Crossing to Florida

Since we stretched the time with our friends on Helia to the last possible moment, we face a final overnight passage to Gun Cay. My shift is uneventful with great stars, but Tom has a much more exciting watch as Liberator, two tankers and powerboat vie for space in the narrow channel of the Grand Banks. By early afternoon we sight Gun Cay. The day brings a livelier sea than we expected, so we find a refuge in a tiny protected bay. It’s Saturday and the anchorage fills with day boaters from Miami blaring either Latin or Country music. It’s back to “civilization” from here on out.

After lunch, Tom and JT snorkel vainly searching for sea biscuits. When they venture ashore, a kind woman shares some sardines with him so he can feed the rays. Later, we take our last can of sardines so Zoe and JT can try. These rays have grown accustomed to being fed and stay nearby in hopes of a handout. These southern rays are either gunmetal gray or a soft black with skin that feels like a cat’s tongue. They haven’t any teeth so they suck the food from the flat palm of a hand. JT captures it perfectly when he says it feels like the suction of a vacuum cleaner. Zoe is reluctant at first then befriends a tiny ray who comes back repeatedly to feed from her hand. While feeding the rays and beach combing I find an elusive cone shell. How lucky! I only had one and needed a second to complete my collections for the kids.

In the evening just after sunset Tom spies a spotted eagle ray cruising around the anchorage. They are such unique sea creatures and we are excited to have seen one on our last night in the Bahamas. The next morning, just after daybreak, we set sail for Miami. We are crossing the Gulf Stream which turns out to be strong enough that at times we seem to be staying in place. An hour into our trip we hear a distress signal and the Coast Guard follows it with a Pan-pan announcement asking for boaters to call in with information on when and where they heard the signal, so they can triangulate to narrow the problem. We comply and continue listening. Later a boat calls to report an overturned “homemade” sailboat. No one is visible in the water. The scarcity of information leaves us all wondering whether this was the boat reporting distress.

We finally make it to Biscayne Bay around 4 and shortly thereafter our friend Cristian comes by with his family and dog Luna on their boat. It’s a Sunday so there are some 60 to 100 boats in the harbor. It’s fun to have other kids on the boat again and they enjoy playing with each other while we catch up with Cristian and Paige. It has been an unusual day, but it has passed smoothly. At the back of our minds is the thought of the capsized boat and the distress call. For us though, we are home, safe at last. 

The Last Week

Not a week after leaving Georgetown, the biggest city in the central Exumas, we run out of propane. I am cooking when the burner stutters, then extinguishes. At first I blame the cross draft, but my inability to reignite the burner sets me straight. We are at Staniel Cay, a popular stop and wintering place for many cruisers, so we are hopeful that we can refill our tank. But a call to Isle General delivers bad news. They ran out Tuesday (it’s Wednesday) and won’t have more until the mailboat delivers on Saturday. DJ, a mechanic we’ve met, buys us some time us by lending us a fitting which permits us to transfer propane from the little grill bottles to the stove’s canister. It’s just 3 liters, but it’ll get us through the weekend. We decide to buddy cruise with Mary and DJ up to Cambridge Cay and after a fun few days (see last post), we ride the odd west wind back to Staniel Cay for propane. Not 30 minutes after anchoring, Helia pulls up in their dingy. They’ve just been to Thunderball and saw us as they came out of the cave. And Rob’s extra propane tank needs filling too! Zoe and JT are thrilled to be reunited.

After all of the errands are run and tanks filled, we rendezvous on the back side of a place called Big Major Spot. It’s tricky getting in here and people have moved only to avoid the odd westerly wind. As a consequence, all the kids find great shells on the beach. On the downside, the ocean waves also carry flotsam, and lots of sharp broken glass. While exploring, Tom and Rob find a small, but very cool blow hole in the jagged limestone rocks. We end the evening with drinks and swimming from the boat.

The next morning we head back to Cambridge and arrive in time to snorkel Rocky Dundas again at slack tide. The strong winds have stirred up the water so it’s murkier than before, but still quite nice. Mary’s caught the flu, so Colleen joins the kids for an afternoon of playing on the swing and card games aboard Helia. At slack tide the following morning we hit Sea Aquarium again and this time we find a lion fish. These gorgeous, but deadly fish are a menace to Caribbean reefs. Lionfish have poison tipped quills that can fell a human coupled with a voracious appetite that can decimate a reef. They aren’t native to this sea and have no known predator. People think they were introduced from fish tanks spilled by Andrew back in 1992. Upon returning to Liberator, Zoe promptly reports the fish to the Exuma parks so they can send someone out to collect it.

From here we head to Warderick Wells, home of the Exuma Park Headquarters. It’s a unique horseshoe-shaped anchorage with mooring balls. At low tide a beach emerges in the center, but otherwise it looks like a lake. Helia sails with us.  One afternoon we hike to Boo Boo hill, where tradition dictates leaving a piece of driftwood with your boat name among a pile at the hills’ peak overlooking the anchorage.  We snorkel at a couple of sites in the park and spot another lion fish (which we report at the park office). The reefs offer a lovely variety of angelfish, huge spiny lobsters, and the biggest grouper we’ve seen. We also spot a large nurse shark, which turns out to be the mildest of the sharks in the area. Several 6 feet long lemon sharks commonly circle the anchorage, especially at meals times. They seem to feed on the jacks and other fish that eat the scraps from the boaters.

One night we host dinner on our boat after landing a tuna on passage. The kids swim before dinner 

and after eating we are treated to a front row shark feeding when we toss our tuna scraps over board. Good thing we waited!! Their speed and grace is truly awesome. Finally, the weather forces us to push up the time of our crossing the Gulf Stream back to Florida. We decide to make Hawksbill and its close neighbor Shroud Cay our final stops before parting from Helia. The kids take a moratorium from school and we spend the days hiking, swimming and playing together. The final night we divide and our kids go to Helia for a movie while Rob and Ginnie enjoy drinks with us. It’s a doubly sad parting as we are not only are we leaving our new friends, but also our trip is also drawing to a close.

Our Social Life Picks Up

While visiting Staniel Cay, Zoe meets a girl who is sailing with her mother. Alone. Mary is the first woman I’ve met who is cruising as a single parent. Unfortunately, I never feel comfortable asking how she came to live this life, but I admire her courage nonetheless. She and her 11-year old daughter Colleen have been living aboard nearly full time for 4 years. They tend to stick to an area, such as the Bahamas, and have plans to venture to the Dominican Republic for hurricane season. They do have the support of DJ, who has been living aboard a sailboat for 24 years, and they often sail in tandem.

Zoe and Colleen form a fast friendship and each day as soon as school work is done, they radio each other. Colleen joins us for the pig feeding and tour of Thunderball Grotto. Zoe teaches her to sail the dingy, and they trade books. Colleen persuades her mom to sail up to Cambridge Cay with us so they can extend their time for a few more nights.

At Cambridge Cay, we coordinate our outings with Colleen and Mary. Most snorkeling here must be at slack tide, so it makes sense.  One of our best snorkels is at the Sea Aquarium where conditions approach perfection: calm, clear waters, good sunlight and solitude. Nestled into the side of an island, the hard and corals appear more healthy than most sites in the Bahamas. The Aquarium is so named as it is as visually stunning and perfect as what one would see at the Boston or Baltimore Aquarium. Afterwards we stop by to see the sunken plane, more of a novelty snorkel. The night before we leave Mary, DJ and Colleen come over for a game night and we have a silly fun time playing Clue. The girls are crushed to be leaving each other, but we’ve foolishly run out of propane which requires us to sail back to Staniel Cay to refuel before heading north. While disappointing I am Zen enough to accept that these things happen while sailing, and it might mean we reconnect with the other family on Helia.

 

Cave Snorkeling

Snorkeling in the Bahamas takes some chutzpah. First there are sharks. Lots of them. Most are nurse sharks. While harmless, they measure 5 to 7 feet and are colored an ominous brownish gray. But spend any time observing one of the many fish cleaning stations and you’ll see lemon, black tip reef and the occasional bull shark. The facts are clear: sharks attack when people spearfish and the waters teem with fish guts. The potent smell attracts hungry predators. However, convincing anyone who has ever seen the movie “Jaws” or a terrified child that swimming in these waters is safe is altogether another story.

Next there is current. The Caribbean tides raise the water depths by about a foot, so its changes are essentially a non-event. In the Bahamas, they rip along at 3 feet and 3 knots…enough that a young child or weak swimmer will have difficulty making forward progress when swimming into the current. With fins, it’s less daunting, but a still a challenge. Lastly, jellyfish are common. While fortunately not plentiful, we see them frequently and have gotten a few stings.

Despite the real and perceived dangers, the prospect of snorkeling in a cave is too enticing to pass up. The Exumas were formed of limestone, a soft sedimentary rock as you may remember from 4^th grade geology. As such, the land rocks are either smooth or highly pitted. At low tide, the smaller islands appear to float above the water as their bases have been worn away by millions of years of wave action. Caves, both above and below ground, abound. The Exumas Land and Sea Park contains several caves accessible by snorkelers under the right conditions, usually at slack tide when the current is weakest.

