Author: equinoxgardens@gmail.com

Our pre-dawn departure routine becomes more efficient, quieter and faster each time we take off. Not that we make a habit of such exits, but with winds most advantageous for a good sail early in the day, we wanted to utilize the best window for our passage to the Exumas. Lee cloths up, snubber off the anchor, a final tidy below to check for unlashed items that may soar, unlocking the gimbal of the stove, a cockpit clean-up and fresh water bottles at the helm, it’s then time to wake the girls and have them move forward into our bunk so they aren’t jolted awake by the engine adjacent to their dream cycles. Andy does his engine checks, gets our navigation up and running, sets the main, I hoist the anchor, and we’re off. 

Yesterday morning the sun seemed to jump up out of the horizon; I barely had time to finish a cup of coffee in the brightening day’s coolness before up it came, beaming into the cockpit. Since our laundry hung the day before didn’t get a chance to dry before the dew hit, I’m grateful for the BTUs, and as we crossed the Yellow Bank later in the day, scattered with coral heads lurking beneath us, we were happy to have it high overhead for maximum ground visibility. 

We had a quick 14nm jump off of soundings on our way back to the bank from our Egg Island anchorage, and we tried our hand with our last ballyhoo, only to come up empty once again. Just as we started reeling it in, we had a hit, but it was something very adept at sneaking our bait off the lure, and carrying on with its morning. Phooey.

It feels a bit greedy to be disappointed at this point, as for the past two nights, we have speared lobster for our dinner. There is something so satisfying about directly providing for ourselves, not to mention the extremely fresh and tasty dinner on our plates. A bit (or a LOT!) more practice with our spear aim, and we’ll work on catching some fish to add to our self-reliance repertoire. (I can’t seem to get the picture of Tom Hanks wearing a grimy rag/diaper, spearing fish handily in the shallows of his Castaway Island ‘home’ out of my head, and while one day we hope to have his catch percentages, I’m going to pray that my starvation level doesn’t come as close before we do.)

(Fishing update: we DID get greedy, and threw the line out again on the bank. Bummer of a not-surprising story: we caught a thrashing, gnashing barracuda, and had quite the time getting the hook out to release him. I’ll save my neurotoxins for another time, thank you very much.)

Backing up a few days, after leaving Harbour Island, we had a nice day and night in Spanish Wells’ Yacht Haven Marina, with a beautiful freshwater pool and palatial showers. We did some laundry, pretended to care about the Superbowl, topped up on fuel and water and headed west to Egg Island, a remote spot with great reviews from everyone we spoke to. Reviews all confirmed: a mangrove to explore, great reefs for our lobstering and snorkeling adventures, a beautiful beach, and a peaceful anchorage perfect for the girls to paddle, kayak and swim between the boats. 

Today, meanwhile, we woke up in Highbourne Cay, our first Exumas stop, and later will be the long-awaited 2021 Rickadee Reunion! We’re all quite excited to see our pals, and also to introduce them to our new friends. It’ll be throwing two more crafters into Violet and Maeve’s mix, and the teens can do their teen thing, hopefully together at points as hormones and moods allow. (Currently, Lily’s ‘teen thing’ is connecting with her cousin and friends on Minecraft as often as she has time and Wifi. It’s only slightly/very annoying, but we keep reminding ourselves that it’s her method of communication, important in these awkward years, and hey! they’re not working on a crime syndicate, so perspective helps. We’re also light in the mood department so far, so a hard turn on the crossed fingers for that’s continuation.)

First, ‘to’ school and work to maximize usage of Highbourne’s tower! Always with the little things..

We now sit swinging on the hook off of Harbour Island. Here for the deep, flat pink sand beaches and abundant grocery stores, it’s also great people watching. As previously mentioned, the fat cats of the US use this as a quick escape, and the giant sun hats and stylish beach cover-ups are always on parade.

