We left Bimini Sands Marina early in the morning and headed north for a sixty-three-mile sail to West End, Grand Bahama. The seas were predicted at three feet with nine-second intervals. This means that on average the waves would hit us every nine seconds and be three feet tall, but four to six-foot waves would not be uncommon. We butted heads with quite a plethora of six-footers as we crossed the New Providence Channel for a few hours. Then it went back to average as we reached West End over ten hours after departure. We made good time sailing in frisky wind at close to Echoe’s top speed going over seven knots.
The West End marina had closed the week before our arrival. We decided to anchor in a notoriously uncomfortable but safe (good holding) anchorage due to our arrival at low tide and other tedious reasons. You could not leave a glass of water on the counter or the swells would knock it over. The dishes were rattling in the cabinets along with our nerves. We had not eaten in eight hours and for dinner, I had a piece of white bread and Captain Where’sthebeef? had a few chips. That may help paint the picture. Neither of us slept as the waves rolled us over in bed. Next time, we will choose the “poor holding” calmer anchorage and set the anchor alarm and/or take sleep shifts if need be, or possibly just keep on going through the night. Sail and learn.
The next morning we impatiently waited for a rising tide to navigate through the skinny (shallow) Good Will Channel. Once clear of the channel we hoisted the sails and had a glorious eight-hour sail on settled seas under a sunny, smiling sky all the way to Great Sale Cay. THIS! I screamed pumping both fists in the air, THIS is what I signed up for!
Much of navigating through the Bahamas is by watching the water for obstacles as the sea floor is ever changing and navigation is not well marked. We approached a football-sized white sandy area and were worried it was an unmarked shoal. We were surprised to find there wasn’t a change in depth at all. We later found out that the Little Bahama Bank is known for these huge sandy areas that are the mysterious Fish Muds. The most common theory of their occurrence is that they are created by gimongous schools of bottom-feeding fish.
A large and satisfying dinner at a calm anchorage was followed by a large and satisfying night’s sleep and a calm sea princess. I awoke my old, feeling young self and we set sail again in perfect conditions for a six-hour sail to Allans-Pensacola Cay in the northern Abacos.
Refreshed and optimistic, Captain Sometimessmellsandactsfishy told me to text our good boat buddies on Soul Divers to tell them we would meet them that afternoon at Allans Cay with fresh sashimi (raw fish). He skipped around the cockpit like a school girl and let out his line. A couple hours later the telltale whine of the reel went rattattattatta. It is very hard to catch fish when sailing as it is difficult to slow Echoes down when she has a bone in her teeth and two full sails pushing her along. He lost the fish but fought it well. The hook was bent ninety degrees when he reeled it in. A new lure and an hour later the next fish spit the lure. Third time’s a charm. Captain Giddydanceypants reeled in a small but big enough Cero Mackerel. He beat it on the head with a winch handle to kill it and the cockpit was covered in blood and fish guts like a scene from a horror movie. We will be buying cheap booze to kill them with the next time. He immediately cleaned Macky and put him in the fridge.
Three hours later we were anchored next to our buddies on Allans Cay in the Abacos. I can’t quite explain what a joyous milestone this felt like. Soul Divers’ Matt and Sadie dinghied over with Sadie’s alchemist perfected Pineapple Smash.
Pineapple Smash: 1 Cup Barcardi Gold, 1/2 Cup Pineapple Rum, 1/2 Cup Coconut Rum, and Pineapple juice to your liking – but don’t overdo it on the juice as it is best strong.
We had an enthusiastic toast to the magic of the sea and friendship and then gobbled up the sashimi. It was delicious. Matt and Sadie had us over that night for a great meal of kielbasa and lentils.
The weather was PMSing so we spent a couple of days relaxing and walking the beaches of the uninhabited island.
There is a “signing tree” on the Atlantic side of Allans where cruisers leave various stuffnstuff with their boat names on it.
After a couple of days, we moved on to Crab Cay/Angelfish Point to anchor in another quiet bay and enjoy the peace and beauty of the northern Abacos. Sadie and I went beachcombing and gunkholing while Matt and John went fishing. Can you imagine how glorious it was to be that far from our spouses? I’m not sure you can. Matt caught a barracuda but they can carry a disease called ciguatera so he tossed it back.
Today we are to off Manjack Cay to do what we love to do best, sail, explore, fish, create beautiful food, get giggly, play games, make fun of each other and plan the next adventure.
Captain I’mbeginingtoblamehim noticed something disturbing as he lay cramped and sweating on his belly fixing the steering. One does not normally clear out all of the lazarettes and squeeze oneself in its far most corners, but there he was adjusting steering cables when he came face to face with a compromised exhaust hose. It was cracked, old and rusted, not unlike myself. It wouldn’t be prudent to move on knowing we had this problem.