At Staniel Cay we visit the most popular cave in the area known as Thunderball, a site used during the filming of the eponymous Bond film. We opt to visit at the slack end of high tide along with another family. At high tide one can guide him/herself in by hand through a narrow passage or swim below surface through the rounded rock opening. The children are, understandably, nervous, so they guide themselves in while I opt to swim in. The cave is really a grotto with a wide oval-shaped opening that allows light to permeate onto the water. The main chamber is about 60 feet long and roughly circular in shape. Beneath the water, one can see two large oval-shaped openings about 25 feet across and 8 feet tall that appear as a backlit aquarium with coral and schools of fish in silhouette. We are stunned by the beauty and variety of fish in this small space. Schools of striped sergeant major fish, accustomed to handouts, immediately crowd any newcomer in search of crumbs. Deeper in the cave several huge colorful Queen Angel fish quietly feed. We’ve timed it a bit wrong however, and after about 30 minutes the current begins to kick up a notch and the jostling makes it clear that it is time to leave.

The next caves are located in the Rocky Dundas some 8 miles further north in the Exuma chain. Surrounded by beautiful soft and hard corals, we enter the first and largest cave. It is the only partially submerged cave in the Bahamas containing both stalactites and stalagmites (from a time when, of course, it was not submerged). The cave is shallower with colorful rock. Unlike Thunderball, fish do not explore inside, just at the reef at the entrance. Still looking out underwater at the backlit fish and reef is an unparalleled vista.

The second cave has a gorgeous staghorn coral standing guard at its entrance. We swim into this cave and are immediately tossed about by the rough water. There is a shelf here, so we stand upon and then hoist ourselves onto 3 foot higher interior floor and explore further back on foot. At the rear is a tiny patch of sand and the kids scratch their names into it. Chilton, sea snails and a single orange sea anemone are evidently the sole occupants. Despite wearing wetsuits for this adventure, the cold finally drives us back into the water and we gape at the fish as long as we can stand the chilly morning waters before leaving.

On the way back to Liberator we make an impromptu stop at a “drift” snorkel site. Here both the depth and current make anchoring untenable, so one person must stay in the dingy while the others simply drift with the current. The current acts much like a conveyer belt: it’s difficult to stop and explore anything, one just passes by: loads of colorful fish and coral.  The snorkeling here is some of the best we’ve seen. It’s been worth braving the sharks, current and jellyfish!

 

Feeding the Animals

From here we stop at Bitter Guana Cay. “Guana” is short for iguana and moments after arriving we notice odd triangular shapes on the beach. A glance through the binoculars confirms that these are indeed iguanas. We decide it would be fun to feed them and take some lettuce and celery greens to shore. As soon as the iguanas hear the dingy they begin to emerge from the shrubs and eagerly approach the beach. Somewhere between 15-20 begin jocking for position. The larger iguanas chastise the smaller ones in case there is any misunderstanding as to whom eats first. Zoe and JT are understandably alarmed by their aggressive displays and it takes some coaxing before they finally extend the leaves to the iguanas. Lettuce is a hit, but celery greens are left to the smaller iguanas. Later, we learn that this species lives only in the Bahamas and is nearly extinct. They are distinguishable by their distinctly red-tinged legs, chests and eyes (which seem a bit sinister). This is all according to the sign, which is posted 20 yards from the beach. The sign also inform us not to feed them, oops! but at this point the deed is done. They must be making a comeback (or been reintroduced) to this island, because our guidebook (which is 10 years old) mentions that the island was named for the iguana that used to live here. Animals verging on extinction are a common story in these parts, so it’s heartening to see any signs of recovery.

From Bitter Guana we are in sight of Staniel Cay, home to the famous Thunderball Cave, a site used during the filming of both the eponymous James Bond film and Splash.  We arrive in the morning and are surprised by the changes. Since we were here 7 years ago, development has exploded. Not only has the marina doubled in size, but new resorts and houses stud the rocky shoreline and smaller cays.  There are probably 20 to 30  boats in the surrounding anchorages. Staniel Cay has morphed from a quaint tourist stop to a must stop point where some cruisers spend months. 

Oddly, a highlight of this area is feeding the pigs. A small herd of very large pigs lives on the island and the boaters dingy over to share their expensive fruits and vegetables with them. They are generally well-mannered (the pigs, not necessarily the boaters!) and some are known to swim out to your dingy to “beg”. I find this highly entertaining. Some enterprising locals are probably quite amused that the cruisers are fattening the pigs that will one day grace their table.  It’s certainly a mark of how far removed we’ve become from our farm roots, that feeding pigs has become a tourist attraction!

 

 

From Georgetown to Staniel Cay

It seems that after nearly a week in Georgetown we’ve all lost our sealegs. We are headed to Staniel Cay, one of the most popular cays in the Exumas Chain, and intend to stop at some more tranquil anchorages along the way. The slight northerly swell has us all quite green about the gills just 30 minutes into the trip.  Some OTC seasickness meds quell our nausea sufficiently so we can assist Tom in crossing safely from the Exuma Sound (Atlantic) to the Exuma Banks side.  Fortunately, we navigate the cut with no difficulty and enter the sound.

Much like Turks and Caicos, the Exumas are a long chain of islands separated by short stretches of reef and water commonly known as “cuts”. Many millions of years ago this was a single island. Many of these cuts pose too much peril for a yacht to pass through, and even the ones that are navigable create a fair amount of stress when crossed under the best of circumstances.  The Atlantic side has high winds and rough seas, and while the banks offer protections from these, they are nonetheless fraught with perils of their own: shallow waters, numerous reefs and coral heads and the odd rock.  One must sail in good light with an eye on the tides. Here, we abandon the electronic charts in favor of the old fashioned paper variety.  How odd that as far as the eye can see is water that is no deeper than 12 feet.

Our destination is the Caribbean Marine Research Center. Upon arriving, we pick up a mooring and try to raise the facility to arrange a tour. No answer. So, we hop in to the dingy as its nearing 4pm, when most government offices in the Bahamas close. We’ve been looking forward to touring the site, and in preparation the kids have thought of questions that they can pose to the researchers. But bad news. The facility is shuttered! They’ve cleared out all of the equipment, but the offices, dorms, work rooms, bedding and housing all remains. As near as we can tell they were still operating in the fall. They must have closed in between September and December 2012. By the looks of it, they aren’t thinking they will return. What a huge bummer!

Fresh from this disappointment we head to Great Guana key for another 2 nights.  While snorkeling along the wide, lovely beach we discover hundreds of sand dollars.  Sand dollars are a type of urchin, and when alive, they are covered with “spines” that resemble dark gray-brown fuzz. And they move. Zoe points out the tracks they leave in the sand. The sand here tells a saga of life and death: the slight depressions are made by rays as hover while digging up clams, other creatures make deep pits, trails crisscross the sandy expanses. While we cannot see any clams, their abundant shells on the ocean floor and beaches indicate there must be thousands buried beneath the sand.  Tom spies a blue crab scuttling across the sandy floor and grabs it with a pair of tongs. It’s of an edible size, so we steam it. Served with drawn butter we delight in its fantastic sweet flavor. This inspires Tom to build a makeshift crab trap and we are lucky to catch another, albeit smaller one.

On Saturday morning we stop at Black Point, the largest settlement in the Central Exumas. We instantly like this place with its freshly painted buildings and neat streets. The locals are very friendly. Bikes and golf carts seem much more popular than cars.  While searching for a place known as Lorene’s, we encounter a woman weaving palm fronds. The woman welcomes us to watch while she transforms the strands into a long woven band about a foot wide. Her fingers move rapidly, yet she weaves without looking. Probably in her 60s, she tells us she has been doing this since she was a little girl. Most of her work is used to make products sold in Nassau. Finally, we find Lorene’s Café and meet Lorene herself. She has quite a reputation for coconut bread and we aim to try some.  Her tiny kitchen is redolent of cinnamon and fresh bread and the counter is full of freshly baked and bagged loaves. She is friendly and gracious woman. We leave with 2 loaves which we have savored. This tiny town seems a throwback to a less developed Caribbean. After the bustle of Georgetown, the pace and tranquility of these deserted anchorages has been a welcome change.

The Silver Lining

The heavy winds have passed and it’s time to leave Georgetown. On Sunday we plan to cross the harbor and attend to our errands: laundry, internet and grocery shopping hoping to head out by noon. The Laundromat posts hours as “open daily” and we also make sure the grocery store is open. Well, the Bahamas are still pretty traditional and most folks attend Sunday services, so daily does not mean Sunday. The Laundromat is closed. So is the restaurant with WIFI that Tom needed to use. At least the grocery store is open. We are all disappointed by this turn of events. We were looking forward to hitting the seas and finding more cool anchorages. 

To make the best of it, we motor the quarter mile back across Elizabeth Harbor spend the afternoon playing on the beach. The first order of business on Monday is to finish those pesky errands and leave by 11. So Sunday night we cross the harbor for a third time just before sunset and … disaster. Tom realizes that he’s no control of the throttle on the left engine…the throttle cable isn’t working. We have no idea how big a problem this is just yet, but we are thankful that it’s happened 1) under benign circumstances and 2) in a place that’s big enough to have some services available.  Tom is SO bummed. We are just a month out and this could delay us for a week.

