Month: February 2020

Leaving Staniel days ago, we ran up to O’Brien’s Cay, which is very close to the great snorkeling of the ‘sea aquarium’, and also home to some great beaches and sand bars, all twisting around little islets. We spent two nights there, which was plenty of time for the kids to create many worlds of play- they worked on building rafts, swam back and forth across a beautiful swail between beaches, explored the inner muddy parts of the island as scientists, built sand castle worlds, and amazingly, did some chilling out in the sand (they’re getting older, I suppose!).

From there it was a short motorsail back to the south anchorage of Warderick Wells. It’s a great anchorage without current, which means it’s a great place to swim off the boat, swim to shore, etc. A nurse shark was on the kids’ case for a while, when all four of them were piled onto the paddle board, so we first videotaped the situation (duh!), and then sent them ashore to shake their predator. Again, it’s pretty amazing what they’ve gotten used to.

We moved around to the horseshoe-shaped north field of Warderick yesterday, where we’ll stay for the weekend. As always, this island’s playground qualities are plentiful and easily accessible, so the day’s options of skim boarding on the flats, swimming at the beach, paddleboarding around the anchorage, or simply staring over the side to see the wildlife go by are all viable and entirely likely! First for the coffee and bacon, though…

Rickadee is together again! We left Cambridge Cay early on Sunday, with the northerlies-turned-westerlies well in our favor for a great sail to find Ruach near Staniel Cay. We did indeed have a great, albeit somewhat splashy sail, and came up alongside them in their Big Major Cay anchorage (a short hop from Staniel) with no small amount of cheering.

A beach trip together before we headed around to Staniel made our Sunday complete, and while there was a lot of catching up, the familiar rhythms came easily.

Eight days from the last spot with services, and we reeeallly needed to empty our nearly-full lazerette of trash. We also needed to get some laundry done, a propane refill (we opted not to in Nassau, only to run out less than 24 hours out- thank goodness for the mini bottles for our grill, and an adaptor!), and food. Our snack count was at a painful-with-two-young-children low, and my meal plan going forward was largely banking on the very unlikely chance that a mahi would jump into the cockpit.

A day of school and ‘town duties’ of the above, and we’re back in business. (I still want that mahi, though.) Another front is forecasted later this week, so we’ll make our way to a fun place that we’re willing to hang for a couple/few days. Likely Warderick, as Staniel is our southernmost point of visitation for 2020. I’ll miss Rudder Cay, another favorite anchorage south of here, but the Land & Sea Park has everything we ever really want- sandy anchorages/mooring fields to easily swim off of the boat, hikes for exploration, good ocean beaches, calm west beaches, great snorkeling… hard to beat for our crew. What more could we ask for? (Answer: fresh mahi.)

Off to enjoy a quiet morning in the cockpit before the girls wake up and the ‘horrors’ of their school work are realized to them. It’s been better this year, but also worse, in that at her age, Lily is now carrying the responsibility of what is expected of her, so other than being a pestering nudge, and helping with a few math problems, I am not as interactive (read: harpy). The downside is that it’s mostly online, and we’re often… not, due to service. Our blips of wifi are frenzied, with me trying and failing to impress upon her the need to “Get it together and finish this work before we leave service!”. I have volumes on schooling, really, but the main points for now are: I am still the mean school marm in their minds, Violet is still in the zone of having simple tasks that are easy for her to complete so is kind of on the sidelines for the drama, I’m not as great as I should be about layering our unique experiences into their actual school items, which feels just silly and lame, Lily is a pre-teen with a pre-teen attitude, and I spend most of my time feeling guilty about all of it. So… same as ever! Fun stuff. There’s a reason the reading-in-the-cockpit time is so precious!

Days without service, but never without action. Our southern travels down the Exuma chain have not disappointed, though there was certainly no expectation of that happening. A night at Shroud Cay after a quick sail from Highbourne, and a favorite outing for all of us- the dinghy travel through the maze of mangroves that make up most of the island. White sand below, making it easy to spot the prolific green turtles and mangrove-dwelling fish, low-lying red mangroves all around, making you feel as if you’re in a sea of green when you cast your gaze over the water, and the most incredible outlet to the Atlantic: a deep cut of current, spilling out onto a white sand bar. A perfect playground for anyone. It had been number one of our list of ‘bests’ here until… 

Hawksbill is another great anchorage (there aren’t too many bad ones!) with a beach that the girls love, but we upped our adoration by snorkeling our way north from the anchorage after school. A giant spiny lobster in a reef only about four feet deep taunted us by coming out of its hole. (We could actually hear it saying “You’re in a Land & Sea Park, suckers! No fishing!”, which was pretty rude of it, I might add.) Leaving our appetite unsated and our lobstering instincts behind, we continued north to the top of the island, where an expanse of sand bar systems almost connects it with the southern bits of Shroud. 