Back to the phone we went searching for parts and the best way to receive them. The hose wasn’t available in Freeport or Nassau (the larger industrial boatyard locations) but we found one on March Harbor, Abacos. Funny, that is where we are trying to get to. What costs sixteen dollars a foot at West Marine we found for thirty-nine dollars a foot in Marsh Harbor. We needed fifteen feet. We decided to pay the outrageous seven hundred dollars total to have the parts shipped from a Bahamas marine supplier to avoid having it get hung up in customs for days and days like the last fiasco. We ordered it on a Thursday and it was supposed to come in on the last plane the following day.
I’m sure it is not surprising to hear that it did not show up. And to spare you much minutia, our parts had been accidentally and mysteriously flown to Georgetown in the Exumas, two hundred and fifty miles south. They eventually flew the parts, in a roundabout fashion, to South Bimini five days later than expected. Fat Boy, the bus driver, delivered them to us for ten bucks. Installation went well with only a few head bruises and scrapes and a significant loss of water weight. It was hot in the hell hole. And we are finally (dare I say it?) ready to go. But then, the weather thought not. So here we are, stillll.
In the meantime, we have met many awesome locals and boaters from all over the world including Sweden, Central America, Australia, Ukraine, and Minnesota. Unfortunately, we have also been frequently, repeatedly and intimately introduced to mosquitos and noseeums like the plague. I am lumpy, jumpy, grumpy, twitchy, itchy and bitchy.
We have been to the beach, lazed around the infinity pool, rented bicycles, and have shared multiple libations and song with fellow boaters. Off-key singing is even encouraged. Plus, we have our very own aquarium outside our door. It is a good life after all.
Below is a video of Kelly Jelly the little jellyfish with a lot of names; Upside-Down Jellyfish, Mangrove Jellyfish, Cabbage Jellyfish, and Many-Mouthed Jellyfish. She has no brain nor heart but a lot of mouth, not unlike my Captain. She usually lives upside down on the bottom of the shallows. She has a symbiotic relationship with photosynthetic algae so she lays upside down to get enough sunlight to produce her light loving algae food friends. It is not uncommon for fish to hide and sometimes live in jellyfish. I don’t know if that is what the fish are doing in this video, or maybe they like to munch on the same algae that the Kelly Jelly is growing for herself.
We have been in South Bimini for over three weeks. Tomorrow the weather gods have blessed us with a worthy window. We are leaving at first light to sail sixty-three miles north to West End, Grand Bahama. The You’reasailornotaprincess gods (they are so disillusioned) are having a good laugh at me as the five-star marina I’ve been dreaming about for three weeks closed their doors and docks last week. I can’t say that Captain Crustymoldywallet was as disappointed as I was. But, we are gloriously happy to be on our way and are days (hopefully!) away to meeting up with Sadie, Matt, and meowy Toby on Soul Divers. Homemade tamales and Pineapple Smashes with our bestie boat buddies trump any stupid five-star marina. Get cookin’ ye everything delicious alchemist, Sadie, we’re coming!
Nine days after ordering our steering parts “express” we received a call that they had arrived by plane to South Bimini (where we were anchored off of) but were delivered to a shipping agent on North Bimini. So, we dinghied to land, walked two miles and caught a ferry over to North Bimini to meet Pedro at the North Bimini ferry dock. After an hour of waiting and asking around, Pedro the garbage man stopped by in his fully loaded garbage truck to hand off our prize package. Locals wear many hats.
Back to the anchorage we went and installation began immediately. What Captain Notoriouslyunderestimatestime thought would be a three-hour project took probably ten. In all fairness, modifications had to be made to adjust a modern part to a twenty-three-year-old boat. He did a great job.
It had been nine nights, ten days and an entire bottle’s worth of Alka-Seltzer chewables on this roly-poly, quiet anchorage. Mostly, we spent the time with logistics and prepping the enormous steering project. Captain Tossalineinsteadofhiscookies did fish a bit. Not much was around. He has a chum bag that he fills with last night’s dinner waste. He drops it over the boat on a tether to attract the fish and then throws a line out. The chum bag attracted two Queen Triggerfish. Triggerfish are intelligent creatures. They usually eat slow invertebrates, like sea urchin. They are notoriously hard to catch because of their tiny mouths, strong jaws and skin like armor. Most fishermen spear them. They are delicious. These two stinkers would swim up and chew all the goodies right through the little holes of the chum bag. (They don’t like spinach.) Then they would nibble at the tails of artificial bate at the end of Captain Ohcomeon’s line. I became enamored with them. Then they became my pets. Then they became off limits as fair fishing game. They hung out by the boat and I fed them every day. Other than a successful installation and renewed steerage, they were the best part of that week and a half.