During the morning cruiser’s net, a fellow boater recommends a mechanic. After a quick call to Wendel to schedule time, we divide and conquer. Zoe and I head off with our loads of laundry, while Tom look for a marine store that hopefully stocks the right cables. Upon returning with loads of clean clothes, we receive great news: Wendel, the dignified Bahamian who must be at least 60, competently replaces the cable in a couple of hours and we are set to go. Buoyed by this Tom heads in to buy ice cream and download books for the eReader. The kids accompany him so they can shop at the market one last time (and pick the ice cream of course!). During this final foray into town, that which we’ve given up on finally happens: they meet a family with 3 girls: Hannah (14), Mia (12) and Ellie (9) , headed in our direction on the same schedule. Their boat, a schooner is named Helia, a mash-up of the girl’s names. 

Of course, now that the kids have someone to play with they are in no hurry. They rendezvous with Hannah, Mia and Ellie on the beach that very evening and ask to stay another day so they can spend more time with their new buddies. We take all the kids to body surf, while their parents, Rob and Ginnie, head to town for laundry. After everyone has completed their school work, the kids get together once again to find a geocache. Finally, they come over for drinks and swimming. It’s so nice. And to think if we’d left 24 hours earlier, we’d have never met. 

Unfortunately, Helia is awaiting a part stuck in customs so they are delayed indefinitely. However, we are thrilled to have had this interaction and hope our paths cross again in the next 3 weeks.

 

From: Naomi Tam
Sent: Friday, April 19, 2013 9:46 PM
To: evalanitam.nvsailing@blogger.com
Subject: So…What exactly do you do all day?

 

Our friends frequently ask us this question. It’s understandable. Liberator, after all measures 43’ long by half as wide. One imagines that living knee to elbow with your family could perhaps feel somewhat confining. I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t…especially, when on a long passage and the kids have run out of books. Or you’re stuck in a marina with water too murky for swimming. Fortunately, those moments are just that: moments in a much larger continuum. More often, we are anchored along a pristine beach on an uninhabited island with nature as our backyard. Then your living space feels nothing short of huge.

Living aboard a sailboat distills life to its most basic elements.  Our catamaran provides shelter, fuel and water. Using a black-box process known as reverse osmosis, we desalinate sea water for drinking, cooking and showers.  The trio of solar, wind and fossil fuels (diesel and propane) meets our power needs.  Environmentally, our footprint is quite small. Discounting the glaring fact that our boat is a gigantic hunk of plastic and foam, we use very little fossil fuel. Our solar panels collect enough energy to run the autopilot, navigation system and our computers.  In 2 months we’ve consumed just 100 gallons of gas.  Propane runs the stove and grill. A large cylinder will last for the length of our trip. One significant downside is trash. Few Caribbean islands recycle. A couple places recycle aluminum cans, larger ones glass. No one recycles paper.

Our clothing is minimal and highly functional. We live in swim suits and sun shirts. Hats and polarized sunglasses are important too. When in town, we have one “nice” outfit for going out to dinner. After all, the Caribbean makes Tahoe look dressy.  It’s the only place I’ve been where shoes are still optional. Each of us stores our few belongings in a small clothes locker measuring about 2’x3’.  Our inability to access a Laundromat provides additional incentive to keep our clothing simple. Often laundry is done by hand; other times we haul it to the nearest Laundromat. We almost always eschew the dryer in favor of the clothes line. An hour in the hot Caribbean sun will dry just about anything, while the wind whips away the wrinkles.

Our days are tranquil, but full.  If the local roosters’ screeching doesn’t wake us, dawn does. Normally, we start with breakfast followed by a school task such as journaling. If we are staying put, the beach is our first stop, slotting outdoor time to coincide with the weaker morning sun. Between the hours of 11-3, we devote ourselves to activities such as school, reading, art projects, email, laundry and bread baking.  In the late afternoon, the kids sail in the dingy, snorkel or build more sandcastles. Often we swim into shore for exercise instead of using the outboard. The kids will stay outside until dinner time.

If we happen to be in town, we might throw in a trip to the Laundromat, grocery store or an outing for ice cream. These errands, which are completed quickly with a car, can take all day when on foot with backpacks. Meal planning, or better yet a well-stocked pantry coupled with creativity in the kitchen, is critical as we shop for groceries only once every 2 to 3 weeks. Passage days are the toughest since they limit us to Liberator’s back deck and interior. 

The kids amuse themselves day after day with snorkel gear, a sailing dingy, art supplies, access to a computer, e Readers and the great outdoors.  Zoe and JT have filled in the vacuum left from their overscheduled lives with old passions combined with new interests. JT has become a proficient climber of anything on the boat that can be scaled, and an avid reader. He has also taught himself to dive. Zoe pens story after story and has started a business selling bracelets and watercolor paintings. So far she’s made $20, learned to make a spreadsheet to track her profits and gained the confidence to sell things boat to boat in the dingy.  Admittedly, computer games sometimes fill the gaps. JT finally maxed out on Rusted Warfare, so now everyone but me plays Open RA. Generally though, we relish the simple rhythm of our days. Of course, we sometimes get on each other’s nerves, but on balance we have grown closer to them as have they with one another.

 

Bahamas at last

During the first 20 hours of 30 hour passage from Turks and Caicos to the Bahamas, we sail without encountering another vessel. The stars, away from any source of light, shine brilliantly.  We arrive at Conception, a nature preserve, to decompress from our period of confinement. Crystal clear light blue water and powdery white sand greet us.  The water’s hue is as clear as a pool: from 150 feet to shore one can see the entire length and the slope of the sand as cants up to the beach.  

Surrounded by such beauty, we fritter away a couple days building sand castles, diving for sand dollars and strolling the beach. One day we chance upon a school(?) of squid drifting along. What oddly misshapen creatures. When approached, they tighten formation; when chased they streak away at an astonishing speed, changing from a deep purple to silver. JT inadvertently scares them into squirting ink by jumping into the water near them.

After Conception, we sail into Elizabeth Harbor, Georgetown breaking our weeks of solitude.  This popular wintering spot for cruisers contains some 50 or more boats of every shape and size. With so many boats, we are surprised and disappointed to find not a single cruising family with kids close in age to Zoe and JT. The weather forces us to stay a few days and during that time we come to appreciate the breadth of activities available here: beach volleyball, a town with a decent grocery store, a library for book swaps, a lovely ocean beach with body surfing just a short hike away, a loggerhead turtle who enjoys nibbling the sea grass near our boat, the rays who will eat out of one’s hand if one is brave enough to offer them food, the cave snorkel with huge Atlantic spade fish (envision a foot and half long version of your aquarium angel fish). With time, Elizabeth Harbor has grown on us and we’ve come to appreciate why so many choose to winter here.

 

So...What exactly do you do all day?

Our friends frequently ask us this question. It’s understandable. Liberator, after all measures 43’ long by half as wide. One imagines that living knee to elbow with your family could perhaps feel somewhat confining. I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t…especially, when on a long passage and the kids have run out of books. Or you’re stuck in a marina with water too murky for swimming. Fortunately, those moments are just that: moments in a much larger continuum. More often, we are anchored along a pristine beach on an uninhabited island with nature as our backyard. Then your living space feels nothing short of huge.

Living aboard a sailboat distills life to its most basic elements.  Our catamaran provides shelter, fuel and water. Using a black-box process known as reverse osmosis, we desalinate sea water for drinking, cooking and showers.  The trio of solar, wind and fossil fuels (diesel and propane) meets our power needs.  Environmentally, our footprint is quite small. Discounting the glaring fact that our boat is a gigantic hunk of plastic and foam, we use very little fossil fuel. Our solar panels collect enough energy to run the autopilot, navigation system and our computers.  In 2 months we’ve consumed just 100 gallons of gas.  Propane runs the stove and grill. A large cylinder will last for the length of our trip. One significant downside is trash. Few Caribbean islands recycle. A couple places recycle aluminum cans, larger ones glass. No one recycles paper.

Our clothing is minimal and highly functional. We live in swim suits and sun shirts. Hats and polarized sunglasses are important too. When in town, we have one “nice” outfit for going out to dinner. After all, the Caribbean makes Tahoe look dressy.  It’s the only place I’ve been where shoes are still optional. Each of us stores our few belongings in a small clothes locker measuring about 2’x3’.  Our inability to access a Laundromat provides additional incentive to keep our clothing simple. Often laundry is done by hand; other times we haul it to the nearest Laundromat. We almost always eschew the dryer in favor of the clothes line. An hour in the hot Caribbean sun will dry just about anything, while the wind whips away the wrinkles.

Our days are tranquil, but full.  If the local roosters’ screeching doesn’t wake us, dawn does. Normally, we start with breakfast followed by a school task such as journaling. If we are staying put, the beach is our first stop, slotting outdoor time to coincide with the weaker morning sun. Between the hours of 11-3, we devote ourselves to activities such as school, reading, art projects, email, laundry and bread baking.  In the late afternoon, the kids sail in the dingy, snorkel or build more sandcastles. Often we swim into shore for exercise instead of using the outboard. The kids will stay outside until dinner time.

If we happen to be in town, we might throw in a trip to the Laundromat, grocery store or an outing for ice cream. These errands, which are completed quickly with a car, can take all day when on foot with backpacks. Meal planning, or better yet a well-stocked pantry coupled with creativity in the kitchen, is critical as we shop for groceries only once every 2 to 3 weeks. Passage days are the toughest since they limit us to Liberator’s back deck and interior. 

