Nancy Dawson

2012-01-31T16:21:00.022-04:00

We're on the grey cusp of January/February, and we're upping the vitamin D and washing it down with vitamin R. In the interests of warming up a snowy view, I've decided it's Nostalgia Week here on the blog. A trip down memory lane. (If you've arrived here on the blog from the boat-for-sale page, note that there's lots and lots more photos of the boat in tropical climes if you check the archives links on the right side of the page.)Remember, way back in 2005 what a mess we were in?
Sailing at the dock felt like progress. All new sails!
I wonder how many lists we made over the years?
Rotten lad doing a bad impression of his mother on our first week out.
Same lad recording just how much we were laid over for most of that week. And we were cold.
First days without the coats.
First Christmas without...Christmas. We did have champagne though.
A lot of things ARE better in the Bahamas.
One of my favourite spots over the years.
Relief captain.
Finally getting the SSB installed. The anti-corrosion spray melted the tape, and I had to take off my tshirt and wipe it off. I wrecked a lot of clothes.
No comment necessary.
One of the very few times he got in the water. Naked.
Before the head broke. Happy.
This is the last time we ever had to bring the head on deck. Whatever he did to it this time fixed it good.
Beautiful turtles in Bequia
ND in St. Lucia
One of the best parties aboard, ever. A dozen people dancing, and Stewie apologizes for bouncing the floorboards loose.

More photos coming this week as I sift through the archives. Hope this cheers up the start of February.

2012-01-05T18:06:00.002-04:00

Quoting a long-dead relative, Auntie Mary says "when they comes, my arms is full, when they goes, my arms is empty." My arms is currently pretty empty. Laundry baskets don't count. The house is pretty quiet without three old babies and one large dog. The holiday didn't seem to be quite over until we heard that everyone was home safe, and they are, so today the tree came down. Why is that always a mummy job? Never mind, it just is. Probably because at this stage, it gives us a chance to reorganize a storage closet and weed out the most egregious of the plastic ornaments and then spend an inordinate amount of time hauling the tree out to the deck and securing homemade birdfeed suet pucks in the branches. Good thing I was trying to distract myself with trivia, and it's a good thing I don't have to go out to work. Those birds would be shit out of luck.

We had a very full Christmas: food, wine, games, so much family that we were dragging chairs out of the basement and lining the unfortunate younger folks on the hard bench for Christmas dinner. Here, have a pillow. Premium xmas crackers yielded the much-reviled binder clips, terrible jokes, coveted mini-tape-measures and gold paper hats. Randy got his on upside down and started a trend. And I've got to say that sharing around the cooking duties was brilliant. I had room to do all the veg and my sister brined and cooked a grand turkey that gave up his life for us at a farm about 10 miles down the road two days before the day. Damn, it was good. Turkey stock lived on in risotto a few days later. Wine arrived with guests, along with various yummy things that are all gone. We ate so well, here and at Laurie's in Port Maitland. My dad and Auntie Mary and all the cousins, Will, Hadley, Anna, Tom and Ian were together for the first time in yonks, and our cousins Jane and David were here too, so our arms and hearts were very full. And all dog people.

Ian's dog Zeus decided that this was heaven. I concur.

See below for lots and lots of photos. Happy new year to you all.

2012-01-05T17:37:00.028-04:00

Traditional champagne breakfast

Let the games begin...with dog dancing

Zeus got Pupperoni

Randy painted a watercolour of Laurie, Will and Hadley's house in Port Maitland

Photo ops

Look at the mess they made. Totally great.

Jane and her brain

Jane and David and Christmas together

This was some serious talking

Doggy love

We did go out for air

Fun, games - we also hauled out the old hockey game and there was hooting and hollering.

Anna used to be the tallest...

More serious talking.

Go to the table.

Hurray, it's time to eat again.

Waiting for Randy to carve.

Randy carves.

Carnage in the kitchen.

Hat fail.

They can make this look cool.

Hadley is overcome by triptophan.

Zeus. You can't see, but he's drooling.

Then, there was taco night. Antidote to turkey.

New year's eve, in fine cruising tradition, we celebrated at GMT. Dad rang the old year out, and Ian rang it in. (Ian used to be the shortest one in this group....) Here's to a great 2012.

2011-12-23T19:14:00.004-04:00

When the kids were little, we spent many hours poring over the "I Spy" books and the Christmas book was the very best. So here's a nativity scene in the spirit of I Spy. I scored the whole lot of the figures in a dusty box at an estate sale. Lots of extra sheep, two babies, two Marys and lots of wise men. Wish they were functional. Wise men are in demand, eh?

Deep into prep for the first festive holiday at home since 2004. We'd forgotten about the special kind of torture that is waiting for travellers coming on planes or snowy roads from very far away. Randy manifests a knot in his gut, and I get a pain in my chest that is my heart grinding its teeth or biting its nails. Everyone should be in the house tomorrow night, and then we'll celebrate.

A baker's dozen for dinner here on Sunday. Family from far and wide, and one grand-dog. The potatoes, the squash and the quiches are done and wrapped and resting in the very cold breezeway, our outdoor fridge. Such a bonus after years of boat fridge. Cases of beer and pop, just parked out there, keeping cold and keeping out of my fridge which is clogged with cheese, ham, mounds of vegetables ready for peeling and roasting and boiling, several pounds of butter and several bottles of champagne. There's a carrot cake in the oven - we'll be celebrating a couple of birthdays, Tom's 24th and Ian's 27th - and there's a box of clementines and rather a lot of chocolate and snazzy dog treats. My sister is doing the turkey - hurrah.

We warmed up the truck a few days ago and drove a few miles round the corner to the farm where I spent my childhood summers, and drove up into the woodlot and cut two trees - one for the living room and one for the deck for the chickadees. Cold day, brilliant sunshine and we tromped around until we found the perfect tree. It was brilliant all round.

Happy holidays to all of you who visit here, and I wish you all as happy a time as we're looking forward to here in Lake Annis. And the boat is still for sale, so make our holiday perfect, and make an offer. Right after the champagne on Christmas morning would be a good time to strike a deal.

2011-12-13T17:27:00.002-04:00

We're having a rum by the woodstove and I'm catching up on friends' blogs, just to see what we're missing. This just in from Pat and Geoff on Beach House doing a bunch of major nasty work on the hard in Carriacou: http://lifeonbeachhouse.blogspot.com/2011/12/doin-hard-time.html

Randy did a whole mess of the same refit work before we left in 2005, in the relative comfort of the yard in Dartmouth, with all sorts of marine supply and parts close by. I feel for Pat and Geoff . They're probably going to the beach for Christmas, but I'm still happier to be here. Here, there'll be a tree, the family, gravy, pie, and no grinding of fiberglass. I'd much rather be scrubbing pots and pans!

2011-11-23T14:07:00.002-04:00

First real snow of the year this morning. First real snow in half-a-dozen years for us. I'm glad it's so pretty, and I'm glad that we don't have to go anywhere at all. I realize that most of the winter-hate and profound resentment we harboured over the years had to do with being forced to get up in a dark, cold house, scrape off a cold car and slither off to work, only to come home in the dark and cold to a cold house. Our old house in Halifax was always cold: not much insulation and old windows and dollar bills flying out the chimney every time the furnace kicked in. My shoulders were always in my ears. Six years in the tropics seemed a perfectly reasonable antidote. Hang the expense.

Now, the wood stove in the living room is incredibly cozy and with all the windows, it's bright and cheery. As long as we don't use up all our wood in the next few weeks, we'll be comfortable all winter. Do I sound convinced?.... in any case, we'll be stuck at home until we can afford snow tires.

My birthday was yesterday, and short of feeling every inch a year older, it was a lovely day. Champagne for starters, big breakfast, sunny walk on the trail, family and friends for dinner. Mary made her traditional birthday speckle cake, and whisked away the leftovers to feed her bridge ladies on Friday. Only your family can get away with appropriating your leftover birthday cake.

Lots going on with the boat just now, and we are expending enormous amounts of mental energy trying not to think about it. Two viewings this week and another next month. All the while the Florida sunshine beats down on the varnish. My sister thinks I should learn to meditate and clear my mind. I watch the birds at the feeder and worry about varnish at the same time. I blog and worry about varnish, and wonder if our basement is leaking, and flit over a few dozen other things that need worry to keep them up in the air. When it gets too much, I'll give it up and start thinking about Christmas, which cheers me up, cause I'm no Martha Stewart (that bitch).

Speaking of cheering up, our friend Sharon North blogged about our cozy room at "The Nelson House Diaries." She's an interior designer and former cruiser and she and Andrew are renovating an old house and doing a beautiful job. Check out her blog!

That's the news. I'm 53 now, so I can go have a nap in the afternoon.

2011-10-29T15:48:00.002-03:00

Randy's just managed a successful wrassle with a jug knot - the rum bottle will be an authentic accoutrement to his pirate costume for tonight's party in Lake Annis. I've just made the traditional Hallowe'en macaroni and cheese, and wishing the kids were here to scarf it back before they leave for trick-or-treating. But Anna's going dancing in Toronto, and who knows what wickedness Tom will get up to in Small Town Alberta and Ian in the Excited States... There's no young people in Lake Annis, so we're not expecting any knocks on the door on the 31st. I think I might just be the youngest person in the village at this time of year. I could egg a few houses, but that would involve staying up past my bedtime.

It's a good thing that there's still lots going on, because there's ongoing high levels of angst. Another couple going to see the boat this weekend, and more enquiries coming in by email. This should be cheering, and it is, but it's hard to hold your breath and get much done in a day. Someone in Spain checks the boat page every day! Hello to you, senor! And in Germany, and Panama. They are all waiting for the SOLD sign to show up? And I still struggle with the impulse to pack useful things in duffle bags - the habit of leaving is hard to break.

There's been a bit more snow. Too bad new snow tires never show up at Frenchy's. But the woodstove is glorious, and by the time I get up in the morning and have a cup of tea, I'm rethinking the monster polarfleece robe. We'll get better at regulating temperature, but sometimes we have to open the door and go out on the deck for some air. Then the bluejays scream at us: "More damn sunflower seeds, you sweaty old bat!" They are such pigs.

2011-10-11T20:11:00.002-03:00

The hummingbirds decamped weeks ago, and the remaining birds are refusing the seeds in the feeder in favour of fermenting berries. Then, with a good buzz on, they perch in the big oak tree out front and shit processed berries on the white Subaru just for fun. It's an embarrassing mess.

The good news is that apart from a few dazed wasps and crickets, the bug population out here in the woods is much reduced. The remaining spiders are enormous, and I had to lift a few webs out of the way to wash windows this afternoon. The sun is brilliant and low and comes straight in the windows in the late afternoon, and it just had to be done.

The weather has been shockingly fabulous for the past week - sun and heat, and the trees are just starting to get red and yellow in the last couple of days. We're hoping this is what we get until we're good and ready to cope with the difficult stuff. (About a week ago there was big wind and a few brief periods of white pellets. Bit of a shock, but then it was over.)

I rowed this morning in the sunshine, but rolling up the pant legs and wading out to pull the boat off the beach was just a bit frigid. My feet in my flip flops were pale blue when I got home. Still, I'm reluctant to say it's time to pull the boats. We sailed Peggy on Saturday, and our neighbour John was out on the water too, so we crossed tacks on the sparkly water, and enjoyed it all.

Turkey with Randy's family on the weekend, ham with my family next weekend. We are never bored. Still holding our shared boat-breath. There are three people currently doing some serious thinking about ND. All this at the time of year when we would normally be packing to head back to the boat. Hard to know whether we're feeling relieved or conflicted about staying put. Both. Looking forward to taking a deep breath.

See below for some recent photos.

2011-10-11T20:07:00.003-03:00

Bob and Susan Brickman visit from Colorado and we eat fabulous duck.

Thanksgiving weekend on Lake Annis.

Sherman clan

2011-08-30T18:58:00.009-03:00

Beautiful row in Marjorie D this morning, just a bit of mist on the lake and lovely sunshine. Today, we expand the fleet, and launch Peggy.

Peggy was supposed to be launched on Randy's birthday, but Hurricane Irene was on the way, so we postponed the launch, and went on with the party.

The sailloft. We cut down an old Nancy Dawson sail to fit (there's rather a lot of those, stored in my sister's barn). The jib is so tiny, it seems hardly worth it. Tacking takes 2 seconds. Cute.

We got a load of the price of oars, and Randy decided to make them ($15 bucks, and a lot of shavings and sawdust).

Rigged and ready in the driveway. Cars were slowing down to look. Not many cars, but a few.

In the water, rowing to the dock at Scott and Donnalee's.

Christening "Peggy" with rye, my grandmother Peggy's favourite drink...

And away we go.

2011-08-14T21:06:00.001-03:00

Summertime is high season in Lake Annis. My daughter Anna was here for a week with Gus the wonder dog and we had a great time. When she left, she said "I didn't know there was going to be so much to do here." There's an influx of summer people, families, kids, grandkids, sailboats, lots of parties, and yes, there's more than a few cars. Maybe two dozen, but nobody drives every day. That would be crazy.

We didn't get the "new" boat finished for the regatta. A week of rain sort of screwed the painting sched. We have lots of experience with the rain/varnish combination, so we sigh, and are content with the fact that the boat is taking up water. Good possibility that this old boat will float when we get her in the water. There will be a launch, with champagne, and I'm thinking that the king-sized sheets from the boat will see a second life as main and jib for "Peggy." There's got to be a reason for having schlepped them home. Please.

I'll post photos of the regatta (and lots of other stuff) below. We went out in Marjorie and rowed out to the first mark and got photos of the first race. Nobody bellowed, collided or got particularly grumpy as far as we could tell. No cranking of winches. The loons got out of the way. Small boats, small lake, and we were close enough to hear everybody say "where'd the wind go?" as they rounded the mark with good speed and then sort of pooped out. Things picked up and there was a good close finish: all the boats in within about 10 minutes. This is a scale that I can appreciate.

Boat news: lots of inquiries. Everyone who gets in touch loves the look of the boat, but when they think about moving aboard, I wonder if they think that a plastic boat would just be easier.

There's someone out there who isn't afraid of varnish, and they'll pitch up soon I hope. Randy and I avoid the topic, but I know that we're both having serious pangs about the fall approaching.

I hope I don't have to have him put down when it starts to snow.

Kidding.

2011-08-14T20:41:00.017-03:00

Food. There was also drink. Excellent company.

Flying the flags at the party to fete the deck. And the deck builder.

Family parties, with multi-generational cribbage.

The Brown girls and their dad.

Cooking lead for the centre board for Peggy

The Lake Annis Flower Show 50th anniversary.

Gus, adorned for Anna's early birthday party. Such a sport!

Double downward dog.

When she swims out farther, he has to swim out and herd her back.

Sailing joy on Lake Annis. Perfect conditions!

Waiting at the first mark for the race to start. Note the sea plane above - they knew there was a regatta about to start, so they didn't touch down.

Could have been a protest lodged about this. Pomeranian propulsion....

A bunch of the race committee. Pretty, and relaxed.

Cutthroat competition.

2011-07-12T12:33:00.004-03:00

We're getting a grip on paperwork (I did go on about that before, sorry), and getting used to holding our breath about the boat and various other things. My father got very ill with a virus, and spent a week in hospital and a week with us recovering. It was very scary for a few days until he started eating again. He's made a very good recovery, and is making smart remarks about my record at cribbage (very poor lately), and is out and about at all his regular activities. Now that he's better, I can worry about the kids.

Life in the woods continues to be calm and restful. That's in between the extended periods of hellish hard physical labour (for Randy). Destruction of the rotten, rotten deck was completed and the rebuild started while Dad was recuperating here. Probably a bit noisier than the hospital, but the food here is way better. He got used to the sound of the nail gun. There's an advantage to wearing, or not wearing one's hearing aid.

The new deck is fab, and Randy's finishing it up with a pergola roof-thing that will eventually support grapes and ivy. Maybe not in my lifetime, but hey. Randy got the job done in record time, in spite of endless mutterings: "I'm a old guy. I'm too old for this." Next, he'll get the other rowboat finished and rigged. With dogged perseverance, it might be ready for the Lake Annis regatta in August.

In times of worry and waiting, I've been known to undertake projects that pretty much guarantee extra teeth-grinding, swearing, disorder and disappointment. I occasionally have demented drive, I just don't have Randy's skills.

So it seems like a good idea to slipcover the couch. The answer to your next question is no, I don't really know how or like to sew (but it's got to be easier than writing a book). You'd think that the sewing machine I got in St. Martin for about 10 euros would have fired my creative juices. I made covers for six pillows before that piece of crap stopped working, and I kicked it from the boat all the way to the Salvation Army in Providenciales. Bah.

How to approach a slipcover. Warily. I found a tutorial online, and it looks like just fitting and pinning and sewing, no biggie. Problem is that I'm crap at this stuff, and I know I'm crap, and so even contemplating the project makes me grumpy. My sister knows this, and offered the encouraging news that "shabby chic" is in style, so maybe I can start a "crabby chic" movement. Or maybe flabby chic. No stopping her once she's on a roll.

Haven't started it in earnest yet, just mucking about with fabric choices. There may or may not be photos of this project. I'm using red fabric, so any blood won't show.

2011-06-23T13:24:00.003-03:00

I've been keeping a record, titles and authors, of all the books I've read since we moved aboard. This week I totted them all up, and there's over 500 books on the list. The Old Testament is there, for god's sake (ha ha). I am reminded of long mornings and afternoons where I did nothing but read and eat potato chips in the sunshine. I should be enormously fat and knowledgable, but instead I'm scrawny and distracted.

