Lessons From Abaco

Top Ten Reasons Hurricane Season is Like Christmas 10. Decorating the house (boarding up windows) 9. Dragging out boxes that haven't been used since last season (camping gear, flashlights) 8. Last minute shopping in crowded stores 7. Regular TV shows pre-empted for "specials" 6. Family coming to stay with you. 5. Family and friends from out-of-state calling. 4. Buying food you don't normally buy . . . and in large quantities 3. Days off from work. 2. Candles. And the number one reason Hurricane Season is like Christmas . . . 1. At some point you know you're going to end up with a tree in your house!

 

I know exactly what the people in the Abacos are doing today. They're sweeping up, fixing up, and "manning up". They sure aren't waiting for some government agency to come and help them or tell them what to do. They already know, they've done it before. On their own…with a little help from their friends.

Six years ago I was living on my sailboat in the Abacos, Bahamas when Hurricane Francis decided to pay a visit. I'd never been through a hurricane before and I'll admit this girl from Kansas where tornadoes wreak their havoc, usually in the middle of the night with little advance warning, held some disdain for a storm that announced its arrival well in advance. One of the first questions you encounter when you decide to live on a boat is "What are you going to do if you find yourself in a hurricane?" so you read everything you can get your hands on about the subject in the hopes that you'll never have to use that knowledge. But there I was with a hurricane bearing down so now it was time to put the disaster plan in action.

We were in Marsh Harbour at the time, at a little marina called the Port of Call. Hurricane Frances was still about a week out and in all probability would veer from its expected path and miss us all together. And there was a big party planned at Baker's Bay that everyone, and I mean everyone was going to. For a change, the cap'n and I decided to listen to our heads instead of our livers and decided to skip the party. You see, we weren't supposed to still be in the Abacos. We were supposed to have been long gone from that chain of islands and be clear down in Venezuela waiting out hurricane season somewhere south of latitude 12. Alas, the tides of friends and parties had kept our docklines tied firmly to the Abacos and now we found ourselves without a prearranged hurricane hole to "hole-up" in. We knew we didn't want to stay at the dock, we'd seen enough videos of marinas during a hurricane on the weather channel and we didn't trust the holding well enough to anchor in "Mushy Harbour". Luckily, we managed to score the last mooring ball available in Hope Town on Elbow Cay and instead of putting off the inevitable for one more day (or two or three depending on the severity of our hangovers) we skipped the party and started making our boat hurricane ready. We used the information we'd gleaned from years of reading about the upcoming momentous event and more importantly we listened to others that had been through hurricanes before.

We moved the boat to the safe harbor of Hope Town while all of our friends were moving theirs to Man-Of-War cay which was considered to be safer. We had waited too long to secure a place over there. We took all of the sails down and stowed everything that was possible down below. If it could move, it was tied down, if it could chafe, it was wrapped. With Francis still a couple of days out, we found ourselves sitting in our bare cockpit with nothing left to do but worry while all of our friends were still scurrying around moving their boats and making ready. We watched as self-appointed harbour masters shoo'd late-comers desperately seeking shelter from the storm back out of the harbour entrance. Only a handful of boats were allowed into Hope Town and we were lucky to be one of them. We finally accepted that there was nothing more we could do and what would happen would happen and decided to take the ferry back over to Marsh Harbour and our friend's house where we would be staying even if it was two days before Jeanne was supposed to arrive on the scene. That decision was just another lucky happenstance since the ferries which had been assuring everybody that they would be running the next day, all of a sudden had the keen insight that maybe they ought to secure their own boats, and announced the next morning that they would not be running after all.

I won't go into the details of the hurricane itself because I've already been long-winded enough and that's a whole 'nother blog about the plight of a house full of old boaters marooned in a house during a four day hurricane and the desperate measures they take when the booze runs out. Just envision "Lord of the Flies". LOL. Truthfully, we relished the luxury and good food and wonderful company provided by Patty and Bob at Blue Dolphin in our hour of need. Patty practically had to show us the door to get rid of us.

I've found that a boat is a lot like life. If you take care and protect it, it will return the favor. Some of life's lessons are hard to learn and there were lessons which that bitch Frances taught me that have helped me weather other storms whether they be storms that Mother Nature bestowed on me or storms I have brewed up on my own. Here they are in no particular order:

1. Find a safe harbour. One where the holding is good and you are protected from the brunt of the storm. No matter how rough that safe harbour gets, no matter how much it tosses you around and leaves you sick and feeling like you might die, don't sail back into the storm. Ride it out. The storm will eventually pass over your harbour but if you cast your lot with the storm you can't know how far she will carry you from safety or to what depths she will drive you.

2. Surround yourself with people that are concerned for your safety and will help do whatever is required to help you get secure because they know that if you are not secure, you could break loose in the storm and drag into them, doing damage that could cause them to sink or lose their own safe holding causing both of you and whoever is in your path to end up broke and battered on the rocks. Don't let other boats that could be a threat to you in your safe harbour.

3. Listen to the advice of the people that have weathered storms before. You may receive different and even conflicting advice but listen and discern which advice is applicable to your situation and your "boat" and then apply it. It's great to read and listen but it only works if you do the work. All of it. No skimping and no half measures allowed, because the storm will find any weakness you have left unprotected and that's where she'll take her opportunity to destroy everything you've tried so hard to fortify.

4. Use every lifeline you have, even if it's a little frayed.

5. Stow or get rid of anything that could become a missile and cause a hole or do damage to your "boat".

6. The friends that stick with you through the storm will be there afterwards to help you clean up and will be there to guide you away from or see you through future storms.

7. When the storm has passed, stick your head out and assess what damage it has wrought and then get off your ass and start cleaning up and rebuilding. Find the weak spots and make them stronger so they can withstand the next storm, if it comes. Don't wait for someone to do the work for you, your friends are there to help but it's your boat and it's up to you to make it seaworthy again.

Our boat made it through the storm with no damage and was as dry as a bone inside. Although it did look like someone had picked her up and shook her real good and not everything I though was stowed securely was. Several of the boats that crowded into Man-O-War dragged and damaged each other. A couple of weeks later, Hurricane Frances was hovering on the scene and while the weather forecasters said she was not going to be a threat, we were skeptical so we kept everything stowed and tied and sure enough she swept in. Once again the boat did fine but I learned another lesson.

8. There are always more storms on the horizons, you have to watch out for them and keep your defenses in place.

So today I'm out there doing my best to check my defenses for signs of fatigue and sending out my karmic lifelines to my friends in the Abacos even if some of them are a little frayed.

 

 

You Can Go Back Home

I'm back in Kansas, the place of my birth and the following 40 some years. And while the cap'n cringes when I say this, it feels like home. It's hard to explain but it just feels like there is some kind of recognition deep in my DNA. My heart beats more sure. I know the smells and the feel of the air. The way the sunlight slants on an autumn afternoon is a touchstone for all other afternoon suns. I can tell what the day will be by the light that shines in my morning window.

I was born with wanderlust though. Always dreaming of faraway places and the unfamiliar. A wishful restlessness. And so I wander. To distant shores and lands that are as different as imaginable from where I came from. I'm not sure what it is I'm looking for but I haven't found it yet. I'm a little afraid that it's back here where I started. But it could be in Mexico. I had forty plus years to let Kansas seep into my marrow. I've been in Colorado for six "half" years and it's just starting to feel like home. I'll give my new home a fighting chance.

The cap'n is starting to sweat bullets while he reads this. Don't worry cap, I'm not ready to put the house in Mexico up for sale and move back to Kansas. Not even! I'm excited about our new life down there and the undiscovered possibilities. But just like anyone that moves on a boat or to a new place, foreign or not, I sometimes feel nostalgic for "home". That's okay. That's normal. But it's easy to mistake that homesickness for unhappiness with our new surroundings. It takes time and effort for strangeness to evolve into familiarity. It's scary, especially if you don't speak the language. And it's so tempting to surround yourself with only the familiar and do only the things that you already know how to do. But where's the fun in that? You have to confront the things that scare you, if you don't you are not giving yourself or your new "home" a fair chance. You will always ask yourself if you did all you could. Most importantly, recognize if it is yourself or the place you are unhappy with. If you are not happy or comfortable with yourself, no place is going to provide those things for you. (How was that for a Zen moment?)

However, if you have given your all and you've given it all the time you think you can spare, it's okay to say, "This isn't what I want." It can be heartbreaking to admit that the dream wasn't what you thought it was going to be. Plus, when you leave a "fringe" community like the boating or the expat community, you may feel or be made to feel that you've failed. You're abandoning ship. This is so not true. You tried. By God, at least you tried, which is more than most people do. It is more important that you recognize that you are genuinely unhappy and do something about it. If that means leaving and trying something else, so be it. Life's too short. I stayed on the boat longer than I should have. I waited until the cap'n admitted he was unhappy. I squandered some precious years and tinged a lot of happy memories with resentment.

Move on. Go back home if that makes you happy or keep searching until you find a place that feels like home. It's okay. You have my permission.

Later On

And back to my true vocation in life. The one for which I don’t get paid.

Now where were we?

“Cinnabar, Cinnabar,” a sultry voice beckons across the airways. And so our day begins in Spanish Wells, Eleuthera, Bahamas.

