow so I suggested that we check out the town before dark. We had just gotten our stuff together when we finally heard the radio respond. Jack and Stephanie had been on a mooring but left it to join us in the north end of the harbor when they hit a sandbar. They were stuck and needed our help. Through our travels Dad and I have become pros at this. We got out our towing gear; extra long lines, Danforth anchor, and our anchor float. I sang the Indiana Jones theme song aloud as we hummed in the dingy toward our friends in distress, but really there wasn't much that we could do. Jack's rental boat has a wingtip keel, forcing it through the sand usually just buries the keel in deeper. We put our anchor out and waited for high tide. The experience was very tame compared to mine and Dad's stressful encounters. The four of us listened to music, ate snacks, talked, and relaxed. Detrimental to Jack's running aground was the fact that the rental boat's depth sounder was off by at least a foot, which is huge in the Bahamas. This also made it hard to know if and when we were free floating again or still resting on the bottom. When we finally started to swing around 9pm the crew went to their battle stations while Jack steered us off the bar and safely to a mooring. With boating and with life you sometimes have to pay your dues, bad things will inevitably happen and it's just about how you handle them, we were all thankful because this could have been much worse.
Friday morning we strolled around Man-O-War. They have three stores on the island, making it basically a mall. No joke people come here from other islands to go shopping. First we went into the trinket/clothing store, next the fabric/clothing store, and finally the canvas shop. In the canvas store we met some native Bahamians. The two women gave us a brief history of Man-O-War, most Bahamians are of British decent, their predecessors were loyalists who fled the Americas after the Revolution. The island of Man-O-War is seemingly run by one family, the Albury's. The original Albury was shipwrecked on this island where he met a family who used to land to farm, but lived on another island. Albury married the farmer's daughter and the two of them single-handedly populated the land. If you meet someone here you have a fifty precent shot at guessing that their last name is Albury. I didn't learn the religious affiliation of the original Albury's but Man-O-War is very faith orientated in fact the island is dry, not a drop of alcohol is sold here. The two women at the shop were exceedingly proud of that fact. They believed that it spoke a great deal about their high morals, to me it just spoke for the lack of young adults here or for sure a revolution would have swept through already. We also talked about the U.S. immigration policies, which they clearly disliked. One of their daughters went to college in the States, married an American but is unable to use her degree and work in America because she an immigrant. I knew that the system was broken but I guess we don't feel how much the nation has to loose.
After our stroll through town Jack, Stephanie, Dad, and I went up to the beach, the museum, and the residential part of the island. The houses grew further apart as we walked away from the town. Many were much more modern than we had seen so far. It was clear that being a dry island has kept the resorts, big marinas, yacht clubs, and most notably noisy tourists away making it much less segregated or built up than any other island we have visited. Man-O-War was cozy, quiet, and serene.
Location: Man-O-War
We arrived in Man-O-War just an hour before sunset. Dad fooled with the radio all day and we were able to hear Stephanie and Jack at least some of the time. At the harbor entrance you could go to the north mooring field or the south mooring field. The recorded depths inside are few and far between, even on the paper charts, so we really just had to wing it and hope for the best. Dad and I went north while Stephanie and Jack went south. The north end of the harbor turned out to be right along Main Street, with innumerable dingy docks to tie up to. This made it a very popular spot. The boats were so close together here that you could practically jump from bow to stern up the harbor. Dad and I picked up an empty mooring and Dad, still testing his radio, called Jack and Stephanie to tell them that there were extra moorings up our way. We didn't hear a response so Dad tried a few more time, or around ten more times. I knew if I heard the click of the radio mic turn on one more time I was going to blow so I suggested that we check out the town before dark. We had just gotten our stuff together when we finally heard the radio respond. Jack and Stephanie had been on a mooring but left it to join us in the north end of the harbor when they hit a sandbar. They were stuck and needed our help. Through our travels Dad and I have become pros at this. We got out our towing gear; extra long lines, Danforth anchor, and our anchor float. I sang the Indiana Jones theme song aloud as we hummed in the dingy toward our friends in distress, but really there wasn't much that we could do. Jack's rental boat has a wingtip keel, forcing it through the sand usually just buries the keel in deeper. We put our anchor out and waited for high tide. The experience was very tame compared to mine and Dad's stressful encounters. The four of us listened to music, ate snacks, talked, and relaxed. Detrimental to Jack's running aground was the fact that the rental boat's depth sounder was off by at least a foot, which is huge in the Bahamas. This also made it hard to know if and when we were free floating again or still resting on the bottom. When we finally started to swing around 9pm the crew went to their battle stations while Jack steered us off the bar and safely to a mooring. With boating and with life you sometimes have to pay your dues, bad things will inevitably happen and it's just about how you handle them, we were all thankful because this could have been much worse.
Friday morning we strolled around Man-O-War. They have three stores on the island, making it basically a mall. No joke people come here from other islands to go shopping. First we went into the trinket/clothing store, next the fabric/clothing store, and finally the canvas shop. In the canvas store we met some native Bahamians. The two women gave us a brief history of Man-O-War, most Bahamians are of British decent, their predecessors were loyalists who fled the Americas after the Revolution. The island of Man-O-War is seemingly run by one family, the Albury's. The original Albury was shipwrecked on this island where he met a family who used to land to farm, but lived on another island. Albury married the farmer's daughter and the two of them single-handedly populated the land. If you meet someone here you have a fifty precent shot at guessing that their last name is Albury. I didn't learn the religious affiliation of the original Albury's but Man-O-War is very faith orientated in fact the island is dry, not a drop of alcohol is sold here. The two women at the shop were exceedingly proud of that fact. They believed that it spoke a great deal about their high morals, to me it just spoke for the lack of young adults here or for sure a revolution would have swept through already. We also talked about the U.S. immigration policies, which they clearly disliked. One of their daughters went to college in the States, married an American but is unable to use her degree and work in America because she an immigrant. I knew that the system was broken but I guess we don't feel how much the nation has to loose.
After our stroll through town Jack, Stephanie, Dad, and I went up to the beach, the museum, and the residential part of the island. The houses grew further apart as we walked away from the town. Many were much more modern than we had seen so far. It was clear that being a dry island has kept the resorts, big marinas, yacht clubs, and most notably noisy tourists away making it much less segregated or built up than any other island we have visited. Man-O-War was cozy, quiet, and serene.
Log Book: March 5th-6th
Conditions: 10-15 E wind
Location: Treasure Cay
This morning Dad and I took off for Treasure Cay. We were unable to hail Jack and Stephanie on the radio all day. Dad was stressing out. He was definitely worried about them. I told him that they probably just decided to stay a day longer in Guana Cay, forgot to turn their radio on because they were having such a good time, or were out of range.
The harbor into Treasure Cay was very easy to enter. They had channel markers, a sure sign that there is money here. Treasure Cay is actually not an island onto itself as the name implies, it is on Great Abaco Island. It seems that the name "treasure cay" is the local resorts clever attempt to try to make this hamlet of Great Abaco appear to be more exclusive and remote than it actually is. The mooring field was really very nice, but not exclusive. The moorings were first come first serve, no reservations. Dad and I got out the windsurfer first thing. Usually we attract a lot of attention and advice zooming about the harbors that we visit, but not today. Either we have gotten too good for advice, unlikely, or the boaters here really do wish ?to be on a deserted island. It wasn't long after we put the board away that Jack and Stephanie sailed into the harbor and up to dock at the marina. They told us that they could hear us calling on the radio all day and that they called back, but we never heard a response. This is not good. Usually we use the radio to communicate with other boats or bridges in an perfunctory, preventative sort of way to avoid getting in the way of others on the water but if something happened, if there was an emergency we need to be prepared. The situation would be akin to having a medical emergency at home without a phone or neighbors nearby and being forced to walk to the hospital with little hope of anyone picking you up along the way. Needless to say Dad is not happy about it and has been twiddling with the radios non-stop.
Around sunset Dad and I took the dingy in to have dinner with Jack and Stephanie and checks out their living arrangements for the week. The Moorings 37 they have rented has a huge cockpit, with seating for at least eight. The berths below could probably sleep eight too if you were all really, really good friends. Luckily I already have a few candidates in mind and I've been dreaming about sailing with a younger crowd ever since. However Dad, Jack, and Stephanie were definitely the nests best tng.