The steering cable, plate, and chain were installed in very tight quarters, with very strong language and very much effort. It was a race against the weather that we won. Had the installation gone more smoothly we were going to use the calm weather window to sail to a five-star marina at West End, Grand Bahama, sixty miles away. But since it turned into a two-day project, we needed to tuck into a marina around the corner on South Bimini, two miles away, before the winds came. Up went B.P. and off we went steering in crazy squiggles for the joy of it and to test it.
Unfortunately, we had to follow our tracks over the exact spot where we grounded and did the damaging battle with the mighty Kraken. The seas were far more settled but still, I was nauseous and spooked. As cool as Captain Cucumber is, I could tell he was feeling it, too. We were jumpy. I stood on the foredeck visually sighting and Captain Easynow helmed right over that quadrant of the sea that I will never forget in my life. We successfully passed it and crept into the cut to the marina with six inches under us and hearts pounding. First, we fueled up and then we went to tuck into a dock. Not my favorite activities. I was gazing at my wits’ end even though things were going well.
There was no one to help us with the lines for docking so I had to jump off the boat and onto the dock with the docking lines and secure them quickly. I jumped off of Echoes with a midship line in my right hand and the bowline in my left. I singled up the midship line on the first cleat on the dock and pulled the line tight and hard to help slow and secure the 22,000-pound fat ass boat. Much to my great surprise, I ripped the cleat right out of the dock. This sent me flying backward and fairly high into the air. I flew inelegantly across the dock and into the sea with an enormous splash and quite a bit of seawater up my nose. I at least had enough wits left to save my expensive prescription sunglasses. A fellow boater came to our rescue and checked first to see if I was ok, which I was, and then to secure the boat. I floated with a hand on the dock as there were no ladders to climb out on and I could not pull myself up. The man said calmly as he worked the lines, “Now don’t be alarmed if you see a shark as I saw a nurse shark a short time ago. All he will want is to be petted.” I have scuba dove with nurse sharks in the past and know they are harmless. It was more the bull, lemon, and hammerheads that I spoke of in the previous post that were running through my mind.
With the boat secure, Captain Giggling (I’m sure it was a funny sight to see) shut off the engine and lowered Echoe’s ladder for me. I climbed out dripping sea water and snot and this is when Captain Thatpartofthebodywherewasteiseliminated made his terrible mistake. He began one of his long, technical “teaching moments” on how I should have noticed the rust on the cleat’s bolt and chose the next one down. What he didn’t know, that I pointed out to him, was that if I had followed his advice, Echoes’ nose would have been three feet deep in the concrete dock. But he must not have heard me and it did not deter him from a long dissertation on brittle compounds and staying alert. I interrupted him sharply to put an end to the speech. I expressed my feelings more fully to Captain Don’tpushyourluckbuddy in private later that evening.
The winter weekly rate at Bimini Sands Marina is $100.00 for a week. That is the cheapest we have ever come by. By comparison, the five-star marina I wanted to go to would have been $250.00 a night. But I bet they have handsome dock hands and that their cleats don’t pop. None the less, we are happily and lazily regrouping. The winds are blowing. Let them. We will stay here snugly until we have a most perfect weather window to venture the next sixty miles to West End.
I know I have been wordily indulgent but my mom likes my stories. So here is a very fishy story.
Trip and Pulltha Triggerfish had been married for many years. They lived in a reef near the cold Atlantic and hunted in the adjacent bay during the day. One day, a huge, strange, sea creature came to rest in their bay. Behind the creature was a bag full of delicious delicacies. How fortunate that the tiny holes in the bag were too small for other fish but just the right size for Trip and Pulltha’s teeny tiny mouths. It was like having free, fine dining in their backyard. They visited the creature several times every day. Eventually, the creature stopped sending out the bag but began to poop out new scrumptious morsels like shrimp tails whenever they swam close. This was even easier and better. Num, num, num! But then a day came when the sea creature slowly swam away. They missed their sea creature very much.
Much to Trip and Pulltha Triggerfish’s glee, another huge, strange sea creature came to rest in their bay. They quickly swam over to the creature and waited for it to provide a bag or poop. Sure enough! The creature pooped out a small piece of shrimp. Trip, being the faster of the two, swam over and opened his tiny mouth as wide as he could and swallowed the shrimp whole. But that is not all he swallowed. Hiding inside the shrimp was a hook that lodged into his belly.
Pulltha watched with fascinated horror as Trip thrashed and struggled only to disappear up into the sky above the creature. She shuddered a bit and sped away to safety. Then a slow and wry smile began to play at her lips. Trip had been an abusive bully and also made her sleep in the cold Atlantic where she shivered every night. She swam toward the warmer bay shallows with a wiggle in her tail.