We jump off the back of our boat and walk to shore to take Stanley, the killer bichon for his morning rounds. No, we haven’t become so sanctified that we can now walk on water, we’ve only been here a couple of weeks, after all. Nope, it is just that tide is way out and as you know we’ve been there before (Somedays you watch the show. Somedays you are the show). However this time we are not alarmed since we are tied safely to a mooring and aren’t trying to slog our way through the mud in our usual means of navigation. We just have to walk sideways on the boat until the tide comes back in. Why don’t we move to another mooring in deeper water? Maybe later on. We kind of like being able to walk to shore.

Later on in the morning, Bradley Newbold, aka “Cinnabar” and the owner of the mooring we are tied to, stops by to say “Hello” and deliver a fresh baked loaf of Bahamian bread from his wife of the sultry voice.

Bradley said his wife was encouraging him to retire. Bradley is the other side of 80 so I assume his wife is of a like age. They must be living right in Spanish Wells. Bradley was also our pilot through the Devil’s Backbone when we finally decided to leave. Devil’s Backbone is a series of coral heads and reefs that is as bad as it sounds. And since I’ve detailed in several blogs, the magnetism that “skinny” water holds for us, we thought we’d save ourselves the mortification and repairs for once.

Later on we’ll wonder into town and head to “Teen Planet” our favorite lunch spot. The name reflects the fare of burgers, pizza, and, best of all, the first tacos we’ve found in the Bahamas. Not quite what you consider authentic Bahamian food? After awhile you get tired of eating grouper fingers, fried conch, and yes, even lobster. (Don’t hate me!) And let’s just say, Spanish Wells is not quite like the rest of the Bahamas. It is authentically unique.

The regulars at the Teen Planet include us in their idle island gossip as if we know who they were talking about. Why not? We’ve been there for all of two weeks.

Upstairs from Teen Planet is a theater where we attended a live, I swear to God, a real country music concert. It was a novel experience for us. It was the first time we’d ever listened to country music without the benefit of beer. The music was actually very good but it was lacking a crucial component for us. If I didn’t mention it before, Spanish Wells is dry. No beach bars, no tiki huts, no icy sweet umbrella drinks sweating in your hands. It was whispered to us though that there was a lady that sold it out her back door or you can dinghy across to another island that has a liquor store, or you can catch the ferry/towboat that makes regular stops there. You knew there had to be a way if the cap’n and I stayed there for 6 weeks.

Later on we wonder through the town down to the park by the bridge. It has a beautiful pristine pink sand beach, but best of all it has public bathrooms with showers. As we stroll the lanes lined with tidy houses and well kept yards, the locals call out greetings and wave as they whiz by in their cars of golf carts. Why not? As I said we’d been there two weeks.

Later on we make tracks for Tom and Jean’s for the nightly cocktail gathering and meanwhile I’ll browse for any new books that might have been dropped off at their book exchange that is housed in the living room of their house. Tom and Jean are former boaters (actually, they still have a boat moored out in the mooring field) that pulled in and fell in love with the place. This is a well known hazard to navigation. They now open their home to wayward sailors and other souls for nightly rounds of prohibited libations and ribald chat.

Later on we wind our way back down to the waterfront which is lined with groups of locals sitting and chatting in the twilight. They murmur goodnight as we pass by.

Later on we’ll loose Agur’s Wish from the mooring and sail over to ‘Briland (Harbour Island) and hang out with Mick and Cher.

Later on…..

As I’ve said before, I don’t make this stuff up!

Spanish Wells, Eleuthera, Bahamas

SCUM ALERT!
I was receiving some really weird comments so I've had to add the word verification for comments. Hopefully, the creep can't read or it's been an automated response. Please don't let this stop you from commenting, I love to hear from you.

Agur's Wish Homesick Blues

It is snowing here in Colorado tonight and I am thinking I should be in Abaco. I should be swaying on the hook on Agur’s Wish in Hope Town Harbour tonight. Not just because it’s warm there and it sure as heck isn‘t warm here tonight.. No, I should be spending the last few of Agur’s Wish’s nights in Abaco with her, she might need me. She’ll be leaving the place she has called home for more than five years in a few days and I’ve been there, and I’ve done that.

I know she’s going to miss that gorgeous gin clear water.

I know she’s going to miss the sound of laughter in her cockpit.

I know she’s going to miss her friends at the dock.

I know she’ll miss friends stopping by just to say “Hi”

I know she’ll miss seeing old friends come into the harbour.

I know she’ll miss seeing new friends come into the harbour.

I wonder if she’ll miss that grass skirt we let her wear.

I know she’ll miss the hum of a lone predawn fishing boat cutting across the harbour heading to the sea.

I know she’ll miss the hues of morning racing each other across the sky.

I know she’ll miss the voice of the island as it goes about it’s work day.

I know she’ll miss the peal of church bells at the noon hour.

I know she’ll miss watching the colors chase the sun into the water at sunset.

I know she’ll miss the evening’s song and laughter.

I know she’ll miss the quick fall of dark.

I know she’s going to miss that shining beacon flashing through the night.

I know she’ll miss a sky so full of stars you can’t make out the black of night.

I know she’ll miss the bump of the turtle’s shell and the slap of the stingray’s wing as they glide beneath her.

I know she’ll miss the gleeful play of dolphins all around her.

I know she’ll miss that perfume of salt, sand, beauty, strength, grace and abundant joy.

Man, is she ever going to miss all those smiles.

I know she’ll miss the watchful eyes that looked over her when we couldn’t.

I wonder if she misses us and worries about how we’re doing.

I know she’s weeping tonight.

Fair Winds and Calm Seas, Agur‘s Wish,

I’ll see you in Annapolis.

P.S. Once again, I wish I made this stuff up. This ain’t a fairy tale, it really is out there, go out and live it. So why are we giving this up? My first response tonight? “Beats the hell out of me!“ Second response…Who says we are? Just a new chapter for both us and Agur’s Wish. As the cap’n will tell you, I reread my favorite books over and over and over again. And you know what? She is still ours. I hope I’m just adding more characters.

The Family Car: The Diabolical Dinghy

I have another confession to make. I swear I haven’t made so many confessions since I graduated from the Sisters of Perpetual Punishment High School.

I can’t drive the dinghy!

No, that’s not quite right.

I WON’T DRIVE THE DINGHY!

I used to drive it. When she was brand new, I ferried our guests and Stanley, the killer bichon, to and fro from the dock and beach…all by myself.

Then she began to get fickle. She’d take you to the beach without complaint but then she’d refuse to leave. She’d start up without a whimper while tied to the side of the boat and wait until you were exactly half-way between the boat and your destination to sputter and die. You learned to rely on the kindness of strangers to get you home. You know it’s bad when you start giving a holler out to the anchorage to put the other boats on alert every time you want to leave the boat.

The straw that broke this admiral’s back came when we were clearing into beautiful Walker’s Cay, Abaco, Bahamas. She’d been acting even more temperamental than usual and refused to start unless you gave her a hard and swift kick in the gas. At which time she would roar off uncontrollably in every direction until you got her under control.

I was calmly sitting in the dinghy which was tied to the dock while the cap‘n was ashore clearing us in through Customs and Immigration.. At the time I believed I would be immediately extradited back to the U. S. if I so much as set foot on land before the cap’n got us cleared in, and it had taken us way too long to get here to risk that. Since then I have found that this practice varies from island to island (let me clarify that the law does not vary) and many times the officials don’t care…unless you get caught. Are we clear on this?

Before the Hurricanes of ‘04. Walker’s Cay was a beautiful resort area with the fishing boats moving in and out while the locals and tourists strolled about or sat talking with each other on the benches that lined the waterfront. I was busy minding my own business and pinching myself that we had finally “arrived” when suddenly a fishing boat decides he wants my spot on the dock. He was a lot bigger than me and let’s just say he wasn’t leaving any room for discussion. He assumes I can drive this dinghy…well, I’ll show him!

I deftly untie the painter and begin to glide smoothly under the dock to the space on the other side. Of course, I haven’t started the boat, I’m doing this by grabbing on to anything I can. I make it successfully to the other side and just as I’m reaching for the painter to tie her to the other side of the dock, the fingers on my other hand lose their tenuous grip on the barnacles encrusting the pilings (if you’ve read my earlier blog “The Shoes I’ve Lost and The Places I’ve Been, you know I have an affection for barnacles, including the cap’n.) and starts to drift lazily across the harbour. Lazily or not it is headed right for those aforementioned fishing boats.

I pray to the goddesses of carburetors, fuel injectors or whatever else could be the culprit to show some mercy, and give me a smooth start but they must have needed a good laugh that day.

I do everything right. I squeeze the bulb until it’s firm just like the cap’n showed me. He even made me practice multiple times, on and off the dinghy. I pull the lawnmower starter thing….sputter…sputter….silence. I give it a little more gas….splutter. …splutter….silence.

I give it a Lot More Gas.

VRROOM!

I jam it into forward. It rears back and we’re out of the gate. I’m hanging on to the painter for dear life. This pony is headed for the finish line. The only problem is the finish line is the dock. I’ve now caught the attention of the fishing boats at the dock and they are hurriedly untying their lines. The benchwarmers are jumping up running for safety.

The dock looms. I duck my head. Round and round the pilings I go. You think Kentucky Derby jockey Calvin Burel can weave in and out of tight spots, you should have seen me. Somehow I shoot through the other side with my head still intact…so I decide to use it. Why don’t I pull that nifty little safety bracelet thing the cap’n makes me wrap around my wrist, for good reason it seems. I pull, the key disengages from the switch…sputter…sputter…silence.

Yee-Haw!

So there’s the reason I wouldn’t drive the dinghy. But this year I’ve decided to face my fears and confront my demons and get back in the saddle again.