The kids amuse themselves day after day with snorkel gear, a sailing dingy, art supplies, access to a computer, e Readers and the great outdoors.  Zoe and JT have filled in the vacuum left from their overscheduled lives with old passions combined with new interests. JT has become a proficient climber of anything on the boat that can be scaled, and an avid reader. He has also taught himself to dive. Zoe pens story after story and has started a business selling bracelets and watercolor paintings. So far she’s made $20, learned to make a spreadsheet to track her profits and gained the confidence to sell things boat to boat in the dingy.  Admittedly, computer games sometimes fill the gaps. JT finally maxed out on Rusted Warfare, so now everyone but me plays Open RA. Generally though, we relish the simple rhythm of our days. Of course, we sometimes get on each other’s nerves, but on balance we have grown closer to them as have they with one another.

 

Bahamas Bound

Despite the fact that we are only 5 days into a potential 7 day stay, we have to move on. Our weather window is closing and we are bound for the Exumas in the Bahamas where we will spend our final month. On the morning that we are scheduled to leave, we eat a quick breakfast and prepare the boat for passage. JT is playing on the deck when he notices and large dark shape beneath our boat. At first he thinks it’s a ray, but closer inspection reveals a dolphin. Not just any dolphin, but JoJo. According to our guidebook, JoJo is an extremely rare Atlantic bottlenose who has regularly engaged with humans since about 1985.  He is known to be very playful and he circles our boat. When we tap the water, he rises to breathe. He seems to want to engage us, or perhaps he is only curious. Apparently he has been injured numerous times by jet skis and other high speed water craft and his many scars are evident as he hangs out around our boat. He stays with us and follows us partly out of the harbor. We are so thrilled to have had this incredible encounter.

 

Turks and Caicos

The days pass in blur of long passages punctuated by brief interludes at white sandy beaches.  It takes 2.5 days to cover the 380 miles from Puerto Rico to the Turks and Caicos. The hours are spent schooling, reading and watching the undulating waves. We count the ships seen during the journey on a single hand. Our safe crossing is perhaps foretold by our departing encounter with a large pod of Atlantic bottlenose dolphins. At least 5 of them frolic in our wake and between the pontoons for a mile or so before they grow bored and veer off. The rest of the pod swims ahead waiting patiently, but doesn’t engage. Their cavorting is so playful that one cannot help but smile and laugh at them. Along with Puerto Rico, we have left behind the Caribbean Sea and entered the Atlantic Ocean. The 2-3 foot tides are the greatest evidence of the shift so far, but we know there is more weather up this way as well.

Along the crossing, Tom hooks a small tuna weighing about 8 pounds. Fresh grilled tuna is our reward when we make our landfall at Sand Cay, an uninhabited nature preserve with a blindingly white, wide sandy beach. We spend the day swimming, exploring and beach combing, activities denied to us during our confinement. Once decompressed, we embark on another full day passage to South Caicos (an unremarkable cay where we clear in) and yet another full day passage to Pine Cay on the northern part of the Caicos chain. Using the dingy to explore these shallow reef filled waters, we head for Dellis Cay. A hundred years ago, sponges were harvested here for export to Europe. A shuttered resort project stands like silent sentinels overlooking the turquoise waters. They’ve managed to complete the concrete work on 7 large buildings before the funding fell apart perhaps in 2008. We find an abundance of beautiful shells tossed up by the confluence of odd currents and tides.

The Caicos are almost entirely surrounded by reef with periodic cuts, or narrow channels. These cuts allow boats to cross the reef and access land and shelter on the inside. Just outside of this reef is quite literally a wall where the depth drops from 50 feet to 1000. At 50 feet the water is much like Tahoe and one can see the bottom. Closer to shore the water color changes from a deep blue to a pale turquoise green.  It’s so green, in fact, that at a distance it reflects onto the towering billowy clouds above, casting a green shadow onto their base.  The beaches here have the softest whitest sand: the kind that is best for building castles. 

At Provo (short for Providenciales) we have an opportunity to snorkel again. The snorkeling on our last days in Puerto Rico at Cayo Palaminos was only OK: plentiful fish, but little variety and badly damaged coral. Anything close to the main island is mobbed on weekends with boats playing too loud music. A bright spot is a tiny proverbial desert island with a single stand of brush growing in it. It is the little desert island of every cartoon…if you were stranded on a dessert island what would you bring….

Back to Provo. The reef is exceptional, despite the strong current and the sand it stirs up. In a space of 45 minutes we are treated to an astounding array of rare sea life: a spotted eagle ray, hawksbill turtle, peacock founder, gigantic sea cucumber, a small school of Atlantic spadefish (large striped angelfish looking) queen angel fish and queen triggerfish just to name a few. The variety of fish is the best we’ve seen. The coral seems pretty healthy here too. 

 

In for Repairs

“Cruising is fixing your boat in exotic places” is a well-worn adage among sailors.  Puerto Rico’s size and population make it the perfect location for repairs. With a date set for fixing the water-maker, we head into Farjado on the island’s east side.  Following a recommendation, we book into Puerto del Rey, a modern, clean facility. They assign us an end berth which makes docking relatively stress free.

Generally, we avoid marinas if at all possible. They are the only place where air-conditioning is a must (and Liberator doesn’t have air-conditioning) as they tend to be hot and buggy.  April has arrived and with it temperatures that have been hovering in the mid- nineties. Our only guarantee: it’s going to be beastly.

Suddenly we are besieged with breakages, all strangely involving water. It’s as if Liberator has hung on until she knew we were in port, and then one by one, things start to fail. One night as Tom starts to wash the dishes he realizes is standing in a puddle of water. The sink faucet’s metal tubing has frayed through and is spraying water. While searching for something stored under the mattress in the head cabin, he notices water standing in the bilge. The connection to the water heater has broken and all of the water in our starboard tank has drained out. Apparently this effort has stressed the bilge pump and the next day it too goes caput. If it wasn’t all so serious we’d be laughing at the situation.  From Puerto Rico we will embark on a 2.5 day passage to Turks and Caicos so everything needs to be fixed before heading to open sea. 

Puerto Rico’s interior

All along, we planned to spend a night in Puerto Rico to visit old San Juan, but the broken water-maker extends our stay by a couple extra nights so we add El Yunque Rainforest  Park to the itinerary.  At El Yunque,  we start with the visitor’s center. The map indicates many places to hike, but the vast majority of visitors hike La Mina and/or Big Tree to a La Mina falls where one can swim in the pool. We know that the kids will like this so we follow the herd. The trail, constructed as a CCC project back in the 30s, is busy and quite narrow. Often one must step off the trail to let others pass. The waterfall is majestic, about 2 stories tall and the pool is crowded with people. Zoe is the only one of us brave enough to stand beneath the 65 degree water. To hike out, JT and I opt for the loop, while Tom and Zoe do the out and back to collect the car. La Mina trail borders  the river which culminates in the falls.  As a consequence,  more flowers are evident.  There are many smaller, but blissfully empty swimming holes along this route and IMHO far prettier than the trail we hiked down.

The next afternoon we drive to Old San Juan. It has the distinction of being one of the oldest cities in the Americas. It’s vibe is very Spanish with narrow cobblestone streets, numerous delightfully shady plazas and the European architecture. What sets it apart are the fact that it buttons up by 9 (when most restaurants in Spain are just getting started) and the colorfully painted houses are pure Caribbean. It’s a lovely city and I am far more impressed than I expected.  Tom booked us into hotel right near the harbor. Its a funky mix of ancient and modern: with huge modern paintings in stark contrast with stone walls and antique furnishings.  It’s perfect except the pull out couch mattress has seen better days.

In the morning, we tour El Morro, the 500 year old fort that guarded the port against attacks from the English Dutch and French. Puerto Rico was the first port where fresh water and provisions could be obtained after crossing from Europe. It helped Spain control the Caribbean trade routes for some 350 years. The kids complete the junior Ranger program and earn a San Juan badge to add to their St. John, unforatuntely El Yunque does not have a program.

 

The Pen Shell Debacle

While walking on the beach in Anegada, I found a rare pen shell…a gorgeous translucent peach colored 6-inch long triangle shaped clam shell. I’ve only seen them in books, so I was delighted to find one on the beach. Our shell book stated that they implant themselves upright in sea grass anchoring themselves to the roots of the grass.  Immediately after this beachcombing expedition we set sail, so I tucked it under the table to “for safekeeping” Unfortunately, we store many things under the table, so later when assembling the sailing dingy the sail boards were placed on top of it and it cracked ever so slightly under the weight.

A couple of weeks later in Culebrita, I took to snorkeling the shallow seagrass beds in search of this illusive shell. I found one broken and one live clam. Generally my rule is not to collect live specimens, so I replaced it after showing it to the kids. Experience taught me for what to search, resulting in my finding a perfectly intact but highly corroded shell –covered in algae and coral.  I also found a smaller slightly damaged specimen. I am assembling enough shells to make a shadow box collection for each of the children as a momento of the trip.  I considered the task complete.