When she found the temperature that suited her she began to search for a nice hidey hole to call home. She spied a narrow door that led into a dim coral cave. She entered enthusiastically and yelped in surprise when she bumped into a napping, strapping, dapper Triggerfish named Happy. Startled, he opened his eyes wide. Well, pinch me. Am I still dreaming? He said. For you are even more stunning in reality than in my dreams! This made Pulltha blush an even more beautiful blue as she smiled an enormous smile with her teeny tiny mouth.
It has felt like recent posts have gotten a bit artsy fartsy
so we decided to go out and cause a doozey of a ruckus to provide you with more
The crossing of the Gulf Stream went well. We waited for desirable weather. We left Angel Creek Cut out of Key Largo to travel to South Bimini, Bahamas. It’s a great trajectory to take because the current in the Gulf Stream pushes us north as we head east. We set our destination just south of our desired landing and with the Gulf’s help we ended up landing spot on. It was fifty-eight miles and took over ten hours. We motored, motor sailed and had a couple hours of beautiful eight-knot sailing.
We chose an anchorage just south of South Bimini that does not get good reviews. There is a surge, swells, the holding is not ideal and protection can be poor from certain winds. However, the weather looked good for the night and we planned to sail on the next morning early to West End, Grand Bahamas, weather permitting. The weather did not cooperate so plan B was implemented to move two miles north and get a slip at Brown’s Marina in Alice Town, North Bimini.
We have had a few high drama dockages in our history that you may have read about. The most damaging was a small but somewhat expensive ding in the gel coat from the very dock that we were heading to. The current that runs through the waterway in Alice Town is fierce and temperamental, i.e., Kraken country. We chose to approach the dock at slack tide. This is the in-between time when the tides are changing from coming in to going out or vice versa. This is when the current is at its tamest. It was a well thought out, sailorly plan.
We hauled up B.P. and headed the two miles to the cut to get
into the waterway and the marina. My gut
was already churning due to our past experience. The cruising guide clearly
states to never attempt the cut in west winds as the seas get unsettled and
unruly in the narrow and sharp turns.
Thankfully, the winds were from the east. Did I mention the sharks? I saw them in this very cut on my way in last
year. There is a research center on
South Bimini studying nurse, bull, hammerhead and lemon sharks. This is shark city. Here is a photo I took last year off a dock
not a quarter mile away from the cut.
And here is a photo I took from my phone yesterday.
We rounded towards the approach with perfect timing for slack tide. But, what we saw were a lot of rolling waves and unsettled water. There are shoals all around the cut and so it made sense in these winds to see waves like these on the shallows. We had much discussion about what to do next. We really wanted to keep with our timing for docking. We slowed down and watched a small fishing boat navigate the cut with relative ease. We double checked the depth on our charts in the narrows and it was ten to fifteen feet. Our keel is just short of five feet so there was plenty of sea. We agreed to move forward with our plan.
We passed the first navigational marker and proceeded toward the second. A large swell lifted Echoes up, surfed her for a while and then dropped her, hard, on the seafloor. Guess who was there baring his teeth? A mighty and enormous Kraken had three of his arms around our keel and was wrestling Echoes with a powerful hunger. He was not smiling. He was not howling with laughter. He was fighting with all of his might to smash Echoes onto the rocks and eat us up. The sounds I heard were an agony I hope never to hear again in my life.
Hold on tight!
Captain Clearhead yelled, I’m going to give it hell on the next swell
and we are getting back to the sea with everything she’s got.
We waited for the next swell and the engine roared its
battle cry but the wave just pushed us sideways as the Kraken threw another strangling
arm around us.
I have no steerage! I
have no steerage!
Our steering broke on the grounding. The Kraken had the steering cable in his
teeth as he shook his ugly head. The
helm spun and spun with no connection to the rudder.
There is an emergency tiller in the lazarette (storage area) by the helm. Captain WonderfullyanalItakebackevrythingI’veeversaidagainstit had just checked, lubed and played with it before we left Marco. Every time and I do mean every, I put dock lines and fenders away in this lazarette, he says, Stay clear of the emergency tiller. Do not block the tiller. The tiller was not blocked. I have never seen a person move faster. I stood watch at the helm calling out upcoming swells, their size, and direction. I noticed people gathering on the distant beach to watch the drama. I was glad of it because I wasn’t sure that we wouldn’t be swimming towards them and wanted their eyes on us. I thought of that hungry Kraken and his shark gang.
There is a plate on the decking that unscrews just behind
the helm. Once that plate is off, you
screw in a pipe. There is another pipe
that screws on to the first pipe perpendicularly to make it a T. This is the emergency tiller that you manually
rotate left and right to turn the rudder and steer with. It is only about three feet tall so Captain
Soakingwetfromwaves was on his knees so he could muscle as much strength as he
had in every turn. It required the kind
of strength that only adrenaline can provide.