Fair Warning and I’ll give a holler out to you anytime I attempt to leave the boat.

Post Script: May 10, 2009
I did drive the dinghy this season. Only because the cap’n managed to have it both running and steering all in the same season. I will admit I didn’t drive it as often as I should have, I’m lazy and I kind of like being chauffeured. Our last day on the boat, I took the cap’n out for a last harbour cruise. He decided he kind of liked being chauffeured too. Good thing I didn’t let him get used to it.

Now the practical non-fun part of the blog. Just a few tips.

Tip 1: Get you dinghy engine serviced every year. Seem like a no-brainer, huh? The problem we were having was from varnish that had set up in our gasoline. It seems gasoline likes to clump like mascara if it sits to long. Plus we all know how kind the boating environment is to all moving parts, so keep ‘em greased.

Tip 2: Do make yourself drive the dinghy. It will give you so much more independence and enjoyment. You won’t have to listen to the cap’n grumble when he has to roll out of the cockpit to take you to the early morning yoga or pilates class or just a solitary walk on the beach. You may say this is another no-brainer, but there are a lot of admirals like me that spend years being chauffeured around and you can bet it was because of one bad incidence. For those admirals, get back in the saddle!

For those of you that have managed to read all this way. We bought another sailboat! More about that later.

Dinghy Drift Hope Town

To All My Listeners In Radioland: VHF Etiquette

Foreword: I know a few of you know that the cap’n and I have made a difficult decision and have decided to put Agur’s Wish up for sale. It’s time for a new adventure. Thanks to those of you that wrote and ask that I continue the blog since I was wondering if I would be a pertinent voice for fellow First Mates if I no longer had a boat. But I decided I have 12 years of boat experiences I still want to write, bitch, laugh and cry about, and as long as the cap’n will have me, I’ll always be his First Mate on whatever voyage we choose. Now back to the business at hand. Oh, I have to mention that the cap’n is already trying to talk all of our new neighbors down Mexico into buying radios and starting a net.

Rule#1 Don’t Read the Mail!

If you’re new to the cruising life, you’re probably asking,

“How the hell do I even get my mail?”

I’m not referring to the traditional form of mail. What I’m referring to is the practice of listening to a boat hail another boat on a hailing channel and then you, with your twitchy little fingers, turn the dial or mash the little button to follow their traffic just so you know “what’s going on”. Okay, I admit I’m guilty of this on occasion. Hell, if I’m really bored, I’ll eavesdrop on people I don’t even know or care about. (I do it in restaurants all the time). I guess what I’m trying to tell you is, everybody does it, go ahead and do it but you need to get really good at acting like you don’t.

Some people are brazen, there was one boater I knew who would break into discussions about plans in which the boater wasn’t included and would ask if there was room for one more. I would say he had balls, but he was a she. Be warned! This is a big no-no and just about sounds the death knoll for any future cruising social life. Some groups of boats establish secret channels and when they want to have “private” conversations they just request that the other boat go to the secret channel.

This is a real VHF conversation:

“Agurmeister’s Wish, Agurmeister’s Wish, this is vessel Who Cares.”

“Who Cares, Agur’s Wish here. Channel 74, Steve?”

“Everybody hear that, we’re going up to Channel 74. Channel 74, everybody got that?”



Up on Channel 74...

“Who Cares this is Agur’s Wish”

“Who Cares here. Is everybody else here?”

Multiple clicks of the mikes lets us know our audience is listening.

“Hey, Who Cares how that medicine I gave you working?”

“Huh?” Who Cares replied, a little slow on the uptake.

“Is that drip starting to clear up?”

“Yeah, but it still burns like hell,” Who Cares replies, in the game now.

That’s when the cap’n made me get off the radio.

A few words of warning…Don’t say anything that you don’t want anyone overhearing. The VHF radio is a lot like a party line and people are listening.

If you decide to read the mail, prepare to get your feelings hurt--you might hear something you don’t want to hear, like your best friends are having sundowners on their boat and you’re not invited. When you run into them later you’ll have to wipe that hangdog look off of your face and act like you don’t know that they’ve ostracized you even though they know you know. Confused yet?

Rule #2 Don’t Become the Radio Police

You don’t need to attend an academy and no uniform or badge is required. All you need is a “need” to control traffic on the radio..

Everyone recognizes VHF channel 16 as the official hailing channel and for the most part it is respected. Every once in awhile an over excited fisherman or an over-served tourist will forget and has to be gently reminded to move their traffic to another channel. This is really no big problem and rarely happens on channel 16.

It’s when other channels are designated as spare calling channels that the problems start to occur. Don’t get me wrong, the practice of establishing spare calling channels is a great idea. It takes the load of social calling off of 16 and frees it up for businesses and emergencies. I’ve been in areas where there was no spare calling channel set up and channel 16 was a nightmare to try to get a call through on.

So what’s the problem?

These unofficial calling channels sometimes become a little bit like small unincorporated rural towns. They don’t have a mayor, a city council, or law enforcement so a self-chosen few appoint themselves to be all three.

Here is a common scenario on VHF channel 68, which is the spare calling channel in the Abacos…

The radio has been dead silent all day when all of a sudden…

“Desperately Clewless, Desperately Clewless calling vessel Severely Tackless”

“Severely Tackless back to Desperately Clewless”

“Severely Tackless, Admiral Clueless and I were wondering what you guys had planned for tonight?”

About this time you start hearing the desperate clicking of about a half-dozen distant mikes. Finally, one of them wins the contest and an authoritative voice booms across the radio waves.

“Gentlemen, please be advised that channel 68 is a hailing channel in the Abacos. Please move your traffic to another channel.”

The problem I have with this is, not only was Tackless not given the opportunity to tactfully remind his accomplice, Clewless, that they needed to switch channels but now I’ll have to get off my lazy derriere to read the mail. If they’d just been allowed to chat a little longer I could have decided whether it was worth it to get up and change the channel. So all you Barnie Fife’s out there, show some restraint and put the bullet back in the shirt pocket. Is there some sort of reward ceremony out there at the end of the year for the one that gets the most collars?

Rule #3 Don’t Dial Drunk

My Dad used to say his telephone bill always rose in accordance to his liquor bill.

If you feel a binge coming on, do everybody a favor and dismantle the radio in such a way that you will not be able to figure out how to put it back together again after you’ve had a couple.

If you choose to ignore this advice, you will be the only one within radio distance that doesn’t realize you are drunk, slurring, and completely unreadable, in other words, doing your best Foster Brooks imitation probably on one of the main hailing channels.

…And don’t be surprised when the whole anchorage shows up at your boat the next day for the cocktail part you forgot you invited them to.


Rule #4 Your Radio Has An Off Switch, Use It!

If you are not entertained or are totally disgusted by drunks who can’t find their boat or are just feeling lonely in the wee hours of the morning, turn your radio off before you go to bed. Unless you are an emergency responder or there is really horrible weather you really don’t need to leave it on. Unless, of course, you can’t sleep at night from worrying that somebody might be conversing on an unofficial hailing channel and you won’t be there to advise them to move their traffic.

Rule#5 The Easiest and Most Important Rule

I already said and I’ll say it again. Do not say anything on the radio that you don’t want everyone to know. No matter what channel you are on, even those sacred secret channels.

First Mate Mary is clear.

Boat Etiquette 101: Clothing Optional Anchorages

Imagine your cap’n and you are anchored in a secluded bay, there’s no one around for miles and you’re doing the Brooke Shields and Chris What-ever-his-name-was Blue Lagoon thing. You haven’t put a stitch on for days and you’re starting to get a little sore on your tender parts. (From sunburn, you perverts). You just came up the companionway with two more cold ones when you spy something on the horizon.

“What the hell is that?”

“It kinda looks like a boat,” the cap’n replies.

Dismay starts creeping in…

“Surely they aren’t coming in here.”

“There’s plenty of room. We’ll probably never even see them.” the cap’n offers magnanimously.

An hour later the crew of the other boat wave and holler out greetings as you scramble to put on clothes. They pass by so close you’re afraid they are going to ask if you happen to have some “Grey Poupon”.

Your horror grows as you watch the first mate move to the bow and commence doing the “Anchoring Dance”*. You don’t even have to get out the binoculars to watch them.

There goes the neighborhood!

I have been asked to share some rules of cruising etiquette with you newbies and you not so newbies who should know better. Just consider me the Miss Manners of the cruising world. The scenario above is the subject that comes up most often on the irksome scale. It seems that most capn’s didn’t really want to go explore the world when they convinced you to move aboard a boat, they just wanted to get you naked.

Rule # 1:

If you sail in to a secluded anchorage and there is another boat there, give them their space. Believe me, they are not going to be enthusiastic about an impromptu raft-up. By all means go and meet them but have the decency to respect their indecency by giving them a shout out on the radio or waiting until they go into the beach, if they have clothes on. If you fail to heed this advice, we….uh, I mean they can’t be held responsible for what you’ll encounter. And believe me again, it ain’t always pretty.

And for God’s sake stow the binoculars, or at least use some stealth when using them. There is nothing more embarrassing than to be caught spying through your binoculars to find a pair (binoculars, you pervs) staring back at you.

Rule #2:

On the flip side. Know when to keep your clothes on. You’re members of a community now and not some charterer who’s jumping naked off the Willy T with a cap’n you’ve never seen before in front of people you’ll never seen again. (Those were the days!). The locals of most islands are very religious and conservative, and besides that there are cameras everywhere and do you really want little Johnny Googling his grandmother and seeing that?