Ah-MAY-zing. The only people there, we felt like we were on a different planet, with perfectly wave-rippled expanses of the finest sand fading into technicolor turquoise waters. It didn’t look real, and the four of us scattered about, running, skipping, tripping (prat falls were apparently an important part of this process for the girls) as if testing the spaces for legitimacy. Limestone outcroppings were rimmed with pockets of warm water, some deep and large enough for snorkeling. Another magical playground found. Tearing ourselves away from that was tough, but the ‘deep beach’ called the girls (part of Hawsbill’s intrigue is the relatively deep dropoff from the beach, making it an excellent place to anchor the paddle board close to shore and use it as a float. (Which, side note, is the primary use of our paddle board. The only reason we have a paddle is because it came with one.)) We also flew our little pocket kite, which is becoming my favorite beach pastime. There is something so relaxing about it, and ours is small enough that I can fly it from my beach chair, making it suitable for lazy people as well. 

Another hop yesterday and we landed in Warderick Wells, where the Exuma Land and Sea Park headquarters is. We opted for the southern anchorage this time, without any current (and decidedly-fewer eagle ray sightings), but it was an easier in and out for us, and the swimming off of the boat here is great, if you don’t mind waiting for a few passing stingrays and nurse sharks. (We don’t- they’re relatively harmless, and it’s amazing what you get used to.)  We have been Go Pro-ing like crazy this year, and since we’re technological dummies, its best feature thus far has been the daily compilations it puts together for us. If WordPress decides to accept one of these one day, I can show you the under-sea action that we’ve been capturing (turtles, sharks and rays included!). You’d also see Ray, the remora that seems to find us every time we’re at Shroud. ‘He’ lives under the boat from the time we anchor until the moment we leave, and tolerates the girls jumping in again and again and carrying on like maniacs as they play hide-and-seek under the boat with a piece of fused green glass they found on a beach somewhere years ago. He’s kind of like a Lab- just hoping that something will fall out of the trash and into his mouth. (Sometimes it does.)

We met a Dutch family on a Warderick Wells beach, the first cruising family this year. We seem to find eachother like magnets- the weekly charter folks don’t quite put off the same energy of inclusion and ease that makes introductions organic and simple. This particular introduction was fast and wonderful. Our afternoon together had them convincing us to stay another night, and the following day was a joint hike (to Boo Boo Hill, where we found our boat name board and gave it a touch-up of Sharpie), lunch onboard their boat (a catamaran that was palatial in comparison to wee Chickadee), and afternoon in the shallow sand bars of Warderick, chatting and carrying on while the kids skim-boarded around us. 

Friday morning we left for Cambridge, and arrived early for a full day of adventure. We snorkeled at the ‘Sea Aquarium’, a great snorkel site known for its abundance of wide varieties of both fishes and corals, and spent some time on the ocean beach. Lily hiked Bell Rock- scrambling up in a matter of minutes after she waded across the bit of water to get to it. With the razor-sharp limestone all around, I think it’s safe to say that our feet are toughening to being shoeless all day long. Burning coals? What burning coals?!

We’re now waiting out a front, giving us 25kts from the north until tomorrow at some point. Frontal passage bonus is that a driving rain last night first washed our decks, and then once Andy plugged the scuppers, almost filled our one empty water tank. (On a water note, we just emptied that tank yesterday, and made the crazy-stingy calculation that we only use about 5 gallons a day, total. That includes us rinsing off every night- I would have guessed much more…)

So a sunny Saturday bobbing around in the winds in this beautiful anchorage, with hopefully a reef shark or two as visitors- none-too-shabby.  

We finally did it; we peeled ourselves away from the comfort and the glitz of Atlantis. And while there is always a period of adjustment to being ‘back in the saddle’, it’s so lovely to be here again. After a long and hot day of motoring into the wind over the Yellow Banks, we arrived in Highbourne Cay yesterday afternoon. Our original intent was Shroud Cay, further down the chain, but with winds on the nose and unimpressive boat speeds, we decided on a shorter run for sanity’s sake. Never can have too much of that sanity. (Speaking of, aren’t you glad I’m copying and pasting a lowercase ‘t’ this time?)

Highbourne is privately owned and is home to a marina, rental homes, and all of the amenities one could want, though all we really wanted was lettuce and carrots, since our rabbit crew blew through our stores on the trip over. A bonus of dinghying in for supplies was a fish-cleaning dock, ‘home’ to the area’s laziest shark population. Dozens of nurse, bull and reef sharks swarmed for dropped guts; holy cow, there are a lot of sharks in the Bahamas.

We’re now en route to Shroud Cay, one of our favorites, where we’ll dinghy and/or paddle/kayak through the mangroves and their resident green turtles and lemon sharks to get to the beautiful ocean beach. Bonus is that a perfect sailing day is taking us there. Nothing better than not hearing the engine for hours on end, and not beating to weather!

TexT NoTe:Lily came up wiTh a greaT plan for geTTing around my keyboard issue, so geT used To These fun copied and pasTed Ts! (Unless The word auTofills, and Then we’re good To go..)

We had a great sail from our anchorage in Lynyard Cay To Nassau on Wednesday. A long, fifTeen hour day by The Time we dropped anchor in Nassau Harbour, buT The day was beautiful, winds had clocked around enough so ThaT we weren’t beaTing upwind, and we made good Time. Our AIS also proved invaluable as we came into The very busy porT– plenty of cruise ships and tankers coming and going To avoid!