In Puerto del Rey, Linda the owner of Storm gave us a bottle of bleach that she didn’t need so it was time to clean our shells. They reek, especially those that have remnants of their former occupants. Internet instructions said to let them soak for a couple of hours to overnight. I loaded up a bucket full and after a couple hours they smelled normal, the colors were brighter and the algae for the most part gone. I had saved the precious pen shells for last. But I couldn’t find them. I had wrapped them in paper towels to protect them from further harm. It turns out that Tom, who rarely throws things away, mistook them for refuse left by one of the repairmen visiting the boat that day. Fortuantely we hadn’t taken the trahs ot and they were intact!

Sighing with relief I gingerly placed them in the bleach water just before we left for San Juan for an overnight stay. Upon returning 24 hours later,  I eagerly looked in the bucket. And what did I find? Nothing but a pile of sand.  The delicate shells had completely disintegrated in the bleach! How foolish of me not to realize the effect of this harsh chemical. So after several near misses, my own foolish actions had done them in. While the universe may be giving me a sign that it just wasn’t to be, I will continue to search diligently for pen shells in the weeks to come, and just maybe I will find the perfect 2 penshells.

Culebra/Culebrita

With the wind blowing from the south, we detour to Bahia Tortuga on Culebrita, a nature preserve.  The anchorage is full of weekend powerboats from Puerto Rico. The shell-shaped beach has lovely, fine white sand and true to its name, the bay is full of turtles. Tom immediately recognizes the boat moored next to us with a retired couple and their dog, Storm.  We learn that they have been sailing in the Virgins for over 30 years and they are a wealth of information about the best anchorages and snorkeling in these parts.  I snorkel the nearby reef, but it’s been devastated by algae. Nonetheless, I see my first cuttlefish, a huge scrawled filefish and find a live pen shell in the seagrass  (Once, I determine that it is alive, I show the kids and promptly return it to its grassy home).  Later, the kids and I find the largest sand dollar ever, nearly 8 inches across.

Sunday morning brings a hike to the northeast corner of the island to explore an area like the Baths. Our timing is poor as its low tide, but when it’s high, the surf creates a natural Jacuzzi. We enjoy watching the surf crash onto the rocks anyway. Then we scale the bluff, and the kids collect the hot pink fruit from the Turk’s cap cactus.  By 4, the weekenders all depart and only a handful of cruisers remain. As if to celebrate, the turtles begin to surface everywhere.  The next day, we snorkel on the south end of the island.  In contrast, here the reef is quite beautiful and filled with schools of tang and jacks.

En-route to Culebra, we pause at Cayo Luis to snorkel. It’s a good spot during the day, but too exposed to spend the night. The reef isn’t quite as nice, but the fish are plentiful and Zoe discovers a large orange and black surgeonfish. After passing the night at protected, but otherwise unremarkable anchorage, we head to Tamarindo, one of our favorite spots last time we came through. The swell is hitting us squarely, so we pause briefly just to snorkel. It’s better than we remember, filled with colorful pale yellow green (Venus) and purple (common) sea fans swaying rhythmically with the waves. There isn’t a large variety of fish, but we do see 5 trumpet fish and a school of over 100 jacks darts past. With the wind blowing onto the south shore we take this rare opportunity to anchor off Playa Flamenco, one of the Caribbean’s most stunning beaches. People take ferries from Puerto Rico to spend the day here. The wide beach is covered in fine, blindingly white sand. The water ranges from deep blue to a translucent turquoise near the shore and the waves are excellent for body surfing. We spend hours perfecting our technique. At 5pm, the beach empties leaving us alone in our private paradise. Remarkably, we are the only boat spending the night in this pristine spot. The next morning we head back to the deserted beach for another round of body surfing and stay until the sun, crowds and school work call us back to reality. Finally, it’s time to head to the hurricane hole for water (see “water, water everywhere”). 

During the entire time in Culebra, we’ve stayed in anchorages with barely another boat. But here in this mangrove-filled harbor the boats are stuffed in like sardines. It’s loud and dirty near shore. We are flummoxed. Why would someone chose to park in this bay day after day, (which I see as nothing more than a provisioning pitstop) when lovely, un-crowded moorings lay a short sail beyond the harbor? While the Spanish Virgins lack the infrastructure and cache of the ports in the rest of the Virgin Islands, we’ve found much to appreciate with free moorings, good snorkeling, pristine beaches and privacy. 

Water, water everywhere....

  A black cloud looms on the horizon as our water-maker is having issues. (We desalinate sea water to make fresh water.) The first red flag emerged a couple days ago when the water-maker produced water slightly above the recommended salinity level. While in St John, Tom called the manufacturer’s customer service and they assured us that it was perfectly drinkable at this level. Great, problem solved! Or so we thought. However, on our crossing to Culebra the water stays brackish. It’s not potable and too salty to even use for showers or cleaning. Since the water-maker needs to be run daily, we tend to carry a light load and it’s come to bite us as we are precipitously low.

At Culebra, we moor off the ferry dock and buy enough to last us a couple nights. Before we head to Vieques we fill the tank with 70 gallons (at $.25/gallon!), which we calculate will last us 6 days. This painful process involves filling three 5-gallon buckets and siphoning them into our tanks. Despite waiting until evening, Tom is a sweaty mess by the time he has completed the task, so we reward ourselves with dinner at Zaco’s Tacos.  The cool backward garden contrasts with the concrete jungle outside.  The tacos aren’t bad either.

Fortuitously, the next few days bring scattered showers and JT strikes upon the idea to collect rainwater. He and Tom construct an impromptu cistern using the buckets, hose and funnel. Over 2 days, Zoe and JT enthusiastically collect 30 gallons of (free!) water, which we use to clean and shower.  It’s a terrific lesson in ingenuity and we are proud of their efforts. 

Goodbye St. John

The kids are taking a glass stamping class at Maho Bay Eco-lodge, thereby committing us to a few more days in St. John.  We use them to explore some new anchorages before connecting a final time with Bob and Annie for dinner at Skinny’s.  After seeing the Barth’s off at the ferry dock, we anchor at Canelle Bay, the former Rockerfeller estate turned National Park, on par with the Awahnee in Yosemite. It’s a lovely spot with wide empty beaches. From our deck we see deer, iguanas and mongoose on shore. The next morning, while Zoe and I swim, we spot an eagle ray. Unfortunately, next to Cruz Bay it’s St. John’s most popular destination and by 10am the swells from the ferry traffic are unbearable. So its on to the next destination: Lameshur Bay. Lameshur is noted for its snorkeling, and we see our first hawksbill turtle and Spanish Hogfish. At this point we’ve nearly memorized the Caribbean fish guide, so it’s a treat to spot a rare sea creature.

Thursday arrives and it’s time for the glass stamping class. The children are making sun-catchers.  Zoe and JT each choose the frit to color their sun-catchers and their stamp. The glassblower gathers the molten glass and places the glowing orange mass on a metal table. Each child warms the liquid with a blow torch before stamping it, JT with an eagle ray, Zoe a sailboat. The glassblower adds the final touch by adding a hole. It’s a great diversion and a bargain.  Zoe is disappointed that she isn’t old enough (13 is the minimum) to take one of the more advanced classes, especially knowing that the lodge will be closing at the end of the season.

Back at Casa de Klenke, Zoe and JT meet some Annie’s nephew, KC, and his family. Zoe takes a shine to their little girl Leila who is a year and half. I haven’t seen this maternal side of Zoe before and it’s endearing.  She carries her everywhere and accompanies them to Annaberg to give yet another tour. During this trip Zoe is quite literally growing up before our eyes, both physically and emotionally.

As with many farewells, our leaving the Virgin Islands feels bittersweet. Arriving on Valentine’s Day, our time here and in the BVI has passed quickly.  We’ve made the most of it, visiting nearly all of the places on our itinerary, drawn by the beauty and diversity of the islands. More importantly, spending extended time with Bob and Annie has been a real gift for all of us, but especially for Zoe and JT.  Yet, the opportunity to explore new islands and the need to deliver Liberator to Ft. Lauderdale by mid-May are practicalities that propel us ever northward.

A Much Needed Visit from Home

The Barth’s visit provided a much-needed infusion of home. Gina, Nathan and Andrew arrived in St. Thomas a couple days before Brian, so we arranged a rendezvous at their hotel off Frenchman’s Reef.  Gina graciously watched the kids while Tom and I secured provisions.  Fortunately, the wind allowed us to anchor at the hotel’s beach, so we took advantage of long showers, before retiring to the beach bar while watching the incredible sunset and the boys building sandcastles. The next morning, Tom collected Gina and the boys from the ferry dock, giving them the boat tour and safety speech before setting off to collect Brian from the airport. One can anchor off Lindbergh Bay just a short walk from the runway…it’s the first time we’ve made an airport pickup by boat! Once Brian was onboard we headed for St John’s Leincester Bay. Despite favorable winds, everyone was hot when we arrived, so we cooled off by swimming, paddle-boarding and sailing in the dingy. The next morning, the Barth’s toured Annaberg Sugar Plantation with Zoe while we snorkeled. Unfortunately, our excursion was cut short when JT sustained several jellyfish stings through his rashguard. Once everyone was back aboard we set our sights on the BVI.