If you’re in a harbour and within viewing distance of restaurants or boats keep your clothes on. And please don’t engage in questionable calisthenics on your catamaran’s trampoline. The men are gonna love you and the women gonna hate you. It causes unnecessary tension and eyestrain.

A bathing suit is fine on the boat and beach but cover up when going to town. If you don’t look good in a bathing suit it’s bad enough and if you look good, again…the men are gonna love you and the women gonna hate you.

That being said, if I had the goods I’d be strutting them to heaven and back.


P.S. When I started this article I was gonna write one article about all of the etiquette issues cruisers encounter but I found there was just too much to say. Ya’ll know how wordy I get. It must be the southern in me, his name is Jack Daniels. Just joshin’ ya! Wink wink nod nod. Anywho, this has become a series of smack downs, the next one being about the radio.

* I want to give credit to Eileen Quinn for the term the Anchoring Dance which I stole from one of her CD’s that I own. She has provided us with a lot of laughs and a few tears through the years with her music. I have links to two of her CD’s that have this song on them way down yonder in the Amazon area of this site. And yes I do get a little money if you buy through me, but not enough to buy you a beer in the Bahamas. If you’ve never heard her song “Friends” your missing the anthem about what cruising is all about.

Leaving On A Jet Plane: Medical Emergency

Hi all!
I’m sorry that I’ve been delinquent in posting but I have a really good excuse. About a month ago, I jetted the Cap’n out of here on a turbo-prop to West Palm Beach.

It started out as a normal day with the cap’n not feeling too good which we just attributed to the fun the night before. Throughout the day he felt worse and worse, I didn’t learn until later when he confessed it to the doctors that he’d been having tightness in his chest for 10 days. I finally convince him that we call BASRA (Bahamas Sea and Rescue Association) http://www.basra.org/. This is a totally volunteer organization that receives no funding from the government that needs and deserves your support. You never know if your going to be next one calling them so here is their website, if you’d like to assure that they are there for you. I am not implying that they won’t help you if you don’t donate, they help everyone in need, but like everybody in these trying financial times they need your support. This story is easier told by saying things we were fortunate in doing or having and things we wish would have had in place or done differently.

We were lucky that we were in a familiar harbour with established friends and contacts available. We were able to hand Stanley, the killer bichon, off immediately to trusted friends, Phyllis and Neil on Chapter X . I had never even considered what I would have done with a pet in the case of an emergency like this. I had barely hung up the mike from calling BASRA before a dock friend, Mads was there with assistance and an offer of a defibrillator from his boat (thank God we didn’t need it) and within minutes a member of BASRA, Chris Prewitt, whose sailboat was moored right behind us was knocking on the hull to transport us to the main dock where the boat that would transfer us to Marsh Harbour was waiting. We were fortunate they were already responding to another emergency and were at the ready. I thank God that we were not at some uninhabited cay with no one around.

It was unfortunate that we did not have an emergency bag ready just in case this should happen. Even so, I thought I did pretty well, throwing in passports, all the cash we had, (including the money our friends on Exit Strategy had given us to relay to their mooring ball owner since they were leaving for a few days), our wallets, checkbook, cell phones (but no chargers) and 3 pairs of underwear apiece. The cap’n managed to throw in a couple of packs of cigarettes. Unfortunately, I forgot extra clothes (that was solved by a scarey, creepy public bus ride to a Dollar store 5 days later. Who but sailor trash goes to a Dollar Store to shop in West Palm Beach?), cruising permit, which caused us to have to buy round-trip airline tickets when we were lucky enough to fly back to the boat. And scariest of all I forgot my make-up and toiletries. After we got back, our friends Amy and Pete, from Double Vision told us they always keep a ditch bag ready, even though they no longer live on a boat, great idea for everyone.

We were fortunate that we had established friends in Marsh Harbour who met us at the clinic and helped hold me up. Chris and Tara from OII (Out Island Internet) stood by and made Cola runs for me and used their own personal cell phones to call our family to let them know what was going on because my fingers wouldn’t work to dial and they also started to arrange a charter for us out. In the end this was unnecessary because the doctor said the cap’n would require a Medevac. Brenda from Tupps Wine and Liquors, who was worried about losing her most loyal customer (just kidding, Brenda). She gave us immeasurable support and even told me I looked great even though I knew different. And to our magical friend Patti Toler who did things that I’m sure we’re not even aware, plus she loaned me a hairbrush and some lipstick.

We were fortunate that Dr. Schwerna and his staff were on duty that night. Under their hands the cap’n became stable and I became less afraid. The emergency staff at West Palm Beach were very impressed with his treatment. We are thankful to Dr. Boyce for loaning a necessary medication from his private clinic and for his staff for bringing it over on what was now becoming a late evening.

We were unfortunate, that we did not have Medevac insurance. In fact, I have actively pooh-poohed it on several message boards, saying , “Who would want to wait 8 hrs. for a Medjet to arrive when you could charter a plane in minutes. . There was no way I would have been comfortable flying alone with the cap’n on a charter that night. He required medications and constant attention, and while a charter might be okay for a fracture, it was not appropriate for this situation.

We were fortunate that we had enough credit on our credit card to pay for the evacuation ($8,400.00 plus change) because it is required upfront. I don’t know what they do if you don’t have the money to pay. I strongly suggest you sign up with http://www.medjetassist.com/ or http://www.diversalertnetwork.org/ or another like service. The plane was Beech B-1900 with two pilots, a doctor and two EMT/nurses. They also arranged transport by ambulance to the hospital. The eerie thing is I had just asked the cap’n during our last flight over that I wonder what they do in reference to customs and immigration when you are flown in on a medical emergency. Now I know. In our case, we first had to land in Fort Lauderdale to clear in because West Palm’s customs had shut down. I was right about waiting for a jet for 8 hours, it was now the wee hours of the morning and the ordeal had started about 3:00 pm. All of us except the patient and one nurse disembarked from the plane and walked across the tarmac to the immigration office. As always there was no hurry and another Medevac plane was clearing in at the same time. There was some problem with the manifest and no one seemed to be concerned that my cap’n was having chest pains out on the tarmac. We finally cleared and then the nurse that had remained with the cap’n had to go in and clear. I was able to present the capn’s documentation for him. Finally, we were back in the air on the way to WPB.

We were fortunate that we had changed our international medical insurance (which required us to be out of the US for 6 months of the year) before we got back on the boat this year. When I couldn’t find other things to keep me up nights worrying, I worried about this requirement since we hadn’t been able to fulfill it last year due to my dad’s illness. Turns out I was right to worry.

We were fortunate for the good care at Good Samaritan Hospital in West Palm Beach. We were fortunate that the cap’n did not have an MI (heart attack) but an arrythmia that was able to be treated with meds and a change in lifestyle. We were fortunate that the docs insisted on a heart cath because we were coming back over here and they didn’t want a repeat perfomance. We were fortunate that the heart cath showed no damage and that it, according to the doctor, “looked a hell of a lot better than it deserved to” given the capn’s lifestyle. After the capn had been off cigs and rum for a week., we were fortunate that there were still a few nurses willing to take care of him.

We were fortunate to have the support of our friends who called or sent flowers when we were in the hospital and when we returned to Hope Town , several of whom were on the dock to greet us with applause and hugs.

Yesterday, we were fortunate to volunteer at the Hope Town Fire and Rescue Fair, http://www.hopetownfirerescue.com/ who shares its funds and people with BASRA.

We are very thankful to The Great Navigator upstairs for a wake-up kick in the head. I can’t brag that our new leaf has remained completely turned over. I myself, as some of you know, have never been a poster child for moderation and the cap’n is my worthy counterpart, but be reassured we are trying and will keep on trying. Believe me, it's harder than it looks.

Sorry, The Great Navigator does not have a website...

So go on up to high power now, if you feel like it, and keep us in your prayers

All Creatures Great and Icky! : Boat Critters

We arrived back on our boat after our Christmas vacation in the land of paychecks. Agur’s Wish was pulling gently at her docklines and all looked to be well. We extracted our key from the top secret hiding place that everybody on the dock and quite a few people in the settlement are aware of, just in case someone needs to save her from sinking or burning to the waterline. Or, God forbid, there might be a real emergency like a shortage of rum, in which case the residents of the dock and town know we have enough emergency rations of rum to “float” a small island nation for the foreseeable future.

We descended the companionway into the gloom of the shrouded boat. As we uncovered the hatches, we gasped in horror. Strewn about the boat were remnants of cigarettes chewed down to the filters. The strings of fake plastic limes and lemons that I had hanging in the galley had multiple bite marks in them.

The cap’n and I looked at each other. Which one of our nicotine fiend, tequila deprived, lime-sucking dockmates was to blame? It could be anyone of them.

“I smell a rat!”

Yeppers, in our absence a transient hobo-type critter of the rodent kind had set up camp and was now plotting to hold me prisoner on my own boat. Think Nicole Kidman in the movie “Dead Calm” or Melanie Griffith in “Pacific Heights”. This intruder was hell bent on incessantly teasing, taunting and torturing me.

There was the night I was laying on the settee reading a book, listening to Stanley, the killer bichon, chomping away at his dinner in the galley. But wait a darn minute, Stanley was laying right beside me. That’s what I call teasing and taunting.

Trapping a rodent phobic, incurable insomniac with frequent nocturnal urinary urges in her bunk all night….that’s what I call torture.