Dad and I brought the main course over, a red snapper that I had caught on the way into the harbor. I'm not going to lie I was pretty excited. I didn't clean the fish, but I helped and learned how to do it I think. Dad did all the dirty work, it wasn't complicated but it was hard. The fish was very slippery. I held it down while Dad gutted him and cut off two filets. Jack did the cooking and the fish melted in your mouth like butter, it was really great. The marina here has an outdoor bar. We checked it out but there wasn't a soul there. I am having a good time but it would be nice to make some friends and hang out with people my own age again, I won't find those friends at this bar. Stephanie and Jack said it really livened up after dark, bringing in karaoke singers and pizza eaters all above the early retirement age. On Thursday we all went into "town" in the morning and then to the beach. The town wasn't anything like the cute tiny town in Green Turtle. In Treasure Key the stores were all in a single strip mall style space. The variety of stores included a bank, grocer, mini mart, bakery, and a golf cart rental shop. Instead of the cute small houses of native Bahamians, condos, resorts, and upscale rental houses engulfed the town of Treasure Cay. But oh was the beach nice. The sand was milky white and as smooth as butter. Barely any shells or rocks made it to this beach without being pulverized to dust on the reef offshore. There was a little beach bar on the sand where we got piña colada's and banana daiquiri's. I forced Dad into a game of beach volleyball which I won but we spent most of the day relaxing under our beach umbrella. Tomorrow we plan to leave for Man-O-War island. So far Green Turtle has definitely been my favorite but I'm keeping an open mind.
Location: Treasure Cay
This morning Dad and I took off for Treasure Cay. We were unable to hail Jack and Stephanie on the radio all day. Dad was stressing out. He was definitely worried about them. I told him that they probably just decided to stay a day longer in Guana Cay, forgot to turn their radio on because they were having such a good time, or were out of range.
The harbor into Treasure Cay was very easy to enter. They had channel markers, a sure sign that there is money here. Treasure Cay is actually not an island onto itself as the name implies, it is on Great Abaco Island. It seems that the name "treasure cay" is the local resorts clever attempt to try to make this hamlet of Great Abaco appear to be more exclusive and remote than it actually is. The mooring field was really very nice, but not exclusive. The moorings were first come first serve, no reservations. Dad and I got out the windsurfer first thing. Usually we attract a lot of attention and advice zooming about the harbors that we visit, but not today. Either we have gotten too good for advice, unlikely, or the boaters here really do wish ?to be on a deserted island. It wasn't long after we put the board away that Jack and Stephanie sailed into the harbor and up to dock at the marina. They told us that they could hear us calling on the radio all day and that they called back, but we never heard a response. This is not good. Usually we use the radio to communicate with other boats or bridges in an perfunctory, preventative sort of way to avoid getting in the way of others on the water but if something happened, if there was an emergency we need to be prepared. The situation would be akin to having a medical emergency at home without a phone or neighbors nearby and being forced to walk to the hospital with little hope of anyone picking you up along the way. Needless to say Dad is not happy about it and has been twiddling with the radios non-stop.
Around sunset Dad and I took the dingy in to have dinner with Jack and Stephanie and checks out their living arrangements for the week. The Moorings 37 they have rented has a huge cockpit, with seating for at least eight. The berths below could probably sleep eight too if you were all really, really good friends. Luckily I already have a few candidates in mind and I've been dreaming about sailing with a younger crowd ever since. However Dad, Jack, and Stephanie were definitely the nests best tng.
Dad and I brought the main course over, a red snapper that I had caught on the way into the harbor. I'm not going to lie I was pretty excited. I didn't clean the fish, but I helped and learned how to do it I think. Dad did all the dirty work, it wasn't complicated but it was hard. The fish was very slippery. I held it down while Dad gutted him and cut off two filets. Jack did the cooking and the fish melted in your mouth like butter, it was really great. The marina here has an outdoor bar. We checked it out but there wasn't a soul there. I am having a good time but it would be nice to make some friends and hang out with people my own age again, I won't find those friends at this bar. Stephanie and Jack said it really livened up after dark, bringing in karaoke singers and pizza eaters all above the early retirement age. On Thursday we all went into "town" in the morning and then to the beach. The town wasn't anything like the cute tiny town in Green Turtle. In Treasure Key the stores were all in a single strip mall style space. The variety of stores included a bank, grocer, mini mart, bakery, and a golf cart rental shop. Instead of the cute small houses of native Bahamians, condos, resorts, and upscale rental houses engulfed the town of Treasure Cay. But oh was the beach nice. The sand was milky white and as smooth as butter. Barely any shells or rocks made it to this beach without being pulverized to dust on the reef offshore. There was a little beach bar on the sand where we got piña colada's and banana daiquiri's. I forced Dad into a game of beach volleyball which I won but we spent most of the day relaxing under our beach umbrella. Tomorrow we plan to leave for Man-O-War island. So far Green Turtle has definitely been my favorite but I'm keeping an open mind.
Saturday, April 19, 2014
Log Book: March 1st-3rd
Conditions: sunny & 80
Location: Green Turtle Cay
The ride from Spanish Cay to Green Turtle was a short one, a mere twelve miles. We sailed the majority of the way, without the engine we were going six knots. It was the first time Dad and I had just sailed in a month. It was extremely relaxing. Before this trip started the idea of sailing with the engine on was torture. The noise and the fumes ruin the experience. I had forgotten how enjoyable it could be. Having a third personality on the boat helped Dad and I remember that the journey is the best part of the experience.
When we were just a few miles from Green Turtle I remembered that when we cleared customs we received a fishing license. I have been dying to catch a fish that we can cook and eat. I love the idea of being completely self sufficient, even if I have to lie to myself a little in order to believe it. Fifteen minutes after we dropped in the hook the line began to sing. That zing is one of the best sounds in the world. Jack reeled in a barracuda. It was pretty cool, but not exactly what I was hoping for since it wasn't edible.
As we started to come up on Green Turtle Dad, Jack, and I all kept our eyes peeled for Black Sound harbor. It wasn't easy. The water throughout the Bahamas is so shallow that big ships can't travel to the majority of the islands. This means that there is no money flowing in from the waterways, so there is no financial incentive to mark or chart them. Our electronic charts are fine tools while we are traveling the longer distances between each island but trying to zoom in to see the finer details of obstacles in a harbor is impossible. We have been using paper charts quiet frequently since entering the Bahamas. They're not hard to use, it's just a little less certain where exactly on the map you think you are. After wandering around the island edge we started to make our way in. Because of the tall eel grass the depth sounder was useless, it read 0 the entire way in even though we were not on the bottom. Standing on the bow and looking for darker blue water is really the only way to do it. The harbor was perfect, picturesque, and quiet. We brought out the windsurfer first thing and all had a go on it. When we finally made it onto the island the three of us walked into town. Every house was a bright green, pink, or yellow. They all seemed like doll houses, shipped in pieces and then put together on the island. In no time at all Jack found the local dive bar, right on the water. There were a ton of people out for happy hour and to watch the sunset so we joined them. Dad and Jack made friends, I guess I did too but I was the youngest one there by at least twenty years. Jack and Dad found a sailor who had his boat in Black Sound harbor with us. He had auto pilot problems. The engineers that Dad and Jack are couldn't help but try to dissect this guy's issue, presumably to solve it but they are the variety of D-A-D that enjoy learning even after school. The two of them were like kids in a candy store, listening to symptoms and suggesting the best remedy. I finally got them out of there. The next day we hit the beach. We had originally planned to go through Whale Passage, out past the reefs, and on to Treasure Key. Unfortunately the weather predicted large swells out on the Atlantic and Out into the Atlantic is the only way to get there. The waves were too big to swim really so Dad and I just tanned and read our books. We were the only ones on the beach. Jack went into town to figure out how he could get to Marsh Harbor, where his wife Stephanie will be flying in to meet him and where they will be chartering a Moorings 37 for the week. It turns out the Abacos, the chain of Bahamian islands we are visiting, has a pretty good ferry system at least then run fairly often. The ferries are about twenty feet long and about twenty people pile on them, mostly to get to school or work. It's not exactly a tourist/party boat.
On Sunday we wandered back into town. The place was deserted, most everywhere was closed. The sole person I spotted was a little girl with dark chocolate skin. She was running down the street in a blue dress with pink flowers, her purse slung over her shoulder running toward the singing inside the church. Later that day Dad, Jack, and I heard a pastor on a loud speaker, preaching to an empty lot. For the most part the culture here is undistinguishable from quiet western living, except for the fervent religious nature of island life. The people that live here are so dependent on outside forces and always have been; praying that their food sources arrive on time, praying that the hurricanes will miss them this season, praying for rain. It must be a tremendous comfort for them to believe that a higher power is looking out for them. On the mainland we believe that, for the most part, we can look after ourselves. We only seek divine intervention when things seem to really turn against us.