I'm still reading, of course, but the distractions ashore are multitudinous, and I'm popping out of the chair to deal with laundry, load the dishwasher, make cups of tea, check email, tidy, walk around, make lists....Lots of distractions on the boat, too, but I could see them all from where I sat. Just now I don't seem to feel like I've got a grip on the expanded boundaries of home ashore.

If it was just the physical surroundings, okay, I'd have it sorted pretty quick, but currently there's a bit of overload in the brain. Medical appointments. Home repairs screaming for attention. The deck is rotting off the back of the house. Randy is out there now hammering, and there's hundreds of dollars of lumber stacked on the driveway. Money is flying out in all different directions at a great rate. Who knew that there was 28 feet of brake line in our truck, and it all had to be replaced, along with a bunch of other solid gold items. That's just for starters. Then there's the boat and the chunk of brain that is always dedicated to the boat. We've taken to measuring the rum that goes into the glass, because it has to last. How depressing is that?

(I subconsciously feel that we're broke because I'm using too much water. Not true, but still.)

Banking, house insurance, car insurance, life insurance, phone bills, internet, log-ins and passwords, pin numbers - all different!, goods and services tax, income tax, car registration, driver's license address change, cell phones, remote controls, mail, no mail (postal strike), the occasional random ant wandering the countertop, it all makes me ill at ease, and unable to sit still for more than a few minutes at a time. Gotta pop up and feel busy cause there's so much I need to do that I can't do nothing. You can do a lot of putzing around in a house that's about 800 square feet of space. Randy tells me that I tend to pause in the middle of every sentence when I speak to him. I just lose my place. There's too much going on up there, none of it productive.

More semi-senseless adaptive behaviour: I bought an LLBean full-length, brown, down parka at the second-hand store for $6.75. Complete with fur-trimmed hood. I used to have a short brown puffy coat with a hood, years ago, and the kids used to call it "the turd." Well, this current purchase is the uber turd, and makes no sense in June, but I know I'll be very happy to have it when November rolls around and I find myself having to leave the chair beside the fire. With any luck, rum rationing will be over by then.

2011-05-28T17:31:00.002-03:00

We haven't sold the boat yet, but that one detail aside, we are getting our heads around life ashore in the woods. It comes upon us once in a while that we're detaching from one life as much as adapting to another.

It's strange to realize that we will no longer be saying, yes, we live on our boat, spend the winters sailing in the Caribbean, yes, it's a very nice life. I enjoyed peoples' reactions, and got used to their envy. It made it very hard to kvetch about the tough or tedious bits. I'm wondering what will make us special now. Our friend John, also a cruiser, recently cut off his really impressive ponytail. When I asked him how he felt afterward, he very candidly said he'd miss the attention it brought him.

That's part of how I feel about selling the boat. There was something special about ND that reflected well on us. Every new anchorage, heads turned on passing boats and dinghies, and we so often got the wave and the shout "beautiful boat!" She was always unique among other cruising boats. One admirer called her "the prettiest girl at the dance" and I think those sorts of comments kept us living up to the boat. I had to learn to be a sailor, and the boat often enough rewarded my efforts that it seemed worthwhile to keep learning and to get attached and committed to doing things well. Things I got to be proud of: going up the mast to actually fix stuff, sailing at night in lousy conditions, developing muscles and callouses and skills, bringing home the bacon (fish). And those informal "races" with other cruisers. I accused Randy of being rather competitive on a passage with a couple of other boats, and he said "I'm not racing, I just want to get there first." We usually did, and it was mostly because of the boat (and the willingness of the crew to put down a book and trim sail). Two things I heard over and over from the Captain: Life's too short to sail an ugly boat, and If a boat looks good, it will be a good sailer.

In six years, we visited 20 countries and over 70 islands, lots and lots of them many times. We sailed and motored and motor-sailed some 7,000 miles. In all that, the boat never failed us, and Randy's experience, knowledge, and considerable skills kept us safe. He taught me to be a sailor in his very quiet way, and his confidence in me seemed to be pretty consistent. The first time he hoisted me up the main, I got just below the spreaders and barked down "I DON'T THINK I CAN DO THIS." He just kept cranking on the winch, and saying "You can do it!, don't look down, you're fine!" And of course I was. Bastard. He promised me adventure, and he delivered, and it was grand. I was going to say, generally grand, but that would be peevish.

Since July 2005, which was the first blog entry, in which I noted that we were "beat to a snot" before we'd even moved onto the boat, I've posted 287 blog updates, and as of this afternoon, there are 67,877 hits recorded. Randy's mum mostly? but also early followers from the Dartmouth Yacht Club (I can only imagine what they thought as we headed out into the fog, me clutching a bottle of Ativan...), links from friends' blogs, and people from dozens of other countries. There are occasional comments from people in far-flung places that I don't know, and that's always been cheering. Someone in Moldavia stumbled on us last week, probably looking for sailing adventure tales. What did they get? Food, fishing, snorkelling, laundry, and now lawn-mowing and black flies.

Given that this blog was intended to cover our sailing adventures, I'm wondering about carrying on with it. In the spirit of not wasting raw material, I will start to turn into a book (you'll laugh, you'll cry, you'll barf at some of the more graphic bits) when I get my domestic life in some sort of order. I was folding laundry yesterday, looking out the window at the woods behind the house, and thought, I've folded laundry in an awful lot of places, "awful" being the operative word, and wondered how I could keep the blog magic alive.

I'll ask my kids. They'll be brutally honest, and they don't read the blog anyway. Then I'll do whatever I want.

Thanks for reading.

(photo by Pepe Millard on Beez Neez)

2011-05-14T12:48:00.002-03:00

Home.

Two nights in a bed that doesn't move. The noises in the night are birds and bugs. Traffic is gauged by cars-per-hour. I'm addressing personal hygiene issues, and re-learning the limits of the hot water tank. (How many kinds of hair conditioner can I combine and what is the optimum sequence?) Dishwasher and laundry-systems worship has begun with fervour. Fridge is stocked, food is on our minds, and the traditional champagne has been quaffed (at breakfast, hurrah). Last night we had smoked haddock fish cakes a la Chef Randall, with Elaine's bread and butter pickles and Edna's brown bread. Really, we are at least on cloud 7.

Some moments, I can hardly believe the trip is over. Even though the road trip seemed to go fast (rather faster than we were used to going) It was a big help to break it up with a visit with Randy's son Ian, Jill and Dean (formerly of Delilah) in Cambridge, and Bill and Janet (trioconbrio) in Breadalbane, NB. They speak our language, lowered the stress level and treated our fatigue with vitamins A and F (alcohol and food, and in Janet's case, C [curry and chocolate chip cookies]). They made the hardest parts of the trip so much easier.

But dat finish. Now, we pay attention to the major weather system in our area, which is black flies, but when the sun shines, and it has, we can see a huge expanse of the lake through the trees, which are just starting to leaf out. We have a trillium, the myrtle is blooming, several random tulips are glowing in the grass, and the ferns are unfurling. The early spiders are gorging on black flies (go girls, go). Squirrels are awake.

The car is unloaded (you could almost hear a sigh of relief as the rear end rose up to normal), Marjorie is in the driveway, and when the bugs move off, we'll get her down to the lake, and explore in style. Met a neighbour at the grocery store and he said, "I hear you've got a new boat." Back in the village! Now, where to put boat-life stuff in land-life space. An ongoing process. I'm okay with the idea that I'll be discarding some more of what we packed and hauled. It's just the way it works.

The oldsters are in fine form, Randy's Mum, Auntie Mary and my Dad, and if you detect a smirk in the photo of Dad and me, it's because I'm in the process of taking the first game of cribbage.

It's a homecoming really full of relief and appreciation. We are happy to realize that we still love this place, and it feels so right to land here. We need to rest our bones and our brains for a bit, and we're not exactly winding down from the last few months, but we're getting there.

I've been to Frenchy's. Randy's just sitting down with a plate of fresh scallops for lunch. All's right with the world. Now somebody make an offer on the boat please.

2011-05-14T12:16:00.011-03:00

A visit with Jill and Dean, aka Dill and Jean, in Cambridge. Vitamin R was shared.

We talked and talked and talked and talked.

And celebrated getting together again after...4 years?

Meat. Yay.

Someone else is driving the boat, but the Capt is watching.

First Keith's! those who like it, like it a lot.

Stuff that used to be in the car.

We both look like we're going to win this game, but one of us didn't.

Randy's new Lake Annis hat.

Homecoming celebration.

2011-05-11T17:33:00.002-03:00

We're back in the Big D - Digby, Nova Scotia - at Randy's mum's house. I've made a token trip to the Frenchy's (bought a book) and Marj is in the kitchen watching Randy prepare fresh haddock for supper. Home to Lake Annis tomorrow. So glad to be back, even though it's gray and cold and blowing 40 knots. It's warm inside and no danger of dragging tonight.

2011-05-09T09:53:00.007-03:00

Out of the water, one more time.

Takes a whole bag of these little dammers to get us through the last couple of days...

The Beverly Hillibillies hit the road. We had to unload, cull, and reload in this parking lot so Randy could see out of the back window.

Somewhere in South Carolina. Now that's friendly.

Ian at work on the Odyssey full of revellers on the Potomac.

Being tourists in DC.

Spa moment before hitting the I95 one more time. Cucumbers from last night's salad. Didn't do a bit of good.

2011-05-05T19:17:00.000-03:00

Yesterday was haul day, and it seems like a week ago.

By 7 am, Randy was hauling me up the mizzen to stop and lash the wind generator, before I'd even brushed my teeth. The haul went well, thanks to Tracy, Roosevelt, Dennis and Dave. ND is resting quietly in the "Canadian" yard behind the marina,and it's very pretty, albeit very dusty, but lots of trees and grass around, and otherwise very clean. It was a brutally busy day, emptying and cleaning the boat, filling the car, many trips to the dumpster, and so many trips up and down the ladder with heavy stuff.

At the end, the last bits going into the car, well, it was like jamming bodies on the subway in Japan. We just shook our heads and pushed, and then I folded into the tiny space left in the passenger seat and went to drop one last bunch of freebies at the marina and say goodbye to the folks we'd met and helped us out in the last week. They were getting ready for a giant party and bbq, huge grills on wheels with large hunks of pig roasting and giving off wonderful smells. But we were done, left them the tail-end of our liquor supplies, and headed out.

It was so hard to drive away. Equal parts relief and awful distress. It was a bit like abandoning the boat, not knowing what's going to happen next. It will be easier when we know where she's going.

We made it 15 miles down the road to the Comfort Inn in Orange Park. Rum, and then extended showers, cause boy, we were filthy with dust from the yard. Both so tired we only slept a few hours and then lay there thinking useless thoughts...I forgot to tidy the drawer with the wine glasses...etc...etc.

Breakfast is included at the Comfort Inn, and we had coffee, tea, cereal, a danish and a bagel, all pre-packaged or in disposable stuff, and managed to generate 30 pieces of garbage just at breakfast. No recycling on offer.

Suitably caloried-up, we repacked the car. My mother was standing behind me, I swear, as we hauled half the stuff out and re-sorted and discarded and repacked. It happened every year at dawn in the driveway of 75 Dogwood in Scarborough as Mum and Dad packed the car for our annual trip to Nova Scotia. It's in the genes.

We left a big wheeled duffel bag and a cooler both mostly filled with clothes and junk and books that I guess we didn't need after all. The lady at the desk said that the housekeeping staff would take it all and share it around. What will they do with spare snorkel tubes?

The Subaru still squats aft, but Marjorie is secure on the roof and didn't move an inch all the way from northern Florida to Santee, South Carolina, which is where we are tonight. It's sort of like New Minas, without the charm.

What have we seen and heard on the way? Randy was accosted by a two women in the Publix store: "Would you eat collard greens with mashed potatoes?" "No," he says, never having run into a collard green. "See, I told you so," says one woman to the other and off they go.

Bumper sticker: "A lady with a gun has more fun."
Roadside bar: "Rehab Saloon."
Billboards: "Open heart surgery now available."
"Jesus is our accountant."
"Country Cookin makes you Good Lookin"
"Judgement Day May 21 - The Bible Guarantees It"
and at the Florida Citrus Center, you can purchase "Gator Head Wind Chimes." It was hard to drive by.

We ate fabulous bbq for lunch at Ken and Candi's BBQ, shared a serving of brisket, beans and coleslaw, and got a free sample of smoked turkey. Good eatin. Hoping for a big sleep tonight and north again tomorrow. On, on.

2011-05-01T16:41:00.005-03:00

I used to think that casuarina trees were pretty untidy looking, but after several years, I find them beautiful and feathery. Also prone to dying and falling over because of erosion on the ICW.

Pretty bridge in St. Augustine.

More urban motor sailing. We go to sleep listening to helicopter patrols.

Randy gets ready to varnish, and the next thing you know, there's a giant hatch of green-pooping bugs pasted all over the boat.

See below for short blog update...

2011-05-01T16:37:00.003-03:00

You've gotta love how your computer knows where you are, and knows to provide you with ads from local businesses. This photo greeted me in my hotmail, urging me to click and get a coupon so I can eat at a local restaurant in Green Cove Springs. Whoooo, daddy. Get me some a that....food? Looks like they're preparing for a Klingon feast.

We are eating up canned goods and fridge goods as fast as we can before haulout. (So no restaurant trips, even though we've got a car.) I bought way too much emergency food for the Bahamas that we didn'ttouch. Canned carrots are to be avoided at any time, and three bean salad sounded like a good idea at the time. UHT milk, saltines, beans, just too much stuff. All going to the nice people who hang out in the boatyard at Green Cove Springs.

There's a table in the laundryroom for things you want to give away, and I've been in everyday with loads of stuff. I think people dash in once I exit to see what weird stuff I've dug up. They take it all though. I figure if we once thought it might be useful on a boat, they probably have the same outlook, and when they sell their boats, they'll make the return trip to the "free stuff" table.

We're running out of time, and we're running out of steam. Varnish had to wait until today, when the plague of bugs finally, mostly blew away. They were all over everything for about three days. Not biting, but they left little greeny-blue spots of bug-poop all over the boat. There's satisfaction in noting that it's the last time we have to do all sorts of tiresome jobs. The car is going to be very, very full of our boating life stuff, in spite of the giant giveaway, and the logistics of getting the rowboat on the roof of the car ... well, there are many things that keep us awake at 2 am. We just want to be done and on the road.

2011-04-26T21:49:00.001-03:00

Okay, it's not red, but we've got a nifty little white Subaru 5-speed wagon and we're hoping that it won't plotz when we load all our stuff and lash Marjorie on the roof racks. Thank you Stu, who sold his car because he's headed for Japan with the Navy.

We spent a lot of time today on the phone (on hold) with our car insurance company, and then a very long time at the DMV to register the car. The lady who helped us there was expecting a grandchild to be born very soon, so we were hoping a call wouldn't interrupt the incredibly lengthy paperwork she was taking care of for us. We are truly foreigners here, but people are so very nice to us.

We had an interesting trip up the ICW from Vero Beach to Green Cove Springs, including the prize for the worst boat name, possibly ever: "Breaking Wind."

We always have the vhf on channel 16, and often hear stuff we just plain don't understand. "Let's dog some steers for a minute." We passed a large family group fishing from a small boat, and when we waved, one of the little boys piped up and shouted "BONJOUR!" I thought that was pretty good.

The ICW is generally a very placid sort of motoring day, and I got a lot done, packing and cleaning, and it all seems to need to be done over and over again.

This is boat life. Clean something, move something, repair something, move it back, clean it again, and repeat. When you get bored of this, look at birds and scramble to grab your glasses and your bird book: green parrots, anhinga, an osprey every 1/4 mile, hawks, oyster catchers, great blue herons, and I thought I saw an Hudsonian Godwit, but after sober contemplation, it was probably a common Willet. Also a brilliant Swallow-tailed Kite trailing about 3 feet of Spanish moss. It looked like he was sky-writing or dancing. I'm thinking it was all on purpose, since he could probably pick that stuff off his feet if he wanted to.

Easter weekend in the waterway was busy. Lots of small boat traffic in a channel about 200 ft wide, and many boats were hauling small children on inflatibles at high speed, weaving in and out of the other boat wakes. We heard one guy on the radio saying, "hang on, I've got a guy going by who's trying to get rid of a couple of kids." I felt my granny-glands kick in, and thought, what are they thinking? Of course, they're thinking it's a brilliant long weekend in Florida and we're out on the water having a fabulous time.

All the other people on the water have fishing lines out. There are so many fishermen in Florida, there should be no fish left here at all. This is a water sport state. Also a sleeveless t-shirt, backwards hat, armadillo roadkill, spanish moss sort of place. Lots of people and buildings just beyond the water's edge. We anchored just south of Jacksonville and were awakened in the middle of the night by a helicopter searchlight, policeboat, and shortly afterwards, shots fired. Today, we acknowledged that we're a bit overwhelmed by the culture change.

Also, we saw a Mallard duck. I don't think we're in Kansas anymore Toto.

We are facing last things in everything we do, and it's hard to contemplate. So we just keeping working, and taking our vitamins and being good to each other, and throwing things out and giving stuff away. All therapeutic.

Hoping to haul early next week.

2011-04-21T20:36:00.022-03:00

25 feet of water...I saw a nurse shark and several reef sharks, and that's just when I was looking.

Current cut. We boogied through there so fast it was scary, about 8-9 knots, but then we squirted out the other side and went back to normal.

Terrific library in Governors Harbour. We left a big bag of books there.

Bikes for the Ride for Hope

Excellent volunteer bike mechanics

He was preparing 170 conchs for conch salad for Saturday night. He called Michelle and I "baby."

The Final Fish. Cero mackeral. It was a brilliant wee meal.

We passed dozens and dozens of man-o-war jellyfish.