He yelled his orders out to me over the terrible winds and waves as I
needed to be the eyes and work the throttle.
I yelled back the timing and angle of the approaching wave and he would
tell me when to give it hell. I would
rev the piss out the engine on his command and pull it back when appropriate. We fought that Kraken with everything we had
in us. Finally, finally, finally, we
rode a swell up, powered through it and back out to sea.
The first thing we did when we were safely offshore was to check the bilge. This would be a ready sign if we were taking on water from the damage of cracks or holes. The bilge was gleefully quiet and empty. Then we ran around checking things visually. So far, so good. Captain Stillcalmashell checked and auto helm still worked. He patted me on the back. My bottom lip trembled.
Don’t lose it on me now.
We still have work to do to get to safety.
Aye aye, Capn.
We decided the best bet would be to return to the anchorage we came from by using the tiller and the autohelm to get us there. It is awkward steering at best. We slowly approached our anchorage. I dropped B.P. and at last, we were safe.
The very first thing Captain Extremelyfocused did was to feverishly take everything out of the lazarette and tear apart the steering system. I asked for five minutes. I went into the cabin and sat down, soaking wet, (totally against my rules) and played two games of Wordscapes on my phone. Aren’t I nuts? It was the best way I knew how to stop the screaming in my head. Words are my refuge. After two quick games, I changed clothes and started cleaning. The cabin was wet with seawater that had dripped off of us. Cabinets opened and barfed out their contents. Tomatoes and pears had launched from a basket above the sink in the galley onto various walls and burst to smithereens. Man, do tomatoes have a lot of little seeds. We both worked diligently and quietly on our projects.
Captain Mechanicalgenius deduced a pulley plate had snapped, had disassembled it and was on the phone ordering a new one within a couple of hours. He has the owner of Edson International’s personal cell number and was told he could call it twenty-four seven for assistance. However, John was warned that Will was from Massachusetts and on super bowl Sunday he might be a bit inebriated. Next, Captain Notrunningoutofsteamyet snorkeled Echoes in the cold, wavy sea diving under her, again and again, inspecting every inch. Shockingly to me, everything looked good. There is a saying that sailboats are much tougher than the sailors who sail them. Well, amen to that. After the snorkel, we attempted to take the dingy in to grab a taxi to the airport to clear customs as is protocol. But hurricane Irma took out the landing we had read about in the cruising guide and we did not see other options. So, we decided we had enough for one day.
That night, I had several glasses of wine and a very
satisfying cry. Captain Reflective and I
discussed our misjudgment and shared a very large piece of hard to digest humble
pie. We will now have another mantra to
add to our growing list. Never approach
a cut in any kind of unsettled sea state.
Since then, we have engaged the help of our friends on Soul Divers who are patiently waiting for us on Green Turtle Key. They have researched, advised and provided encouragement and good humor. We had a lengthy check in to customs and immigration as we had to explain our delay. Where are you anchored? The immigration man asked. Man, that’s a shitty anchorage, was his reply. It is a roly-poly, keep you up at night, don’t leave anything on the counter anchorage. But we were grateful for it none the less. We scuba dove Echoes and thoroughly checked every inch of her rough and tough bottom, keel, rudder, propeller, through hulls and girly parts. She has a beautiful, big bottom.
Fear is an interesting animal. I don’t know what it is about my Captain Wasn’tthatexciting and our two sons. They certainly don’t process fear like I do. But put Captain Whitefacedandsweatypalmed on a plane or rollercoaster and then I’m the brave one. Show any three of my men a needle and they will sweat profusely and likely pass out. The doctor and dentist are their Kraken. Yet one son is becoming a small aircraft pilot for the fun of it and has taught mountain climbing, river rafting, and backcountry snowboarding. The other son is in the Army National Guard and dances through gas chambers, tosses live hand grenades like water balloons, likes to drive fast and furious and shoot that backcountry snowboarding with his brother. Fear is a fickle and baffling thing. In this story, I was scared shitless. Oh no, foul-mouthed just settled into my shoebox.
We have been at the same roly-poly anchorage for seven nights now. The part that Captain Expiditeimmediatelyatanycost ordered last Thursday is still floating around the Bahamas. We spend every day trying to move it along. Welcome to the Bahamas. It is the laid back nature of the islands that we love the most until we are waiting on a very crucial part to be delivered to a disabled vessel on an anchorage with no address. Without exaggeration, we have made over twenty lengthy calls to Fed Ex and customs trying to help make it happen. We make a call and then wait an hour for processing and then call back to push it through to the next contact and start all over again. Right now, the part has cleared customs in Nassau and awaits someone to apply our payment of a VAT tax to help pay for all of this wonderful help we’re getting. No one knows what happens after that as to how to get the part from Nassau to Bimini. That will be tomorrow’s mystery.