On Monday Jack left us with the promise that we would meet up in Treasure Cay on Wednesday. In the meantime Dad has been looking into marinas on the island that will haul the boat out for us. When we were in West Palm we caught a dock line on the prop. It wasn't a big deal at all and within ten minutes she was free but it seems to have done some damage to a bearing holding the prop shaft. Now there is a certain speed on the throttle that the shaft doesn't agree with. It vibrates violently, making us both a little wary of traveling the long distance back without fixing her, not that we have plans to turn back anytime soon. We did take some time to visit a second beach on the island, Gilbert's Bay. We brought all our snorkeling gear because we had heard from the locals that you could swim out to a few smaller islands that were surrounded by reefs. This was not the case. We walked on a sand bar for maybe two miles, unable to swim in the shallows. We called it quits promising ourselves that upon our return to Green Turtle we will try this again at high tide.
Location: Green Turtle Cay
The ride from Spanish Cay to Green Turtle was a short one, a mere twelve miles. We sailed the majority of the way, without the engine we were going six knots. It was the first time Dad and I had just sailed in a month. It was extremely relaxing. Before this trip started the idea of sailing with the engine on was torture. The noise and the fumes ruin the experience. I had forgotten how enjoyable it could be. Having a third personality on the boat helped Dad and I remember that the journey is the best part of the experience.
When we were just a few miles from Green Turtle I remembered that when we cleared customs we received a fishing license. I have been dying to catch a fish that we can cook and eat. I love the idea of being completely self sufficient, even if I have to lie to myself a little in order to believe it. Fifteen minutes after we dropped in the hook the line began to sing. That zing is one of the best sounds in the world. Jack reeled in a barracuda. It was pretty cool, but not exactly what I was hoping for since it wasn't edible.
As we started to come up on Green Turtle Dad, Jack, and I all kept our eyes peeled for Black Sound harbor. It wasn't easy. The water throughout the Bahamas is so shallow that big ships can't travel to the majority of the islands. This means that there is no money flowing in from the waterways, so there is no financial incentive to mark or chart them. Our electronic charts are fine tools while we are traveling the longer distances between each island but trying to zoom in to see the finer details of obstacles in a harbor is impossible. We have been using paper charts quiet frequently since entering the Bahamas. They're not hard to use, it's just a little less certain where exactly on the map you think you are. After wandering around the island edge we started to make our way in. Because of the tall eel grass the depth sounder was useless, it read 0 the entire way in even though we were not on the bottom. Standing on the bow and looking for darker blue water is really the only way to do it. The harbor was perfect, picturesque, and quiet. We brought out the windsurfer first thing and all had a go on it. When we finally made it onto the island the three of us walked into town. Every house was a bright green, pink, or yellow. They all seemed like doll houses, shipped in pieces and then put together on the island. In no time at all Jack found the local dive bar, right on the water. There were a ton of people out for happy hour and to watch the sunset so we joined them. Dad and Jack made friends, I guess I did too but I was the youngest one there by at least twenty years. Jack and Dad found a sailor who had his boat in Black Sound harbor with us. He had auto pilot problems. The engineers that Dad and Jack are couldn't help but try to dissect this guy's issue, presumably to solve it but they are the variety of D-A-D that enjoy learning even after school. The two of them were like kids in a candy store, listening to symptoms and suggesting the best remedy. I finally got them out of there. The next day we hit the beach. We had originally planned to go through Whale Passage, out past the reefs, and on to Treasure Key. Unfortunately the weather predicted large swells out on the Atlantic and Out into the Atlantic is the only way to get there. The waves were too big to swim really so Dad and I just tanned and read our books. We were the only ones on the beach. Jack went into town to figure out how he could get to Marsh Harbor, where his wife Stephanie will be flying in to meet him and where they will be chartering a Moorings 37 for the week. It turns out the Abacos, the chain of Bahamian islands we are visiting, has a pretty good ferry system at least then run fairly often. The ferries are about twenty feet long and about twenty people pile on them, mostly to get to school or work. It's not exactly a tourist/party boat.
On Sunday we wandered back into town. The place was deserted, most everywhere was closed. The sole person I spotted was a little girl with dark chocolate skin. She was running down the street in a blue dress with pink flowers, her purse slung over her shoulder running toward the singing inside the church. Later that day Dad, Jack, and I heard a pastor on a loud speaker, preaching to an empty lot. For the most part the culture here is undistinguishable from quiet western living, except for the fervent religious nature of island life. The people that live here are so dependent on outside forces and always have been; praying that their food sources arrive on time, praying that the hurricanes will miss them this season, praying for rain. It must be a tremendous comfort for them to believe that a higher power is looking out for them. On the mainland we believe that, for the most part, we can look after ourselves. We only seek divine intervention when things seem to really turn against us.
On Monday Jack left us with the promise that we would meet up in Treasure Cay on Wednesday. In the meantime Dad has been looking into marinas on the island that will haul the boat out for us. When we were in West Palm we caught a dock line on the prop. It wasn't a big deal at all and within ten minutes she was free but it seems to have done some damage to a bearing holding the prop shaft. Now there is a certain speed on the throttle that the shaft doesn't agree with. It vibrates violently, making us both a little wary of traveling the long distance back without fixing her, not that we have plans to turn back anytime soon. We did take some time to visit a second beach on the island, Gilbert's Bay. We brought all our snorkeling gear because we had heard from the locals that you could swim out to a few smaller islands that were surrounded by reefs. This was not the case. We walked on a sand bar for maybe two miles, unable to swim in the shallows. We called it quits promising ourselves that upon our return to Green Turtle we will try this again at high tide.
Friday, April 18, 2014
Log Book: Feb 27th-28th
Conditions: SW 15 knots
Location: Spanish Cay
When Jack, Dad, and I awoke this morning a booming voice greeted us on the radio, "hello, Great Sail sailors," it called out of the receiver. It turned out that the mysterious voice was the little light that I had seen on shore in the night. His anchor had drug in the night, taking him so close into shore that he could have thrown a baseball up into the trees, or so he said.
We had planned on clearing customs in Green Turtle Cay, but upon the anonymous voice's advice we went to Spanish Cay instead. We got there too late in the day to clear customs but the people at the marina were very accommodating. Technically only the captain of the ship can get off the boat until she clears customs. The people at Spanish Cay said "we didn't see nothing." So Jack and I got to stretch our legs. The next morning a woman from customs came to clear us, the process was quick and easy but when it was all over Dad convinced her to tell Jack and I that something was wrong with our papers and we would have to spend the week in the boat. She was a great actress, but you only needed to look into Dad's twinkling eyes, overflowing with pent up laughter to find the lie. We used the day to relax, explore, and use the internet to let the world know that we had arrived (none of us purchased international phone plans). Just before sunset Dad, Jack, and I went out to explore the local beaches. The first beach we came to was a conch shell cemetery. They were everywhere. Either a fisherman cleans the conch out in the bay and the tide carries all the shells here or the locals clean them out right on the beach. Each shell is bleached white by the sun. I picked out a few favorites but both Dad and Jack said that once I find a new pink one the white ones that I found here will get thrown overboard. We'll see about that. The second beach we went to was more of a traditional beach with little protection, it stretched out into the ocean. You could see the waves breaking on the reef less than a mile out. All in all they weren't the best beaches. They were all white sand and palm trees but they weren't beaches that sloped down to the ocean and the whole coastline of Spanish Cay had a fair amount of trash swept in with the tides strewn on its shores. It was sad that this oasis, while mostly untouched directly by the outside world could still be so scarred by it. I only saw one car on the island while we were there. There was only one road running north and south. In some places the road crumbled into sand or was overrun by grass. When the road ended it just slowly ceased to exist. There was no cul-du-sac, no speed limit signs, and no lines of any kind on the road. Every house had their driveway built off of that one road. The majority of the houses were medium sized and fairly good looking but there were only about twenty of them on the island. Around a third of the houses were currently unoccupied, awaiting a tourist trade that apparently picks up in March/April. There seemed to be two businesses on the island, the marina and the power plant. The marina housed the only supply store, bar, bait shop, and restaurant on the island. The owners could catch a ferry to Coopers Town, on Powell Cay, for immediate supplies but if they ran out of milk it might take ten days to get a delivery from their regular supply boat "if they were lucky." The second commercial building was the power plant located in a teensy tiny red house. You knew it was the power plant because of the roar that emanated from under the roof. The building was occupied only by machinery, you could stroll right in.
Location: Spanish Cay
When Jack, Dad, and I awoke this morning a booming voice greeted us on the radio, "hello, Great Sail sailors," it called out of the receiver. It turned out that the mysterious voice was the little light that I had seen on shore in the night. His anchor had drug in the night, taking him so close into shore that he could have thrown a baseball up into the trees, or so he said.