Celebratory drinks in Alans-Pepsicola...

Michelle tells us that we have 1,650 miles under the keel this season. We believe, and celebrate. No gargling with salt water necessary.

Marsh Harbour. An afternoon ashore, and someone else cooked dinner.

Sights in M.H. Lemon shark and tiger shark.

Weather. It expanded and ate the sky, and then it got dark and we didn't worry about it.

Trio con brio

Bones on the beach. I'm thinking pilot whale?

I have great respect for Dave's collecting instincts.

My one last Bahamas shell. Looks a lot like what I have in my pocket after a walk on Port Maitland beach.

Great Sail Cay. One last quiet anchorage.

Florida. I don't understand it either, but it doesn't give me confidence.

Ospreys everywhere. Also ibis, vultures, great blue herons, birds everywhere.

New sacrificial dinghy fish.

After six years of cruising, this is possibly the most unfortunate looking boat we ever ever saw. And that's saying something. Is it mac-tac?

2011-04-19T21:10:00.001-03:00

We're getting weary of travelling. Lots of miles covered and lots of islands and anchorages. I've gone back to making notes every day because when I sit down at the computer I have to keep asking Randy where we've been.

So. We stopped a day or two in Governor's Harbour on Eleuthra. Big doings there - a huge bike ride, Ride for Hope, was starting the day after we got there. The incidence of breast cancer is about five times higher in the Bahamas than in the US, and a lot of that is about screening and access to treament. This ride raises funds to address these issues in the islands. People come from everywhere, and their bikes arrive by ship in containers and are ready to go when they get there. Local businesses are ready with food and drinks and entertainment. We watched from the boat as the whole town readied for the boat to arrive from Nassau with participants. A policeman was there to direct traffic, we thought, but basically, he just waved at every car that went by. Not directing traffic at all.

Nice grocery store in Governor's Harbour. First time I've bought fresh green onions secured with scotch tape. From someone's garden nearby for sure. We also needed diesel, and for some reason, the fella at the pumps thought it would be a good idea to fill the jerry jugs up to the brim, even when he was asked not to. Randy and Charlie had a hell of a time tranferring fuel from the jugs to the boat tanks. Both boats smelled like diesel until we got it cleaned up.

Governor's Harbour to Royal Island via Current Cut. We squirted through the cut at 8.5 knots. Quite a ride. Royal Island is under development - still a nice anchorage, but at one end of the bay there's containers, fences, docks, security lights, and at the west end of the island, there's a very snazzy small resort. I felt myself yearning toward its charms as we motored by in the morning.

Fishing has been unproductive, so I'll just get that out of the way. Nothing to report, and fishing is over. I'm considering how the lures will translate into christmas decorations....

Royal Island to Lynyard Cay (lots of boats, 30-40) and on to Marsh Harbour. Also crowded. Time to get used to more people and more boats. And wifi! And a cruisers' net that deteriorated very quickly into ads for local businesses, endlessly. We just shut it off, since we weren't going diving or out to dinner.

Marsh Harbour to Allan's Pensicola, where we met up with Trioconbrio with Bill and Dave aboard. Had a drink on ND to catch up, and make plans for heading on. Weather was not conducive to heading ashore for a beach walk, which is too bad, cause I remember a great windward beach walk on the way down.

Press on. Great Sail Cay was our last anchorage in the Bahamas. Michelle and I did our last beach walk, joined by BIll and Dave. Bill was shadowed by a small black-tipped shark as he sloshed along at the edge of the water, and we wondered at great swaths of the beach that looked rooted up by large pigs. We headed back to the boats at dusk before the pigs came back out to play.

My last beach walk, and the only shell I pocketed reminded me of a Port Maitland beach mussel shell. I'm ready to be home.

Great Sail to a spot on the Bahamas Bank - a huge expanse of shallow water that provides a place to anchor before heading across to Florida. Unless you get there, and there's a horrible wind chop and the boats are hobby-horsing and yanking the gear and the crew all over. Randy got more and more agitated and finally said, we're better off crossing tonight instead of tossing around here. Bill and Dave chose to go too, and Mi Amante decided to wait it out. After the fact, it was a toss-up as to who did better.

Long night, motorsailing, with just screwy enough motion that neither of us was able to sleep. Around four am, there were squalls moving in from the south, and one got bigger and bigger and started shooting lightning and thunder. Trioconbrio and ND chose to back off and head out to sea until it passed, and that took years. It's a horrible situation to be eight miles from rest and safety and to turn back out to sea while the lightning flashes are all you can see. I hid my eyes and squinched up in the corner under the dodger while the cold rain and spray ran down my neck and my knees into my pants. Randy steered and watched and decided which way to dodge, and got soaked through because our foulies aren't waterproof anymore, and he got us through safely.

By the time we headed in through the inlet at Fort Pierce, there were piles of wet clothes on the floor inside. We headed for the first anchorage, the same place we anchored in 2006, and found out that it has silted in since then. We went hard aground, with the tide falling and more rain pouring down, and Trioconbrio was unable to pull us off. Towboat US did, for a small fortune, and I'm not kidding about that. We finally anchored south of the south bridge, drank hot tea with a shot of rum, showered, found dry clothes.

No rest yet - we put the dinghy in and went ashore and Bill and Dave picked us up in a car they borrowed from a friend and we went to the airport to check in. Grocery store for STEAK, MUSHROOMS, WINE, SALAD!!!! Back to the boat, consume major calories and to bed. Nothing was broken (loosened all the teak in the bowsprit), nobody was hurt (just a few more bruises), and we never have to do that again.

The next night we had steak and mushrooms and wine and salad again, just because we could.

Spent a day or two catching our breath and then on again. Vero Beach for two nights, long enough to do four loads of laundry, get the free bus and do some shopping, and long enough for SB to get pretty much coated with no-see-um bites. Flying teeth - those little buggers love me and it takes days for the bumps to stop itching. I hates them. Then, off again. Tonight we're anchored in Eau Gallie, and enjoying wifi courtesy of the local library. Heading north again tomorrow.

We plan to be in Green Cove Springs, just south of Jacksonville in about a week. We're fine. Tired. Randy is used-car-shopping on the web. I'm hoping for something red with a manual transmission.

Lots of photos to follow when we get a better connection.

2011-04-07T22:03:00.001-03:00

All cruisers count on weather forecasts, and most of us get weather reports from as many sources as we can. Randy favours the weather on WIFIMarguerita, Windguru, and ugrib, and of course, Chris Parker on the single-side-band radio every morning. Except when there's very bad weather in Florida, and both of Chris's antennas are knocked out by a tornado, and there's no wifi connection to hook you up with all your other sources. Sometimes you just have to look outside and go with your gut.

Which is what happened when we were at Conception Island, one hop from Clarencetown. We'd had a nice fast motorsail from Long Island -- 6 knots under power without guzzling fuel, but add just 8-10 knots of breeze, and with all sails up, she'll do 7+. Again, not so good for fishing, but I'm starting to think that there must be some nutritive value in sargasso weed. I've caught many dozen bouquets of the stuff. Perhaps it has medicinal value. I'm covered with bruises after all this sailing, and on the way into Conception, I was standing on the bow waiting to drop the anchor and I sneezed, dipped my knees as one sometimes does with a big sneeze, and whacked the sampson post with my shin. Like a good sailor, I kept the blood from dripping on the teak until we were anchored. Randy suggests soccer shin pads.

From there, we headed for Cat Island without a current forecast, but managed to dodge the one enormous squall and cross a lot of shallow water to anchor by New Bight on Saturday night. Music from shore was loud and confused and basically horrible. I thought of Puerto Rican Saturday nights with nostalgia.
Next morning we went ashore for a walk and counted the churches in this little community. Lots, with all different styles of worship and music. Some shouting, some quiet voices singing, and a couple of small energetic bands. One new church with a very loud preacher exhorted his congregation and his every shout was punctuated with a loud tuneless blat from the trumpeter. Someone would be speaking to that fella after the service I predict. Some of the partiers from Saturday night were still asleep near the beach in the late morning, and a lady had opened up one of the tiny stores sell them cold pop to help their heads. So we stopped too, and it's the first time we've ever bought a cold beer from a very nice lady in her nightie.

We passed by an well-kept old graveyard on our walk, and everywhere, the ancient stone walls of old houses and churches stand upright next to the new buildings. The old wooden roofs, window and door frames are gone, but the walls and foundations are solid.

The main attraction in New Bight is "the Hermitage," at the peak of Mt Alvernia, aka Mt. Como, the highest point in the Bahamas. Quite a hike, you'd think, but this is the Bahamas, and the peak is 206 feet above sea level. We strolled to the base of the hill and got a good look at subsistence farming techniques. You couldn't call them fields, just patches of land with the brush whacked off at chest height, then burned, then planted. Cabbages, tomatoes grow in any patch of dirt in the crevices of the limestone, and the patch is ringed round with tall corn, like a fence. No point picking rocks, there's nothing but more rocks underneath.

The Hermitage was built by Father Jerome, who was first an architect, then an Anglican priest, then a Catholic priest. He was big on building churches, several different denominations worth. The Hermitage was his retirement project, built it by hand, by himself, and he died there, a hermit, at age 80.

The stations of the cross are illustrated in concrete and stone cairns as you clamber up the steep, steep stairs and rocks to get to the top. We'd picked up a guide on our way, a cheery spotted white dog, but he stuck so close he was a bit of a liability on the upward and downward climb.

You can see the place for miles around, but when you get there, it's actually very tiny. I thought of the Friendly Giant for some reason. I wrote our names and "Lake Annis, Nova Scotia" in the guestbook in the chapel, which could have fit entire into the cockpit of the boat. We've seen lots of forts and ruins and churches, but this was a charming place, very pretty, very clean, odd and uniquely personal. A place of happy solitude.

See below for photos.

2011-04-07T21:20:00.018-03:00

Conception Island sunset

monster osprey nest - click on this to see a bigger version

a squall with lots of wind underneath

why wings indeed...

very excellent cold beer bought from lady in her nightie

farming, Bahamas style

ditto

no shortage of churches, some defunct

everywhere, new buildings with old buildings

big hill!

I went down these steps on my bum

There were vertical steps inside and a bell in the belfry - guaranteed to bang my elbows, knees, etc, so I didn't try it.

Our volunteer guide

Charlie and Michelle

Cat Island sunset

2011-03-31T16:47:00.003-03:00

The passage from Sapodilla Bay to Mayaguana in the Bahamas was okay, we think. It was only last week, but neither of us can remember much. No fish. After many days of travel, things get blurry, but I always remember the fish.

Abrahams Bay is beautiful, but shallow and has lots of those black lumps in it, but visibility was good going in late in the afternoon, and okay going out the next day. Captains from four boats all went to check in, and I made banana bread (all the bananas ripen at the same time, so what can you do?).

Randy reported that checking in was lengthy, lots of forms, but the captains were warmly welcomed and it was pleasant, if protracted. Less pleasant was seeing a turtle being butchered on the dock.

Off to Betsey Bay that night. Pretty spot, crappy, crappy anchoring. We peered around for a sandy spot, and on the third try, sloooowly backing down, we seemed to park. No crowd, no wind to speak of, and none forecast, so we counted on the weight of the anchor and the chain to help us stay put. Charlie dove on his anchor, and reported that the bottom looked like the scraped, hard limestone roads in the Turks. They finally stuck when their anchor landed in a pothole.

We had several days of motor-sailing in light and variable winds and mild seas. Nice, but noisy and I suspect it scares the fish away. Only one strike in three days, and that one got away. We did see lots of pilot whales, dolphins, and to round out the wildlife news, we passed by the Plana Cays, the home of the Hutia! They look something like a fat, beavery squirrel, and are good eaten in a stew, unless they're the endangered kind. Now you know.

Atwood Harbour was a lovely spot for a few days rest, bread-baking (once you get going, it's hard to stop) and beach walking. From there to Landrail Point, and on to Clarencetown, which was an uneventful motorsail. I was changing fishing lures for excitement. Until we heard a faint drone - helicopter? plane? - and seconds later, two small stunt planes, one red and one blue, bracketed Nancy Dawson and zoomed by just about mast height and let loose blue and pink smoke trails. In seconds they caught up to Mi Amante, a mile or two ahead of us and buzzed them good too. It was wild! Thanks for the greeting, whoever you are. Made our day.

Clarencetown has a lovely harbour, mostly very friendly folk (and very helpful - the lady at the gas station only had huge bags of ice but she split one in two for us), good vegetables at the packing house by the government dock: green peppers, green bananas, green tomatoes, green plantain, and lovely rosy orange papayas. Down the road is Ansel's True Value grocery, and back around the corner to the basket shop and I bought a lovely woven tray. There's a Batelco office, but there's actually no Batelco office in the building, just the post boxes and the tiny courtroom. There are, however, pay phones with dial tones!

We went on down the road to the Flying Fish Marina, and later went back to do laundry. Which is when we had a chat with the owner, and while he was polite enough to Michelle and I (Michelle bought two new chart books, so he said we were okay, because at least we bought something), he described in no uncertain terms his intense dislike of sailboats and their crews. Apparently cruisers steal his toilet paper, come at night and use the showers and steal water, ram their boats into his docks, sit and use the internet all day, only buy small amounts of fuel, etc, etc. He was glad we weren't from a certain province in Canada, because "they're the worst."

At first, I was shocked that he'd had so many bad experiences, but then he told us that the people on the huge sportfishing boats in the marina had actually offered to pay him to tell sailboats that there were no berths available. Then I got creeped out and mightily pissed off. He was telling us because he wanted us to know nobody wants us.

We did need both fuel and water and got both the next day. He was barely civil, and wrote "Sailboat" at the top of our bill and charged us 30 cents a gallon for water, when he'd told Michelle and I the day before that water was 25 cents a gallon.

So I'm doing Mario at Flying Fish Marina a favour by telling all you cruisers to avoid the place. Pass it on. He doesn't know you, he doesn't like you, and he doesn't want your piddling bits of money. Perhaps if his business goes tits-up, he might find something else to do that he enjoys.

There, I feel better now.

2011-03-30T16:16:00.013-03:00

Atwood Harbour (click on photos to make them bigger)

Fluorescent tubes are incredibly hardy. See them on beaches all the time. We also see the occasional stream of garbage while we're sailing, dumped from ships we assume. Would be great to catch them at it...

Frolicking! Cavorting!

Bird Rock lighthouse. The water goes from way over 600' deep to about 12' in about three boat lengths. The colour is almost shocking.

Photogenically dumped at the Clarencetown government dock.

Clarencetown activism

Norfolk pine up close

Ansel's store, and Ansel's sheep

Ansel and Horace, very nice fellas.

The sand road to the fruit and veg packing house.

2011-03-19T14:37:00.002-03:00

Sapodilla Bay, Turks and Caicos. We were through here on the way down, and nothing much seems to have changed except that just before we got here, the UK dismissed the elected government and taken over the show. There have been roads blocked and major protests from the islanders. As far as I can tell from the papers and the radio, it was concerns over escalating crime rates and government corruption that brought this on. Also issues where the defence lawyers may be suspects along with the criminals they are defending. Small place, you know.

You wouldn't know there was a problem out here in Sapodilla Bay. Breezy, bright, blue. Bit of a chore getting here though. Checked out of Mayaquez in Puerto Rico on a Tuesday, and left the next morning early with faith in a forecast that said 10-12 knots, 4-6 foot swells with a long period.

Not. An hour or so in, we were honking along in 20-25 with bigger gusts, and seeing lots of 10-12 foot swells with a crappy wind chop to confuse everything. We reduced sail (and speed) and spent the first night hour-on, hour-off steering through all this slop.

Next day, we continued the routine of sleep-steer-sleep-steer. It was like the Wiley Coyote cartoons with the two sheepdogs: "Morning Ralph. Morning Sam," as one punched out at the time clock and the other punched in. No fishing. It was agreed that we didn't have any extra energy to deal with a fish should one show up. One had, overnight - a flying fish, very stiff on the side deck by the morning.

The second night I took over from Randy at about 3 a.m., wondering how to stay upright (peppermints, cookies, water, dates, all losing their punch, and it was too rough to consider tea). Randy takes precious moments from his sleep shift to tell me that a bird had landed on the boom earlier. Okay, good, it's gone. He goes below, and moments later, something comes flying, whizzing over the dodger, smacks into the cockpit at my bare feet and holy crap starts flapping and jumping all over the place. Flying fish. Figuring that I couldn't steer and try to grab it and pitch it, I hollered for Randy to come back up and get this thing out from underfoot. My hero.

I was grateful for the shot of adrenalin - it kept me awake for the next hour. Several days later we were still finding fish scales. Even on the end of the main boom.

But it was all over in 54 hours, whoo hoo, and while Randy checked in at South Caicos, I tried to tidy up the chaos and shower and sat sort of dazed in the cockpit. ND was caked in salt, and we'd shaken loose one shackle at the tack of the main that fortuitously landed on the sidedeck, but otherwise, unscathed. We did go through a lot of confusion in the next day or so trying to figure out what time it was. The time zone changed from PR to T&C, and then the next day, daylight saving time kicked in. We thought we'd never get it sorted. Somebody else called in to Chris Parker's weather forecast the next day, and said "I don't need the weather Chris, I just need to know what time it is."

We didn't eat much while it was rough, although the second night, we tucked into sb's homemade beef stew like it was really something special. So we lost a few pounds, which we've been doggedly pursuing since we hit the T&C. In a fit of craving, I dug out the bread recipe given to me by Jackie and Bill, and in the last week, I've made bread three times. Oh My Gawd, isn't it good. Thank you Jackie and Bill. I've made it plain, I've made it with roasted garlic and rosemary, another version with apricots and pistachios, I made the cheese loaf, and I made it for our friend Charlie's birthday present. So we seem to have rounded up the lost pounds.