We have plenty of everything we need and we are safe. Captain Can’twaittodigin assures me the installation shouldn’t be a big problem. I have picked out a five-star marina to head to when we are able where I will polish my princess crown, feast on fine dining, do laundry and clean heads.
I hope for my sake and not yours, that all of my following posts will be artsy fartsy and filled with cloud and fairy tales, lucid dreams and mediocre poetry. The adventure continues…
(Find your way to the home page and sign up for email
notifications if you would like to be emailed when there is a new post. I promise not to give your email address to
We were on the boat eight days solid before my feet hit land in Key Largo. It was an eight-day adjustment to sea life and living with Captain Ilovehimbutthatisabitclose. We danced around each other adjusting to each other’s close hulled idiosyncrasies. I must admit, I have my own. Living within forty narrow feet gets a bit tight. Especially with all of the provisions and tools we are bringing with us. It gets cluttered and dirty quickly and this drives me bit bat sh*t crazy. So, I have my systems. Captain Sheiscompletelynuts does not always appreciate my ways but I get my she’s just bonkers passes as he gets his. Mine are usually about cleanliness and organization.
Where is my screwdriver?! He frowns.
I put it away when he set it down in the midst of a project. He stares daggers at me while I apologize and retrieve it for him with a winning smile and softshoe spin.
I have a thing about cleanliness which is difficult because of the scarcity of water and tiny quarters. I have a hand towel, a dish drying towel, and a glasses drying towel among several other designated towels. Then, to make things more confusing to Captain You’vegottobekiddingme, I have a rotation system. I rotate all the towels once the hand towel gets gross. The hand towel goes into the laundry. The glasses towel is the fresh towel. The glasses becomes the dishes towel, the dishes towel becomes the hands. See??? Well, HE doesn’t. And I insist, to put it nicely. And so… I will be busy with my own thing when I hear Captain Notsosubtle clear his throat loudly as he gazes at the ceiling as if watching butterflies while pretending to cleanse his crotcheral area with my clean dishes only towel. Or, I hear loud and dramatic sneezing only to look over to see Captain Totallyobnoxious pretending to sneeze violently into my glasses only towel. And, he did the floss dance with my hands towel.
Our broken stuff is fixed. Our wine, libations and food are stocked. We added a portable freezer that is stocked with $500.00 of meat. Good meat is scarce in the Bahamas. We have made so many wonderful additions to make this year more comfortable. We worked very hard to get to this very point. Echoes was scrubbed, stocked and fixed with a new AIS VHF Garmin (Thanks again, Jackson!) radio. We are set to go to the Bahamas.
We are currently anchored on a cut off Pumpkin Key that leads to the gulf stream in preparation to go over to the Bahamas tomorrow. There are five other boats anchored by us taking advantage of the same weather opportunity. I will write to you next time from the Bahamas. But before we go, I have to tell you about the dream I woke up to this morning.
I was sitting at the sea’s edge on a bench made of driftwood. I had a worn shoebox on my lap that was heavy with its burden. I was solemn and contemplative looking out at the sea. The box held most of my weaknesses and faults. I knew I had to look at each one separately and release them back to the sea’s sky where she would recycle them for me. Since the box was full, I needed to release them now or they would spill over wreaking havoc on my daily life. Or, if I was careless and put them in a bigger box, I would no longer have the strength to carry them to the sea sky. So, I sat looking long and hard at the sea to build my courage to look inside. The Captain and I had fixed, stored, provisioned, cleaned, and researched so much in preparing Echoes for this crossing. I did not want to bring this extra baggage with. I needed to clean out my shoebox.
With a deep breath, and with much trepidation, I cracked the lid of the box. The first to fly out was Impatience. He quickly swirled out, white like a ghost, up into the wind where he was obliterated into a mist carried away in the wind. Next came Bravado and Self-centeredness boldly charging out of the box only to be gulped up by the sea sky. Following them was Lazily Unfocussed. She fell out of the box and down towards the sea confused until the sea sky scooped her up and blew her into oblivion. And I will not give you the whole tally of my faults because I am not that brave. But finally, I looked into the box and Foul-mouthed was lingering and sticking to the corner. I chased that little plucker around that box with my hand furiously. Finally, I said, Dag nab it, you little rascal. It’s time for you to go! And Foul-mouthed reluctantly flew out into the consuming sea wind.
I sat there with my empty shoebox feeling extremely humble. I was relieved and glad the box was empty but did not enjoy the experience, not unlike cleaning a toilet. I gazed at the cleansing sea sky and gave it my gratitude. I promised myself to not let my shoebox fill as quickly next time and to empty it before it got too heavy. And then a certain salty peace settled over me and I said to myself, Wake up! It’s time to wake up! I’m ready to cross to the Bahamas!