The next four days passed in a whirlwind of good company, good food and excellent Painkillers. We crammed our favorite spots into the few short days: Cooper Island, the Baths, Eustatia Sound, The Bitter End and Saba Rock’s fish feeding/Happy Hour.  The boys picked up their friendship without skipping a beat. The week saw Nathan bravely facing the lively surf at the Bath’s and Andrew swimming fearlessly from Liberator. Our last day at the Bitter End the Barth’s graciously treated us to dinner. While there, we ogled the maxi-yachts in for a big-boat regatta. These 130-feet plus long sailboats have masts reaching so far into the sky that they are required to light their masts with red lights to signify an aviation hazard. We counted 16 such masts.  A highlight for Zoe was seeing the Necker Belle, an 80-ft catamaran belonging to Richard Branson.  The days passed too quickly and before we knew it were dropping the Barths off at Cruz Bay to catch the ferry back to St. Thomas. 

After the frenetic activity of the previous 4 days Liberator felt strangely quiet and we were all a little sad. Zoe cried for an hour two days running; a combination of tween hormones coupled with a wave of homesickness. We haven’t had the good fortune to meet a family with children headed in our direction, so having good friends visit made us all a little homesick for our friends.

Snorkeling in the BVI: The good, the OK and the ugly

Near Eustatia Island, we snorkel on the reef at the edge of the ocean facing the Atlantic. In addition to some towering stands of staghorn coral and wide groves of elkhorn coral populated with schools of yellow striped blue grunts we are treated to rare iridescent-green cornet fish.  At one point we pause to admire a grey Atlantic ray with a 3 foot wingspan as it regards us warily with eerie yellow eyes. Luckily, we also noticed several cannons, artifacts recovered from Spanish galleons sunken in the treacherous reefs over the years and placed here for fun.

On the day before touring the Baths, we try a couple other BVI marine parks along smaller islands named the Dogs. The first park we try to visit is untenable in the high swell and wind, so we move on. The second of the BVI park buoys seems more protected, so we stop for a snorkel break. The swell and reef make snorkeling in pairs the safest approach. We find a lot of beautiful sea fans and dead coral. The fish seem larger here, and the experience is redeemed when we spy a blue spotted file fish, nearly 2 feet long.  Later, at the market we see stacks of dead, oddly washed-out looking parrotfish for sale and we understand why they are so plentiful when protected. The good news is that the marine parks clearly help restore the fish populations.

Ironically, our most disappointing snorkel occurs at one of the most beautiful beaches, Loblolly on the north side of Anegada. Starkly white, with rose overtones near the shoreline, beach stretches in a gentle mile long arc.  As we beach comb, we can see the pink and white coral which are the source of this gorgeous sand. The water ranges from turquoise to a pale green hue. But the reef is littered with skeletons of finger, elkhorn and brain coral. We see only a few fish, mostly blue tang, female stoplight parrot fish and sergeant major fish. The experience depresses us, so we swim for shore. Enroute we are startled by a peacock flounder. His camouflage hides him so well that JT cannot sight him until he darts forward, creating a small cloud of sand.  This is the clearest evidence we’ve seen of the coral reef die-off and its effect is both sobering and disheartening.  This level of damage seems a more intractable problem.

The best snorkel of our trip occurs on our final day in the BVI at Cooper Island. Near the shore of the bay a small, kid-friendly snorkeling area lies quite close to our mooring. The reef while small is quite alive with grouper, damselfish, sea anemones, urchins and trunkfish. The next day we dingy over to a large jutting rock near the channel. The water is rougher, but the snorkeling is tremendous. The coral and the fish are amazing. We see many types of coral not listed in our guidebook and several large unusual black and orange triggerfish and 3 different types of trumpetfish. After Anegada, we are thrilled by its splendor and stay in the water until the cold and current drive us back to the dingy. Its a relief to see this healthy reef.

The Baths, BVI

The Baths are Sand Harbor on steroids and warm salty water. These gigantic boulders were formed by lava leaking out of cracks in the earth and slowly cooling. Smoothed by thousands of years of water they appear like a giant has strewn pebbles along a section of the beach. The rather uncomfortable night rolling in the ferry wakes near the entrance to Spanish Town has paid off as we arrive at the Baths before 8am. Already boats are speeding in from every direction to pick up moorings. The Baths are the most visited site in the BVI, and anchoring is prohibited so moorings are highly coveted. By the time we are prepped for our day at the beach, the field has filled. Our timing is impeccable, and we hit land before the party boats and crowds arrive. But once there, we suffer a near-instant setback when Zoe steps on a sea urchin while frolicking on the rocks. She rallies after we extract a few spines with assurances that she will live to see another day. The boulders form caves that are excellent for climbing and exploring-- some create clear pools of water to wade or drift in. Closer to the surf, some form natural whirlpools and still others narrow cracks to crawl through. This is not a place for the claustrophobic. We wander unfettered by crowds for nearly an hour, then they began to arrive enmass, causing large queues at the wooden ladders used to clamber down the rock faces. We couldn’t take enough pictures of this unique place. Each vista seems more beautiful than its predecessor. Finally, we pick our way over across to Devil’s Bay and spend the rest of the morning playing in the turquoise waters. The children find a 12 ft tall boulder and with Tom’s help take turns climbing up and leaping into the surf below. All in all it’s a fabulous day.

Tom’s Heroic Moment

After mooring for a night at the Bitter End, we shift to anchor instead. Since internet is free at Saba Rock, it’s not really worth the $30 / night just to have internet connectivity. We are in good company as mostly charter boats moor, while only cruisers anchor. We are staying an extra night for The Bitter End Yacht Club beer can dingy race is scheduled for the following afternoon. An hour before the beer can starts JT wants to do some practice runs. As Tom preps the dingy, he notices that one of the boats who is trying to anchor has managed to catch the anchor line of the boat next to us. It’s a modest 30ft sloop with no one aboard. Finally, it appears that the boat that is dragging the anchor line has dropped it.  The little monohull floats beam to the wind and seems to be drifting. Sure enough, a few seconds later it passes the point where it should have settle onto its anchor, and we realize in horror that it is adrift. Some 10 to 15 anchored boats lie in its path out to the channel, so Tom immediately jumps into the zodiac to give chase, while I radio for assistance. Fortunately, another cruiser in front of us leaps into action and after a tense few minutes he and Tom secure the drifting boat to a private mooring.  Later, the perpetrators of this very foolish mistake come by to thank Tom and relate the steps they’ve taken to put things right. The kids are so impressed that their dad near single-handedly rescued the boat. After order has been restored, we use the adventure as an excellent teaching moment about marine emergencies, keeping calm, taking action and owning one’s mistakes. 

To The Bitter End

Our neighbors, Craig and Carol Riley have been incredibly helpful in keeping tabs on our house. During the 10 years we’ve lived in our Sugarpine residence, we’ve had very few issues. A broken oven and a minor repair to the heating system (which is 25 years old) are the only items. Of course, Murphy’s Law dictates that now we are traveling, stuff will break. While in Spain, IVGID damaged some water pipe out on the street which comprised our sprinkler system. Craig dealt with the repairs for that debacle. Most recently, 2 weeks after we started sailing, our furnace broke. Fortunately the temperature only dropped to 38 before the alarm company caught it. Craig coordinated that repair as well. We are keeping our fingers crossed that when the inevitable 3^rd problem hits, it’ll be small!

Ironically, 2 sets of our Knotty Pine neighbors are sailing in the BVI this week. The Rileys are sailing with friends (also from Incline), while David and Susan Hanson have chartered a catamaran. So ironically, we travel 4,000 miles from home to we connect with them at the Bitter End, a famous resort at the tip of Virgin Gorda. As a thank you, we treat the Riley’s to dinner at Saba Rock, a hotel/restaurant with a killer setting. Saba Rock was formerly owned by Bert Kilbridge, a famous wreck diver who recovered the treasure from the RMS Rhone, sunk in 1867.  The Rhone vaulted Kilbridge to fame after part of the movie The Deep was filmed onsite. He grew so sick of people rubber-necking, or outright trespassing on his private island that he decided to convert it to a restaurant/ museum instead.  That gem (which sounds like it channels Skinny Leg’s low key charm) is long gone, replaced by this upscale paradise.

The Hanson’s advise us not to miss the fish feeding which coincides with Happy Hour. The fish in question are tarpon, a bonefish relative. These odd-looking fish are easily 3 feet long. The manager, a genial local, has an amusing shtick where he asks a young woman to volunteer to go first. She is instructed to place a chunk of raw fish between her toes and dangle them near the water. The crowd watches as a giant tarpon rises from the water and transforms its slit like mouth into a gaping hole at least 6 inches across to aggressively snatch the fish. Imagine the screams of shock and laughter that accompany this display. Then guests take turns chucking the chunks out as far as they can and watch these fish catch them as they land. Lastly, and perhaps the most fun is dangling a knotted strip of fish into the water and pulling the tarpon up from the water as it strikes. Zoe bravely volunteers for this slimy, smelly task and handles it with aplomb! JT tries too, but his arms are too short to entice the tarpon, so he passes it along to his mom. At first it’s terrifying, but the realization that this beast, like the abdominal snowman in Rudolph, lacks teeth makes it less scary. I have a greater appreciation for the appeal of bonefishing.  