One more salty romp across the banks to Provo and Sapodilla Bay. Again, supposed to be a good day, but we ended up booting it at high speed across very shallow water in very poor visibility. One of us steering, the other on the foredeck locating the nasty black coral heads. Very salty, very tense, windy work, but I have to say, ND just loves the 20-25 breezes, especially in this flat water. Under a partial jib and full main, she gets in the groove and just scoots.

Lovely heavy rain washed us off when we got here, and we've rented a car, been to town, bought fresh veg and fruit and the piece de resistance, Laundry! Giant industrial propane dryers are the bomb. They truly must disinfect everything cause when it's done, you can burn your hands on the clean sheets. Anything I own that has any spandex in it is laughably shot all to hell, but the sheets and towels are germ free. Maybe.

Weather permitting, we're leaving Wednesday for Mayaguana and the Bahamas.

See below for photos.

2011-03-19T14:26:00.008-03:00

Another sort of pointless manatee photo. They just don't leap and cavort.

Bouganvilla in La Parguera

Waterfront fixer-upper in Boqueron

Sunday morning on the dock...someone decided to abandon this drink...probably a good idea.

The square by the dinghy dock in Boqueron. On Thursday nights, there's a very noisy tranvestite show, and most days the music is so loud it hurts. Nice on Sunday morning. Wifi!

Boqueron rain - filled our tanks.

Day 3, Puerto Rico to the Turks and Caicos.

Chalk Sound, T&C

The banks. Yes, this is colour one turns after many days in the wind and sun.

Happy St. Patrick's day - Guinness at the beach - very cool and damp.

2011-03-04T17:54:00.004-04:00

We're anchored off, yes folks, Gilligan's Island. South coast of Puerto Rico still, and headed for Boqueron around the corner. Can't remember how long it's been since we left Vieques, two weeks?, early in the morning, with a lovely smell of flowers coming from the island, an easy beam reach to Puerto Patilla, and spent the evening there trying to get photos of the manatees. They surface, stick their mud-coloured snouts up for air, then dive giving a brief look at their mud-coloured, round tails. Very strange creatures. Part walrus, part elephant, part duck-billed platypus. Can't imagine mistaking one for a mermaid.

Ashore, clumps of Harleys fart-blatting and screaming their way through town. So manly! Mostly, Puerto Ricans have excellent weekends: the music is always danceable, the whole family goes out together, and they shut down well before dawn. Apart from the motorcycles, which do not follow a schedule.

We were ready for the glories of the grocery stores again. When fridge-scrape salad is on the menu, you know it's time. There's lots of organic chicken stock and teabags and sardines, but nothing to eat. The plan was to stop at Playa Salinas for a few days, stock up, rent a car and plan a road trip with Michelle and Charlie.

My 2002 copy of the Lonely Planet guide to Puerto Rico notes that "There is nothing for the traveler in this town except the stomach-churning scent of human misery." Damned with faint praise. Humpph. We thought Playa Salinas was a very tidy little community with some very friendly and helpful people. Some nice gardens, well-kept homes (we got lost several times over several days, so we had a pretty good tour), so either things have changed, or somebody's standards are way high. There are many very, very homely dogs with very short legs and none of them have had the Bob Barker treatment. Otherwise, a nice place.

The boaters there are also pretty nice. We were at the outside edge of the anchorage, and on the weekend, there was a steady stream of small motorboats and we only felt a wake once or twice. Very unusual.

Salinas is a couple of miles away, and we walked into town and had lunch at a local cafeteria. When we walked in, an elderly lady hollered, Ah, Americanos! and everyone looked at us and smiled. Randy said that we were Canadienses, and everyone was very nice, glad to see us, and we had beans and rice and ribs and beer for a couple of dollars.

Rented a car from Sidney (his number's on the bulletin board at the marina), and got a great car for a good rate. Sidney is charming and helpful with directions and suggestions. He knew we wanted to go to Wally World right away. Giant Walmart a few miles down the road, and we shopped until it became difficult to manoevre the cart to the checkout. It was gross. It took us 20 minutes to pack our stuff into the truck so there was enough room for Michelle and Charlie's groceries. It took two days to finally get the stuff stogged into the boat. (I just kept thinking about the Bahamas as I shopped, and remembered paying three or four dollars for a can of cream of mushroom soup and thinking Yum! Not this time around if I can help it.)

THEN, we drove to San Juan, stopped at El Yunque (the rainforest), and stayed overnight in Condado and spent the day wandering Old San Juan. A great gas, great food, fun shopping, hot showers! more hot showers! A bed! Mariachi bands! Totally exhausted by the time we fought traffic back to Playa Salinas. Traffic is hard, dangerous and unpleasant. I thought of Lake Annis, where we can look out the window, and announce "car!" at least half a dozen times a day.

On to Ponce via Isla Caja de Muertos. The Ponce Yacht Club is not interested in cruisers - they wanted 10 bucks each for a 24-hour pass so we could tie up the dinghy and walk to the grocery store. We chatted with a fella ashore (who drove us to the grocery store, thanks David) who told us that they were hurting for business, and he couldn't understand why they wouldn't welcome cruisers to the restaurant. The good news is that this guy has leased some of the waterfront on the west side of the bay and will offer a dinghy dock for cruisers, maybe next year. The club does have a good fuel dock though, and the accommodating fella turned off the water meter when we were washing the boat.

So here we are at Gilligan's Island (how embarrassing), full of water and fuel and food and contemplating upcoming weather. Now we start facing the long passages. We'd like to skip the DR altogether, which means at least a three-day weather window to the Turks and Caicos. That's a lot of sailing. Or motoring. Also fishing. Stay tuned.

2011-03-01T11:26:00.019-04:00

Finally, a good connection and I can catch up with photos. Here's the capt, bbqing romantically in the sunset.

a fixer-upper in Vieques, if anyone's interested. The sign notes the "Huge Potential."

Manatee nose - looks just like the end of a really big elephant's trunk. The colour of mud.

Vieques as we left in the morning for PR.

This is an ad in one of the PR tourist mags. Some sort of Christmas fantasy park? I want to do my next Christmas card photo there. Click on this, and check out the wise men and the guy on the left. I think he just woke up.

Just back from Walmart. He needs a beer, and he seems to have lots.

Where to put it all, and will we ever find it again.

Road trip. Terrifying traffic.

Rainforest

These snail shells are about 2 inches across, and they were everywhere.

Street meat, San Juan style.

Mariachi band

Pigeon-holed?

We arrived in San Juan on "class trip" day.

Road crew, San Juan style

BIG MEAL

More great music on the street in Condado. Look, I'm out after dark!

2011-02-19T14:11:00.000-04:00

We woke up the other day and realized that we'd spent almost three weeks hanging around in Culebra. (Overheard two graybeards on the bridge: "I came for the day, and that was five years ago...."Yeah? I came for two weeks, and that was 20 years ago!")

A planning session was called, during which someone pointed out that it's almost a thousand miles to Florida, where we plan to leave the boat. We do 50 miles a day, on a good day, with good weather, which is all we care to have for sailing days. If I'm to have at least a rudimentary garden in Lake Annis this year, we have to put our skates on. Plan A is pretty much the 2005 trip in reverse. Puerto Rico, DR, Bahamas, Florida, with some variation on ports, bays, anchorages and activities. Less fear and barfing. More fishing. I'm actually, sort of, looking forward to it.

Plan B is sell the boat somewhere along the way. So far, Plan A is what we're working with.

In the meantime, we enjoyed another couple of days in Culebra. Did laundry at a clean, completely functioning laundromat. Martin was there too, doing his wife's laundry, and entertained me fully while I fluffed and folded. He'd been coming to the island for 12 years, and had lots of stories about his life, most of which would help to explain why he ended up in Culebra. I forgot my hat on the dryer, and he chased down the road to hand it to me. We've had two hats go overboard recently, so I was grateful.

The fruit and veg guy comes on Friday mornings and sets up at the crossroads by the airport. Everybody goes. We loaded up: papaya, grapefruit, bananas, parsnips (parsnips!!), little red potatoes, shallots, spinach, beautiful organic sprouts, tomatoes. A real vitamin bonanza.

Another cruiser told us about the great butcher at Milka, one of the grocery stores. Looks like a little building on the outside, but inside, there's nooks and crannies with everything you need, and a real butcher. If you show up when the right song is playing on the radio, the guy at the cash will be singing and dancing.

Just to add to a cruiser's joy, Culebra has a brilliant community library: run by volunteers and stocked with donated books. It's the first left past Milka, close to El Eden, and they have wifi, a table with free books outside, computers, really nice staff, and free arty bookmarks. Our friend Laurence works there. We hadn't seen Laurence since a snazzy party on Lughnasa in 2006 in Grenada, so it was a treat to run into him again and catch up. He likes Culebra so much that he's stayed almost three years, and everyday he's got stuff to do. We had lunch at the Dinghy Dock, where they brew their own beer! Laurence was disappointed that they were out of stout.

We decided not to wait for the stout, and we said hasta luego Culebra, and headed for Vieques. The island was used by the US Navy for bombing practice for many years, but it has been turned over to Fish and Wildlife, and the Navy is still in the process of cleaning up unexploded ordinance. The eastern end of the island is still off limits.

Lovely sail, figured we were doing about 5-6 knots with full sail on, but with a wicked current pushing us west, we took most of the afternoon to get around the eastern end of the island. Too late to get safely into Ensenada Honda (same name, different island), so Mi Amante and ND anchored in Bahia de la Chiva, with a fabulous view of Blue Beach. No buildings in site, but Michelle and I joked about checking for wifi reception. Rolly night, but there was a lovely beach walk in the morning, and then both boats motored back to Ensenada Honda, with good light to see the reefs. Street and Van Sant give different directions, for the entrance, but we anchored, no problem.

This is probably the most remote, deserted, flat-calm, isolated, wild and gorgeous anchorage we've seen. No indication that civilization is anywhere within reach. Randy said "if it wasn't so much trouble, I'd rig the wifi antenna just to freak Michelle out."

Bird noises in the mangroves, fish jumping, a couple of jellyfish and starfish, and then a full moon.

Next day, it's quiet, still water, huge puffy clouds, gentle breeze, tweedly birds, and I'm reading quietly in the cockpit and there's a hell of big bang, and I leap up to see a big plume of black smoke a couple of miles away. I'm guessing that would be unexploded o
rdinance, getting "cleaned up."

Moving again, Esperanza, then over to Puerto Rico proper the next day. Fishing in the near future! Photos below.

2011-02-19T14:04:00.005-04:00

2011-02-08T15:00:00.009-04:00

Flamenco Beach, very lovely, but with a tank.

Intrepid snorkellers at Tamarindo Grande (we were freezing after an hour in the water - back to the boats for rum!)

French Angelfish, big as a dinnerplate

Spotted eagle ray

Fans, fanning

Pina Colada at Flamenco beach. We couldn't get ice cream, so pina colada would have to do.

Street meat at the beach after frolicking in the waves. Michelle made me.

2011-02-05T09:58:00.002-04:00

We're in Culebra, which means Randy speaks to me in English with an outrageous Spanish accent. Very entertaining.

In 2006, we zoomed through here on our way south, and I only remember two things about Culebra - a huge power yacht blasting awful music in the main anchorage, and scary thunderstorms and waterspouts when we left for the BVI.

This time around I'm happier and more relaxed, the weather is better, and the place is excellent. The town is a lovely size, with just a few nifty shops and groceries and ice. We spent a couple of days in the main harbour, Ensenada Honda. Very good anchorage, flat, with just a wind chop (long fetch with the wind out of the east). Don Street also recommended Bahia de Almodovar as an excellent anchorage, so we picked up a mooring ball there after a day at Culebrita. And it was excellent too - flat calm behind a reef, great breeze, and wonder of wonders, wifi. I always try, no matter how remote we seem to be, because you just never know.

Culebrita, the little island next door, is beautiful - beaches, snorkelling, hikes all over the island. The trails suggest that goats and horses are roaming around, but it wasn't until the second visit that we saw any evidence, and then only poop, and goat noises in the distance. (Also I saw a dead goat just behind the beach, but he'd been dead for a very long time.) Lovely hikes with gentle slopes and mild sorts of hills and dales. There's the ruin of a lighthouse and a large home at the top of the biggest hill, with marble tiled floors and brick and stucco walls. It once must have been very beautiful. There's some evidence that people have tried to make it a party-camp, in spite of the chain link fence (you could drive a truck through a hole in it) and the No Traspassing sign, but there's a large nest of bees or wasps or hornets that seems to have rendered one building out of bounds.

There are mooring balls, three or four or five, in every nice anchorage, and the place is spectacularly uncrowded. No charterers to speak of at anytime, and only on the weekend do the local folk get in their boats and join us on the water, or load up with gear and take a bunch of happy kids to the beach. If it wasn't for hurricane season, we could just plop ourselves down here and get stuck.

Snorkelling in the middle of Tamarindo Bay was very interesting. Not too much in the way of coral or crowds of fish, but a few stunning sightings: a bright orange tulip shell, as long as your hand, displaying a porn-star tongue when Charlie picked it up for a photo op. Lots of the normal black spiny urchins, but we also saw the mothership of urchins - the size of a cabbage, long black spines with bright, almost glowing orange stripes on the body and some sort of eyeball-sized thing perched on top. Very bizarre. Also close encounters with a green turtle and a hawksbill. They seem very tame.

Snorkelling in Tamarindo Grande, one bay north, was... well, we broke into applause when we got back in the dinghy. I shouldn't even tell you about it. For starters, it's right below the dump, the dump that was on fire all night, and still smoking all day. But it's another beautiful bay, lovely beach, hills, all that, and the dump smoking up above. Underwater, OMG, a field of sea fans. Purple, gold, yellow, brown, mauve, more purple, wavy this way, wavy that way. More types of soft corals and hard corals that I could hoist in. Flamingo tongues, schools of blue and purple tangs, dogfish, snappers, angelfish, big parrotfish, a spotted eagle ray and more and more. We snorkelled until we were nearly blue, two days in a row, and when I brushed my teeth before bed last night, I could still see the marks from my mask on my face. Snorkelface - it's an occupational hazard. Silicone hand lotion on the face before the mask goes on can help a bit, but basically, for mature snorkeller, the imprint is with you for hours.

Today, we take a break and go into Culebra for supplies. Eggs, bread, milk, green vegetables, cookies (swimmers need cookies), internet. Laundry, again, will have to be investigated. Perhaps I'll just toss some stuff.

More photos coming when I get a better connection.

2011-02-01T14:42:00.010-04:00

We're exploring Culebra and Culebrita and it's all gorgeous. Great anchorages and beaches.

Ensenada Honda - the bay by the town of Culebra

the post office

A meal that comes with teeth of its own.

Truly blue rocks from the beach at Culebrita

the beach, so beautiful

We hiked across Culebrita, and found these hermit crabs on the trail. You can't tell, but they're devouring a dead bat.

The trail to the windward beach got narrower and narrower...Michelle's turn to break trail.

All this walking is why my legs are so skinny. No laughing.

We dinghied all over Bahia del Almodovar looking for a spot to snorkel, but all we found were a couple of starfish. The bay makes up for it by being a terrific anchorage. Flat calm behind a reef.

2011-01-25T13:50:00.000-04:00

Rainy day in Maho Bay, which is okay, really. We're collecting minor amounts of water, and the boat is clean (outside) and salt-free. Randy noted it would be more useful if it was raining propane, cause we're almost out. Propane and laundry are edging their way to the top of the list of things we can no longer ignore. It's great to have four changes of sheets for the bunk, but storing three sets of king-sized sheets waiting for laundering is a challenge, and the idea of hauling and paying for cleaning of same is depressing. And that's without taking into consideration the growing pile of salty shorts and tshirts.

Too much information, I know. We contemplated doing laundry in Cruz Bay, which would have involved a long dinghy ride, and trundling the laundry up the hill in the cart, but we decided, nah, another day. Good thing, cause we heard that the water was turned off in Cruz Bay all morning. But it will be an epic laundry day when we finally do it. Special edition of the blog to come. (Winter-weary people will think this is sick, but I have daydreams of my washing machine, and fond thoughts of standing in my kitchen, loading the dishwasher, or filling the sink with hot, soapy water....)

Maho Bay is really lovely, flat water and great breeze. Christmas Cove was also very beautiful, but the constant wakes from the ferries running through Current Cut got very tedious. Some days I only lost the sea-sick feeling when I was swimming. Very good snorkelling at Christmas Cove - fish I haven't seen for ages - big angels, big parrotfish, and a 3 foot filefish that completely changed colour when Michelle and I followed him around a rock. Free moorings in Christmas Cove - that was nice too.

Maho Bay has an eco-resort with tent-like cabins perched on the hill. Sort of like boating life, ashore, and more expensive. Very pretty bay though, with a couple of long beaches and some snorkelling, although the visibility wasn't great. I did see a barracuda, and on my way out of his territory, I watched two fat squid. They are so from another planet.

Since then, we've made leisurely tracks back to Christmas Cove and Rendezvous Bay and Charlotte Amalie. Found a decent anchoring spot in Crown Bay and, yup, did the laundry. Can you imagine paying $9 for a wash? In a thumping big machine, it must be said, but there's no room for the niceties of "sorting." You can load up two sets of sheets and a lot of clothes, and I imagine if you did it often enough, all your laundry would end up the same grotty shade of gray. We're nearly there....