When a boat sits lonely in the elements upon the water for six months it tends to complain when its beloved owners return to her. Our VHF (emergency and means of communication with other boaters) radio quit working within the first hour after pulling out of Marco. We have a back up, hand held radio but we will need to replace the old VHF. Echoes has had many other small and large complaints as the days have worn on. But mostly, she is thrilled to have us back with her and to be free upon the sea.
We had a cold but pleasant motor to our first anchorage in the Indian River in the Everglades.
Captain Theprincessisgettingsmarter set B.P., our anchor. (Read the blog postBack to Long Boat Keyif you would like to know what B.P. stands for and you are not easily offended by sailorly language.) We bought a new, fancy snubber that secures B.P.’s chain and relieves some of her pressure. We were excited to give it a try. We knew heavy weather was coming so we tucked ourselves three miles up the river. We grilled pork tenderloin, opened a fresh bottle of wine and watched a full moon rise off the horizon to eventually light up the starry sky with its mystical light. Echoes glowed almost purple in the moonlight. The river was calm and the dolphins were hunting fish in the mangrove. You could hear them breathing through their blowholes and their bodies slapping the water in the hunt. We went to bed happy and content.
Two hours later the winds, rain, thunder and lightning came. The temperatures dropped. It got down to forty degrees which is laughable to my northern friends but not to me with no heat. Echoes spun on B.P.’s chain around and around. The chain would yank her with a great force when it reached the end of its leash. The spinning was wild and unnerving because of the current, waves and the wind. The chain would scrape against the keel with a loud, low, painful groan. The banshees whipped through the rigging making a haunting howl. I would peer out my port window to see if we were floating down river or just around again on the chain. And I then I saw him. The kraken’s tentacled arm pushed Echoes’ stern into another spin. He howled in laughter with the banshees. Captain Notsleepingeither ventured out in the storm many times that night to check B.P. Our new snubber kept letting loose so he finally switched back to the old one. The kraken tormented us all night.
We woke up with just a few inches of water under us. Unbeknownst to us, the chain let itself
slowly out when the new snubber let loose so that we eventually drifted into
the shallows. We needed to sit another
day to let the weather pass so we waited until high tide to reset. Captain Befuddled raised B.P. to find she had
her panties in a bunch. Apparently the
chain wrapped itself around the anchor a number of times during the spins. It took quite a lot of strength and time to
undo the mess. And then the depth
sounder and the wind instrument took a shit as we went to re-anchor. And because the details are long and tedious
I will sum it up by saying, the kraken and the lighting blew some gizmos. But Captain
Remarkablytalentedmechanicallyaswellashandsome messed with connections and
fuses and dealywacks until we had a depth gauge again. But more replacement parts will be
And that was our first twenty four hours.
It has been four days since then and we are currently anchored off of Islamorada in the blowing, northerly wind researching, tracking down needed parts, fixing things and writing. Guess who is doing what? And because I have spent many daydreaming hours at sea to get here, my head is full of stories. I will leave you with one.
Sir Earl Turtle swam up to the Sea Princess and asked her,
Why do you drip salty tears into the already abundant salty
I have recently returned to the sea, Sir Earl. I have left my kingdom in the far north and I
will miss my safe, stable palace, my grand throne with the simple handle that
flushes and I will miss my many bottles of purple and amber elixir among other
comforts. My throne on the sea is
rudimentary at best and my elixir comes in boxes. But much more than this, I will miss my family,
friends and pet parrot in my faraway kingdom.
Does your faraway palace move upon the earth for you to
explore as you and your Captain so love to do?
No, it does not. It
is frozen solid in frigid temperatures onto the earth upon which it was
Does the elixir lose its magic from the bottle to the box?
Well, no, not exactly.
And the people of your kingdom, do they not celebrate that
you are the Sea Princess as well as the Princess of the Flushing Throne on
I suppose they do understand this about me.
And does it not make their hearts happy to know that your
heart is happy at sea?
Maybe it does, Sir Earl.
Have not the seagulls followed you today in your sea
vessel? And didn’t the pelicans perform
their acrobatics for you? And when the
sun sets, do not the cormorants whisper their goodnights to you with their
wings flapping in the wind? Sea
Princess, are there not others to love your parrot?
Yes, Sir Earl, I think so.
Did not the dolphins leap in joy at your bow to greet you
back to the sea? Do you not have friends
here who have missed you?
Yes, of course, Sir.
And, isn’t your Captain happy at sea?
Yes, very, Sir Earl, and this makes me happy.
Then why do you focus your thoughts on the barnacled underbelly
of things? Why not choose to place your
thoughts on the brilliance of sea life in front of you? I have a terrible itch that I cannot
reach. I do not dwell on it all
day. Instead, I rejoice in the
delicacies of sea grass and jelly fish, and the endless sea to explore. When I do think of my itch, I think about the
day I will welcome my fish friends who will eat the parasite that is causing my
itch. Princess, think about what has
made you happy today.