We crossed down over the Providence Channel from Little Harbor on Thursday, leaving just before dawn. It was a lovely day at sea, but we came up short on the fishing front, sad to say. We had two lines out all day, and had not one strike until about 3nm off of our waypoint at the start of the Devil’s Backbone. We watched in serious excitement as a blue marlin first stalked, and then attacked one of our ballyhoo before snapping our 150lb test line at the cleat, and giving us a show as he realized the error of his hunt. The poor thing flailed and streaked out of the water, trying to shake the painful lure. (And now we’re really trying not to imagine the fact that it has a hot pink squid lure in its lip, and 50ft of line trailing behind it. Sad face.) The good news is that we got the entire show on camera, the electric blue of the fish flying through the air, the bad news is that our freezer is still void of fish, and our fish taco night swiftly turned to grilled pizza night. (*Pro Tip that I learned that day: proof dough in the cabin closest to the engine- perfect temp!*)

We did have an electrical gremlin that stopped our alternator from charging for a time, but after opening everything up and sourcing every wire with some level of frustration, Andy shrugged, put it back together and figured he’d work on it once we arrived here. After the last screw was in the panel, he bumped it in that ‘hit the side of the TV for better reception’ move, and voila! Tach was functioning and batteries were charging. Still something to add to the work list…

Our new kid boat friends are here as well, and Andy and Emiel spent yesterday on the hunt for lobsters. They geared up, speared up, and dinghied back to the Devil’s Backbone to try their luck. Of which they had none. Hilariously though, the large catamaran in-between our boats saw their efforts along with their empty-handed return, only to wave them over to offer them the lobster in their freezer. They had ‘serious hunters’ for guests last week, and they don’t eat much of it themselves. Better still, they invited us to dinner, where they cooked it for us. While frustrated for the shortest while that they hadn’t done what they set out to do, in the end.. they did get lobster on our plates, and gathered new friends as well. (Thank you, s/v Cameo, and well done, chaps!)

Looking for winds from most any direction but south, our plan is to work our way back along the Devil’s Backbone (a very narrow corridor of good water between the shores of Eleuthera and a nasty reef) tomorrow, and anchor somewhere near Egg Island for more lobstering. Then on through Current Cut, and south to the Exumas.

This will give the girls a hopeful two more days of solid WiFi connection for joining in on their classes (which while in the moment they’re never that charged up for, but the knowledge that they’re in line with their peers and actually getting to lay their eyes on them is huge for them both), and will give us easy work days without worrying about data plans and gigabyte usage. Both Andy and I are working quite a bit more than we normally do on this trip, which has been good and productive, but also a dance between who’s using which computer, what its charge is, and what time classes are. It’s a good thing I like to handwrite drafts, because I have to make very efficient use of my ‘laptop time’ and blast things out quickly.

Back to finishing Kon-Tiki in the cockpit with my coffee. While I would have actually loved to have been a crew member on their raft, I’m pretty grateful for this buoyant fiberglass number giving me this cozy perch!

After a day and a half of gale-force winds (a fellow boater’s assessment-our anemometer isn’t functioning, and Andy remarkably turned down my offer to be hoisted aloft during the blow to fix it), today’s 20kts is relatively calm and quiet. Monday night’s ‘rest’ felt like we were underway, since we were swinging on the mooring and heeling over with the more violent gusts so frequently. We kept joking about who was holding watch, because they must have been having a hell of time at the helm. The frontal system stretched from Honduras to Maine, so while our Mt. Desert Island family and friends were the recipients of snow and then rain (aka the “Coastal Classic”), we were pummeled with wind and temperatures that tested our long-sleeve packing choices.

Despite the ‘breeze’, we were able to connect with another kid boat here in the harbor, who much to our luck and thrill, have two girls the same ages. We parents fell into easy conversation on a nice long beach walk (on the leeward side things were a lot more reasonable, and the kids are always happy with good surf anyway), and the girls bodysurfed and generally tried to see how much of the beach they could bring back to the boat in their hair. They’re headed on the same general path that we are, so we’ll be lucky to spend more time with them again soon. Proof once more that we’re never too far from new friends with shared interests; such a comforting part of this cruising racket.

The remote schooling sessions for the day have ended, so we have left our Hope Town nest to see what the Sea of Abaco looks like on our way down the chain. Violet just had a virtual field trip with a ranger at Acadia National Park where she (we- it’s a small boat) learned about the bats of Acadia (and beyond). When we weren’t sure that she’d be able to make it onto GoogleMeets this afternoon, I told her that I could improvise with a presentation that would consist largely of me gagging and focusing on my ability to try not to think about bats in a general sense, she politely declined. In the end I was very grateful for Ranger Lisa and her actual presentation, and my interest in the hairy, toothy, leathery, unfortunately white-nosed things was indeed piqued.