Randy went to the propane place while I did laundry, and we also topped up with water at the Crown Bay Marina (all of this contributes hugely to the cruisers' sense of ease and comfort). He dropped me off on the fuel dock one day to go and get groceries, and the pleasant ponytailed American lady informed me that that wasn't allowed. It was a "Secure Area." There's a sign posted with the current level of "alert." Sometimes we are reminded that we are in the US of A, but usually it's pleasant reminders, like polite and friendly people, and garbage receptacles, and good docks, and nice groceries. But also KMart. Which is okay.

After a particularly poor week of constant queasiness, casting around for anything that might help, I stopped drinking coffee. One cup in the morning was all, but I thought I'd go back to tea. I am a new woman. Who knew? (actually, my daughter said "duh" and she's got a point.)

Plans are to head to the Spanish Virgins when the wind is favourable. We stopped there briefly in 2006, so we're looking forward to exploring.

See below for new photos.

2011-01-25T13:43:00.005-04:00

2011-01-09T10:58:00.013-04:00

Catching up with some photos from the last month. This is "Destiny" and she's just lovely.

Destiny

Sunrise in Leverick Bay. Yes, I was awake and took the photo.

Mi Amante in the sunset at White Bay

Snorkeller conveyance. If I get tired, I grab a line and he tows me. Quiet, perfect speed, and he hasn't bopped me with an oar yet.

White Bay. Pretty good coral, not many fish.

Waiting for the green flash

Christmas in the BVI. Chickens were begging from tourists.

Eccentric treats left over from St. Martin. It's like a drug, eh?

Our next boat.

Reeling from the stress of holiday responsibilities

Also stressed. He's clutching me too hard....

New Year's Eve. Happy about the GMT tradition. In bed by nine.

2011-01-06T14:14:00.001-04:00

Lots more photos of the boat posted on the ND for sale site: http://cheoyleeclipper42forsale.blogspot.com/

2010-12-31T10:04:00.001-04:00

Came back from a swim the other day and while rinsing out my bathing suit I read the tag. Seems it's 82% Antron Nylon, 18% Lycra Spandex, 57% Tactel Nylon, and yet another 43% Lycra Spandex. Also not for use in spas or hot tubs. Wowser.

We bailed out of the BVI on Tuesday. It's the busiest week of the year for charterers, and we seemed to be right in the middle of loud-mouthed shnook territory (LOOK AT DADDY DYLAN!! LOOK AT THE CAMERA!! OKAY DYLAN, NOW JUMP IN THE WATER!! WAVE TO DADDY DYLAN!!OKAY NOW ETHAN, LOOK AT DADDY, COME ON ETHAN!!! JUMP SWEETIE!!!!).

Little Harbour, on Jost Van Dyck, looked pretty quiet at first, but by sunset, there were 28 charter boats on moorings, and us, anchored, and more charterers arriving and trying to anchor. Yoicks. We upped and scooted around the corner to a place with no moorings and anchored again and felt...delivered.

Consult with Mi Amante suggested the bail-out option the next morning, so we checked out at Soper's Hole and now we find ourselves in relative peace and quiet in Rendevous Bay, St. John's. We'll head back to the BVI in a few weeks - it's only a few miles away.

Mi Amante is having engine trouble, so they're anchored in a fog of diesel fumes. Everytime we see a head in their cockpit, we watch for the "whoo-hoo" signals, but no exuberant dance yet. Perhaps there will be a puff of the correct coloured smoke at some point. Michelle and I took time off from diesel and paint fumes to walk around the rocky shore and look for shells. Mostly, we looked at the rocks - they're just beautiful. Every shade from deep purple to mauve, orange, brilliant reds and greens. Only two shoes, and some plastic bottle tops. The USVI are so very much cleaner than anywhere else in the islands. St. Martin may just take the prize for most thorough and visible spread of trash.

Speaking of mess, we are killing messy jobs now that we are contemplating showing off the boat to prospective buyers. Randy is ruining his back (or so it sounds) sanding and painting the cabin sides. I have painted the cockpit floor (exactly the same surface as a stroopwafel - tiny little perfect indentations all over) and it's lovely, clean and white. Seems a bit hard to have the boat looking her best after we've made the decision to sell. Hasn't been easy in any way to think about letting Nancy D go to someone else. But we are in agreement, and it seems like the right time. As right as it will ever be.

Some snorkelling will be in order if it warms up. Yes, we've been wearing long sleeves and I even had the jeans on last night. They're too loose. I'm missing Edna's brown bread and microwave popcorn. I defrosted the fridge and we were happy to find a nice steak down in the pit. Cooked it for dinner and couldn't eat it - it had that nasty, neglected too long taste. And because snorkelling is on the schedule, we don't throw food overboard. Storing garbage - another interesting aspect of cruising.

Tonight will be an excellent (I hope) meal to celebrate Old Year's Night with Michelle and Charlie. Once again, we'll celebrate at GMT, and we'll all be in bed happily digesting by 9pm. May your celebrations be as felicitous, and your coming year full of happy surprises.

sb/rs

2010-12-27T13:21:00.002-04:00

Merry Christmas and all the best for the new year from us to you. Next year will bring big changes for us - we've decided to sell Nancy Dawson. We've had a great time cruising, and we're looking forward to other travels ashore. In the meantime, we're enjoying ourselves, shining the boat up, and making plans for the future. Blog will continue with laundry, fish and food news for the rest of the winter!

If you know anyone who might be a good match for Nancy D, please forward this link:
http://cheoyleeclipper42forsale.blogspot.com/

Happy holidays,
Susan and Randy

2010-12-23T07:28:00.005-04:00

Taken by Kim on Keewaydin - lovely sailing from Antigua to St. Barts

de big fish!

we hauled in the fishing gear after this...no room left in the fridge...

13 hours to the BVI. If we had a tree, maybe Santa would bring him an autopilot.

Mi Amante in the moonlight at Buck Island.

See below for blog update.

2010-12-22T14:50:00.004-04:00

Happy holidays to those of you who are enjoying a respite from paid quotidian labours. (You all with jobs.) Now you have time to cook, clean, shop, decorate, wrap, party, clean up, cook, shop, party, and shovel. I'm just being this way because I can't believe how much I'm missing Christmas. This is festive season #6 on board, and I'm craving everything Christmas. I may be an atheist, but right now I want carols and family traditions (charlie brown tree, where's the scotch tape? The Christmas Story movie, Terry's orange chocolate balls, everybody home), a jolly good round of gift-giving round the tree, fresh gravy stains on the tablecloth, the kids reading their new books and Gus the dog chasing squirrels. Are there squirrels in Lake Annis in the wintertime? I'd love to know. And turkey sandwiches on Boxing Day, with cranberry sauce.

There's lots of food here, still treats aboard from our shopping orgy in St. Martin. There's still mahi mahi in the freezer from the monster we caught on the passage from St.M to the BVI. We left Marigot Bay at about 3:30am, and followed Mi Amante's stern light until dawn. Fishing gear went out about 7am, and at 8, I was below, wedged in the galley trying to peel hard-boiled eggs when Randy let loose with that joyful cry: "FISH!"

Big fish, zooming all over the place. Quickly, quickly, I hauled it alongside, and Randy made one attempt with the gaff that the fish dodged, and just then I noticed that the SWIVEL WAS OPEN. There's a special chemical that gets going in the body when you see something like that, and allows you, fairly reliably, to grab the steel leader and deposit the fish into the cockpit. Some bandaids involved in the mopping up procedure. And when I got back to preparing breakfast, the hard-boiled eggs were still sculling around on the countertop. I was sure they'd be in the bilge.

This time, we weighed and measured: 52" (that's 4 feet, 4 inches long, or about 1.3 metres, whichever is longer), and 23 pounds. Bull mahi, caught with the new green and yellow squid, biggest one I've ever used, about 6" long, with a single hook, and a recycled swivel that nearly ruined the day. Give thanks to the fish, who provided 12 hefty portions of delicious fillets.

We were anchored in Leverick Bay by 4:30 (13 hour crossing, with about one hour of really great sailing, lots of motor sailing, and a tolerable long swell), and the next day Randy and Charlie took a taxi to Spanish Town to check in, and I scrubbed the rest of the fishy bits and rum agricole smell out of the cockpit. Bleah. Then laundry (clean sheets! yay!), and a visit to Pusser's to pick up six bottles of rum for less than 50 bucks. Such a good deal. Post-laundry, Michelle and I indulged in a frozen lime daquiri at the bar, and discovered after the fact that they were 8 bucks each. Could have shared a whole bottle for that....sheesh.

We spent a few days in the bay, admiring "Destiny" and getting to know Rick and Chrissie. One of the prettiest boats we've seen, anywhere, anytime. Rick does beautiful work with beautiful wood. She outshone ND for sure, but then it's a new boat, so it's missing the patina (now there's a good word) that makes ND such a beauty too.

Now we're in behind Buck Island, waiting out a north swell. Not much going on here (excellent paint and varnish anchorage, it turns out), but there's no point moving from here to go somewhere that will be barfy. Saw a fair bit of the eclipse of the moon our first night here, while we were reanchoring after a major wind shift in the middle of the night. Just when you start to get bored, voila, the boat drags in the dark, AND there's an eclipse.

Everybody have an eggnog for me. It would be good with Pusser's, I'll bet. I'll try to post photos very soon, but we have a very weak signal.

2010-12-10T13:37:00.000-04:00

Very busy days in St. Martin. The rush is on to buy all the stuff that costs the earth once we hit the BVI. Generally, all the heavy stuff - beer, wine, ginger ale, etc; and meat and treats. There's at least seven different kinds of cheese in the fridge right now, and with very limited fridge space, I'm sorry, but no room for vegetable just now. Freezer is chockful of meat.

Yesterday was the female-only shopping day in Philipsburg. Back Street, lunch, Front Street, then the bus to the Grand Marche and Cost-U-Less (the walk between the two was managed, but just barely, dragging all our shopping bags stuffed with stroopwafels and curry ketchup and gouda) then a taxi back to the dinghy. I never want to go shopping ever ever again. That kind of tired.

So, shopping again this morning in Marigot while we wait for Simon at Yamaha to work some magic on the outboard. Fouling plugs for nearly three years now, and Randy has run out of patience. While he walks back to the Yamaha dealer to check for news, I'm waiting at Saraphina's for Michelle and Charlie. One could be in much, much worse situations. Weirdly tufted pigeon walks under my chair now and again.

Gotta go, more shopping this afternoon.

2010-12-08T15:16:00.004-04:00

Shocking good day of fishing on the way from Antigua to St. Barths. First one, a nice mahi, hit the deck about 7 am, and from then on, it was tuna, tuna, tuna (two bonitos and a fat, fat big eye). The ND's crew and friends have been eating very well! Now we're in St. Martin and will be varying the diet with bread and cheese and other very, very good stuff.

2010-11-23T16:42:00.011-04:00

Stunning sunset after a steaming day

Lunch with Tony

Town trip with the girls

Birthday cake

Birthday champagne with most excellent company

See below for blog update!

2010-11-23T15:56:00.000-04:00

I received an email last week soliciting my help to move a few million dollars out of an African country, and the salutation was "Hello Dear Fried."

How did they know?

We are no longer frying on the mooring, happily, though we did spend many longs days there. There are so many hours in the heat of the afternoon on a black boat with no sun shade that are good for nothing except guzzling cold ting and napping.

We discovered that we'd picked up a small gecko during the few hours we were at the dock at the villa. About two or three inches long, he was pretty entertaining, leaping about the cockpit, although he had trouble with some of the shinier surfaces. One morning, as I was wiping the dew off the filthy rails, he stayed one stanchion ahead of me, until he decided to leap for the side of the barbeque, and didn't stick. He hit the water flailing, and before I could even think of rescue, half a dozen fish zipped in and he disappeared. I felt bad.

But now we're back in sailboat mode. Masts are varnished and installed, rig is sorted and the sails are on and the awning is up. Nancy D looks like a sailboat again. Not that we've actually gone anywhere yet.

Celebrated my birthday yesterday with champagne and a potluck lunch with friends from Druiket Croney (I've spelled that wrong, but it's Welsh for "wet friend" I think), Mi Amante, Keewaydin, Belladona, and Peregrine. Excellent party, very full boat. No dancing, hopeful next time.

It's been blowing hard, 25-35 knots here in the anchorage in Jolly Harbour, and the other day we watched a charter boat anchor in ten feet of water with about 20-30 feet of chain. They dragged and moved several times, and it was entertaining until they dropped the hook a couple of boatlengths directly ahead of us. Crap. After a few hours of passive-agressive watching on our part, Michelle came by and I decided to go with her to the grocery store. Now that I'm mature, I asked her to stop by the boat, and I explained our concerns. Not sure the couple understood a word of English (there'd been yelling in German earlier), but they nodded and smiled, and when we got back from the store, they were spotted trying to pick up a giant stern mooring ball at the superyacht dock, having just motored by all the proper mooring balls. I'm not sure they were having a great holiday.

Still lots of work to do - the back-up bilge pump has disintegrated over the summer and went in the dumpster. New one is ready to be installed. Randy is ashore trying to find someone to look at the outboard, which is insisting on its annual check-up. The water pump has just been replaced with a new one, the fan in the forward cabin, ditto, and the brass and stainless is calling me. We had a monster grocery shop on Friday with a friend who has a car (thanks Marie!) and spent hours at the new Epicurian in St. John. As big as a Superstore, with booze. Smalls scrubbed in the bucket - that's it for laundry news until the hamper starts to talk back.

The Epicurean grocery store here in Jolly Harbour has set out stacks of customer comment cards, and there's one burning a hole in my purse. I'm trying to figure out a polite way to ask why 99 percent of the staff can't make eye contact, smile, or say hello. Do I smell that bad all the time? And they have a problem with theft? Okay, but if I have to leave my knapsack, why must I leave it where someone can just walk off with it? Sheesh! All the cruisers are mulling over their comment cards, and wondering if they fill them in, will they ever get served again?

And then there's the Customs and Immigration. I have it from an eye-witness that if you high-five the cop on duty downtown and pass off a folded bill in the process, you get really good service. If you don't know the drill, you don't even get inside to speak to an official. Bad way to attract and retain visitors.

I saw a guy here wearing a tshirt that said "Lock it, and they will come."

Time to leave Antigua! We're pretty ready for a change of scene, but there's a big north swell promised for the end of the week, and it's blowing hard now, so I'm not sure when or where we'll go. Stay tuned.

2010-11-05T09:35:00.002-03:00

November 3, 2010 Welcome to Antigua, again.

I'm sitting here in a villa in Jolly Harbour, waves of ac puffing over me, and we're waiting to go to the boatyard. Can't quite leave the villa yet because there's a fella upstairs fixing the ac in the bedroom. Michelle and Charlie have been here for three days, and have been quickly compiling a list of what doesn't work in the villa. Fridge, water heater, ac.... So it's situation normal on all fronts. Lovely day though, some heavy rain in squalls zooming through, but the sun is out again, and we're anxious to go have a look at the boat.

Trip down was uneventful. Luggage arrived with us, yay, and we had the unusual treat of being the only passengers on the hop from Nevis to Antigua at dusk last night on a twin engine Otter. We sat just behind the pilots, two Dutch fellas, and Randy was reminded that this was a Canadian-built plane when he noted a warning on the control panel about ice formation.

We were the only people checking in in Antigua, and the immigration lady gave us 60 days, no problem, and then the Customs man recognized us from Jolly Harbour and gave us a very warm welcome, shook our hands and waved us through. That's a first.

When Michelle and Charlie arrived, they were told they could only stay one month, that two months could not be arranged. Oh, no, Can NEVER Be Done when you came in through the airport. Go figure. Cruisers always compare notes on these things and laugh. Some people are charged for bringing boat parts, others, no. Is it bureaucratic confusion? Constantly changing rules? Changing mood of the official? It's a mystery, always.

And then there's the taxi driver who has "no change," meaning he'd like us to give him two US 20 dollar bills for a $25 fare. We made him wait while I dug in the nether parts of my wallet for the small bills I'd squirrelled away from last year. Blah.

Now I'm back from the boatyard, and we had a lovely welcome from Steven, Ray, Mario, Danny and Lindsay. They take such good care of us. The painters and varnishers in the yard all welcomed us, and they laugh when they ask if Randy is doing his own work again this year.

Nancy Dawson is fine - dirty and lonely looking, and some very obvious varnish and paint jobs have lined themselves up in our absence. There was one bad leak in the hatch over the engine which delaminated the bulkhead, so that will have to be removed and replaced.

Off to work - It's now Friday, which has been designated sand-the-hull, flush-the-water-tanks, paint-all-the-detachable-bits, and paint Marjorie. She's looking very much in need of sprucing up! More news to follow. With photos I hope. Wifi access is worse than ever here - the coffee shop has closed, and a bank with unsecured wifi seems to have changed hands over the summer....

2010-09-04T12:02:00.001-03:00

Earl passed us by here in Lake Annis. Just a windy, dark, rainy morning, and at lunchtime, the sun came out. Looks like they're being harder hit on the south shore and in Halifax.

2010-08-28T20:02:00.017-03:00

Imagine if you will, an Ode to Benjamin Moore Cloud White Paint (I have the title, but just haven't had time to write the poem...use your imagination). Sung to the tune of "If I Were a Carpenter." Followed by "Stand by Your Man" (particularly when he's on a ladder, or screwing gyproc to the kitchen ceiling).

Enjoy the BEFORE and AFTER photos. Above, the kitchen, before.

The living room, last summer.

The kitchen, June 2010. Really coming along, eh?

The living room, August, 2010.

Master bedroom, last summer, with unpaid, helpful help.

After!

The little bedroom, sad, before. I don't even know what colour to call that panelling.

After!

Guest bedroom, last summer. No guests.

After the Benjamin Moore treatment.

Guests have been and stayed and been comfy.