We had planned on clearing customs in Green Turtle Cay, but upon the anonymous voice's advice we went to Spanish Cay instead. We got there too late in the day to clear customs but the people at the marina were very accommodating. Technically only the captain of the ship can get off the boat until she clears customs. The people at Spanish Cay said "we didn't see nothing." So Jack and I got to stretch our legs. The next morning a woman from customs came to clear us, the process was quick and easy but when it was all over Dad convinced her to tell Jack and I that something was wrong with our papers and we would have to spend the week in the boat. She was a great actress, but you only needed to look into Dad's twinkling eyes, overflowing with pent up laughter to find the lie. We used the day to relax, explore, and use the internet to let the world know that we had arrived (none of us purchased international phone plans). Just before sunset Dad, Jack, and I went out to explore the local beaches. The first beach we came to was a conch shell cemetery. They were everywhere. Either a fisherman cleans the conch out in the bay and the tide carries all the shells here or the locals clean them out right on the beach. Each shell is bleached white by the sun. I picked out a few favorites but both Dad and Jack said that once I find a new pink one the white ones that I found here will get thrown overboard. We'll see about that. The second beach we went to was more of a traditional beach with little protection, it stretched out into the ocean. You could see the waves breaking on the reef less than a mile out. All in all they weren't the best beaches. They were all white sand and palm trees but they weren't beaches that sloped down to the ocean and the whole coastline of Spanish Cay had a fair amount of trash swept in with the tides strewn on its shores. It was sad that this oasis, while mostly untouched directly by the outside world could still be so scarred by it. I only saw one car on the island while we were there. There was only one road running north and south. In some places the road crumbled into sand or was overrun by grass. When the road ended it just slowly ceased to exist. There was no cul-du-sac, no speed limit signs, and no lines of any kind on the road. Every house had their driveway built off of that one road. The majority of the houses were medium sized and fairly good looking but there were only about twenty of them on the island. Around a third of the houses were currently unoccupied, awaiting a tourist trade that apparently picks up in March/April. There seemed to be two businesses on the island, the marina and the power plant. The marina housed the only supply store, bar, bait shop, and restaurant on the island. The owners could catch a ferry to Coopers Town, on Powell Cay, for immediate supplies but if they ran out of milk it might take ten days to get a delivery from their regular supply boat "if they were lucky." The second commercial building was the power plant located in a teensy tiny red house. You knew it was the power plant because of the roar that emanated from under the roof. The building was occupied only by machinery, you could stroll right in.
Spotted: land crab & baby shark
Sunday, March 23, 2014
Log Book: Feb 26th
Conditions: 20 knots NW
Location: Great Sail Cay
We sailed though the night and day and made it to Great Sail Cay around 4pm. Perfect timing. I was exhausted but Dad and Jack seemed to be awakened by all the excitement. Dad especially had barely slept at all during the passage, I got sick so I had a good excuse to sleep more than anyone else but all in all it was a calm two days at sea, Dad and Jack had clearly over prepared. We didn't see a single sea creature on the way, I was very disappointed except when I looked up and saw the stars. Never was the sky so black or the stars so bright, instead of the usual thousands that one sees in the sky each night we were treated to a symphony of millions, each playing at their own brightness and in the water around the ship you could see the star dust. Except it wasn't stardust. Phytoplankton was lighting up the white water of our wake, creating a cloud of blue lights around us and a line of light trailing behind our stern. When I first saw them I thought I had been staring at the stars for too long. It was something magical. I felt like Max, sailing away from the troubles of the world on my way to where the wild things are. Great Sail Cay really was the land of the wild things. There was nothing on the island except trees, but we couldn't go ashore anyway until we visited a customs office on a populated island, until then we are officially quarantined. Two other boats were anchored in the harbor when we arrived. The place was quieter than quiet. We had some chicken sandwiches, napped, and hoped that the wind would lie down. Instead it picked up and changed directions. The strong north westerly breeze that the weather channel had promised came early and it was blowing. Dad and I had never anchored in such strong winds without at least having two anchors out but by the time we had gotten settled it was too windy to even launch the dingy to set a second one. Dad put the anchor watch on and kept the computer right next to him on his bunk, trying to ensure that he would hear or see if we we're dragging. I woke up at 3am out of the blue, I'm still not sure what made me wake up but as long as I was up I could at least check our position. The chart said we had moved around 500 yards from our original spot, when I switched on the depth sounder it read 0.8, there was eight inches of water between us and the sand. Dad and Jack woke up and we struggled for around an hour in the dark trying to find our way back to deeper water and our original spot. In the end we were fine, but it wasn't the great night sleep we were all hoping for. After the excitement we all hung out in the cockpit to ensure that our anchor would hold in its new spot. The two other boats in the harbor didn't seem to be sleeping so well either. One boat had it's running lights and engine on, seemingly ready to make a move at any minute. The other boat had moved much farther than us, it's anchor light was so far away I wondered if it wasn't an anchor light but a house that I hadn't noticed. After watching for too long I went back to bed at least feeling at I had pulled my weight for the night.
Location: Great Sail Cay
We sailed though the night and day and made it to Great Sail Cay around 4pm. Perfect timing. I was exhausted but Dad and Jack seemed to be awakened by all the excitement. Dad especially had barely slept at all during the passage, I got sick so I had a good excuse to sleep more than anyone else but all in all it was a calm two days at sea, Dad and Jack had clearly over prepared. We didn't see a single sea creature on the way, I was very disappointed except when I looked up and saw the stars. Never was the sky so black or the stars so bright, instead of the usual thousands that one sees in the sky each night we were treated to a symphony of millions, each playing at their own brightness and in the water around the ship you could see the star dust. Except it wasn't stardust. Phytoplankton was lighting up the white water of our wake, creating a cloud of blue lights around us and a line of light trailing behind our stern. When I first saw them I thought I had been staring at the stars for too long. It was something magical. I felt like Max, sailing away from the troubles of the world on my way to where the wild things are. Great Sail Cay really was the land of the wild things. There was nothing on the island except trees, but we couldn't go ashore anyway until we visited a customs office on a populated island, until then we are officially quarantined. Two other boats were anchored in the harbor when we arrived. The place was quieter than quiet. We had some chicken sandwiches, napped, and hoped that the wind would lie down. Instead it picked up and changed directions. The strong north westerly breeze that the weather channel had promised came early and it was blowing. Dad and I had never anchored in such strong winds without at least having two anchors out but by the time we had gotten settled it was too windy to even launch the dingy to set a second one. Dad put the anchor watch on and kept the computer right next to him on his bunk, trying to ensure that he would hear or see if we we're dragging. I woke up at 3am out of the blue, I'm still not sure what made me wake up but as long as I was up I could at least check our position. The chart said we had moved around 500 yards from our original spot, when I switched on the depth sounder it read 0.8, there was eight inches of water between us and the sand. Dad and Jack woke up and we struggled for around an hour in the dark trying to find our way back to deeper water and our original spot. In the end we were fine, but it wasn't the great night sleep we were all hoping for. After the excitement we all hung out in the cockpit to ensure that our anchor would hold in its new spot. The two other boats in the harbor didn't seem to be sleeping so well either. One boat had it's running lights and engine on, seemingly ready to make a move at any minute. The other boat had moved much farther than us, it's anchor light was so far away I wondered if it wasn't an anchor light but a house that I hadn't noticed. After watching for too long I went back to bed at least feeling at I had pulled my weight for the night.
Log Book: Feb 22nd-25th
Conditions: 75& sunny
Location: Lake Worth, West Palm
We stayed a few days at Palm Beach to stock up for the Bahamas, make a solid plan on when to leave, and to wait for our friend Jack to fly in and join us for the crossing. Dad and I found time to go to the beach and bike around Singer Island while we were waiting. Jack flew in on the 25th and we were just able to finishing stocking up when he arrived. Dad made the plan to leave this evening at 10pm. I got up at 7am, Dad got up at 5am, and Jack woke up at 3am. I don't think any of us are looking forward to leaving like this but our weather window is closing with dropping temperatures and a northerly breeze predicted to come in the next two days. Dad wants to leave at night so that we cross the deep Gulf Stream in the dark in order to cross the shallow Bahama Bank in full sunlight. We will end our trip at Great Sail Cay. Around 7pm we got the boat ready for sea. We made up a ditch bag and partly inflated our emergency life raft, aka the zodiac. I have to admit I wasn't really prepared for how serious Dad and Jack described the possible "ditch" situations. The worst scenario was definitely the possible tug boat and barge death trap, involving long wires stretched between the two of vessels, hooking and dragging down any boat that attempts to come between them. I thought I'd feel safer with Dad AND Jack aboard, but the more they went through fatal event scenarios the more nervous I got, I suppose it can be rather dangerous.