The winds are settling, as will the seas, and I imagine we’ll have a great sail this afternoon, landing somewhere near Little Harbor for the night. That cut will be our jumping off point to move down toward the Spanish Wells/Harbour Island area for the weekend. As the winds die down it appears as those tomorrow will be a motor-sailing kind of passage, but we shall see what the day brings.

Most importantly, there is ballyhoo in the freezer, awaiting tomorrow’s [hopeful] mahi catch!

In continuing on our southbound movement toward the Exumas, we’ve pit-stopped in Hope Town to wait out another blow early next week. The constant dance of following frontal passages and their fair and advantageous winds for travel, and then finding a safe harbor to tuck in for the next one is the ultimate schedule that guides us. Lucking out in great places to hang is the alluring side effect that keeps us loving this pattern. Weather window to weather window, that’s our game.

After doing a massive grocery shop via car from Treasure Cay before we left, we realized that we had missed a few things, and had square inches of storage space left (Must. Fill!). That meant leaving Treasure Cay, and then stopping in Marsh to drop anchor for an hour while we walked back to Maxwell’s and ‘topped up’. Weighed anchor and ran here to Hope Town before nightfall, a much-preferred harbor to Marsh.

Hope Town has come a long way in ten months. They finally have power on the island, so it’s quieter here in the harbor without all of the generators running 24/7. Fewer blue tarps as roofs as well, and things are markedly cleaner and tidier on the ground in addition to the serious amounts of construction underway and also completed. Like Green Turtle but perhaps more so, the speed of advancement here is largely due to seasonal homeowners and their donations. The workers are here, the materials are here; they’ll have their winter escapes as soon as possible, and they’ll throw in a new school while making that happen. Win win!

Loving a good outing with a purpose, we rented bikes in town and headed south to Tahiti Beach, one of our favorites here. Pre-Dorian the sand extended out toward Lubber’s Quarter in one giant swooping arc, and the kids loved following it out as the tide fell, making way for a massive sand bar for creating worlds on. Dorian shifted the sands in such a way that the ‘swoop’ is gone, but the outer bar still exists, so we waded out and they showcased their ‘hot tub’, their tree (an old palm trunk they dug out of the bar), and apparently their dinner (a live conch). Different shape, same plan- it’s nice to know some things can remain the same.

An afternoon at Hope Town Inn & Marina’s pool (freshwater means free ‘bath’!), dinner on board with some Chutes and Ladders (apparently I really like slides- I’m not sure I made it above the second row the entire game), and our Saturdaying was Saturdayed. Now on to Sundaying.. who has the bloody Marys?

Starboard side cockpit seat, leaning forward (backwards for me, but toward the bow- we’ll THAT’S confusing!) against the companionway, if you’re ever wondering where I spend most of my sitting time. EsPECially in the mornings (the ‘shelf’ just outboard is where my coffee cup hangs out), and often in the evenings as well. Out of the wind, out of any weather, and the view is ever-changing as we swing on the anchor. Nested bliss.

We left the yard on Tuesday and anchored off of the settlement (New Plymouth) on Green Turtle for the night to be able to get out of Black Sound on a high tide and in the daylight, as it’s a tight squeeze winding one’s way out. That way we were able to weigh anchor early to cross the whale, which was quick and easy and with only gentle swells. By 11am we were here in Treasure Cay, and by 1p Andy was ashore running around the joint chasing down a part he had ordered. (There’s a great transport company in Ft. Lauderdale that we can have things shipped to, and then they fly it in and can get things to us on various islands. This time they overshot and sent it to Green Turtle on the ferry, so it was a matter of waiting for the various ferry captains to communicate to see who had it and who was up for bringing it back. Island life fun! Makes me realize how mental I’d become if I were trying to build/rebuild a house here, waiting for various materials and parts to arrive.)