Okay, back to the kitchen. Knotty pine.

Tear down a wall and move it away.

All the while, have the appliances in the living room.

Midway through the construction.

Done. Unbelievably, done. Randy just noted that he hasn't been out to the workshop all day....

We're going to have a beer now and go for a walk. Apparently it's quite nice hearabouts.

2010-08-25T18:03:00.003-03:00

Wondering where we've been? what we've been doing? This photo pretty much says it all.

We've been hard at work renovating the kitchen, with the lion's share of the work going to Randy. I've been wearing the same paint-splattered jeans for months(apparently, this is in style, happy serendipity). With brief breaks for family visits, friend visits, sleep and drink (and two months waiting for internet access!), we've managed, after three months, to very nearly complete the kitchen reno.

It's so fabulous, I could plotz. We are both loving it. Dishwasher. Gas stove. New floor, ceiling, walls, cupboards.

Very soon, I will post Before and After photos. Or for those of us who used to be semi-addicted to decorating shows (that was back when we had tv), the Reveal. You'll laugh, you'll cry. Oooh, and aaahh. And line up to give Randy a big pat on the back, and wish him happy 65th birthday (on the 27th, and it's Anna's champagne birthday the same day!).

2010-05-30T08:43:00.008-03:00

A few photos to catch up. Bird beach outside Jolly Harbour. Couldn't land the rowboat at this beach - it was overrun with nesting terns, laughing gulls and pelicans. They did not wish to be disturbed.

Pre-haul, Sue gets to disconnect the wind generator and the triatic stay. And thus, earns another pair of shoes. (There's got to be some reason to smile when you're dangling above the mizzen spreaders trying to stop those whizzing blades in 15 knots of breeze.)

Jolly Harbour Hot Wheels, with Michellio Andretti at the wheel.

First order of business in Toronto is getting to know Gus, my daughter's new puppy.

Now we're back in Nova Scotia, and we've started work on our house. Updates to follow. Really glad to be back on terra firma. Black flies are gone? and haven't picked up a tick yet. I should leave the house at some point.

2010-05-16T10:25:00.003-03:00

Apropos of my last whine about spa days afloat, my friend Susan B has provided a perfect illustration. (She's back on land, with her blowdryer. And a martini. Looking good.)

2010-05-15T17:23:00.003-03:00

This is what we did last weekend - drove to town with friends for a couple of beers at the Backyard. Saturday afternoon again (and my back is feeling much better - I'm really too brittle to drive that far in the back of a truck), and we're hanging about getting ready to haul on Wednesday morning.

This is the in-between time, transition time, when, if you have energy and motivation, you clear out drawers, varnish obscure bits and bobs, sort, organize, disinfect, tidy, morning til night, and then when haul day dawns, you've nothing to do but shinny up the mast, disconnect the triatic stay, pop the masts out, and pass the brownies around to the guys in the boatyard.

If you find energy and motivation lacking, you spend these days procrastinating, you read the tackier books that have been languishing, you eat the stale cookies, you sigh and check your facebook again.

Yesterday, I'm thinking, it's time for a "me" day. I had a shower ashore at the marina on Wednesday, went to the dentist on Thursday, and now, a bit more personal maintenance. Ha. Michelle and I had a drink yesterday, and had a good laugh about what constitutes a "spa" day for cruising women.

Thought I'd redo the polish on my toes - aha, pedicure, you're thinking - soaking my feet was accomplished while I bailed the rainwater out of the rowboat. I'd maybe been thinking of a yoghurt facial if that last tub of plain yoghurt wasn't green and furry, but it was gone, so Randy ate it or threw it out. I didn't ask, because I didn't want to know. My only alternative for a real treat was another shower ashore at the marina. My hair fluffs (fries) dry on the way back in the dinghy. I look like one of those women that people murmur about ....she's let herself "go.'"

I have been clearing things up and cleaning things out and chucking (and eating stale cookies). Can't wait to haul the boat and get to the villa and re-aquaint myself with my blowdryer and the washing machine. The laundry hamper is starting to talk back.

2010-05-09T15:12:00.003-03:00

Marjorie D is now a sailboat as well as my rowboat. Randy finally got her rigged - it was a bit complicated, building a rudder and centreboard, fitting a mast made of bamboo from Dominica and a sprit made of a dowel from the USVI, and introducing words like "gudgeons and pintles" into my vocabulary - and on her inaugural sail, she moved along very nicely in a very light breeze.

2010-05-06T14:01:00.001-03:00

Wildlife.
Seabirds have taken over my shell beach in Jolly Harbour. Lots of seabirds.

Seagulls in Nova Scotia are ubiquitous - big, white, soaring elegant birds, with a haunting call - part and parcel of the mystery of what makes living by the sea just so darn romantic and fraught with "mood." "Shit-hawks," Randy calls them, or sometimes "Air Rats." Part of growing up in a fishing village I assume. Somehow the romance is lost...He doesn't understand "fog" and "beach" as a romantic combination either.

Springtime in Antigua is Laughing Gull central. Small, pretty gulls with black heads, white bodies and gray wings. Noisy. Just now, there's a lot of them, and a lot of small terns and they fish all together in the bay with the pelicans and the frigate birds. And the osprey, a few white-cheeked pintail ducks, green herons, night herons, egrets, and the occasional kingfisher.

But it's not just a bunch of seabirds diving. The giant, prehistoric-looking frigate birds don't actually hit the water or land or dive. They wait until some other bird has a fish, and then they harrass it in the air until the poor bird drops the fish or barfs it back up again. Charming.

But the Laughing Gulls are even more irritating. They target a pelican. Dog it until it dives for a fish. Land on its HEAD and scream while trying to grab whatever is sticking out of its beak. I watched a pair this morning close to the beach. The pelican dove, got a mouthful of fish, a gull lands on his head, and the pelican wouldn't play, just kept his beak buried in the water up to the eyeballs. After a bit, during which time you could just see him thinking "screw you little buddy," he did a quick 360 turn in the water so the gull had to jump around a bit to stay on his back, and when the time was right, he upped his beak, swallowed his catch, dumped the gull and flew off. I wonder that the pelicans don't try to snap the heads off the gulls. Size-wise, it would be the equivalent of having a screaming four-year-old on your shoulders during dinner. That would make me snappy.

I suspect that the smaller shorebirds, of the tern and plovery kinds, are getting ready to nest on the beach. The beach is loaded with the tracks of large lizards in the mornings, and there's a couple of regular dog-walkers, so it's pretty amazing that they keep coming back to this beach and more amazing still that they reproduce. Last year, I found a clutch of three eggs in a small depression just above the water line. Same colour as the rocks and the sand, very pretty, wreathed around with a few strands of dried turtle grass, for comfort? for camouflage? I was so relieved that I hadn't squashed them flat with my bare feet. Bad karma. This is why I saunter around on beaches like some sort of slow sloth. I'm looking out for eggs.

More wildlife. We have a turtle in our neighbourhood. It surfaces about every 5 minutes or so, takes a gulp of air, and gone.

This is why we spend so much of the day parked in Nancy Dawson's big old cockpit under the awning, binoculars at hand. Oh god, we're birdwatching. Twitching! Time to come home!

Less than two weeks until we haul. See below for new pics.

2010-05-06T13:50:00.009-03:00

One of the little jobs for SB: scrape, sand, varnish, paint in between all those little strips.

Montserrat, still chugging out smoke and gas and ash. Not closing any airports, but it makes for an interesting view from Antigua.

Jersey Girls at the Tea Party. Rosie and Lucyna.

Juerg and Diane on ND (hard act to follow all the great meals at Juerg's)

Bit of a squall off the beach at Jollywood.

An entire Jersey crowd - three couples from the Channel Islands on board simultaneously. Some party!

sea grapes

(another!) totally charming Susan B.

2010-05-01T15:57:00.003-03:00

Doesn't this look like a lovely place to have lunch? Oh yes.

Michelle and I had another great day of shopping, sans sighing senior senors (ha, ha, what a riot I am), and mid-way between fabric shops, dollar stores, shoes, belts, pillows, we like to stop at Bambula for lunch. Pink wine and excellent gazpacho for me, and caesar salad and a glass of red for M. (We have different stuff every time, but it's always delicious.)Thus fortified, we continue on our retail tour of Antigua. Then the market, then haul all our stuff on the bus, then the dinghy trip back to the boat. So you see why a really nice lunch is important. Go there. It's on Lower High Street, look carefully for the alley and the sign. The ladies are lovely.

More blog to come soon. 18 sleeps until we haul the boat.

2010-04-20T11:45:00.010-03:00

In no particular order ... Harry and George

AYC docks

the really loud band at the Maine Party

Maine party - best event of Classics!

Nicky, George, Stacey. Nice purse George

Exciting (FOR ME!) this is Steve White, known as a major boat builder, but known to me as grandson of E.B. White

2010-04-18T16:25:00.003-03:00

Coming to you from glamorous Antigua, where we're swanning about with the rich and possibly famous (can't tell, never get that close). Antigua Classics Regatta is in full swing, and we're totally enjoying it from the spectator position (semi-reclined on the afterdeck, libation in hand, listening to the VHF for all the exciting details).

This time last year, Tara and Stewart and yourstrulys were duking it out on the racecourse with all the other old salts, and a more than a few young salts, who were much ballsier about coming around the corners. It's great to be here and not be ON. The brass hasn't been polished for a week. Ha ha ha. No flowers on board, and the stainless is a dirty shame. I get up in the morning, drink my coffee and remember once again how glad I am that I'm not going out to race.

Not a great day out there yesterday - our friend Juerg on Lazy Leg busted a chain plate (I think "busted" is the correct technical term?) and had to retire, there were collisions, and it rained most of the day. Crappy confused seas, probably a puker. I read a very good book, did the dishes, washed my hair. I win.

We went in to the Mad Mongoose for a drink to catch up with friends we haven't seen since last year, and also happily leaned up on the bar with a couple of our favourite sailors, who shall remain nameless. They had been racing, and were enjoying post-race lubrication, and we were entertained and informed about matters both local and international in very salty language (aka f*ckspeak).

One of the topics of conversation is the Hanuman owner refusing to race. (See the link I posted earlier for the background on this.) For all that this is a pretty amazing collection of classic boats and keen sailors, the prevailing attitude seems to be do well, don't break the old boat, party. Lots of prizes, but nothing earth shattering (as our friend George says, "you won! f*ckin great, now buy me a beer"), and only minor glory. The big deal is the spectacle of big boats all zooming along in the breeze and getting their pictures taken, and really good parties. I'm sure the resumes of the J boat crews go nuts on this stuff, but really....people here are proud of their boats, and there's regular reminders about gentlemanly sportmanship (a lot of f*ckspeak, but hey). So the Hanuman guy will leave with the Took-My-Skipping-Rope-And-Went-Home Award" His other boat, Athena, about 300' long, is also parked at the dock. So much money, so little class. I wonder if his crew is still speaking to him.

This afternoon we'll walk over to English Harbour and park ourselves at the fort to watch the boats come in for the parade of sail (no kilts this year), then tonight it's the snazzy Maine party - one of the best parties last year, hosted by Phin Sprague, so we're looking forward to it again. Also had two loads of laundry done at Sam & Dave's, and I want you all to know how that's improved the aura and appearance of the boat and the crew.

See below for photos. More to come soon.

2010-04-18T16:08:00.010-03:00

Susie, from Spirited Lady, celebrates her 2nd place win in the Concourse d'Elegance.

Rosie, from Norumbega, and a crowd of cruisers at the Mad Mongoose

Randy and Tony.

Stylish details on Old Bob.

Carriacou boats.

Athena. Tender to Hanuman....

Some of Antigua's finest craftsmen at work.

Five Island Bay

Trying to get into the salt pond on the north side of 5 island.

2010-04-17T14:28:00.000-03:00

Hissy fit at the Antigua Classics Yacht Regatta!
http://www.yachtingworld.com/supersail/news/450997/hanuman-out-of-antigua-classics-clash

2010-03-31T10:23:00.016-03:00

real shopping with Denise and Michelle in Philipsburg

The Simpson Bay Yacht Club is perfectly placed to sit and have a coldie and watch the yachts go through the bridge

Yacht going through the bridge

The captain greets the dawn a few hours out of St. Barts.

The Port Maitland lure delivers a tuna (and a bunch of sargasso weed)

Our neighbours at Anse de Columbier

The photographer on Lone Fox takes our picture

My favourite pose

The view on the starboard side

and the view on the port side

Second of three tuna on this passage

Fish and chips with fresh tuna, really fresh tuna (sorry, I don't do sushi). We had three more meals of tuna, seared with lots of black pepper...yum

Jolly Harbour.

Laundry content.

part of the post-passage celebration brunch - pear tart from Seraphina's in St. Martin. Smells as good as it tastes...ambrosia

Happy to be back in Antigua

2010-03-26T21:29:00.002-03:00

March 26
Quiet night in the lagoon in St. Martin. The lagoon was jammed when we got here about 10 days ago, and now, with a decent weather window, the boats are charging out every time a bridge opens.

St. Martin sucks the dollars, euros, florins, whatever, right out of your pocket, all the hours of the day. Between Island Water World, Budget Marine, the various Grande Marches and Cost-U-Less outlets, one hardly has time to hit the duty free diamond stores. Apparently I didn't have time.

We bought beer, $15 for 24 (Ting was more expensive by a buck, but we bought a case of Ting too); wine, 3 for $16 (and some more Black Opal for about 8), we bought chips, we bought mayo in tubes, we bought curry ketchup, and a half-dozen packs of Stroopwaffels.

This follows up the shocking shopping spree in the USVI - I won't tell you about the rum, or about the scotch (okay, 12-yr-old sherry cask Glenmorangie for $28, like omg, in an awful dirty store on a back street in Charlotte Amalie on the way to the Kmart), and I leave it to you to imagine Randy accosting strangers, shaking bottles in their bewildered faces, yelling "Do you KNOW how much this costs in Canada!?" So, yup, shopping has been fun.

On our way to the Daily Extra yesterday, last trip for discount beer, we passed a truck with a religious message banner across the top of the windshield. They're everywhere, trucks, buses, taxis, but this was special. Randy hadn't noticed it, and since the driver's window was open, I'm hissing to him, "Randy!! Look at the truck! The typo! 'Pslams'!" The banner drew our attention to "Pslams 91", but until I gave up on subtle and pointed right at it, he's looking at me going, Piss-lambs? Piss-lambs? What are you talking about?"

It's a bad thing about editors, but typos and stupid writing send me running for my dictionary for the correct spelling of "schadenfreude." One of the perks of the job. Oh, I don't have a job. Oh well! And there's always typos in the blog! I know!

After all the snorkelling and hiking last month in the USVI, St. Martin quickly turns cruisers into jaded, poofy, acquisitive fat people, on the hunt for the best bargain, followed up with a baguette stuffed with something that contains butterfat, goosefat, and any other kind of fat going. With chocolate. We have to compensate ourselves for life in the lagoon -- anytime you want to go anywhere (shopping) you have to battle the chop that is created on a shallow body of water almost two miles long. It's a good long fetch, and you always seem to be driving into it, coming and going, and for a week, we wear the same salty, damp clothes everytime we get in the dinghy. There are perfectly good reasons for the complete and total deterioration of our personal hygiene, and salt spray is right up there in the top 3.

We're leaving for St. Barts tomorrow, and heading for Antigua on Sunday. I spent an hour this afternoon grooming my fishing gear. I hope, once again, to dazzle you with the results of my efforts in the near future. Randy is making noises about how good the haddock will taste when he gets back to NS. O ye of little faith...

2010-03-18T16:16:00.008-03:00

Anegada Passage. Flat calm. No fish pictures. Click to enlarge - it was a spectacular day for watching water. We saw a humpback breach, and dolphins leaping straight up out of the water.

2010-03-14T14:17:00.006-03:00

Scenes from a shopping trip. One cruisers shows off a new innovation: Reef makes a sandal with built in tools....

We spent a fortune at Cost-U-Less. Totally great.

This is Keith Francis on the left - tour/taxi driver. He saw us all waiting at the bus stop, and offered to take us all to the Cost-U-Less for the same price as the bus. And then he came back and picked us up, along with all our purchases. If you're shopping with a group in Charlotte Amalie, give him a call - 626-0029.

Always ask about getting a frequent shopper card!

Apparently happy shoppers who now have to pack all this stuff in dinghies and then stow it all.

Athena. Shocking big boat. I think I saw Angelina Jolie in the tender. She looks very self conscious. No sign of Brad. Sad, really.

2010-03-10T14:39:00.021-04:00

You can always find several shoes washed ashore on a beach. But a pair of shoes? Two pair? One in my size, and one in Randy's size?

Now this is easy shopping.

The view from Saunders Bay.

Another beach find.

Soursop tree growing out of the beach rocks.

Click on this to enlarge - it's amazing.

Copious fresh water - washed the dinghy and the hull.

Haulover Bay

Ball of fish hiding under the boat.

Bigger fish eating them.

Fishermen hauling them up in nets.

Pelicans, stuffing themselves silly.

Tarpon, ditto.

More beach bodies at Drunk Bay

Grouper?

Hike near Salt Pond Bay

Ray.

2010-03-07T17:57:00.001-04:00

Saturday, March 6. It's a very welcome rainy afternoon in Coral Bay, the first real rain we've seen in about a month and a half. The islands are very dry, and there have been warnings about flash flooding all day on the NOAA weather channel (National Oceanographic and Atmospheric Administration - some handle, eh? Everyone just calls it "Noah"). Tune in to VHFchannel 5 or 6, and there's a computerized male voice that gives deadpan coverage of the weather, in Spanish and then English, current conditions and a forecast. There's entertainment value too: an occasional computer rendition of a word that just isn't quite right. It's hard for real people to sort out the proper pronunciation of "Mayaguez," but our digital forecaster really chews it up good. Also his rendition of "haze" is somehow hilarious.