Luckily, the cap’n wasn’t as easily cowed and he set to work setting a trap. Later on that night, let’s just say, our uninvited guest found himself in a sticky situation. The cap’n gave him the old “heave-ho”.

And now Mickey, the Mouse, sleeps with the fishes.

Although no worthy first-mate, except me, would lay claim to having such commodious quarters for the formerly described unwanted guest, rodents are actually your common, garden-variety type of vermin that might be found on your boat. Now let’s talk about some of the more exotic varieties that may take up lodging.

I was introduced to one such creature on a bright sunny afternoon while I was diligently cleaning the cockpit and the cap’n was diligently throwing back lethal adult beverages at the Jib Room at the Marsh Harbour Marina..

I was busily scrubbing away, whistling a happy tune when I happened to open a cockpit locker. Staring back at me from the depth of the locker were two bulging yellow eyes.(I swear he had yellow eyes). A viperine (look it up, as Sister Irene used to say) tongue darted at me. There squatting atop the debris was a big, fat, slimy, day-glo lime-green frog.

“Rrrribbett”, it said.

“Eek!” said I, as I slammed the lid and awaited the cap’ns return from his arduous duties on shore.

Once again the cap’n gave the old “heave-ho” and the culprit swam merrily to shore.

Unfortunately, now my fear of opening the cockpit lockers is akin to my fear of highway rest stops. You see, for some reason every time I go into a highway rest stop I fear that I am going to see an amputated body part floating in the toilet. I try to not even look in the toilet. I have no idea where this gruesome irrational fear came from. Believe me, I’ve never seen an amputated body part floating in a toilet. Maybe I’m a little bit crazy. Normal people don’t think about things like that at rest stops. Do you? Ha! Ha! I bet you will now. Gotcha! Anyway, that explains the sorry state of my cockpit lockers.

Both of the previous experiences pale in comparison to what happened to our friends on the s/v Just Dreaming. This happened a couple of years ago and I wrote about it on some of the cruising boards, so if you’ve already read it I apologize. This is what happened.

We received an interesting vessel in distress call to us via VHF yesterday afternoon. I don't know why they thought we could help them with the nature of their distress except it happened to be one of those rare days when the water in Marsh Harbor was clear enough to see the interesting array of nature on our bottomsides.

It seems that the admiral of the distressed boat had been diligently (Ah-ha, a fellow member of the diligent cleaner club) scrubbing the head when she noticed what she thought was algae poking out from under the rim. She immediately armed herself with toilet brush for the attack and the enemy beat a hasty retreat. She decided to flush the area for more traces of enemy insurgents and sure enough more little legs poked through.

Dispersing with the usual regimen of interrogation she went straight to the torture stage and started gingerly tearing off limbs. When the captain and admiral had torn off a respectable amount limbs without gaining any useful intelligence they decided to call us. They now had their own little P.Y.N. (pinch your nose) camp set up in the intake of their head and they had removed all means for their prisoner's escape. You think the Abu Gahraib (sp?) scandal caused a stink.

My captain had indulged in his usual breakfast of Kalik's followed by a nutritious brunch of Rum-N-Ade’s and for some reason couldn't come up with a solution. I muttered, "You suck." My captain replied, "I besh your parshon!" I replied, "Tell him to disconnect his intake hose and apply suction." Sure enough, after just a few seconds of militia strength ShopVac to intake hose and the enemy lay legless and quivering on the floor.

A 3-4 inch slimey Jabba the Hud squid in his last throes. Of course, my captain took all the credit for the successful mission.

So, if some dark, .dark night you find yourself on the throne trickling and you feel something tickling....... Sorry Denny and Diane this one's going 'round the world wide web.

Reefer Madness: Boat Refrigeration Gremlins

That title should garner some interesting hits to my blog. (*Note to self: Look up the definition of “garner”)

The captain and the boat are driving me crazy today. Or maybe it’s just the captain on the boat and it’s not the boat’s fault at all. Yeah, that’s probably it. Anyway this is kind of like one of those letters you write when you’re afraid to tell your spouse he’s doing something that drives you crazy so you put it in a letter to an anonymous newspaper column hoping he’ll read it and recognize himself. Then he’ll recognize how ridiculous his behavior is and beg your forgiveness and swear to change his evil ways. My problem is the captain doesn’t read those columns and the other problem is I’ve told him repeatedly, sometimes loudly and profanely, every little thing that he does wrong and he keeps on doing them.

You must understand that the cap'n didn’t develop these annoying little habits only when we moved on the boat. He’s always had them. They just seem amplified in the limited space and magnified expanse of time we spend together on the boat.

Now which one is my very least favorite? The one that has me gnashing my teeth and muttering words that would have my mother washing my mouth out. Hmm. Let me think. Ah yes, that’s the one. The diabolical refrigerator or to be more specific the captain's neurosis about anyone opening the door to get things in or out of the refrigerator.

As I said, he’s always had this particular neurosis. The kids and I used to time him and it usually only took about 2.8 seconds after hearing the refrigerator door open before the captain would espouse the same wise words.

“It’s not a TV. Get in and get out,” he’d bellow.

This isn’t such a big deal when you have a side by side with about thirty shelves and see-through bins.

Since buying the boat his repertoire of sage refrigerator advisories have grown. Let’s see there’s…

“What are you looking for?”

As if just by the act of answering this inquiry the sought after item will magically levitate through the layers of jumbled containers and decaying produce to the top of the refrigerator.

Oh and then there’s…

“Do you need a flashlight?”

Let me think. Not unless it has an x-ray beam that can see through the questionable contents of those jumbled containers and decaying produce.

There’s also this one…

“You know the cold just pours out when you use the front opening instead of the top one.”

Since I can’t get to the bottom compartment without using the front opening I guess I could stop storing food in the bottom compartment but with the captain's penchant for provisioning for a non-stop round the world cruise every week, that’s out of the question.

Here’s my favorite.

“You need to organize it better.”

I would be overjoyed to do this if I could have at least twenty seconds in the fridge to put things to rights and then another five seconds each time I put something in it to put it in its place. The current practice of gathering all the refrigerated items together, opening the door, throwing them in, and then slamming the door doesn’t lend itself towards organization.

Oh yeah, I almost forgot this one…

“Is that the freezer running again?”

Which translates into, “You’ve been in there long enough. Get out!”

On most sailboats power conservation ranks right up there with water conservation. You don’t have to be planning an ocean crossing to be concerned about conservation. A week of gunkholing can put a serious drain on your batteries, especially if your trying to get away from it all and swearing off civilization and marinas, or if you just dread docking like this first mate.

On a sailboat without a generator the production of power is limited to solar panels, wind generators, or your engine’s alternator and a reliable battery bank. Solar panels and wind generators are great adjuncts to your engine’s alternator regenerating capacity but they cannot be relied on as the primary source of electricity for most modern boats. Eventually you’re going to have to run your engine to recharge your batteries. This unfortunately increases your engine hours along with wear and tear on your engine. The longer you can manage your power usage with just your battery capacity, the better off you are. So what does all this have to do with the previous diatribe on marine refrigeration? Refrigeration is a big consumer of electrical power and that is the reason for the involuntary sphincter reaction of most captains I know every time the fridge door is opened. But there’s help on the way. Here are some tips that might help keep the air in the refrigerator a little colder and the air between you and the captain a little warmer.

Tip One: If you’re an American or just can’t abide the thought of drinking a warm beer, keep a separate ice chest with your favorite beverages in it. This saves space in your fridge and saves multiple trips in and out of it. Ours fits right under our salon table so it’s out of the way. Of course, you still have to buy ice which can be expensive.

Tip Two: Do try to keep the fridge somewhat organized. I try to keep routine items in the same place every time. You’ll also have to layer your foods according to their squishability. Meat and cheese and hard vegetables and fruits will survive on the bottom of the heap but more vulnerable fruits and veggies that bruise easily will have to go on top. I also keep my bread products in the refrigerator because out of the refrigerator bread products don’t last more than a couple of days for me. The squishablility theory applies here also. Pizza crusts and tortillas go on the bottom with loaf bread and hamburger buns on top. Remember though, no matter how well you accomplish this you’re still going have to do some excavating when you’re looking for items but at least you’ll know which way to tunnel. It also helps to keep a list of what items you have in the refrigerator and freezer because, as mentioned, things can get buried. Of course, this only works if you mark off items as you use them.

Tip Three: Cut a piece of foamed plastic insulation to fit over the top of the refrigerator/freezer area. When my captain suggested this I fought it tooth and nail. I didn’t want to have to remove some ugly piece of silver insulation every time I got into the refrigerator. As usual, I lost and he did it anyway. And boy, it was ugly! Thankfully a friend, that has all the decorating genes I was born without, suggested covering it with contact paper or wallpaper and it actually turned into an attractive workspace. It is lightweight really not all that inconvenient to take on and off.

**I promise all first mates that if you make this suggestion to your captain he will be eternally grateful and then he’ll immediately claim it as his idea.

Tip Four: Buy smaller containers of products. I’m not a big believer in keeping food products that say “refrigerate after opening” out of the refrigerator. I figure there’s a reason for that warning and it’s probably because someone died or got really sick. I know there is lots of literature out there that says if I use a clean spoon in my mayo every time or if I turn my eggs every week I don’t need to refrigerate them. Well, if you saw some of the water conserving methods we use to wash dishes on our boat you might question the cleanliness of that spoon and if there ever was a universal inexpensive food it has to be eggs. Why would I risk salmonella because I forgot or was too lazy to turn my eggs one week. You can probably tell I’m not a big fan of food poisoning although I have considered it as a diet alternative. Seriously, I would rather throw a questionable item out then risk it. I also buy smaller containers of my favorite condiments even if they are more expensive and keep them in the refrigerator after opening rather than larger containers that won’t fit in the refrigerator. I‘ve found that even when I refrigerate larger containers of perishables I end up throwing half or more of the product out because I don’t use it fast enough and lose faith.