Location: Lake Worth, West Palm
We stayed a few days at Palm Beach to stock up for the Bahamas, make a solid plan on when to leave, and to wait for our friend Jack to fly in and join us for the crossing. Dad and I found time to go to the beach and bike around Singer Island while we were waiting. Jack flew in on the 25th and we were just able to finishing stocking up when he arrived. Dad made the plan to leave this evening at 10pm. I got up at 7am, Dad got up at 5am, and Jack woke up at 3am. I don't think any of us are looking forward to leaving like this but our weather window is closing with dropping temperatures and a northerly breeze predicted to come in the next two days. Dad wants to leave at night so that we cross the deep Gulf Stream in the dark in order to cross the shallow Bahama Bank in full sunlight. We will end our trip at Great Sail Cay. Around 7pm we got the boat ready for sea. We made up a ditch bag and partly inflated our emergency life raft, aka the zodiac. I have to admit I wasn't really prepared for how serious Dad and Jack described the possible "ditch" situations. The worst scenario was definitely the possible tug boat and barge death trap, involving long wires stretched between the two of vessels, hooking and dragging down any boat that attempts to come between them. I thought I'd feel safer with Dad AND Jack aboard, but the more they went through fatal event scenarios the more nervous I got, I suppose it can be rather dangerous.
Log Book: Feb 21st
Conditions: 79 & sunny
Location: Del Ray Beach
The bridges were more of a pain today. We'd make one and then miss the next opening, forcing us to wait around. Some of the bridge operators even refuse to respond until they are ready to open, keeping us wondering if our radio has stopped working or if the bridge is scheduled for maintenance or something so it won't be opened. A sailboat followed us for awhile up the canal. Dad, very uncharacteristically hung back after the crew on the other boat asked us where we were anchoring tonight. Dad told me that he didn't want to share our small, sheltered anchorage at Del Ray, what if there wasn't much room left and this sailboat takes our spot. We needn't have worried. The anchorage was completely empty when we arrived.
Location: Del Ray Beach
The bridges were more of a pain today. We'd make one and then miss the next opening, forcing us to wait around. Some of the bridge operators even refuse to respond until they are ready to open, keeping us wondering if our radio has stopped working or if the bridge is scheduled for maintenance or something so it won't be opened. A sailboat followed us for awhile up the canal. Dad, very uncharacteristically hung back after the crew on the other boat asked us where we were anchoring tonight. Dad told me that he didn't want to share our small, sheltered anchorage at Del Ray, what if there wasn't much room left and this sailboat takes our spot. We needn't have worried. The anchorage was completely empty when we arrived.
Log Book: Feb 20th
Conditions: 5 knot S wind
Location: Fort Lauderdale
We left Key Biscayne intent on navigating the jungle of bridges before us on the way to Fort Lauderdale. The first bridge we came to, the Rickenbacker causeway, was sixty five feet high, plenty of room for us to slip under but we still had to wait. When we came to the bridge a parade of powerboats zoomed under the spans, creating choppy waves, a roaring thundering din, and a cloud of exhaust in their wake. Dad and I were not amused. There must have been fifty speed boats. Dad said that they were going out to race. Once the motorcade finally got through the bridge we were on our way and the bridges didn't treat us too badly this time. We got on a mooring in Fort Lauderdale and kicked back for the night. Dad made clam chowder, something he had promised to do for more than a week. It was relaxing but all in all it's not easy to go from our relaxed lifestyle to a time sequenced agenda and schedule. We both preferred coasting, but as the Rolling Stones said, you can't always get what you want.
Log Book: February 12th-13th
Conditions: 65 & rainy
Location: Key Largo
Dad and I awoke this morning feeling well rested and less cranky than we had when we arrived. The morning was warm and relaxing but as we were listening to the weather report we got some bad news, thunderstorm warning from midday through tomorrow morning. We had time to kill anyway. The Miami boat show, at we had planned on attending, doesn't start until the thirteenth and lasts until the seventeenth. We also had a package arriving in the mail for us at Key Largo that had not landed yet. So instead of heading off for Miami we hung around at Rodriguez until noon. We sailed into the marina at Key Largo just before the thunderstorm hit. Although we experienced days of rain in Key Biscayne it was nothing to the downpour we received in Key Largo. But the rain here is never constant, just when you put your umbrella away and the sun comes out it rains again. While we were in Key Largo this second time Dad and I worked on the fresh water pump. At some unknown point during our trip down to Key West our larger fresh water tank had leaked all of its contents into the bilge. Luckily the leak was easy to fix, unluckily that wasn't the whole story. We filled both tanks, emptied both tanks, cleaned both tanks, rinsed both tanks, and then filled them again. Dad gets easily frustrated with repetition so he frequently looks for a more efficient way to eliminate steps. I get easily frustrated with Dad's prolonged process of eliminating a step. My motto is do it right, do it once, and do it as fast as possible. Our conflicting views lead us to bump heads once and awhile. I think it's good for both of us. After we received our mail Dad and I went out to dinner with friends of my mother's who live in the Keys. Tammy and Jen were northerners who had never thought that they would live anywhere else but fell in love with the atmosphere here on vacation years ago and decided on a move. Dad and I had a great time hearing their unique perspective on the area and our common understandings, being from New England. Tammy wants to leave her desk job to become a alligator conservationist. She would be trying to convince the locals not to shoot alligators that happen upon their yards and swimming pools, but instead to call her. She will be catching alligators Crocodile Dun Dee style. It's one of the coolest jobs I've ever heard of.
Location: Key Largo
Dad and I awoke this morning feeling well rested and less cranky than we had when we arrived. The morning was warm and relaxing but as we were listening to the weather report we got some bad news, thunderstorm warning from midday through tomorrow morning. We had time to kill anyway. The Miami boat show, at we had planned on attending, doesn't start until the thirteenth and lasts until the seventeenth. We also had a package arriving in the mail for us at Key Largo that had not landed yet. So instead of heading off for Miami we hung around at Rodriguez until noon. We sailed into the marina at Key Largo just before the thunderstorm hit. Although we experienced days of rain in Key Biscayne it was nothing to the downpour we received in Key Largo. But the rain here is never constant, just when you put your umbrella away and the sun comes out it rains again. While we were in Key Largo this second time Dad and I worked on the fresh water pump. At some unknown point during our trip down to Key West our larger fresh water tank had leaked all of its contents into the bilge. Luckily the leak was easy to fix, unluckily that wasn't the whole story. We filled both tanks, emptied both tanks, cleaned both tanks, rinsed both tanks, and then filled them again. Dad gets easily frustrated with repetition so he frequently looks for a more efficient way to eliminate steps. I get easily frustrated with Dad's prolonged process of eliminating a step. My motto is do it right, do it once, and do it as fast as possible. Our conflicting views lead us to bump heads once and awhile. I think it's good for both of us. After we received our mail Dad and I went out to dinner with friends of my mother's who live in the Keys. Tammy and Jen were northerners who had never thought that they would live anywhere else but fell in love with the atmosphere here on vacation years ago and decided on a move. Dad and I had a great time hearing their unique perspective on the area and our common understandings, being from New England. Tammy wants to leave her desk job to become a alligator conservationist. She would be trying to convince the locals not to shoot alligators that happen upon their yards and swimming pools, but instead to call her. She will be catching alligators Crocodile Dun Dee style. It's one of the coolest jobs I've ever heard of.