We had some rain showers while Andy was gone, so as soon as the patented Chickadee rain water collection system was set up, the girls did their schooling and I did some work work, all while Mother Nature worked on filling our tanks. We had a new cockpit awning made this year, and we discovered that its new side flaps are helpful for channeling the water on each side. This year is a ‘set the bowl and forget it’ kind of collection, rather than the less dignified ‘milking’ of the awning that had to happen before. (We also plug the scuppers and open the tank caps, so after an initial rinse, we let it flow right into the tanks themselves.)

Once reunited with both Andy and the sun, we all went ashore for a walk/splash on the beach, where we also introduced our new drone to the Bahamas. We bought one for the family this Christmas, and while Andy thought for a brief moment that we should leave it at home, he realized pretty quickly that he’d kick himself a thousand times over if we didn’t take the opportunity to get shots of these beautiful spaces from above. Being pretty anti-drone myself, and having to tamp the knee-jerk reaction of finding a nearby rifle and learning how to use it before shooting them down each time I see one, you can imagine my own conflict. Seeing them buzz in or near my space makes me want to scream, but wow, the technology is so incredible, as are the photos. So.. internal conflicts aside, and with the intention to not pester anyone, the drone is here, and I haven’t begun target practice. (Yet.)

A few more minutes of reading time remain before I must unfurl myself from Position A and rouse the troops. Despite Treasure Cay still looking like a bombed out shell of its former life a year later, Miss Lorraine of the ‘Most Amazing Cinnamon Buns in the World’ is back in business, and we will make it our duty to be that business, at least this morning.

Yesterday was successful on many fronts- the boat was launched, and our Day 5 COVID-19 tests were completed (and negative). And NOW we can begin this year’s journey in earnest! We’ll have to stay within reach of some form of service for the next eight days, as we are required to complete personal health surveys each day for the first fourteen of our time here in the Bahamas, but that should be manageable. (They email us each morning. It’s really quite amazing how locked-in their pandemic plan is.)

Today is for filling water tanks, renewing our cruising permit, a quick shop here at Sid’s in town while we still have the golf cart, returning said golf cart, moving out of the rental house (one last dip on the beach after lunch before we tear ourselves away), and generally continuing to stow and square things away onboard. Add in a few remote classes for the girls and getting the paddle board inflated and ready for a Black Sound ‘cruise’ later this afternoon, and we’ll call it a day. (Violet is dying to take “Sparky”, her kayak, for a spin, so we’ll make ourselves a merry band of misfits in our various vessels. Good fun for poking in and around the mangroves.)

Our cruising plan starts with crossing the ‘whale’ tomorrow (the seas look settled, so it’ll be an easy passage), and then tucking into Treasure Cay’s harbor to wait out a blow coming on Thursday. Friends of ours are working on a house there, and I have to make good on my promise to help assemble IKEA products until my eyes bleed from the instruction manuals and my hands are permanently formed around a set of Allen keys. Nothing like a relaxing Bahamian adventure…

I can’t remember a day in the recent past where I have done so little. It felt glorious in the moment, but pathetic upon reflection. I read my book for the majority of it, cooked meals for part of it, started phase one of my ukulele self-instruction (yeah, ‘you’re welcome, world’, for that boat purchase) for an hour interlude, swept the water off of the sun porch a number of times (it was found to be the low point of the property, and unfortunately the landing spot for our giant bags), and then wandered outside as soon as the skies parted to meander down the beach in my sweatpants to find a few pieces of seaglass.

I did a bit of work when the WiFi permitted, but really, my main goal was to stay awake, for whatever reason. (A nap would have made perfect sense, if I hadn’t been so well-rested from my night of blissful rainy sleep!) The girls were equally as lounge-y with movies and games while Andy braved his way to the boatyard, complete with a cottage poncho and trash bags of parts. His day was shorter than usual but still productive (he rewired some faulty fitxures in the salon), and we all reunited to watch the kids plaster themselves in sand on the beach before washing up and playing our new favorite/least favorite game, Ubongo! It’s a throwback to the days of Tetris for those of us of a certain age, but some of those of us of a certain age dislike any game that is timed/a race, so… a hit for half, but not for all. Regardless, Lily and I have played a LOT of rounds, and occasionally we pressure th’others into a few as well, ‘charming’ as we are.

My feet are finally drying out after a full day of being damp from sopping up porch water, walking on floors that have been slopped by feet walking through porch water, or the foolish act of simply going outside in the sand, end-capped by the foot bath on re-entry. So tending to the levels of foot moisture was clearly another big activity. Phew, it’s amazing I was able to get it all in.