Tip Five: My captain should probably patent his latest “keep the cold air in and keep the first mate out of the refrigerator device”. It is a kind of thermal blanket for the freezer. Hmm…a blanket for the freezer. It didn’t make a whole lot of since to me. He couldn’t find one, go figure, so he had to design it himself. He bought a small silver tarp and some bubble wrap. He then made a template of our freezer using newspaper and using this template cut two patterns out of the silver tarp and two out of the bubble wrap. He placed the bubble wrap (with bubbles together) between the tarps and glued it all together with contact cement. It now resides on top of our frozen goods. It manages to keep me out of the freezer because it is a little unwieldy to get the “blanket” in and out so usually I just grab the first thing I feel under it. “Oh look, lobster again. I wonder how all those little buggers got to the top of the pile?” The captain swears it has noticeably reduced our refrigeration running time and, for once, I’ll admit he’s right. Ouch ! That hurt.

Tip Six: Almost any book about cruising (ECGIER) will have tips on how to reduce your refrigerator’s power consumption. Find the ones that fit you and your boat and use them. Every little bit helps.

Final Tip: I saved the best for last. This is the one that works best for me. If you find you really do need to get into your refrigerator for some mundane reason such as sustenance, plan ahead carefully. Figure out everything you need out of the fridge and its approximate location then boldly make your move. Just make sure the captain is off the boat.

Epilogue: I wrote this article when I actually had refrigeration and my most heart-felt back-thumps to you that live without it. I went all last year without it and the only good things I can say about doing without it is that I helped the Bahamian economy by eating out a lot, and buying a lot of stuff that I would have to throw out and replace on a day by day basis. Oh, the other good thing was that the cap'n didn't yell at me every time I opened the refrigerator (hatch,door??? what do you call it?).

Whadda Ya Do All Day?

I just got back from Pilates class on the beach (actually it was on a concrete slab behind the Hope Town Methodist Church, but beach sounds more romantic) and the cap'n is out racing on a friend's boat. Life is wonderful and idyllic. Actually some friends had to pry our lazy asses off the boat.

Life is one big circle. We spend our first few human years with nothing to do but learn the basic skills of walking and talking and controlling our bodily functions. All of this happens rather naturally without much effort on our part. The rest of this time is spent, well, just playing. This too comes rather naturally and without much effort on our parts. Most of us probably spent countless hours banging on a metal pot with a spoon. We didn’t spend a whole lot of time worrying about what we were accomplishing or contributing to society. Life was simple.

And then they ruined it! They sent us to school. Our life became a routine. 8:00 a.m. first bell. 8:15 a.m. time to recite the Pledge of Allegiance. And on it went. Even recess was organized play and as we got older the recesses got shorter and shorter until they finally disappeared altogether.

Most of us endured this for at least twelve years. A lot of us suffered even longer. Why? So we could get a job! That’s right, after years of forced routine and learning, we traded it in for more routine and even shorter vacations. For what reason did we endure another 20, 30, 40+ years of enslavement? In order to make enough money to go back and do what we were doing all those years ago. Play.

So now you’ve been on your boat for a few months and ….

“Waaah! theres nothing to do!”

Snorkeling and fishing all day were a blast when they were a once or twice a year event but they lose some allure when you do it every day. I know you won’t believe me but you can get real tired of a steady diet of fish, even lobster.

You don’t want to admit it but your bored out of your mind. Try admitting that to a working person and you won’t get a whole lot of sympathy but lament to a fellow “first mate”and believe me they’ll know where you’re coming from. We all started out with great expectations of the nirvana of the cruising life. Water of unbelievable beauty and all the activities that go along with it, perfect weather, beach barbecues, nights under endless stars…and it’s all out there, the only problem is it doesn’t seem to be enough. All those years of routine and learning and accomplishing have altered us. We want to be doing something. We want to be challenged.

Okay, so you’ll learn new skills. You’ll paint or write. But you may find if you haven’t used these skills since high school or college you’re bound to be rusty. You can learn on your own but you’re going to have to be very self-disciplined and not give up after your first disappointing efforts. Channel your inner child, you know the one that picked up a crayon without any concern whether the result was going to be a masterpiece, and just have fun. The good new is that in some of the larger harbours there are organized painting and writing circles that readily welcome newbies. And where there's internet, there's a way, or at least an online course, either for fun or for college credit. One friend of mine taught herself oil painting (and she was good at it), how to play the flute and sax (and she was good at it), she also wrote a book, and, in her spare time, she monogrammed clothing for friends on a special sewing machine she brought on her boat. All of this in four months. Oh, I forgot to tell you she also jogged every day. She had retired from the military and was obviously very self-disciplined. I hated her.

So have I finally convinced you to give up on the idea of sailing off into the sunset and living happily ever after? I hope not. You don’t have to become unhappy and bored but you have to be prepared to prevent it. You have to realize you’re not going to be happy for long with nothing to do everyday but walk on the beach or snorkel in crystal clear waters. I know this is hard to buy when you’re in the middle of a fifty- hour work week with additional children and grandchildren obligations to top it off, but take my word on it. Unfortunately, all those years of routine and productivity can’t be wiped from our subconscious right away. You’ll find that you miss routine. You’ll find that you miss having something you’ve got to get done and deadlines. That’s right we creatures of habit need routine. The good news is now we get to be in charge. We get to say when and what we’re going to do and how. Oh yeah, and we get to put recesses back in the schedule. The only problem is we’re going to have to learn to play again but we’ll discuss that later.

Let’s get started.

Step One: Don’t enforce the routine the minute you cast off the docklines. Do take a vacation. Spend the days like you dreamed. Walk the beaches. Find some shells. Do nothing! You’ve missed a lot of recesses. You deserve it. You’ll know when you’re getting a little restless. Then you’ll be ready to add a little routine. It took me about four months to start feeling restless but a lot longer before I did anything about it.

Step Two: Decide what your routine is going to be. That’s the beauty of it. It’s entirely up to you. Most of us spent our working careers with someone else engineering our days. Now we get to do it ourselves. The routine you create will depend on how much you want to accomplish and how much time it will require. I am not a very regimented person. I like flexibility. Instead of planning my routine on an hour to hour basis, I like to make lists of the things I want to accomplish each day and the approximate times I intend to dedicate to them. My list looks something like this:

Sample List: Write 2 hrs.
Exercise 30 min. (Maybe…probably not)
E-mail 30 min. (Actually it’s more like 3 hours but I steal it from my exercise and boat chores time)
Boat chores (laundry, cleaning, varnishing …) However long the chore takes. Boats are a lot smaller than houses and you can get a vast amount of work done in an hour.

(Sorry! Can't make the friggin' tab work on blogger. AARRGH!)

Never mind! Blogger was smarter than me as usual. Mea Culpa, Blogger


I don’t usually schedule more than four hours. I feel like I worked enough 8+ hour days to deserve a lesser work schedule. This is enough for me to feel like I haven’t become a beachbum or cockpit potato. Some of you will want more and some of you will be more regimented. Once again, it’s up to you. Just don’t forget to make time to play. I like the daily list so I can tailor it around where we are and what boat activity we might be doing that day. Plus I love crossing things off of the list so I feel I’ve accomplished something that day. In my former life I was an over-achiever. As you can see, I expect a lot less of myself these days. It’s amazing to what depths of laziness you can sink on a boat.

Step Three: What are you going to include in your routine? This is probably the most difficult and important step. The best time to figure this out is before you slip those docklines. Most of our former lives were centered on our jobs and families. We didn’t have time to figure out what we’d really love to do. I’d always known I wanted to write and had written articles for various magazines before we moved on the boat. I had done research on writing and publishing while I was still a dirt dweller so I had a few tools in my toolbox and I knew it fulfilled my need for productivity and creativity. Many women I met brought art supplies or musical instruments. I did too. We carried a guitar around for two years before we gave it away and I still can’t play a tune on my harmonica. I am just a little more proficient at my pastels. I consider these my “play” things and I don’t devote a whole lot of time to them. Mostly because I don’t believe I have the gene to surpass my painfully embarrassing level of talent in these skills. I can still have fun playing with them though. If you wish to spend a “routine” amount of time in developing this type of skills, then by all means do so.
However, if these skills do not have enough substance to fulfill your need for productivity you might want to investigate “real” jobs you can perform from the boat. Internet access is pretty much accessible in all areas of the world and many people are working from their boats. You may even be able to bring your old job with you. My friend, Joan, on “Joan Marie” tried to retire from her job as medical laboratory technician instructor at a medical college in California but they wouldn’t let her. They still employ her as a consultant and she contributes to several textbooks in the field. Any of these jobs may require additional learning and skills that would be much easier to acquire while still on land. And, of course, lots of people in the computer sector are going about their business as usual. If I can talk to a guy in Timbuktu about my computer problems, why can’t I talk to a guy in George Town, Exumas. So while making future preparations for the boat in planning a long-term cruise don’t forget to make a few preparations for yourself.