Tuesday, March 18, 2014
Log Book: February 14th-19th
Conditions: East wind, 85 & sunny
Location: Key Biscayne (part 2)
It took Dad and I awhile to gather all of our provisions and get off the dock at Key Largo this morning. Consequently, we sailed into the night and arrived in Key Biscayne around 8pm. The moon was full or almost full and lit up the way for us. It was beautiful. Since we had been through the Florida Straits on our way down to Key Largo we weren't too nervous traveling into No Name Harbor in the dark. What we were nervous about was the amount of room available to anchor, it being a holiday weekend and the Miami Boat Show weekend as well. I stood on the bow as we came closer to shore, trying to count the masts in the sky above the tree line. Luckily we needn't have worried. I counted three masts and when we got inside the inlet there were five sailboats and a handful of small powerboats. After pointing Dad towards the perfect spot to anchor we set it like two old pros, both of us thanked the stars for making it so easy. As it turned out it was a little early to thank the stars. Two hours later I was still up, unable to sleep, when I heard the roaring of an engine pass by our portholes. I told Dad to get up before jumping up the forward hatch. While there was room for us and the sailboat anchored next to us to swing there was little room for a large boat to travel in between us. There just wasn't enough room for a boat to pass us and make the turn around next boat before he ran into the harbor wall, unless he took a shortcut over our anchor line, which is exactly what happened. I made it to the foredeck before his engine stalled, just in time for me to see our line disappear under his hull. I shouted to him to tell him he was over our line but he only responded "Yeah, someone just ran over mine." That's when his engine stalled as our line wrapped around his prop. When Dad met me on the bow I was holding onto his stern rail, trying my utmost to keep him from backing onto us. In the mean time the bow of the offending boat was swinging toward the sailboat anchored next to us, slamming his bow sprit into the other guys hull. No one was amused, the dude clearly had had one too many. Dad and I sorted our situation out pretty quickly after that. If we tried to raft up with the boat on our anchor we both would probably drag into the mangroves. We had little choice but to ditch the anchor line and set our spare anchor on the other side of the harbor, as far away from this guy as possible. The boat owner said he would swim down and untangle our anchor in the morning for us but it was hard to get a sound night sleep after that.
In the morning Dad and I retrieved our anchor from 'the guy' and he gifted us a bottle of wine for all the trouble he caused. Even though it wasn't the ideal night we still put it in the win bracket. Dad then wasted no time before calling his old college buddy who was in town for the boat show. Dad and Carlos met playing soccer together in college. Carlos now owns a marina and restaurant in Cancun and brokers boats for a few of his customers, which is why he is in Miami for the boat show. Dad and I took the public transportation system into town, which was shockingly pretty good. The buses into Miami run every half hour and once inside the city there is a free sky rail that will take you almost anywhere you want to go. We met Carlos at the indoor venue of the boat show, housing the powerboats and most of the commercial stands. Dad and Carlos hadn't seen each other in around thirty years but they picked up right where they left off. The three of us sat at a table for hours and I listened to them reminisce and fill each other in on what had happened in their lives since they left college. It was strange and scary to hear their life stories begin right after college, basically exactly where I am at in my life. After two rum and cokes and more than two hours of chatting Carlos had to get back to his customers and promised to meet us at the show tomorrow. Dad and I took a tour around the facility. The show had everything you could imagine wanting on a boat, and also I lot of stuff that you flat out wouldn't want on your boat. The event rooms showcased anchors, solar power, fishing lures, huge bronze fish to put on your boat's mantle, thousands of small powerboats, but most notably emergency life rafts blown up on display. The rafts were big, orange circular inflatables with tents over the top to protect sailors from the elements. The rafts were supported on stilts so that they were eye level with the passing consumers. As we walked by these rafts two little girls played around the boats. I dared Dad to tell them that the rafts were moon bounces. The girl's eyes lit up as he told her and she glanced over her shoulder toward the raft. She then made a beeline for it, ditching her shoes on the path and climbing inside. The salesman nearly lost his cool as he told her that it was not a toy and for god sake don't jump on it. Dad and I got out of there as fast as we could. We stopped at
a Cuban place right on the water for dinner. We had the best food there and fell in love with "Cuban coffee," which was basically really sweet espresso. We got back to the boat very late, since we had to take the bus and crashed into our bunks.
Today we ventured to the "All Sail" part of the Miami boat show with Carlos. While there were a few gorgeous monohulls, the catamarans were clearly the main event here. They were huge, flashy, and sometimes straight gaudy with dolphins painted on the deck and chandeliers adorning the outdoor space below the raised cockpit. Most of the boats here were floating palaces in which the owners competed to outdo each other. Our favorite boat of the day was a Morris 42. The boat's interior was sculpted out, with no doors or barriers from space to space with the exception of the head. She was probably the smallest boat we were on all day. It was great to walk around the boats with Carlos. The boat brokers rarely paid attention to any of the boat borders unless they were another boat broker, so we got the royal treatment. Later we made our way to South Beach to visit the large powerboat brokers. If we thought the catamarans were flashy at the last venue it was nothing in comparison with the power boats. Usually a brand had its own dock to itself, enabling to model their entire fleet in one spot. Some of the brands went all out and erected floating offices at the end of their piers, encased in glass and furnished with comfortable sofas and modern parlor decor. Models stood at the transom of each boat, welcoming guests onto the yachts. It was extravagant but very well done. It made you feel like if you bought one of these boats you were in a club of elite. However if you need a crew for your pleasure boat, then you're missing the point of owning a boat entirely.
After the festivities were finally over we went out to dinner with Carlos and his family. Carlos' middle daughter, Britney lives in Miami and told me all about the lifestyle. Although as an outsider it seems that its all high heels, porsche's, and designer dresses but there is actually a large counter culture of bike riders, park hikers, paddle boarders, surfers, and sailors. It definitely gave me hope that Miami could be an attractive place to live.
Dad and I woke up today planning on going to the customs office today but then realized that it was a national holiday and they would be closed. Instead we posted up in a Starbucks and abused their free internet for awhile. Then we went to the Winn Dixie on the island to restock our reserves for our upcoming trip north to West Palm. When we got back to relax we watched a medium sized barge start to pull into the harbor. It pulled up to the wall and docked for the night. Dad and I talked about all the possible reasons for why they were here. There was no marina, meaning that there was no fuel. There was mercifully a pump-out station but the barge had a port-a-potty on deck. Can you pump out a port-a-potty we wondered? Maybe they came to dredge the harbor but they seemingly had little to no equipment for a task like that. We didn't find out until the next morning why they had arrived. An old fishing boat was towed by a small powerboat up to the barge at around 8am. The powerboat looked brand new, while the fishing boat looked like it could sink any minute. The paint was peeling off of the sides, the windows were taped up, etc. Then the cameras began rolling. They were filming a movie. By watching closely Dad and I were able to discover most of the plot - well at least the important parts. It began... Once upon a time in the Gulf of Mexico in the early 70s an overloaded ferry of Central Americans attempted a long hot crossing. Two male passengers got into a dispute and one of them stabs the other and throws his body overboard. Later a helicopter, pretending to be the coast guard, went in search for 'the body.' It was pretty cool but we never discovered the name of the film. The murder wasn't the only excitement of the day, after we got back from the customs office I went paddle boarding. I paddled out of the harbor and down the coast toward the lighthouse and the atlantic ocean. It was going well, until I got out of the lee of the land and felt the current pick up under the board and the wind start pushing me faster. I decided not to risk getting to close to the point where it turned from bay into ocean. I turned the board around and for about thirty seconds I was in a
full panic. I was paddling as fast and as hard as I could and was getting no where. People started gathering at the beach, presumably staring at the stupid girl that was in the fight of her life wondering at what point they should call the coast guard. I thought to myself 'how long can I struggle against this tide before throwing down my paddle and waving my arms screaming for help.' But then I made a plan. Plan A was to see if I could ride sideways to the current to shore before I was swept past it. Plan B was to paddle with the current and away from shore toward the shallow flats that kept a few kite surfers and wake boarders entertained, maybe I could hitch a ride but it never came to that. Inch by inch I made it closer to shore and was able to at least hide from the wind and battle only against the current. When I got back to the boat I felt like the hulk was attempting to emerge out of my shoulder blades but we already had the board out and the weather was still beautiful two hours before sunset so Dad and I went windsurfing. I finally was able to successfully windsurf down wind, something I had been struggling to accomplish. It took all day and I told Dad a few times that his coaching was crap but I eventually abandoned all instruction and figured it out for myself in classic teenager style. Dad took a turn surfing as well. The whole harbor was cheering us on and offering advice. Tomorrow we leave for Fort Lauderdale, a stop on the way to West Palm aka last stop before on to the Bahamas.