So we knew the rain was coming, and we were glad of it. During the first downpour, I donned my bathing suit and a stupid hat, and busied myself on deck with the deckbrush and some soapy water, and scrubbed all the seats and cushions and then went at the teak, and dug the crap out of the scupper drains so the cockpit wouldn't flood.

Our raincatchers - big one on the foredeck that drains right into the tank fill, and two aft that collect from the awning - are so great. Free water! While I was scrubbing and splashing around on deck, I also emptied about 16 gallons from the aft raincatchers into the tank, and we figure we caught at least that much from the main raincatcher. So I felt justified in treating myself to a nice shower, shave, and shampoo (I include these details to make up for the lack of laundry news in this issue).

Still raining three hours later, and our tanks are full.

We've spent several days anchored here in Round Bay, on the south side of St. John, with one day "out" when we took the bus to Cruz Bay. Two mornings in a row, I was awakened early, like 6, 6:30, by the sound of pelicans crashing into the water, over and over. I gave up on sleep and joined Randy on deck for coffee and carnage.

For the next two hours, we watched the pelicans diving so close they were banging into the boat and landing copious splats of salt water on deck. They gorged themselves on the huge roiling ball of tiny silver fish that had camped out under the boat. Sometimes the pelicans just floated around and dipped their beaks into the margins of the mass of fish.

A lot of the fish under the boat were safe from the overhead diving of the pelicans, but herding the tiny fish under the water were dozens of pompano, big eye jacks, blue runners, bar jacks, trumpet fish, and huge tarpon - 3-4 feet long - zooming around. At one point, a couple of fishermen in a small boat noticed the commotion and came over and threw their cast net right beside the boat - in two casts they had enough bait for their morning's fishing.

Below all this action near the surface were big brown nurse sharks and rays. It was a wild scene. They dispersed in time for us to enjoy a late breakfast in relative peace. Just remoras and sharksuckers circling and picking up stray bits.

I waited until late afternoon for a swim.

2010-03-02T08:56:00.004-04:00

green turtle

2010-02-28T19:49:00.007-04:00

Blog below, finally. More photos tomorrow.

2010-02-28T19:39:00.003-04:00

Sunday, February 28 (my mother's birthday)

We feel a bit like we've been on holidays, which is ridiculous, I know. It's a vacation sort of place, as opposed to some other places that are a bit fraught in terms of rough passages and poverty and garbage everywhere and locking things up always. Here, the next beautiful bay is close by, the National Park moorings are easy, the water is clean and the snorkelling is lovely. Live coral, lots of fish in most places. There's good food to buy. People are pleasant and friendly (I don't miss the fabulous disinterest of the ladies at the Epicurian in Antigua. I seem to judge all others by the rock-bottom standard they set). It feels like some of the best bits of America, only in the Caribbean. Wouldn't it be nice to have a bit of Canada, also in the Caribbean. It was gratifying to chat with some Americans on the beach the other day and to hear that "Canadians are cleaning up at the Olympics." Go Canada.

We've stopped at Leinster Bay a couple of times and snorkelled Waterlemon Cay. The first night there Randy and I sat in the cockpit after dark, and after a few frantic seconds when I batted away at a moth the size of my hand, we saw a gigantic falling star that lasted for ages and finally disappeared behind a hill. Probably burning garbage falling out of the sky. But so romantic.

Then the breeze disappears and the no-see-ums appear, and I counted 35 bug bites on my legs in the morning. And that's after slathering with bucket-o-deet. The next night I tried skin-so-soft, and they liked that just as well. Wee bastards.

Francis Bay is lovely as well, and calm (a respite from aerobic sleeping in Charlotte Amalie). So calm, that when the wind drops out at night, and the currents start nudging the boat around we wake up to the sound of the mooring ball banging on the side of the boat. Sounds like the neighbour's teenager playing basketball on the side of the house, and it will make you just as crazy. It can be remedied by going on deck naked in the starlight and hauling on the barnacle and slime-covered pennant until the mooring ball pops out from under the bobstay. Then prop the pennant line over the bowsprit and go wash the goo off your hands and go back to sleep. (Better than calling the police about the noisy neighbours and then lying there fuming.)

A couple of days ago, there was a boat next to us at cocktail hour, a charter boat, four guys, loud music, not to our taste. At one point, they waved, and I waved, and hollered, it's a bit loud!, and lo, one of them went below and turned the music off. So civilized. I am reminded of the musical evenings in Dominica that go on until 6am, shaking your ribcage the whole while. But then, I'm reminded of Dominica's other charms, and I'm over it.

We're in Coral Bay, anchored. Last week we hiked over to Coral Bay from Leinster Bay. Lovely walk, the first bit of it, then it got seriously vertical going up over the hill, then on the other side, we were doing the little old lady steps as we tried not to skid down the gravelly hill on the other side. Treated ourselves to beer and burgers at Skinny Legs Bar and Grill (no discount for having skinny legs, I asked), and took the bus back. Which was nice, except that the bus only goes so far (but only costs a buck), and we still had to walk down a steep and long hill, about another 2 miles, to get to Leinster Bay and the boat. There was a smoothie shack at the top of the hill, so we figured a fruit smoothie would be an energy booster for the rest of the walk. Then the fella said, "would you like RUM in that?" Of course we would like rum in that.

Still, when we got back to the boat, our butts were draggin. And the next day, after all that vertical hiking, up and down, our butts were groaning. Took another two days before we could move without making those grunt/oof/oww noises.

Then, off we go hiking again. Brown's Bay, and some interesting ruins (see photos). We had to part the hanging tree roots dangling around our ears to explore, and yes, I found more shards of blue willow pottery. It's ubiquitous.

We've hiked lots of trails, mostly because for $2.95, you can buy an excellent hiking map from the National Park Office. The whole island of St. John is lousy with trails and beautiful views and ruins and beaches. We hiked from Salt Pond to Drunken Bay, and a windward beach that's populated with people fashioned out of coral rubble and coconut shells and all manner of other beach detritus. It's fabulous. We saw it through the binoculars today from the water when we motored around to Coral Bay, and it looks like there's dozens of skeletons sitting around on the rocks.

Michelle and Charlie have been wandering around in the same vicinity for the last couple of weeks, and it's been great to have people to snorkel with. Rendevous Bay was really stupendous - it's not on the list of places that the charter boats congregate, so it was just us, and wonderful live coral, and squid! first time I've ever seen squid! They line up in a perfect row and watch you. With their bums or their heads, I couldn't quite figure out. And an octopus, and lots and lots of fish. Big stuff, small stuff, garish, lurid, bizarre, beautiful. We flick through the reef fish books after and are agog at the diversity of species. No garbage, lots of life. The people here and the National Park Service are doing something right.

Also Michelle did something right yesterday when she responded fast to a weak "Help!" and rescued a blue and exhausted snorkeler who was hanging on a mooring ball. Got her into the dinghy, stabilized and reassured, and delivered her to shore safely with help from another boater. Then Charlie and Michelle came to Nancy Dawson and we gave MIchelle rum. She done good.

Yesterday in Salt Pond, I putzed around the boat with my snorkel and was kind of disappointed: sand, rocks, weeds, until I saw a ray, and then a big turtle chowing down under the boat. I waited for him to surface and swam after him like crazy and he was hugely tolerant while I took a bunch of pictures. Turtles are gorgeous. This morning in Salt Pond, we headed out to the rocks in the middle of the bay, and were batted around in the chop as we swam around an incredibly colourful collection of corals and gorgonians (soft corals). I took lots of pictures, and I'll try to load lots and a movie when we get good wifi. Wifi has been sketchy, but after all that I've just told you, it would be churlish to complain.

Weather update: no significant rain for ages. Michelle and I looked back at our boats from the beach yesterday. Mi Amante had the water catcher up, but all the hatches open. Nancy Dawson - no water catcher, but all the hatches shut. Optimists? Pessimists? Confused? We laughed, and went on our hike. It didn't rain.

2010-02-27T07:41:00.012-04:00

Some photos from the last week or so. Blog to follow soon!
This is Anne and Alan from Freya of Clyde - we spent Christmas with them in Verro Beach in 2005.

Beach and forest bugs. Most often, two are attached and then one drags the other all over the place. Odd plan.

No further comment necessary. Great cheeseburgers here in Coral Bay.

Leinster Bay and Waterlemon Cay. Lovely anchorage, great snorkelling, starting point for several hikes.

Capt refers to the map. We never got lost.

Lizards everywhere.

Ruins at Brown's Bay - all the dangley bits are air roots from the trees.

A well, beautifully rocked in, very deep.

The innards of a defunct termite nest.

Nice rock steps over a trunk on the hike to Brown's Bay.

2010-02-17T12:37:00.009-04:00

Some photos from Charlotte Amalie last week.

Fabled 99 steps. The steps up Citadel Hill in Halifax? 123. Can't scare me.

What is an amber waterfall? Is there a second largest amber waterfall?

From the top of the steps.

I wondered if the dog was big enough to get out the hole at the bottom of the door.

Dumb Bread. Who knew.

Library.

Michelle, Charlie, Randy, staying out of duty free stores.

Current location - Leinster Bay. Great anchorage. This shot from the mizzen spreaders (fixed the wind generator and the spreader boots.

2010-02-09T13:49:00.011-04:00

Blog update already posted below! (which will explain the photos) but this is Kevin, second owner of the Rozinante that Randy built in Halifax. A real bit of serendipity, meeting up with him.

Hiking with Michelle and Charlie on St. John, USVI

Francis Bay

Painkiller, ashore in Trellis Bay at the Loose Mongoose very soon after I returned!

Wicked games at Anna and Andy's with Sam and Keli

The teacher, in the teaching place

In Port Maitland, cozied up in front of the stove.

Big feed of haddock!

Tom driving us to PM. Shitty driving, glad he was driving and not me. I'm out of practice. I can still clutch the doorhandle with white knuckles however. Like driving a bike, you never lose the knack.

Our place in the snow. Looks nice, but better in August I think.

2010-02-09T13:46:00.001-04:00

Monday, February 1st.
Travel. Broadens the mind. Then it gets so broad, it explodes and makes a mess.
Two weeks ago, it was Tortola, Antigua, St. Martin, Philadelphia, Toronto, Halifax. Yesterday, it was Toronto (jammed with seething masses of humanity at 4 am), Charlotte, Charlotte again, St. Martin, and today I'm waiting to fly to Tortola.

As an itinerary, it's not too bad for someone who decides that they need to get home in a hurry for a visit, but with all those stops, the potential for mess-ups increases exponentially. My bag, however, has faithfully arrived when and where I have, and for this I am very grateful. But yesterday, something went wrong with the US Airways plane about an hour out of Charlotte, and we turned around and went back to get it fixed. Bit of a stomach twister, that one, but nothing bad happened. Just irritating stuff. Like lunch vouchers for $5 that you had to wait in line for. For 30 minutes. And nothing to purchase for $5. I don't think you can get a bottle of water and a newspaper for $5 in most airports.

I decided not to stand in line for the meager voucher, and went to the closest food place, and got a turkey bacon panini that had no bacon, and was served on rye bread. Also a beer, for which I had to show ID. I said, "I'm 51 years old?" but she pointed to the sign that said "we ID all patrons." I'll bet she hates her stupid job. I couldn't bring myself to complain about the bacon-free pseudo panini. She was up to her ears in disgruntle from all the passengers on our flight.

I missed my connecting flight out of St. Martin, so US Airways came up with cab vouchers, more paltry meal vouchers, and a night at the Sonesta Maho. Better than sleeping on the beach by a looooong shot. But $10 didn't cover half of the tired buffet which is all there was for dinner, and the Sonesta Maho, no dopes, put me in a room close to the thumpy music disco. After being awake for 19 hours, who cares.

St. Martin airport, nearly deserted, 8:30 am. LIAT lady checked me in on the first flight to Tortola, no trouble. Security, passport check, no problem. Departure boards list my Tortola flight as going to Antigua, at a gate about 1/2 mile from the gate I was told. I've got lots of time, so I sauntered over to the other gate and asked what's up with that.

"Oh, the boards are all wrong. You must follow the boarding card." Very matter of fact. Back to the original gate, where the screen at the desk announces this is the flight to St. Thomas. I ask if I'm in the right place to go to Tortola. "Oh, the boards are all wrong, we ask them to change it, but they don't." She calls us to board, so we all line up for a few minutes, then she tells us to sit down again. We're waiting for other passengers. (I can tell her where they are, they're a half-mile away waiting at the wrong gate.)

This happens twice. Then we're told to line up "over there." Then a uniformed fella from another airline comes over and says "What flight?" and we all respond, Tortola. He says, you're not supposed to stand here, this is "our" spot. Eventually, we got on the plane and Randy was waiting for me in Tortola.

Re-entering the Caribbean is always a bit of an adjustment. Had very necessary time with family and a few friends, but it was bitter cold in Toronto, and I was overwhelmingly glad to get back to the boat.

Feb 6. All is well, we're in the USVI anchored at Christmas Cove. Michelle and Charlie are also here. After we anchored, this pretty little boat sailed in and anchored under sail. The next morning, we had both wandered around in the current, and were getting pretty close, and the fella, Kevin, and Randy have a chat before we shift over. Turns out he's the guy that bought Randy's Rozinante. He came over yesterday for a beer. Small World. And his monther's maiden name was Susan Brown.

Feb 8. Rolling in Charlotte Amalie, and the boat is wandering around in the dark and the whole anchorage is weird, boats pointing every which way. Current, no wind, swell. Not so comfortable. But we had a great sail from Francis Bay here today, and just after we anchored, more serendipity, we get a call on the radio from Anne on Freya of Clyde. We met them Christmas Eve in Verro Beach, 2005, and this is the first time our paths have crossed again. Spent a lovely evening with them. Now we'll roll and do anchor watches until the place sorts itself out!

Now I'm going to try to post photos......

2010-01-04T17:34:00.001-04:00

Sunday, January 3.
I've just applied the handy Therapik-thingy to a mosquito bite on my instep, and I'm hoping relief will follow. It's a gizmo I got at Lee Valley (yay, Lee Valley) in Toronto. Intense shot of heat on a mosquito or no-see-um bite is supposed to neutralize the itch (and pain!). Works better than scratching, but not that much better. I've become quite the hardware/guy store afficionado. An aquired taste, something about embracing the inevitable. Why do men not ever embrace the solace of any other type of store? A valid question. I leave it with you.

End of a looooong day. We left St. Martin at 3 am on Jan 2, under a very nearly full, sort of egg-shaped, nerf football moon that lit our way until the sun came up. When the sun is up and you see the moon still in the sky, your brain sort of applies the roundness that you know is there, but in the dark, it looks like a nerf football.

Really nice crossing, no breeze, not even enough to keep the diesel fumes out of the cockpit sometimes, but a glassy sea and a slow north-east swell was tolerable. I stagger around in those early hours of the am. Randy made me green tea for starters, then coffee at daybreak, then the fishing gear went in the water, and then I had focus. Sort of. Thank goodness that he also understands the nuances of trolling lines and has the specialized skills to watch for wildly stretching bungy cords, because I do often doze off.

So, long day. Oh. I said that. Straight shot from St. Martin to Virgin Gorda, but we were anchored by 4-ish, boat sorted out and rum drinks in hand shortly after, rehashing the crossing. We saw dolphins, they came to cavort on the bow wave briefly; whales! a group of three or four spouting, and then another sighting later - long black back with a small pointy fin. Maybe Fin whales? It's a cheering thing to see. Big life!

Less cheering is sailing through the oil and garbage slicks. Not too bad here, but they are always with us. Snerds of styrofoam, plastic bottles, condoms - they float forever I believe. And in spite of fishing with heart and soul, no fish was brought aboard. I rigged the smaller lures that our friend Buck in Port Maitland gave me - they've got smaller "lips" on the front and they stayed underwater at 6 knots. In the cockpit, hanging on the mizzen boom, staring at the two lines dragging aft. Nothing. Those lures are SO Perfect. Everything underwater with an appetite should be lining up.

I give lures a couple of hours to do their thing, but after a while, I went back to dragging a green squid and a tuna plug (red and white, full of toothmarks). Nothing. I go below to update the lip sunscreen and fetch ginger ale, and when I pop my head out of the cockpit, of course, I look aft at my lures.

Holy hannah, there's a blue torpedo headed for the bleached out little green squid. "Fish! Incoming!"

Randy says "What is it?" and I'm all "MAHI! BIG blue fish!" Then it hits, the bungy goes BA-WANG, and in seconds we realize that it's come, it's gone. I hauled in the line and checked the lure, and it was split from the top, and looking a bit dazed, and from then on had a tendency to pick up passing weed on its poor split nose. Damn. And that's today's fish story. Chicken for supper. I'm glad it was tasty, because we were both really disappointed about the fish.

It was a good thing to move the boat after being in St. Martin for a month. We had a really great time with Patti and John Loach. They were here for a week in Grand Case before Christmas. Some people get gold medals for being happy boat guests. And some people you would just like to visit with anywhere. Patti and I made first contact in kindergarden at Edgewood Public School about 45 years ago, so there's not a lot we have to explain to each other. And John is one of the finest men anywhere, so all things put togther - food, drink, swimming, beach walking, music - it was just a lovely time.

That takes us up to Christmas. Dinner on "Chinook Arch" with Dawn and Gerry and Michelle and Charlie from "Mi Amante" and Bill from Voyageur C (Leona was in NS visiting with their son and his family and their first grandchild, Samantha). It was a real Christmas dinner: turkey, gravy (oh thank you Dawn) veg, roast patats, salad, wine, nanaimo bars, talk, talk, talk, home to bed.