Today is for work. All of the kinds of it. The girls will do laundry at the yard in between some schoolwork (their school is off today, but we need to make hay while the WiFi shines), Andy will finish his project list, and I’ll start bringing the bulk of what’s left aboard. We’ll get the dinghy pumped up, shined up and the davits rigged, we’ll test the engine and I’ll start loading some of our groceries. Somewhere in there I’m sure we’ll steal a trip to town for errands (but really just ice cream), and back to the house in time to enjoy it for our last night. (We extended our stay at the house by a day, since our washout day threw us for the loop that we lazily cocooned ourselves into instead of properly marching on with our plans.)

And we’re off!

It’s safe to say that the island’s cisterns are overflowing this morning. We fell asleep to gentle ocean breezes, and woke to a persistent downpour, hammering on the hurricane shutters propped up over each window. Not much wind was involved, so instead of the need to bustle around to secure things near the open windows, we were able to relish in our dry comfort to fall asleep to the din. The incredible volume of the rainfall woke me about four times throughout the night, which led to the repeated glee of having my favorite soundtrack for falling asleep. Cheap thrills, I suppose. (And an even cleaner boat!)

Before it was a rainy kind of evening, it had been a sharky kind of day. I only worked on the boat for a couple of hours in the morning to allow for the girls to swim off of our beach, which they were very excited to do. They played on the skimboard, bodysurfed, and created a beach habitat for a very confused ghost crab for about an hour, while I dipped my toes and read my book. A sharp cry brought my attention to the shore, where a little (about 4 feet?) shark had made its way to the girls, who had very swiftly exited the water. It was a little unnerving to see it there, in a literal sea of nothing but blue, but once it realized that ‘child’ wasn’t on its menu du jour, it started trolling along the beach. We followed along for about a half mile, and in the crest of the waves saw that it was a small black tip (not exactly known for their loving demeanors). It was really eerie to see how shallow it was (it seemed as though each crest of the waves would threaten its beaching), and as it swam over coral it virtually disappeared in camouflage. Yeesh. Gives one a bit of pause about standing knee deep to cool off. It’s lucky that they’re so starkly contrasted against the white sand where we usually swim and play, and that you can see so far out, but it was also a good reminder that vigilance is key.

Our house came equipped with bikes, so we spent the afternoon tooling around the island, landing at the Green Turtle Club for a drink and a dip in their pool. Not that we’ve been exactly whizzing by in our golf cart on previous island outings, but it was nice to take an even slower route, checking things out in detail out while huffing and puffing on our one-speeds. (Having that drink as our carrot was helping for the huffing and puffing part, I’ll admit.)

On a beach walk before dinner the girls saw three more sharks trolling along the shore, and I’m wondering how quick they’ll be to get back in the water after their shark-filled day. It’s a good thing they’re still interested in making beach ‘houses’, beach-combing and sea-glassing. (While the shells are fading away with the health of our oceans, we can always seem to count on the boating drinkers of the world to cast their bottles overboard.) Plenty still to do on these beautiful beaches.

In Chickadee’s quiet realm, things are coming along quickly, and technically we could move aboard any time, if we weren’t so enjoying this house. We’re also really relishing the organized order of bringing things to the boat only when they’re needed, and not beforehand only to be tossed in a pile that eventually becomes a tangled mess of “Where did I put that, anyway?”. Bag by bag we’re adding parts and amenities, cleaning spaces ahead of their stowing and/or installs, and the lack of overwhelming piles only lends more to our general sense of ease this year. The new Chickadee world order!

Today looks to be a washout, so we’ll turn to our clerical ‘to dos’ and spend the rest of a lazy Sunday playing games and eating, two things we Allens really excel in. Especially the eating part. Happy Sunday, all!

Yesterday’s boat day was an eventful one, if not too exciting. It’s amazing how manageable the pre-departure boat projects seem this year in comparison to last’s three page list of overwhelming fixes and replacements. Of course, there are always projects that we’ll have, ranked loosely in columns of necessity, upgrade, cosmetic appeal and just plain want, but the bullets to tick in order to get the boat launched are few this go round.