Location: Key Biscayne (part 2)
It took Dad and I awhile to gather all of our provisions and get off the dock at Key Largo this morning. Consequently, we sailed into the night and arrived in Key Biscayne around 8pm. The moon was full or almost full and lit up the way for us. It was beautiful. Since we had been through the Florida Straits on our way down to Key Largo we weren't too nervous traveling into No Name Harbor in the dark. What we were nervous about was the amount of room available to anchor, it being a holiday weekend and the Miami Boat Show weekend as well. I stood on the bow as we came closer to shore, trying to count the masts in the sky above the tree line. Luckily we needn't have worried. I counted three masts and when we got inside the inlet there were five sailboats and a handful of small powerboats. After pointing Dad towards the perfect spot to anchor we set it like two old pros, both of us thanked the stars for making it so easy. As it turned out it was a little early to thank the stars. Two hours later I was still up, unable to sleep, when I heard the roaring of an engine pass by our portholes. I told Dad to get up before jumping up the forward hatch. While there was room for us and the sailboat anchored next to us to swing there was little room for a large boat to travel in between us. There just wasn't enough room for a boat to pass us and make the turn around next boat before he ran into the harbor wall, unless he took a shortcut over our anchor line, which is exactly what happened. I made it to the foredeck before his engine stalled, just in time for me to see our line disappear under his hull. I shouted to him to tell him he was over our line but he only responded "Yeah, someone just ran over mine." That's when his engine stalled as our line wrapped around his prop. When Dad met me on the bow I was holding onto his stern rail, trying my utmost to keep him from backing onto us. In the mean time the bow of the offending boat was swinging toward the sailboat anchored next to us, slamming his bow sprit into the other guys hull. No one was amused, the dude clearly had had one too many. Dad and I sorted our situation out pretty quickly after that. If we tried to raft up with the boat on our anchor we both would probably drag into the mangroves. We had little choice but to ditch the anchor line and set our spare anchor on the other side of the harbor, as far away from this guy as possible. The boat owner said he would swim down and untangle our anchor in the morning for us but it was hard to get a sound night sleep after that.
In the morning Dad and I retrieved our anchor from 'the guy' and he gifted us a bottle of wine for all the trouble he caused. Even though it wasn't the ideal night we still put it in the win bracket. Dad then wasted no time before calling his old college buddy who was in town for the boat show. Dad and Carlos met playing soccer together in college. Carlos now owns a marina and restaurant in Cancun and brokers boats for a few of his customers, which is why he is in Miami for the boat show. Dad and I took the public transportation system into town, which was shockingly pretty good. The buses into Miami run every half hour and once inside the city there is a free sky rail that will take you almost anywhere you want to go. We met Carlos at the indoor venue of the boat show, housing the powerboats and most of the commercial stands. Dad and Carlos hadn't seen each other in around thirty years but they picked up right where they left off. The three of us sat at a table for hours and I listened to them reminisce and fill each other in on what had happened in their lives since they left college. It was strange and scary to hear their life stories begin right after college, basically exactly where I am at in my life. After two rum and cokes and more than two hours of chatting Carlos had to get back to his customers and promised to meet us at the show tomorrow. Dad and I took a tour around the facility. The show had everything you could imagine wanting on a boat, and also I lot of stuff that you flat out wouldn't want on your boat. The event rooms showcased anchors, solar power, fishing lures, huge bronze fish to put on your boat's mantle, thousands of small powerboats, but most notably emergency life rafts blown up on display. The rafts were big, orange circular inflatables with tents over the top to protect sailors from the elements. The rafts were supported on stilts so that they were eye level with the passing consumers. As we walked by these rafts two little girls played around the boats. I dared Dad to tell them that the rafts were moon bounces. The girl's eyes lit up as he told her and she glanced over her shoulder toward the raft. She then made a beeline for it, ditching her shoes on the path and climbing inside. The salesman nearly lost his cool as he told her that it was not a toy and for god sake don't jump on it. Dad and I got out of there as fast as we could. We stopped at
a Cuban place right on the water for dinner. We had the best food there and fell in love with "Cuban coffee," which was basically really sweet espresso. We got back to the boat very late, since we had to take the bus and crashed into our bunks.
Today we ventured to the "All Sail" part of the Miami boat show with Carlos. While there were a few gorgeous monohulls, the catamarans were clearly the main event here. They were huge, flashy, and sometimes straight gaudy with dolphins painted on the deck and chandeliers adorning the outdoor space below the raised cockpit. Most of the boats here were floating palaces in which the owners competed to outdo each other. Our favorite boat of the day was a Morris 42. The boat's interior was sculpted out, with no doors or barriers from space to space with the exception of the head. She was probably the smallest boat we were on all day. It was great to walk around the boats with Carlos. The boat brokers rarely paid attention to any of the boat borders unless they were another boat broker, so we got the royal treatment. Later we made our way to South Beach to visit the large powerboat brokers. If we thought the catamarans were flashy at the last venue it was nothing in comparison with the power boats. Usually a brand had its own dock to itself, enabling to model their entire fleet in one spot. Some of the brands went all out and erected floating offices at the end of their piers, encased in glass and furnished with comfortable sofas and modern parlor decor. Models stood at the transom of each boat, welcoming guests onto the yachts. It was extravagant but very well done. It made you feel like if you bought one of these boats you were in a club of elite. However if you need a crew for your pleasure boat, then you're missing the point of owning a boat entirely.
After the festivities were finally over we went out to dinner with Carlos and his family. Carlos' middle daughter, Britney lives in Miami and told me all about the lifestyle. Although as an outsider it seems that its all high heels, porsche's, and designer dresses but there is actually a large counter culture of bike riders, park hikers, paddle boarders, surfers, and sailors. It definitely gave me hope that Miami could be an attractive place to live.
Dad and I woke up today planning on going to the customs office today but then realized that it was a national holiday and they would be closed. Instead we posted up in a Starbucks and abused their free internet for awhile. Then we went to the Winn Dixie on the island to restock our reserves for our upcoming trip north to West Palm. When we got back to relax we watched a medium sized barge start to pull into the harbor. It pulled up to the wall and docked for the night. Dad and I talked about all the possible reasons for why they were here. There was no marina, meaning that there was no fuel. There was mercifully a pump-out station but the barge had a port-a-potty on deck. Can you pump out a port-a-potty we wondered? Maybe they came to dredge the harbor but they seemingly had little to no equipment for a task like that. We didn't find out until the next morning why they had arrived. An old fishing boat was towed by a small powerboat up to the barge at around 8am. The powerboat looked brand new, while the fishing boat looked like it could sink any minute. The paint was peeling off of the sides, the windows were taped up, etc. Then the cameras began rolling. They were filming a movie. By watching closely Dad and I were able to discover most of the plot - well at least the important parts. It began... Once upon a time in the Gulf of Mexico in the early 70s an overloaded ferry of Central Americans attempted a long hot crossing. Two male passengers got into a dispute and one of them stabs the other and throws his body overboard. Later a helicopter, pretending to be the coast guard, went in search for 'the body.' It was pretty cool but we never discovered the name of the film. The murder wasn't the only excitement of the day, after we got back from the customs office I went paddle boarding. I paddled out of the harbor and down the coast toward the lighthouse and the atlantic ocean. It was going well, until I got out of the lee of the land and felt the current pick up under the board and the wind start pushing me faster. I decided not to risk getting to close to the point where it turned from bay into ocean. I turned the board around and for about thirty seconds I was in a
full panic. I was paddling as fast and as hard as I could and was getting no where. People started gathering at the beach, presumably staring at the stupid girl that was in the fight of her life wondering at what point they should call the coast guard. I thought to myself 'how long can I struggle against this tide before throwing down my paddle and waving my arms screaming for help.' But then I made a plan. Plan A was to see if I could ride sideways to the current to shore before I was swept past it. Plan B was to paddle with the current and away from shore toward the shallow flats that kept a few kite surfers and wake boarders entertained, maybe I could hitch a ride but it never came to that. Inch by inch I made it closer to shore and was able to at least hide from the wind and battle only against the current. When I got back to the boat I felt like the hulk was attempting to emerge out of my shoulder blades but we already had the board out and the weather was still beautiful two hours before sunset so Dad and I went windsurfing. I finally was able to successfully windsurf down wind, something I had been struggling to accomplish. It took all day and I told Dad a few times that his coaching was crap but I eventually abandoned all instruction and figured it out for myself in classic teenager style. Dad took a turn surfing as well. The whole harbor was cheering us on and offering advice. Tomorrow we leave for Fort Lauderdale, a stop on the way to West Palm aka last stop before on to the Bahamas.
Friday, February 28, 2014
Log Book: February 11th
Conditions: 10 knot, S wind
Location: Rodriguez Key (part 2)
Although we got up early this morning in Marathon it took us awhile to restock, refuel, and check out of the marina. We didn't leave until 11:30, meaning we would be sailing into the night. The trip back up to Rodriguez was much more comfortable than the trip down. Dad attributed this to our cockpit awning that we erected before leaving the marina. It did a great job of keeping us out of the sun. We motored with the autopilot on almost the entire day, keeping our hands free to read, write this post, and dolphin watch. One such dolphin swam on our bow wake, another swam under our boat with her calf. Before we knew it we were ten miles away from the anchorage and the sun had set. Fortunately for us the moon was big and bright. I sat on bow for a long time keeping my eyes peeled for crab traps. By 9pm shapes started appearing out of the sea before my eyes. Wave crests started to look like black fins. Dark seaweed patches on the ocean floor began to look like rock formations and shadows cast across the water looked like darting sea monsters. Maybe I'm crazy, or have a vivid imagination, maybe I was just tired but I easily understand how sailors came home with horror stories of sea monsters. We got the anchor set in Rodriguez around 10pm. I told Dad that if he snored tonight I would be forced to suffocate him with my pillow.