Back to Reality

After 6 days of break, it’s time to re-instate school and move back to Liberator. After their sleepover, the kids complete their work, and we set sail for Leincester Bay, which reputedly offers of some of the island’s best snorkeling. We are not disappointed. The coral is healthier here than any we’ve seen so far. The stands of elkhorn coral stretching majestically towards the ocean’s surface, some over 6 feet tall and several feet wide. We notice 2 types of sea fans gently wave in the current. The sheer beauty of this underwater garden makes me wish I had a waterproof housing for our camera. Zoe spies a small colorful shell attached to the fan. We’ve seen it in pictures, but it’s not in any of our shell books. Over 2 days, we snorkel in a couple different spots and the kids build sand castles on the small island. While there is more to experience here, our Tahoe neighbors will be in the BVI and we are connecting with them. We also know we will be back in a couple of weeks when our friends the Barths come for a visit. So we bid the USVI adieu for a couple weeks and head to the British Virgin Islands.

Luck Runs in Threes

We’ve had our run of poor timing with the elements. First, we plan to take Bob, Annie and their friend Debbie on a gentle afternoon sail. That afternoon, the wind howls and whitecaps are plainly visible so we cancel. Then, the day that we plan to transport all of the provisions to Liberator, a high-surf advisory is issued. The swell makes moving the stuff without soaking it, a challenge and we finish half the job. Finally, it’s time to return to sailing, so the kids enjoy a last sleepover with the Grandparents. Our final stroke of bad timing occurs when Tom is picking up the kids from their sleepover. A random squall strikes and for the 10 minutes that he is going back and forth, the sky is dark with sheets of rain. Of course, it’s the only shower of the entire day. It’s laughable, but I am learning that when the weather is good its best to take advantage.

Field Trips

While in St. John, Annie takes Zoe and me over to Maho Eco-lodge and artist colony to tour the pottery and glass studios. It’s fascinating to watch one of the glass blowers create a delicate glass angel fish in 15 minutes. In an island that recycles only aluminum cans, the studio’s commitment to recycling is impressive. The cooking oil that powers the furnace, the plain glass used in glassblowing and used to decorate concrete sinks and tables is all recycled. We spend sometime in the pottery studio watching several people work on pots and vases. Sadly, the operation has lost their lease and the property been purchased by an individual who plans to build a single family residence on the 32-acres. The glassblowers and potters are searching for a new venue for their studios.

Zoe is studying the history of the Americas, so we tour the Annaberg Sugar Plantation, part of the National Park system. One of the Bob and Annie’s friends is a docent that day and he explains the layout and process of production raw sugar crystals from cane. Luckily, the bake house is open, so we sample traditional “dumb” bread and passion fruit punch. The bread is similar to a scone and baked in a Dutch-oven over a concrete, charcoal stove. Miss Olivia, a local woman prepares the food. She is no nonsense and does not sugar coat the difficult conditions under which the slaves labored. After touring the rest of the ruins, we end with the garden. There another local, James, offers samples of cane and coconut. He shows us the native and tropical plants growing in the garden and when JT asks where one can buy a sugarcane plant he generously offers him a shoot and a plant to take home. For now, we’ve left Grandpa and Grandma Annie in charge of them.

For some insight to St. John’s present day agriculture, we visit Josephine’s. She has started an organic greens farm on St. John and supplies many local restaurants. A few nights we enjoy some of these mixed greens and they are so fresh they inspire me to look into the possibility of deck garden for greens when we return to Tahoe.

Another day, we hike the Reef Trail to see some petroglyphs. Their provenance remains unclear. Some experts believe they are pre-Columbian, carved by the Taino Indians, while others think slaves may have carved them. Apparently, some of the symbols resemble those found in Ghana, where most of the slaves came from. The petroglyphs are alongside a tranquil fresh-water pool and while there, JT spots a couple of deer in the forest.  Along the steep, rocky trail we see a huge golden orb spider and several large hermit crabs.  A taste of St. John history and a peek at some its present day-industries have given us an even greater appreciation for life on the islands.

Back in the U.S.

Dutch bureaucracy forces us to make the 90-mile sail from St. Martin to St. John an overnighter. After homeschooling on Monday, the girls from Daydreamer invited our kids to the beach to play with another cruising family with 2 girls (9 &11). A third family joined us, also with 2 girls (4 and 11), bringing the total to 7 girls and JT. Cruising kids form fast friendships, and they immediately take to one another, easily sharing the 1 boogie board, building a monster sand pit/castle, and body surfing. Meanwhile, the parents hang out swapping sailing stories and notes on places we’ve been. Finally, Tom realized that he hadn’t checked out and it’s already 4 pm. By 4:30, he’s in the office. The immigration folks clear him out, but the woman from customs has gone for the day and we need to pay our 7 euro before we can leave. Of course, the guy can’t accept it for her, which means we’ve missed our window for a 5 am departure. (early yes, but we don’t want to arrive in st john in the dark and pick up a mooring in a strange harbor. The kids are disappointed as they are eager to see their grandparents, but they are learning to go with the flow, and so they adjust.

Fortunately, disappointments are often soothed by silver linings. We learn about a good bakery on the Dutch side, and when Tom completes the checkout, he procures a final round of decadent croissants. Then, the kids are able to bid a proper farewell to their Daydreamer compatriots. Zoe is interested in learning about Emma’s jewelry-making business and Emma generously gives her sea glass-earrings and matching necklace. Finally, a 4pm departure ensures that Zoe and JT will sleep through most of their potential seasickness as the sea is forecast to have a decent swell in the wake of the cold front. As anticipated, they turn a little green around the gills as soon as we hit open water. After suffering for a couple hours, we dose them both with Dramamine and they drop off.

Tom takes first watch and is treated to a huge squall. During my watch, I whittle the hours listening to an audio-book and enjoying the brilliant stars.  Aside from the lone sailboat, it’s just us and several cruise ships making the run to St. Thomas. Surprisingly, their lights track us for hours. They must drive slowly. Later, locals confirm that sometimes cruise ships make circles to delay their arrival until morning. St. John welcomes us on Valentine’s Day with bright cheery blue skies. We call ahead so when we arrive, Tom’s dad and his wife, Bob and Annie, are already on the beach. It takes us a few minutes to pull ourselves together for the trip to shore, but we are thrilled to see the grandparents and be on land.

After the long, swell-filled night, we are a bit wobbly. A week on land with a bed, showers, laundry and delicious home cooking has completely spoiled us. Bob and Annie are gracious hosts and generously lend us a car to run errands.  After 2 weeks of simple meals eeked out on a 3 burner stove (Are we having chicken? chicken? or chicken tonight?!), the kids are thrilled by Grandpa’s treats. In addition to their standard favorites which include bacon and root beer floats, on the island, the kids experience the full range of offerings including Grandpa’s home-made French bread and fresh blueberry muffins, and Annies’ strombolis and key lime bars made with fruit from their tree.  

For Christmas we gave the kids a sailing dingy. Tom shipped it to Bob and Annie, who’ve stored ing it at their house. It’s a little bit of a process to move it down to the bay, but Tom finally gets it into the water. He’s been teaching the kids to sail. At first JT is leery of capsizing, but quickly learns that capsizing in the Caribbean is fun, especially on a hot day. They both quickly grow to love sailing it. While spending a little more time in the islands south of St. Martin would have been nice, we have been so thoroughly spoiled in St. John that we are haven’t looked back.  

Where the Wind Blows

An impending cold front has led us to modify our plans. Our tentative itinerary had been to head to what our guidebook calls “islands that reach to the heavens” which include Saba, St. Kitts, St. Eustace (aka Statia) and Nevis. Since we’ve arrived, the silhouette of Saba has tempted us. At 877 meters, this tiny island is the Netherland’s highest point. Its people are a hardy, self-reliant lot who apparently won’t take “no” for an answer. When the Dutch government said an airport was impossible, they hired an outside party and built it themselves. When they asked for a road to encircle the island so they didn’t have to carrying EVERYTHING up 800 steps from the sea, the engineers said it couldn’t be done. The islanders built it themselves. But I digress. We hoped the weather would allow us to venture down to these islands, before crossing to St. John. Instead we are headed to back to St. Martin.

The first stop on our revised itinerary is Tintamarre: a mile-long uninhabited island formerly an Allied landing strip. Now it’s marine preserve that according to the guidebook offers a natural mud bath and good snorkeling. Instead we are greeted by sea turtles. Lots of them. Within 5 minutes, we’ve seen more sea turtles than during our entire time in the islands. They range from a couple hundred pounds to a juvenile probably less than a year old and are unafraid of humans. While snorkeling, we watch them nibble grass on the sea floor. We also spy a 3-foot long barracuda. The kids are so enamored that we decide to stay another day.

Our explorations on land are more mixed. Our first disappointment is a sign warning us off the mud baths, as they harbor staph.  We explore the island’s windward side and find a couple slightly crushed sea urchins, chitons and numerous snails. We also find a sponge which we later realize is home to a creature with tentacles, now expired. We save it for a later hands-on science lesson. The kids have a blast building sand castles each place we stop: atop a large lava rock, on the wide sandy beach. After lunch, we opt for one last snorkel. Unfortunately, the reef seems dead and only a few juvenile reef fish are in evidence. I do see a slug of some sort crawling along the rocks. After a very full day we set sail for Groot Baai, arriving at dusk.

