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.
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