An additional activity many cruisers take part in while in paradise is volunteer work. This may seem difficult to plan if you’re moving around frequently but you’ll be surprised how simple it is. Almost any church or school on an inhabited island will be very grateful to find something for you to do. This might range from picking up a paintbrush to reading to a group of children while the teacher spends a little extra time with an individual student. Most volunteer jobs require no special skills although if you do have applicable special skill they are also always very appreciated. Another “Joan” friend of mine on the boat “Ola B” was waiting out a hurricane at a school when she happened to mention to the principal that she had been a psychologist in her former life. Well guess what? She’s now counseling a couple of kids a couple of times a week and she loves it. Here in the Abacos there are many requests for volunteers with any building skills for many of the non-profit organizations there that receive no aid from the government. Believe me, if you put yourself out there some one will put you to work.

If there aren’t any opportunities make your own . If you happen to be on an uninhabited island, take in a couple of trash bags and pick up the debris that litters the beaches and haul it to the next settlement that has a trash pick-up. If there’s more than one boat in the harbor invite everybody to do the same thing and make a party out of it. It may not seem like much but every little bit counts. Another fellow boater, Niels on Westwind, organized a shore clean-up in Marsh Harbour and it has now become a yearly tradition with both boaters and locals involved.

Step Four: Convincing the captain to cooperate. Although some of these activities can be done together, you will have to put your foot down and insist on some time for yourself. Probably before you even get restless you’ll notice that the captain is starting to get on your nerves. Most couples have never spent as much time together before going cruising, much less in the close confines of a boat. In my experience it seems that this sudden aversion to your spouse occurs earlier and much more frequently to the boat’s first mate than it does to the captain. Probably because the captain is just so doggone happy to be on his boat. And that is where you get your edge. Remember he really wants you to be happy on the boat. He doesn’t want you to make him sell his boat. You don’t have to hold this over his head 24-7 but it sure does make a good bargaining tool when you want something to go your way. This really isn’t a big deal. Discuss it with him when you’re at the “ Setting the Rules of Our Cruising Life ” stage and it won’t be a big surprise to him when you demand your space. Discuss with him how much time you need and when you want it if it is going to be on a regular basis. Remember to be flexible. If you’ve just sailed into a new anchorage and he really wants you to go explore it with him, by all means go and put off your plans for a few hours. But if you’ve been lazing around in the same harbor for a week or two and you’ve become locals let him go off on his own to snorkel or fish. It will do both of you good.

Step Five: Oops! Sorry the bell just rang. It’s recess time. Let’s go play!

O' HOLY NIGHT IN THE ABACOS

We are off the boat and back on the Mother Land for a bit of work this Christmas. We will be spending our Christmas in a motel in Bay City, Texas. As we pulled into this hard-scrabble dusty south Texas town, I thought to myself, “This is where I’m going to be spending Christmas?” At that moment I was thrown back to Christmas Eve 2003 on Grand Cay, Abaco, Bahamas. My first day in the Bahamas, and I bawled my eyes out.

We had been working toward this moment ever since we bought the boat. We had been restricted to the East Coast for our previous sailing years because of family and custody requirements but since my youngest had graduated we were free to reach further. We had spent the summer and early fall readying the boat for passages south and attending two of our sons’ weddings and one grandchild’s birth. Shortly after Thanksgiving we made our way south toward West Palm Beach. We did our time in Purgatory at Lake Worth waiting for that elusive weather window. We became the pilot boat for the whole anchorage. Every morning the other boats would watch us pull up anchor and head out the inlet. They would then wait with bated breath, and coffees or Bloody’s until they saw us come back and do the anchoring dance again. Maybe tomorrow…

Then came the big day. December 23rd, 2003. We went out early a.m. as usual aaannnd came back, as usual. Put the anchor down and settled in until the next morning but waddayuno right in the middle of our brunch of stale bread and green tinged bologna we noticed a mass exodus of boats out of the anchorage. The cap’n , grateful for any excuse to throw his sandwich overboard, jumped up and hollered, “Haul Anchor”. And away we went.

I don’t remember if we motored or sailed but at about 11:00 pm that night we were on the banks and we were exhausted and decided to put down the anchor. The fact that the passage was not memorable is a good thing. We could see three other mast lights out there in the vast nothingness. We had left with 30+ other boats. Against the cap’ns wishes I lit the Christmas lights and blasted Bing Crosby across the ocean.

At about 4:00 a.m. the wind was piping and we pulled anchor and headed towards Walker’s Cay. It was Christmas Eve. We arrived at our anchoring place at about 10:00 a.m. I won’t call it an anchorage because we were way out in no man’s land because of our 6.6 foot draft, but that’s okay because there were three other boats stuck out in the aqueous boondocks with us. The first boat came back with great news. “Easy clear in. No problem”. We made ready for a landing. Unfortunately, we ended up being the last of the fleet. Unfortunately, it was the first year that the Bahamas had increased the cruising permit fee. Unfortunately, we were preceded in the clearing in process by a disgruntled Norwegian?, Finnish? Danish? One of those Viking type sailors who decided to wage his battle against the Bahamian government on the only customs agent on the island. Unfortunately, the agent took afront at this and walked out. She did return….an hour later. Unfortunately, we bore the brunt of her anger when she charged us $150 for a fishing permit that was supposed to be included in our cruising permit and that we only needed for two days, but as usual that’s another story. Thank you Ma’am. Have a Merry Christmas.
So four hours later we head back to the boat. Unfortunately, we are in an unprotected non-anchorage. Unfortunately, there is a storm brewing. So we haul anchor….again and head for Grand Cay

Grand Cay. Hmmm. Grand Cay. What can I say about Grand Cay? We were anchored about 2 zillion miles out. At least that’s the way it seemed to me. Keep in mind, I was sleep deprived, I might as well have been 2 zillion miles away from my friends, my kids and my Dad. I saw our future in the Bahamas as a boat on the horizon staring hungrily at the lights of an unreachable civilization. I could hear the hounds of trash island calling to me. (Anybody that’s been to Grand Cay knows what I’m talking about). I may have been PMSing also, maybe that’s why the hounds were howling. Let’s just say I made the cap’ns life a veritable hell that night which is my sole purpose in this world. Happy, Happy Christmas, Baby.

Christmas Day! We’re up early and head to town. Either my chakras are more balanced or my eyes are too swollen to take in the whole picture, but Grand Cay is looking better this am. Not good, but better. It’s Christmas Day though, so will we find anything open?
Good news! Grand Cay is not only open but it’s right out there on the street. Every inhabitant is either parked in a chair along the main street, (men on one side, women on the other) or, if they are of the younger variety, whizzing down the road on shiny new bikes or skateboards. The only population that is inside are the ones shooting pool at Rosie’s. I always thought Rosie was a petite older black woman….not! On all accounts…not!

We walk by the house/store fronts and ask the women sitting out front if they are open for business.

“Sure, Sweetie, What you want?”

We fall in love with the two cuties with matching hair ribbons and dresses, all dressed up and holding hands as they skip down the road.

We cheer wildly for the young daredevils racing their new bikes down the main drag.

We wince at the plethora of Styrofoam containers in use and disuse at the same time we sniff appreciatively and wonder where they got the contents..

Later that night we are aboard the S/V Concerto with our first new friends in the Bahamas, June and Geoff. This friendship continues today, even if they haven’t reciprocated in years, we still love them. We were joined by that disgruntled Dane, Hans and his Yankee wife, Joy. Hmmm…Joy?….Christmas?…..She was joyful and so was he away from the customs office.


My message? Don’t judge a book by it’s cover or an island by it’s refuse. Instead judge it by its’ people. You won’t be disappointed and you might just fall in love. Islands are like a box of chocolates and as Forrest Gump says “You never know what you’re gonna get.”
They all taste different, but they’re all good.


Merry Christmas from mine to yours!

P.S. My thanks to AwayTeamAbaco for the beautiful picture of the Hope Town Lighthouse (actually the Elbow Reef lighthouse)all decked out in holiday splendour. Our thanks also to the Hope Town Harbour Rats that worked so hard stringing the lights.

Potluck 3: Sourdough Starter and French Bread

Back on the boat for 4 days now and nothing is working (batteries are crapped out and the alternator is likewise) but this always works as long as you feed it and pamper it as prescribed. This makes a very hard crusty bread but delicious when you break through, kind of like the cap’n. Just mixed this up yesterday so it should be ready to bake by Thanksgiving, in time for the potluck we have planned here at Hope Town Marina. This is from the cookbook Cruising Cuisine by Kay Pastorius. I have been doing this sourdough since we moved aboard the boat.



SOURDOUGH STARTER

1 pkg. active dry yeast
2 cups tepid water
2 cups unbleached all-purpose flour

1.In a clean, rigid-covered container, dissolve the yeast in the water and stir in the flour. Don’t use a metal spoon--use a wooden spoon or chopstick.

2. Leave uncovered in a warm place (80 F to 90 F) for four days to a week, or until mixture bubbles and has developed a sour odor. Stir the mixture daily. If it smells bad or becomes discolored, discard and start again (also pertains to the cap’n)

3. You can begin using the starter or store it in the refrigerator. If stored in the refrigerator, allow it to come to room temperature before using.

4. You should feed you starter every week. Always save 2 cups of this mixture for an ongoing starter. If you have your original 4 cups of starter, either give half away or use it in baking. To the remaining 2 cups of starter, add 1 cup of unbleached, all-purpose flour and 1 cup of tepid water. Allow the starter to ferment and bubble overnight at room temperature, then use or place in the refrigerator.