Groot Baai or Great Bay is a haven for cruise ships and two are preparing to depart as we arrive. The Bay is enormous, but strangely empty. It seems like the cruisers don’t care for this spot despite its proximity to Phillipsburg, the Dutch capital. Maybe it’s the tourists, the jetskis, or the pipe that purportedly dumps raw sewage into the water which discourages swimming. We notice 3 sloops anchored in the harbor, which Tom immediately recognizes as retired 12-meter America’s Cup boats. For a fee, one can crew alongside 3 professionals on these sleek racing yachts which include Stars and Stripes and America’s First.

The town is supposed to be worth a visit, so after lunch the following day we take the dingy in. Since another cruise ship has docked in port, the touts are out in force. Zoe receives many offers to braid her hair, while shops offer us a free Heineken just for looking.  The town is clean and quaint with narrow cobblestone streets and some interesting historic buildings. It offers a wide range of duty free shopping across all ends of the spectrum, so Zoe buys some souvenirs. It’s blazing, so we indulge in sno-cones. The ice is rough, cut with huge saw-like blade, but the syrups are delicious and that coupled with the cold make-up for it.

Later that afternoon we motor the 2 short miles back to Simpson Bay, where we first started. It’s the safest place to sit out the cold front. To our surprise, Daydreamer (the catamaran with the 3 girls) is still here, delayed by boat repairs. Zoe makes her first call on the VHF radio to arrange a playdate. Our experiences in Tintamarre, and the happy coincidence of reconnecting with friends has taken some of the sting off missing Saba. Despite our initial disappointment, we’ve enjoyed our detour. It’s a good lesson about the sailing life…we go where the wind takes us.

Goodbye St Barth's

After a couple glorious days in the marine parks of lsle Fourchue and Anse Columbier, we return to Gustavia in St. Barts to check out. It’s a lovely town which, by design, accepts only a few small cruise ships. The island has decided that it’s not interested in the tourism which typically accompanies these behemoths. Before our trip, we read an article which said that St. Barts became so popular with the nouveau riche during the boom years that the old money breathed a collective sigh of relief when the financial crisis of 2008 restored the island to its former level of exclusivity. Seriously.

The town did not disappoint. The main street positively gleams with colorful gingerbread architecture and a selection of top designer boutiques. We dined at an excellent pizza place and for dessert indulge in even more excellent crepes. During dinner, our conversation somehow turned into an impromptu lesson on WWII and the Cold War. (It might have started with the mega-yacht owned by the Russian oligarch.) The mature couple next to us was clearly eavesdropping, and much later while admiring the yachts, the woman stopped us to express her admiration that the kids were so clearly engaged in what we were saying. From marine life to mega yachts, we have enjoyed our interlude in St Barts.

Marine Life

In just a few short days, we’ve had amazing fortune in observing marine life. Humpbacks and other Atlantic whales migrate to the Caribbean in winter. While Zoe was driving on the sail to St. Barts, she and Tom saw a humpback whale jump about 60 feet off our starboard. It was one of those “Whoa, how amazing!!” quickly followed by “Oh sh*#!! What if it keeps coming this way” moments. While JT and I were also right there, we unfortunately missed the breech, but glimpsed the whale as it surfaced again a scant quarter mile off our stern.

 Some statics say that over 80 percent of the reefs in the Caribbean have died. To preserve their tourist lifeline, some islands have created marine parks. For a modest fee, these parks provide moorings, while prohibiting anchoring, spearfishing and jetskis. These simple changes have purportedly significantly restored fish stocks in the parks. Also, as seagrass returns to the ocean floor, grazing sea turtle sightings are increasingly common. We’ve spent a couple days in 2 different parks on St. Barts and have really enjoyed them. While snorkeling, we’ve been treated to a huge variety of colorful reef fish, and some amazing gems. On one outing, we spotted an octopus as it repositioned itself under a rock, a spiny lobster, and a large trunk fish. We’ve also had a couple of close encounters with sea turtles. The coral, while pretty, seem sparse compared with my memory of Cayman Islands 20 years ago.  The only catch is that one cannot keep anything found in a marine park, so Zoe has been disappointed by having to return perfect shells to the ocean. Our counsel that there are plenty of shells in the Caribbean seems like idle promises.

Even the regular anchorages seem to offer abundant marine life. In Gustavia at St. Barts, JT noticed a spotted ray and later was watching a juvenile angelfish eat, until it was gulped whole by a larger fish. Talk about the cycle of life.  On several occasions, we’ve spotted sea turtles popping their heads up. At dusk in Marigot, I noticed a ray leaping over a foot out of the water, like some huge hovering bat.  With such an awesome start, we are keeping our fingers crossed about what the next couple months hold.    

A French Paradise

We had warned the kids that the Caribbean is popular for many reasons, but food is not generally among them. That was before we found the French islands. Here exists not only great sailing, fine weather, white beaches, turquoise waters and interesting snorkeling, but also wonderful food. We, admittedly, are basing this solely on our experiences at the patisseries, but if they are the bellweather for the rest of the cuisine, it’s pretty amazing. Tom found a bakery at St Bart’s where he was chided for trying to buy croissants at 11, because they are “ready at 7:30”. The humidity wreaks havoc on crispy layered pastries like croissants, so they don’t lower their standards; they are sold in the morning. Tomorrow we plan to indulge in crepes, so we’ll keep you posted on the results.

The First "Real" Sail

It wasn’t quite baptism by fire, but it wasn’t exactly smooth sailing either. Our trip to Marigot was a teaser, less than a couple hours of sailing. Today, we set our sights on St. Barts, a four-hour journey. The winds were healthy… in the 20-25 knot range and gusts to just over 30. The waves were slow rollers. At first the kids thought it was exciting. They lay down in JT’s cabin watching them crash into the port hull portal. They were impervious to my warnings that being below decks in such conditions is not a good idea. Finally, Zoe succumbed, followed by JT. Fortunately, neither case rose beyond the level of nausea. Zoe quelled hers with a catnap, before rallying to drive the boat once conditions calmed. JT just rode it out till we arrived at our destination.

Welcome Aboard

After less than a week, Liberator already feels like home. We arrived Saturday, February 2, on the Dutch side of Sint Maarten, where we met Steve Doody, the owner of Liberator. He gave us the 30k foot overview then kindly offered to keep an eye on the boat while we provisioned at the nearby grocery store. The sticker shock was immediate and painful whether the prices were quoted in Guilder, Dollars, or Euro. A Costco- sized container of mixed greens runs $20. Say goodbye to fresh fruits and vegetables!

An hour and a chunk of cash later, we rolled our clattering grocery cart back to the marina and began tucking things away. The kids were great, but impatient to start their adventure. Hearing us say, “Not now, mom and dad are unpacking!” when they were dying to test drive the dingy, got old, pretty quick.  After an uneventful first night, we timed our departure to coincide with one of the thrice daily bridge openings. Enough stuff was settled to drive out at 11am, but as piles still lay strewn about, we anchored just outside the bride in Simpson Bay until everything was in its place.

In anticipation of rain in the forecast, the following day we set sail for Marigot, the capital of the French side. Sint Maarten/St. Martin has the distinction of being the smallest island controlled by 2 sovereign nations. Christopher Columbus, on follow-up journey to America “discovered” a number of islands in the Caribbean, including St. Martin (named after the patron saint on the day it was discovered) and St. Barts (named after his brother Bartholomew). At one point, the Spanish laid claim to St. Martin, defeating the Dutch, but later lost it to its European neighbors. The island changed hands 16 times over a 100 year period. Ironically, St. Barts was deemed worthless and Spain ignored it.

As we had entered a new country, we are required to check in again.  We’d been advised that there was a fantastic patisserie, thus we all headed to town for breakfast. The port authority pointed out 2 shops and we found one. We enjoyed some croissants and coffee with the intention of a final round of shopping before heading to the ritzy (read insanely expensive) St. Bart’s. Enroute we stumbled upon THE patisserie, Serafina, with unbelievably delicious baked goods offered at very reasonable prices. They were simply too tempting to pass up, so we indulged in a second round of breakfast.  Oddly, merchants set prices in euro, but some accept dollars at the same price. Given the exchange rate, that’s a bargain for us. Since it would be several weeks before we could do a proper provisioning we set off to fill the fridge. This time we found a warehouse-style market that we wished we known about before shopping on the Dutch side, as the prices were excellent and we happily filled all our available spaces.

The Caribbean is full of people living their dreams. And many of them, like us, drag their families along. So far we’ve met 2 cruising families. The first family was from Alaska and just embarking on their 3^rd season with 3 girls: 9, 11, and 13.  While in Simpson Bay, they saw Zoe and JT, so stopped by to introduce themselves. Later, they came back and all the kids swam, while their dad Peter shared information with us.  On the French side, we met a family who’d crossed the Atlantic in a catamaran. The hailed from L’Orient, near Brest, and were partway into a 10-month trip. The parents spoke English, but the kids, twin boys aged 9 and their daughter, 11 did not. Nonetheless, our children found common ground in jumping on the trampoline and making beaded bracelets, while we heard about their adventurous crossing. Unfortunately, neither of them is following our itinerary, but it was fun for Zoe and JT to play with other children nonetheless. Unlike the first weeks in Spain, the transition has been super smooth. We’ve not heard a single complaint about missing Tahoe, or a wish to go back home. Liberator has quickly taken that place in their minds.