New year's eve, in true cruiser style, we invited a dozen people (Kim and Sandy on Keewaydin, Bud and Leslie on Play Actor, Bill and Leona on Voyageur C, Dawn and Gerry on Chinook Arch, Charlie and Michelle on Mi Amante, and Roy and Michelle on Bonanza) to our boat to celebrate Zulu time (Greenwich time, aka 8 pm) new years. Lots of food, lots of wine, and everybody brought their iPods with four tunes. Perhaps the most memorable tune was provided by Voyageur C - Barrett's Privateers. Too many of us knew the words and it was a bloody rousing sing-a-long.

Midnight Zulu time (8pm local time), eight bells were rung by the most senior member of the crew, Kim from Keewaydin, and then 8 bells by the most youthful member of the crew (bit of a dust-up over this one)- Michelle from Bonanza, lots of champagne, and then everyone was off home and the ND crew was in bed before 11. You really don't want to be up at midnight. It's just a bad idea unless you're getting up to check the anchor and have pee. Just saying.

Next day. We've checked in at Spanish town, awful anchor spot, then beetled back up to Gorda Sound. Laundry tomorrow. The worst of intermittent laundry is the storage issue. During the pile of rain we had over the hols, with hatches closed, we were reminded that we were sharing our space with two weeks worth of laundry. There's a certain festive feeling about spending an hour or two or three at the laundromat tomorrow. With wifi next door. Must remember the bug spray.

Happy new year everyone.

2010-01-02T11:28:00.003-04:00

Trying to post photos, eat lunch, drink a beer, and get back to the boat in time to hoist the new dinghy and make the 2:30 bridge opening on the French side. We're leaving to head north to the BVI at about 3:30 am, so there's lots to do to get ready (run in circles, have palpitations, prepare fishing gear, etc.)

We had a great time with Patti and John Loach before Christmas, and as soon as I can, I'll post all kinds of photos. I've managed to get some posted below. Sorry for the long delay, but a blog will come, I promise.

Cheers, and happy 2010.
sb/rs

2010-01-02T11:12:00.006-04:00

2009-12-13T12:42:00.003-04:00

Highlights from St. Martin.

After a week of fresh baguette every day, the effects are starting to show. Around my middle. And I don't care. There's something ambrosial about gently tearing off a hunk of fresh baguette, stuffing it with poulet roti, cheese that smells like unwashed feet, a bloob of dijon mayonnaise (from a tube!), and a spoonful of apple walnut chutney to top it off. Or spiced gouda for a change of pace. Even sliced tomato with lots of pepper.

The last bit of yesterday's baguette are toast for breakfast, and then it's off to Sarafina's bakery to start the process over again.

For a toast/bread addict, it's heaven, with some drawbacks. When preparing for bed, there's always a significant collection of crumbs to be sluiced out of the cleavage, and one afternoon, I spent two hours hanging about reading with a giant splodge of mayo on my left boob. Men notice nothing. Probably a good thing.

By the time we leave here, there's going to be serious bread withdrawal issues. A couple of weeks on a French island should be followed up by a couple of weeks in...say, Dominica, or the Bahamas: lots of hiking or swimming and poor access to baked goods.

The captain is doing his usual French wine tasting, with the usual mixed results. I maintain that there's a reason that they're only charging 2.99 Euros for a bottle of wine, and it's not because it's the next Yellow Tail. We usually leave St. Martin with a wide selection of wine good for cooking. We know now to avoid the French rum agricole in a box. ND still carries the box we bought two years ago, the stuff we use for killing fish. For several days after I caught the tuna(s!) on the way here, I wasn't enjoying my evening rum drink, cause I kept associating the smell of rum with the smell of dying fish flopping around the cockpit.

Some good work has been done since we got here, fuelled by carbs. Another trip up the mast to stop the wind generator while Randy connected our new batteries. After many months of watching the wind generator twirling about, turbulence from the main we figure, Randy devised a plan to tie a line from the fin/tail/stabilizer thingy at the back of the D400 and run it through a padeye on the mast and down the mizzen to be tied off where we can keep an eye on it. So while he connected the new batteries, I screwed in the padeye, tied the line on, tied a screwdriver to the line and dropped it down through the wind generator and radar mounts.

We are now totally rich in amps. The new batteries rock, and the wind generator is wildly efficient and pumping out amps to burn in these Christmas winds. The water catchers, fore and aft, are hauling in the daily and nightly rain squalls, and after almost two weeks, we're still probably 3/4 full of water. Nancy Dawson is in good shape for hanging around the bakery for ages yet. (One side-effect is that we haven't had to run the engine to charge the batteries, which means there's no hot water. A quick shower is often accompanied by those loud pseudo-operatic-type whoops.)

Friends Patti and John arrive from Toronto on Tuesday, and it is my express purpose in life to fill her just as full of bread as I possibly can. That may sound like a mean thing to do to a lovely woman that you've known for almost 45 years, but she'll understand.

2009-12-06T06:47:00.010-04:00

birthday champagne

Michelle and Charlie

connecting the wind generator

Hoooo-ray. Tuna #1

along with tuna #2 -my toe included so you are not deluded as to the size of the fish....

after a very long day in the cockpit - 12 hours Antigua to St. Barth

the sunny end of a squall with heavy rain

last view of the old dinghy - at this point, it had to be pumped every 1/2 hour. new vehicle in foreground, just launched!

New car smile.

2009-12-05T08:17:00.002-04:00

Long stretch between blog updates, and I'm wondering if it's because I think I'm repeating myself, or because I really like doing nothing when the opportunity presents itself. Both, probably.

We're in St. Martin, as of the beginning of December. Three weeks or so in Antigua getting the boat put back together, and we found it really, really hot and buggy. I think where you launch is all tied up with the idea of work and expense, and when you leave, there's a sense of relief and escape. But Antigua is lovely in many ways, and I was sad to say goodbye to the fellas in the boatyard. They've been so good to us, but the new management has upped all the relevant rates about 20 percent, so we're looking for another place to haul ND next summer.

We shared the work/sweat/expense period in Antigua with good friends Michele and Charlie on Mi Amante. They were sweating it out alongside, ripping apart their engine/exhaust/everyotherexpensivebit for a couple of weeks, so we generally coordinated medicinal rum interludes at the end of the working day. People think that we just lounge about in the sun sucking back the rum, but the truth of it is that that's only a part of the day, and generally only after we've spent the day at our other jobs: pack horse, rigger, woodworker, painter, scrubber-of-all surfaces, lazy grumpy bag with dirty hair and hairy legs. Only late in the day do we spruce up (put on t-shirt), go out (boat next door), eat fabulous delicacies (stinky cheese, limp crackers) and regale each other with exciting tales (talk about boat shit).

Michele and I did get a trip to town to do total girl stuff, which is just regular shopping but without men sighing. The bus ride was great except for the driver excavating his nose nonstop all the way to town. Michele and I are totally in tune as far as the hotspots in St. John's. Shoul's kitchenware, toys, housewares, miscellaneous crap you wouldn't believe - now that's fun. I bought a thing called a "Decoration Hand" (hard to describe! hard to envison purchasing! visit Lake Annis next summer and you'll see it! Which child shall I will it to?), and Michele was very tempted by something called a "Moveable Stick." (Rolling pin. I could get a thousand jobs translating for the Chinese. From Chinese to English to real English.)

There was a charming moment when the little boy in front of me in the checkout line bought quite a few small plastic toy binoculars. I asked if he was having a birthday party. "Oh no! These are for me and my friends to help us when we play hide and seek!"

I've been up the mast again (and there's just no dirty joke left in that phrase) and earned another pair of shoes and right on cue, found a great pair of Teva sandals in my size, about 80 percent off at one of the cruise ship stores. While I messed with shoes, Randy gawked at the fake boobs and poofy lips that came off the cruise ship. It would be entertaining if it wasn't just so WEIRD.

Also, we went to the dentist and had our teeth cleaned. For about a quarter of what it would have cost us in NS. And the dentist was movie-star drop-dead gorgeous. So that was fun. Funner than the dentist usually is.

After all that, we were glad to embrace a weather window and head north. First passages of the season are always a bit fraught for me, and I'm cranked fairly tightly the day before, but there was a beautiful moon when we left at about 4:30am, no barfing, a beam reach, one petite tuna around 8 am, and another fat fella before lunch. He was a bit reluctant to give up the ghost, and for a 1 1/2 lb fish, he managed to spray blood all over the cockpit, up to the winches. After about 5 ounces of our best rum agricole to the gills. Poor fish. I felt bad, but not bad enough to barf as I cleaned it all up. Then we caught a barracuda, in really, really deep water. Such a pain in the butt - we dragged him until he was tractable, then Randy set him free, but he was on the green squid with the double hook, so there was a lot of chat that accompanied the procedure.

But there was tuna for dinner, two nights, and it was brilliant! Full of healthful protein, we headed straight to Island Water World and spent an arkload of dough on a new dinghy. Are we excited about this or what. Poor old soggy Sally, we just left her there. The IWW guys said they would give her away to some completely desperate person without good sense. While we were in the mood, we also bought new batteries, a new handheld gps, and various bits. They have firehose which makes for great chafing gear. What a good idea, eh?

I'll post photos asap: wifi in Marigot Bay has been unreliable.

2009-11-13T09:23:00.004-04:00

Straightaways, roundabouts.

Balance in all things: we're sitting on the deck of a rented villa with dirty bathrooms and dusty everything, but the view is rather nice, and the temperature is not worth discussing with a Canadian audience. There are a couple of small lizards and one of them is blowing up the orangey blob under his chin and bobbing up and down. I think the other lizard is his date. A small black wren-like bird with a red chest swoops by, really close, to pick up crumbs from our crackers and cheese, and in about a half-an-hour, three bats will emerge from the decking over our heads and swoop off into the dusky dusk.

Also, pelicans, an egret, and rum drinks.

After a week, we're almost ready to launch. Should have launched today, but several rainy days earlier in the week delayed the bottom-painting. We found the boat in good shape. No ants, which is joyful news, and no major leaks that we can see. The dinghy is in the water, but after all my best patching efforts, there's still one leak on the starboard pontoon that defies incredible lashings of glue and monster patches. Maybe it needs stitches. Maybe the whole image of someone scraping old glue off of an inflated boat with a very sharp knife is just wrong. Maybe we'll cut it up and use it for chafing gear. Turn it into fashionable gray sandals. Waterproof bikinis. Weight-loss shorts.

Season five begins, and I find that lots of things have changed. Mostly for us: we have a house ashore now, and that makes this other part of our year seem more stable. Such riches, two homes. And I still get typically cranked up about dirty showers and no toilet paper in a rental villa, and it took me a week to get reaclimatized to the fabulous disinterest of the cashiers at the grocery store. Too many months of cheery faces saying "did you find everything you were looking for?" totally wrecks you for re-entry into the Caribbean. But in Canada, don't we get sick of have-a-nice-day, and man, those greeters at Walmart or the Gap? Don't you just try to duck out of their way? Not that I even got into a Gap this year. You can get all the Gap you need at Frenchy's, and nobody lurks around the entrance waiting to cheer up your sorry-second-hand-butt. I love that.

Egret, scratching his neck, while pelican swoops by, and wren is grabbing crackers. Bat wing beginning to poke out from under decking. Bugs are out, going inside to charge tiny computer battery that lasts for hours and hours! First charge in a week!

See below for pictures. Michelle and Charlie on Mi Amante are here and launched a couple of days ago, and are now waiting on engine repairs. One step forward, one step back.

2009-11-13T09:20:00.004-04:00

2009-10-20T11:40:00.000-03:00

It's cold in Port Maitland, and it's cold in Lake Annis. We're spending our days travelling back and forth, starting fires, stoking fires, rearranging wood. Also packing - we're headed to Toronto on October 31st, help Anna and Andy move to another apartment, then Antigua on November 5th.

Transition times are always fraught, and this year is a bit more complicated than most.

Our stuff is even more spread out than usual - three places instead of two: we went hunting for Randy's old hammer last week, and after some mental rummaging, realized that that hammer is on the boat. Things we're not using everyday are being moved out to Lake Annis. Every day, we pack an eclectic collection in the volvo (aka the Blueberry Express): shells, lamps, books, Randy's lonely and neglected suits, pictures, shoes, books, more books. If anyone was taking stock of our belongings as they arrive, they'd think that we weren't very practical people. The useful stuff is staying in Port Maitland until we get back in the spring, giving Laurie a chance to furnish her own house during visits over the winter. She's had a great little woodstove installed, and it will make PM a great deal cheerier when it's blustery outside. Our woodstoves in L.A. have been great, and Randy discovered caches of kindling under the house. Bonus. So we're comfortable, inside, and generally feeling underdressed outside, but reluctant to buy any more winter clothes.

Our house is really coming along. All the painting is done in the bedrooms, bathrooms (two! two bathrooms on the main floor! one is too small to turn around in!) and hall. All painted cloud white over two coats of primer, and the floors are red or turqoise. The wall between the kitchen and livingroom has been removed. Last week, Tom was here and did a pile of work - clearing out the underbrush in the backyard, splitting wood, and helping Randy remove the wall and put up a new supporting beam. Tom showed us his photos from his cross-country trip and his summer at Panorama in BC. Also something about a grizzly bear, but I put my maternal fingers in my ears and la-la-la'd through the exciting parts.

And just to round off the season, I've caught the cold my father has been trying to keep to himself. One cold per year is not too bad. It reminds me of how great it is not to have to call anyone and explain why I won't be coming to work. I'm wondering how that will work here in Canada this flu season. Will bosses and supervisors just have to have faith that the sickies are sick? Will people stay home and eat donuts and drink tea and wash the curtains and do blog updates even if they're not feeling all that bad? Will people continue to think that their offices will wither and die without them, and will they continue to drag themselves to work until everyone has a cold or the flu? I used to hate going to work when someone was pathetically hacking and sneezing. No call for that, really. Most cruisers isolate themselves on their boats if they bring a germ into an anchorage. Nobody would invite them over anyway, once word is out. Hard bunch!

We are looking forward to getting back. Wan and pale and snotty is not my preferred state, and Randy is starting to look like a pale shadow of his former self. If you need more sailing news to keep you warm this winter, I've got another blog to recommend, if I haven't already: trioconbrio with Bill and Janet Campbell aboard are on their way down the east coast of the US, heading for the Caribbean. Janet understands the important things in life: laundry, food, shopping, strange occurances and odd fellows, and of course, stupid weather, stupid stuff that goes wrong on boats and usually requires money or skilled assistance, usually both. http://trioconbrio.blogspot.com/ Enjoy.

Next update will probably be from Antigua. See below for some recent photos.

2009-10-20T11:31:00.010-03:00

Tom and Andra at the farm. Tom has learned to duck through doorways.

Mary and Dad

A visit from the Cadenheads.

Serendipitous discovery: my grandmother's Morris Minor is restored and living in Arcadia.

Dr. Destructo

Apparently you have to build another wall to support the roof before you knock out the old wall. Then you put the new beam in, then you knock out the new wall. Then you have a beer.

Rabbit in the middle of the road. Tom says "too many fermented berries."

Instant hot flash.

LJB's woodpile

Lake Annis resident.

2009-09-23T16:56:00.005-03:00

News from Lake (woebegone) Annis. This is friend and neighbour Gayle in stripper mode. Only your real friends will strip with you.

Are we having fun yet?

New Betsey Johnson bifocals debut at the lake. As glam as it gets.

As my father would say, here's Randy doing a big job in the bathroom.

2009-09-15T16:19:00.003-03:00

Coming ashore wreaks havoc with sailors' routines. Reading, rowing, sailing, blogging, doing nothing -- all out the window. We have a car, so I can just up and go somewhere when the whim strikes, and there's a washer and dryer, so I can fling in a load of lightly soiled, not-even-salty clothes whenever. And there's company from near and far, and my Dad is by nearly every day, and other family and friends, and work to be done on my sister's house. So if that's not enough to keep us on the run, we decided we needed a place of our own.

Lo and behold, we hunted around and found a cottage in the tiny, venerable community of Lake Annis (yup, heard the jokes, let it go) and after some waffling, we bought it. There's a beautiful wild yard, the lake is a minute away, and there's all kinds of birds, and hurray, we're out of the coastal fog belt. Randy and I looked at a lot of properties, both lots and cottages and houses, and after seeing a lot of awful sad and bad places (a function of our price range), this place looked like we could turn it into "home." Home ashore, anyway.

So that did in what we had for leisure time. The place was built in 1962, and that means panelling, and lots of it. So I've been priming and painting the walls, and will soon be painting the tired tiled floors. The acoustic tiles on the ceiling are staying for a while - at least I don't have to paint ceilings. There will be some challenges - there's a great two-bedroom apt downstairs, but unattended leaks mean that there's mould and damp, so that's first on the list for a major fix. Rip it all out, and next year, when it's dry and clean, we'll renovate and make a great spot for visitors. Upstairs, mostly paint, a kitchen renovation, and then we can unpack boxes and take a look at all the stuff we haven't seen for four years. I wonder if we'll still need or want most of it? Oh, I think so. You can only do so much shedding of stuff, and now I'm haunting Frenchy's for curtains and domestics bits.

Then! back to Nancy Dawson at the beginning of November. We should be more than ready for some warmth, sun and more of that great routine: reading, rowing, sailing, blogging, doing nothing. Blogs will get more regular: Randy doesn't really like me doing anything with a paintbrush on the boat.

See below for photos. Click on them to enlarge or if you don't have your bifocals on. I'm waiting for my new ones to arrive in the mail.