You, Sir Earl Turtle, I was thrilled to see you in your slow
splendor pop out of the sea and I am grateful for your visit.
Sir Earl Turtle simply nodded once at the Sea Princess and
dove back to the depths and his tasty sea grass.
And the Princess transformed fully back into the Sea
The roar of the waves awaken my desire for exploration. The pull of the tides draw me to the sea’s beckoning vastness. Well, it’s more like Captain Snoresalotandloudly awakens me and the pull of bacon in the fridge beckons to my vastness. We are back on Marco Island working on our sailboat, Echoes, in preparation to head to the Bahamas. I’ve missed you, my muses. You commiserate my bellyaching and encourage me to call Captain Awealthofmaterial snarky names. I must suffer for my art!
Each prior trip leaves us with new knowledge, new challenges and an expensive list of desired boat improvements. We spend the summers researching and planning for the repairs and purchases. We also spent ten days in December working on the boat. We have a new water heater, tedious parts and doohickies have been replaced, tweaked and pampered. We removed the forestay (rigging that holds up the jib sail on the front of the boat) to replace a bushing on the roller furler. In other words, we spent a week learning how to loosen all of the rigging on the boat, remove the front huge wire thingy that’s connected to other wire thingys that hold up the mast, all to replace a simple five inch plastic tube that cost seventy dollars. It would have cost over three hundred if we (and I use we very lightly) did not do it ourselves.
We (princesses who fetch tools have value, you know) have also been working on replacing the radar. The old radar worked perfectly during sunny weather when we would diligently test equipment. However, in the fog and at night it would get sleepy and confused not unlike myself. Fortunately, our oldest son, Jackson, works for Garmin and so our new, shiny Garmin radar was a great price. However, there was a disconnect between the connections of the twenty three year old radar and the new, as well as in the software. It took six trips up and down the mast and countless hours to replace. But now we have a new radar love….🎵 I’ve been sailing all night, my hand’s wet on the helm 🎵.
We are wrapping up projects, provisioning the boat and waiting for the last few purchases to be delivered. One of these purchases are T Shirts with our new logo on them. Check out the awesome artwork at the top of this page. Captain Hasgoodideassometimes asked our friends’ very talented son, Zach Filipek, to design a logo for us. John gave him a list of things that mean something to us: a link to the Pink Floyd song Echoes, a compass, a saying that Captain Repeatshimselfalot has almost worn out, and the infamous kraken. Zach put it all together in a way we couldn’t have even dreamed of. I love the compass rose as the reflecting setting sun. Artists amaze me.
My parents are not with us in their condo this year. It is not the same without them here. When we returned to Marco last year my dad had just been admitted to the hospital with a host of serious complications. We ended up flying him back to the Chicago area in medical transport. At one point in the Hinsdale hospital, all five of his doctors concurred that end was upon him. Family flew in and friends gathered to say goodbye. He opened one eye, saw all of us and couldn’t miss the party. Against all odds, he rallied. He worked very hard, kept a wonderful attitude and regained his independence. He is now at my parent’s home in Burr Ridge making big breakfasts, sipping wine at cocktail hour and watching football. If only the Bears could have pulled it off for him. My parents are unsure if they will get to Marco this season and the condo will most likely be sold this year. It doesn’t make sense to bring Echoes back to Marco. We are hoping to leave her in the Bahamas but don’t know if the stars and our budget will align. When we untie the dock lines, Echoes will be homeless.
Our goal is to leave at the end of this week. We will make a couple stops in the Everglades to look at plants and birds and rocks and things. And then on to the keys to eventually position ourselves to cross the gulf stream to the Bahamas. We plan to go to the islands of the Abacos first where we will hopefully meet up with our friends on Soul Divers, if they will wait patiently.
Last night I asked Captain Inhisdreams what was our plan was for today. Aha! he said enthusiastically pointing a finger at me. Tomorrow! he continued while waggling his finger. I’m so happy you ask! Tomorrow we will wake up and engage in (insert a certain intimate act here.) Then we will go to West Marine and pick up our autohelm part. Then we will go to every hardware store on the island only to be left wanting. Then we will go to the boat where I will fabricate the needed part to install the autohelm. Then we will (insert another variety of intimacy.) Then we will put the autohelm back together and start on the freezer project. Then we will go home where you will make me a scrumptious shrimp dinner while I sip on a gin rickey. After you finish with the dishes and rubbing my feet we will (revisit the morning act.) To which I replied, You must be feeling quite youthful in your delusions, Captain. Indeed! he yelled with the waggling finger, But I will need my rest so we should go to bed now and (insert a creative varietal here.) What a long, strange trip this will be.