Andy did a bit of fiberglass repair in the bilge, which required grinding, though thankfully in a very small tent-able area, and I spent the day washing the boat down so we’d have a clean space to air things out, and then cleaning rooms and turning them back into spaces of intended use.

Without a sugar cane factory pumping ash out two to three times a week (a downside of our Indiantown storage) and with good air flow so close to the water, the boat was in great shape. No mildew, no film of ick, no flies on the fly tape!, not much to even clean, really, other than the dust created from a tarp that met its maker in the Bahamian summer sun.

Not only our we less frenetic in our work, but the entire boatyard is quiet and still. Last year at this time the travel lift was launching boats all day, grinders, sanders and cranes stepping masts created the background noise to our work, and people, makeshift workbenches and boat parts were scattered about everywhere we looked. This year, as far as we can tell, we’re the only people in the yard, which is wild. There are so many Canadian cruisers here in a normal year, and their lockdown measures are still largely in place, with any travel outside of the country being discouraged. It probably should be for us as well, but I’ll admit feeling relief that we were able to come. (Our day five COVID tests on Monday will further cement that relief if they’re negative.)

The girls’ school was off yesterday, but they spent it catching up with work missed on our travel days, and they’re both now so regimented about their responsibilities I feel superfluous in the schooling game. (Time to hang up my School Marm pinafore?) I have some projects planned for us once we’re in our actual rhythm, but it’s a major relief to know that they’re safe, occupied and productive here at the house while we’re working on the boat. I’m also hoping that it’s a precursor to our entire schooling winter, as the schoolwork arguments and stresses bouncing between us are the only things I dread about these trips. A school marm can dream.

I came back to the house for lunch to find V living her best life on the beach (they know not to go swimming without an adult here, but they happily take over the dry parts), with her shades, water and book. I delivered her a sandwich and christened her ‘Magda’. (She had slathered herself in sunscreen, but all I could picture were those foil sun reflectors, since she was set up like beach lounging was her new career.)

The afternoon consisted of finding our cottage’s collection of bikes, touring a friend’s post-Dorian home build, a trip to town, and some delicious ice cream. All in all, a wonderfully relaxed kind of day in this welcoming place.

Today the boat calls, but so do the waves. We’ll spend a bit of time on the beach with the kids so they can revisit their skim-boarding skills before seeing how much sand they can accidentally bring into the house. Ahh, the ‘troubles’.

Whelp, I’ve officially inserted myself in the visions that have been sustaining me for months. Hot coffee, comfortable seat on the dune patio, waves lapping, sun rising. If only the no-see-ums weren’t threatening my sanity along with the epidermis of my ankles, I’d gold star this moment.

Yesterday was a very relaxed day of entry, as they all should be. A leisurely morning in the airport hotel, a clear and picturesque flight over, and lucky timing for air arrival, ferry schedules and meet-ups.

We had our favorite ‘taxi’ driver drop us for errands on the way to the ferry dock, where we learned that due to COVID they aren’t allowing children under the age of 16 in the grocery store. Aside from that being a brilliant plan for any parent (I tried to feel pity as my new Marsh Harbour orphans glumly slumped away from the entrance to wait outside, but it was hard to muster, and I most definitely skipped my way in), Maxwell’s lost about 30% of our ticket by not allowing unnecessary snack and menu idea cart add-ins.

It was so nice to see so many familiar faces on the ferry, and it struck me that we’ve left one small town on a small island to come to another, though this one even smaller. Any thoughts on how small the next one will be, Gilligan?

The house is as perfect as we remember, and we spun around it in glee before zipping to the boat yard to see Chickadee in her AYS (Abaco Yacht Service) home. It was the end of the work day, but we were able to see Eddie, smiling as always, who greeted us, and we uncovered the boat enough to peek down below, see that things looked great, and to set a bug bomb off before we start work tomorrow (no sign of anything, but from horror stories we’ve heard, it’s better to be safe than to find stowaways down the ‘road’).

Cracked conch for dinner and falling asleep to the sound of the waves crashing. (And then waking in the wee hours to a sound that made me smile- Wild Bobby or his 2021 stand-in, crowing his little head off, and needing a proper clock.)

Time to unpack our bags and map our day of Chickadee prep!