5. You can also freeze the starter for 2-3 months. Thaw at room temperature for 24 hours, feed it some flour and water and it should start to bubble. If it doesn’t add a teaspoon of active dry yeast and let it ferment overnight.

6. If a gray liquid accumulates on top of the starter, pour it off. Wash your starter container every week with soap and water, then rinse and dry it. (also pertains to cap’n)

7. To use the starter in any bread recipe: 2 cups of starter equals 1 pkg of dry yeast and dissolving liquids in the recipe.



SOURDOUGH FRENCH BREAD

1 ½ cups room temperature starter
1 cup warm water
2 tsp of salt
2 tsp of sugar
4 cups flour

1. Mix together all the ingredients. Knead on a floured board until the dough becomes smooth and elastic. Add more flour if dough is sticky. ( I usually have to add quite a bit more)
2. In a warm draft-free area, allow the dough to rise in a greased bowl covered with a cloth until doubled in bulk. Punch down and allow to rise another 45 minutes.

3. Shape the dough and place in a greased loaf pan. (I usually just shape it and cook it on a cookie sheet) Allow to rise again.

4. Bake in a preheated 375 F oven for 45 minutes (usually takes my oven on the boat longer) until crusty and brown.

Lots more sourdough recipes to follow! The capn says to write something funny so I guess I’ll have to invite Kary May over. Thank God the liquor order is coming over on the afternoon freight boat.

Diet Ads

I don't understand why all these diet ads are showing up. I guess the google crawlers are trying to tell me something. I wish I could click on the ads myself (against the blogspot rules) and maybe I could figure out how to lose this last 25 lbs before I get to the boat in 3 days. Could somebody just email me how Rachel Ray's diet works or those 2 steps to a flat stomach or put it in the comments. And why are my before and after pictures in the wrong order? I'll talk to you when we get there.

CONFESSIONS OF A MASS MURDERER

This is such an exciting time of year for us boaters. Everybody’s buying new gadgets (I’ll tell you about mine later). And ,of course, we’re stocking up on those cheap items we can find in larger ports before we head off to the boonies. I just have one piece of advice. Okay, I have a lot more than that but I’ll limit myself for now.


CONFESSIONS OF A MASS MURDERER

(THE SERIAL ROACH KILLER CHRONICLES)


Glossary: ECGIER=Every Cruising Guide I Ever Read


Today’s topic is how to prevent roach infestation. As is explained in ECGIER roaches are proliferate in tropical climates. Which, by the way, is where most of us dream of cruising so here are a few helpful hints offered in ECGIER.

Tip 1: ECGIER said that roaches love to lay their eggs in the glue of cardboard boxes and canned good labels. The solution is easily apparent. Never, ever, ever, ever bring these items aboard your boat. So the easy solution is to take those four grocery cart loads full of non-perishable goods that ECGIER told you to get and push them down to the dock. Then, before stepping foot on your boat remove every non-perishable item that is stored in a cardboard box, which is about 48% of the non-perishable food that ECGIER told you to buy and place it in a non-disposable, sealable plastic container. Don’t forget to label and include cooking instructions. Next take all the canned goods which make up about 50% of the non-perishable food items ECGIER recommended you purchase and remove the labels. Don’t forget to label and include cooking instructions and expiration dates although ECGIER says expiration dates don’t really matter unless the cans start to bulge or emit noxious fumes, kind of like the cap'n. The most important thing is to get rid of the roach eggs. That’s good because by the time you complete this process the expiration date on most of your items will have passed anyway. Okay so now we’re left with 2% of the non-perishable food items that ECGIER recommended you purchase that you can transport directly onto the boat…unless they have a label or happened to touch a canned good or a cardboard box. And you never know where those things have been before they became yours. Truthfully, I skip this step and I have never, ever seen anybody sitting out on a dock doing this but every cruiser I have met swears they never bring cardboard on a boat.

Tip 2: It’s about a week later and you're finally ready to bring your provisions on board the boat. There’s just one more thing that ECGIER recommends. It seems that roaches also like to lay their eggs in the adhesive of paper bags. No problem, right? You sacked all your groceries in plastics bags. Your out of the woods except…..Doesn’t flour come in paper bags? Red alert! Red alert! Some roach eggs might have fallen into the flour. So now you need to take that fifty pounds of flour ECGIER recommended you buy and put a bay leaf in every sealed plastic non-disposable container. Then for good measure freeze if for a week. If you have a freezer.I guess if you don't have a freezer you're doomed to live among the enemy.
By now your boat should be a roach free happy environment until the next time you go to the store except……ECGIER didn’t take into account that in the tropics some of the roaches have wings. So what it if they call them Palmetto bugs. They are not cherubim and seraphim of dearly departed formerly earthbound roaches. Nope they’re real roaches and they are free to fly about your boat.

Tip 3: ECGIER has their favorite roach bait recipe (Which makes me a little suspicious that the authors may be sneaking cardboard or labeled items on to their boat). They all have the consistent ingredient of Boric acid with assorted mixers ranging from sugar and water, sweetened evaporated milk and even dog food. I’ve tried them all and it seems like the dog food works best, just make sure Fido can’t get to it. Just dump a healthy dose of Boric acid in bowl and add mixer until you have a thick paste like consistency ECGIER recommends that you make little patties out of the stuff and then let them dry out on wax paper before placing them in the places roaches like to hang out but we like to serve ours up in used rum bottle caps of which we always seem to have plenty. Overnight you should start spotting some of those good roaches. The dead ones. Just pray they haven’t laid eggs.

Tip 4: How to spot a roach egg. This is pretty simple if you look in a locker and you find spilled pepper and you don’t happen to store pepper in that locker, you have found your roach eggs. They are little black specks that look just like pepper. There may be just a few individual ones or you may find clumps of them in the corner of the locker. In the early days I didn’t really even worry about eggs. I never saw any. Of course, I didn’t really know what I was looking for. I only worried about damage control when I found the live proof of infestation. Then out would come the Boric acid and the commerical traps. I’d find a few corpses and think my job was done. Then a few weeks later I’d see these tiny little beetle like things with wiggling antennae crawling around or doing the backstroke in the dog dish. They didn’t look like roaches. In fact they were kind of cute. Kind of like how pit bull puppies are cute. Well, don’t get attached to the things because now’s the time to strike before they have time to mature enough to mate and expand their family tree. You don’t want your boat to become their ancestral home. .

Tip 5: Give ’em Da Bomb In truth, I’ve really only had one invasion and having lived aboard on and off for eleven years, most of them in the tropics, I consider myself lucky. Unfortunately, the one infestation got out of hand because I kept trying the various aforementioned remedies and each generation got a little more resistant to my various potions. I knew when I saw them doing reps with my barbells (at least someone was using them) it was time to try something else.I happened upon the bombing solution when we were leaving the boat for a period of time in the Bahamas. The local that was going to be looking after the boat while we were gone came on to familiarize himself with our systems and noticed our growing colony of unwanted “guests”. He volunteered to take care of the pests for us also. While we were gone he set off a couple explosive devices and we have not had any return visitors for many years. It probably helped that most of the food was off of the boat at the time. Or maybe our guests finally figured out that I wasn’t going to feed them any more of the delicacies I had been concocting for them and went off to find a more gracious hostess.

Tip 6: Skip Tips 1-4 and go straight to Tip 5 at the first sighting of these sneaky creatures. Show no mercy! None of this hand to hand (more like hand to mouth) combat. Go straight for da bomb. Of course, follow the manufacturer’s instructions on the deployment of all weapons in your artillery.


Tip 7: Please make sure you have no open flames on the boat when you set a bomb. The first time we were in St. Thomas there was a guy and his friend on his boat that set off a bomb and then went up on deck and were promptly blown into the wild blue yonder. One of them survived, one didn’t Apparently, the owner had left a pilot light lit on his stove.

I'm off for a good Chianti and some fava beans.

HAVE A GOOD DAY!

Potluck: Chicken Tortilla Soup Recipe

I'm sitting here way up in the Rockies, the temp is dropping, the wind is picking up, and there's white stuff on the ground. I'm ready for something hot but since I still have 27 days to go before I'm back on the boat in the Bahamas I guess I'll have to settle for soup. I fixed this for potluck one night when we were all waiting out a storm at the Alligator River Marina in NC. This is easy to do on the boat because all the ingredients for the basic recipe are usually on the boat or you can substitute like items, plus it's one pot, and you can have it ready and just heat it up when everybody's ready to eat. Darnell, here's a recipe like you asked for and I hope others will add more.

Chicken Tortilla Soup
2lb of cooked chicken cut up into bite size pieces, or 2 cans of chicken breast meat
2-3 cans of chicken broth
1 can of Rotel tomatoes
1 can of chopped green chiles or jalepenos
1/2 medium onion diced
1/2 green pepper diced
4-8 oz of cream cheese (I use cream cheese in place of Sour cream on the boat because it keeps better)
1 can of corn (optional)
1/4 cup of uncooked rice (optional)
Cilantro chopped (add right before serving or use it as an optional topping if you or your guests don't like cilantro

Toppings

Tortilla chips (put 'em on the bottom or top, whatever your preference
Cheese
jalapenos
avocados
Guacamole
Sour Cream
salsa

Just throw all the ingredients in a large stock pot and let simmer all day or if you don't have all day just heat until cream cheese is melted and rice is done if you added it. Add cilantro right before serving. Top soup with whatever you like and enjoy.