Location: Rodriguez Key (part 2)
Although we got up early this morning in Marathon it took us awhile to restock, refuel, and check out of the marina. We didn't leave until 11:30, meaning we would be sailing into the night. The trip back up to Rodriguez was much more comfortable than the trip down. Dad attributed this to our cockpit awning that we erected before leaving the marina. It did a great job of keeping us out of the sun. We motored with the autopilot on almost the entire day, keeping our hands free to read, write this post, and dolphin watch. One such dolphin swam on our bow wake, another swam under our boat with her calf. Before we knew it we were ten miles away from the anchorage and the sun had set. Fortunately for us the moon was big and bright. I sat on bow for a long time keeping my eyes peeled for crab traps. By 9pm shapes started appearing out of the sea before my eyes. Wave crests started to look like black fins. Dark seaweed patches on the ocean floor began to look like rock formations and shadows cast across the water looked like darting sea monsters. Maybe I'm crazy, or have a vivid imagination, maybe I was just tired but I easily understand how sailors came home with horror stories of sea monsters. We got the anchor set in Rodriguez around 10pm. I told Dad that if he snored tonight I would be forced to suffocate him with my pillow.
Wednesday, February 12, 2014
Log Book: February 10th
Conditions: 82 degrees
Location: Marathon part 2
Dad and I had planned on returning to Key West today but we were so tired from last night that we decided to just spend the day at Marathon. We went to a great breakfast joint called The Stuffed Pig and then hit the beach. Sobraro Beach was a public beach just a mile away, it was pretty small but had great facilities. We didn't meet a single sole on the beach who was actually from Florida, maybe they have their own secret beaches they go to. Most of the tourists on the sand were foreigners and not the Canadian kind, they're just neighbors. I was really surprised at the number of Europeans who had crossed the Atlantic just for a week in the sun. After the beach we went in search for the municipal marina and found it in a large bay on the ocean side of the island. We had originally thought that there were one hundred or so moorings somewhere in Marathon. Boy were we wrong, looking out on the bay I saw the most boats I had ever seen in one place. There must have been three hundred boats on moorings so close to each other they looked like parked cars. It was impossible to believe that they had a waiting list for this many moorings. I think that Dad has already begun making plans and taking notes for next time. At the end of the day we grilled out at the end of the docks and watched the sun set. It wasn't as exciting as our day in Key West but it was much more relaxing. Tomorrow we will head back up the Keys to try and make the Miami Boat Show.
What we ate: ribs & sweet potatoes
Dad and I had planned on returning to Key West today but we were so tired from last night that we decided to just spend the day at Marathon. We went to a great breakfast joint called The Stuffed Pig and then hit the beach. Sobraro Beach was a public beach just a mile away, it was pretty small but had great facilities. We didn't meet a single sole on the beach who was actually from Florida, maybe they have their own secret beaches they go to. Most of the tourists on the sand were foreigners and not the Canadian kind, they're just neighbors. I was really surprised at the number of Europeans who had crossed the Atlantic just for a week in the sun. After the beach we went in search for the municipal marina and found it in a large bay on the ocean side of the island. We had originally thought that there were one hundred or so moorings somewhere in Marathon. Boy were we wrong, looking out on the bay I saw the most boats I had ever seen in one place. There must have been three hundred boats on moorings so close to each other they looked like parked cars. It was impossible to believe that they had a waiting list for this many moorings. I think that Dad has already begun making plans and taking notes for next time. At the end of the day we grilled out at the end of the docks and watched the sun set. It wasn't as exciting as our day in Key West but it was much more relaxing. Tomorrow we will head back up the Keys to try and make the Miami Boat Show.
What we ate: ribs & sweet potatoes
Log Book: February 9th
Conditions: 80 degrees
Location: Key West
We woke up early this morning, went under the seven mile bridge, over the sand flats of Florida Bay, and into Blackfin Marina. At one point traveling over the flats the bottom was a mere four inches below the keel. You might think that it was risky for us to even try to sail in Florida Bay but just yesterday a sailor told us he was taking his boat down to Key West inside and that his draft is four feet but the average depth of the bay is five so quote on quote "no worries." The marina was a tight fit as well. We were forced to K-turn into the slip because the canal was so narrow. Dad took the wheel at that point, it's nothing like driving a car just so you know. Once we were situated it wasn't a bad spot at all. An hour later we were on a two dollar bus ride down route 1, bound for Key West. Route 1 in the Keys was previously an old railway, built by Henry Flagler when the only access to the keys was by boat. Route 1 is the closest thing to a highway around here. It splits almost every Key in half leaving a trail of strip malls and sprawl in its wake. It is essentially the only road that goes anywhere here and it's a shame that it wasn't kept as a railway. Key West was a different story. The scenery here was not unlike Newport or Block Island, plenty of sandals on the sidewalks. If there are no young people in the Upper Keys it's because they all moved down here. Dad and I bar hopped during the day and then caught the show at sunset. On the pier in Malory Square a number of street performers set up their acts just before sunset. We saw a man eat fire, a Rastafarian who played the steel drum, a pair of acrobats, a kissing parrot, and a juggler with his dancing pig. We had been told by more than a few people that Key West had tons of these 'characters' because it was an 'end of the world' kind of place. I think you might describe them as people who don't feel at home in our mundane society so they go on a nomadic search for a place with people more like themselves. They get further away from the office, then further away from the city, then further away from the suburbs, and the very bravest of them go further away from everything until they reach the end of the world. Key West is a common final destination, many compare it to Provincetown, I would compare it to Oz.
Dad and I got confused by the bus schedule and almost missed the last one out of town. We had a great time but we were definitely ready for some sleep. Unfortunately the bus ride back was a different route that took much longer to get out of town. Luckily for us we had a ortraveling band abroad to pass the time. A group of five teenagers got on the bus after us with their skateboards and one guitar. They were about fifteen but knew all the words to 'What I Got' by Sublime. It was the perfect way to pass the time. We got back to the dock in Marathon safe and sound feeling that our next time in Key West we'll have to join a band.
We woke up early this morning, went under the seven mile bridge, over the sand flats of Florida Bay, and into Blackfin Marina. At one point traveling over the flats the bottom was a mere four inches below the keel. You might think that it was risky for us to even try to sail in Florida Bay but just yesterday a sailor told us he was taking his boat down to Key West inside and that his draft is four feet but the average depth of the bay is five so quote on quote "no worries." The marina was a tight fit as well. We were forced to K-turn into the slip because the canal was so narrow. Dad took the wheel at that point, it's nothing like driving a car just so you know. Once we were situated it wasn't a bad spot at all. An hour later we were on a two dollar bus ride down route 1, bound for Key West. Route 1 in the Keys was previously an old railway, built by Henry Flagler when the only access to the keys was by boat. Route 1 is the closest thing to a highway around here. It splits almost every Key in half leaving a trail of strip malls and sprawl in its wake. It is essentially the only road that goes anywhere here and it's a shame that it wasn't kept as a railway. Key West was a different story. The scenery here was not unlike Newport or Block Island, plenty of sandals on the sidewalks. If there are no young people in the Upper Keys it's because they all moved down here. Dad and I bar hopped during the day and then caught the show at sunset. On the pier in Malory Square a number of street performers set up their acts just before sunset. We saw a man eat fire, a Rastafarian who played the steel drum, a pair of acrobats, a kissing parrot, and a juggler with his dancing pig. We had been told by more than a few people that Key West had tons of these 'characters' because it was an 'end of the world' kind of place. I think you might describe them as people who don't feel at home in our mundane society so they go on a nomadic search for a place with people more like themselves. They get further away from the office, then further away from the city, then further away from the suburbs, and the very bravest of them go further away from everything until they reach the end of the world. Key West is a common final destination, many compare it to Provincetown, I would compare it to Oz.
Dad and I got confused by the bus schedule and almost missed the last one out of town. We had a great time but we were definitely ready for some sleep. Unfortunately the bus ride back was a different route that took much longer to get out of town. Luckily for us we had a ortraveling band abroad to pass the time. A group of five teenagers got on the bus after us with their skateboards and one guitar. They were about fifteen but knew all the words to 'What I Got' by Sublime. It was the perfect way to pass the time. We got back to the dock in Marathon safe and sound feeling that our next time in Key West we'll have to join a band.
What we ate: 50 cent oysters
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