We’re enjoying our firsT Atlantis experience wiThOUT a massive fronT ThaT we’re waiTing for, which means we’re here with lighT winds and sunshiny days for The firsT Time, and I musT say, iT‘s a delight! NoT Too many phoTos since cameras and waTerslides aren’T usually friendly, buT a wee smaTTering of our good work Thus far.

Added bonus is ThaT friends from home are vacationing here for The week, and our Time here is even more fun with friends To enjoy iT with! IT‘s amazing ThaT The Timing worked ouT so well.

Tomorrow we’ll head south (and easT) over The Yellow Bank To my favorite land of The Exumas Land & Sea Park- miles and miles of unspoiled islands and Their beautiful snorkeling opportunities, whiTe sand beaches, and compariTive solitude after days here aT This busy resorT!

Well, my computer’s ‘t’ button called it quits, and my writing options were getting comical before I gave up and committed to plunking away on my phone.

Our nights in Hope Town were productive, and included lots of schoolwork for the girls (bribery never worked so well! Stay tuned for the reward), a rig check and cleaned up winches for Chickadee, a long island walk, a longer beach walk and a beachfront lunch for the family. Another island community working hard to repair and heal.

On Monday we worked further south still, landing in a nice anchorage on Lynyard Cay. The neighbors were planners, and had a fun roster for yesterday- we did a big beach clean up on the ocean side, and in lieu of not having space to haul giant pieces away, it was all tied together in artful piece- the Trashy Lady of Lynyard Cay.

The girls then played on the beach sand bar on the west side for HOURS. A lemon shark visited them a couple of times, they rescued a little yellow snapper, played with sea biscuits, and we tried (and failed) to identify a strange looking dead sea worm. Busy Tuesday.

We shoved off thirty minutes ago on our way south again. The cut out of Little Harbour was a bit rolly but ultimately fine, and the dolphins that just visited the boat are surely a nice send off from the Abacos. Here’s to sailing in waters without worrying about hitting a sunken refrigerator or house roof for a while!

Well, we certainly made a day of our first run out of the barn. After our short hop around from the boatyard to White Sound on Friday, we realized that our best weather window for crossing ‘the whale’ – a short passage that is often pretty junky due to its lack of barrier island to the east- was in fact the next morning. We enjoyed our first night aboard thoroughly, and it was Friday night movie night, so after refreshing Lily on cribbage and having her whoop our butts, we endured the skipping and skipping of old DVDs and an even older DVD player (put that on the 2021 upgrade list) in our familiar spots in the salon. Plus, popcorn as a major component of dinner, which I’ll suffer through disc skippage any day for.

An early morning and an easy crossing (though the girls were not too pleased with the swells and chop), we made it to Marsh Harbour by lunchtime. A year ago it was difficult to find a spot to anchor in the harbor, it was so packed with dozens of boats. This time, it was a breeze, since we were one of only six. Andy waited for a dinghy to return to one of our neighbors’ boats and pounced on them for access information, as the usual docks and dinghy floats were far from gone. We learned of our one option, and went ashore with jaws on the ground. Partially sunken boats around the edges and in the harbor itself, pilings shredded off, leaning over, floating in piles, electrical and water conduit from the docks tangled and floating in gnarly masses.. looking just at the damage in the water was enough. And then we stepped ashore. I’ll let the photos do the talking, but consider that these are taken five months later, with considerable cleanup action taken (of the roadways, etc.). It’s mind-bending to consider what it looked like the day after, and nauseating to imagine what it felt like to live through it. 

On that note, we are all interested to hear the personal stories of survival, but I had originally felt quite timid about asking people that I talk to. Do they want to relive the horror for the sake of a near-stranger’s ‘context bank’? Are they ready to talk about it? Do they remember, or was it a blur? It turns out, the answer has been a resounding ‘yes’. When we spend any amount of time with people (cab drivers, shopkeepers, and so on), I’ve been asking how they’re doing, and if their families and homes are okay. What has come as an answer every time is a detailed account of the state of those things, but also  where they were when the storm hit, and the timeline of everything falling apart around them (most often the very walls that were to protect them). Moving from one place to another in the eye (which went over Marsh) for safety, rescuing friends and family from flooded spaces, the stories are varied but the theme is the same. Surviving a Category 5 hurricane and living to tell the tale means that you have one hell of a tale to tell, and it turns out, they want to share. I’ve been told a number of times now that Bahamians are never afraid of storms, and that they weren’t particularly afraid of this one, either. Sure, it’d blow, but they’d all lived through Floyd (a Cat 4), and came outside afterward to see a few roof shingles damaged and some trees down. That’s what a lot of people expected. When windows blew out and people moved into the safest rooms in their houses, they still didn’t think it’d be much more than water damage. One story after another expressing the total shock and awe of stepping outside for the first time after it passed. 

This is all to say that our context bank is indeed growing, and stitching these stories together makes us feel more connected to their plight and also extreme incredulity of the ‘plugging away’ spirit. In every community we’ve been to so far, at least one market is open, the liquor stores are open (duh!), services are rounded-out if not comprehensive, and they’re making their way. What a process to experience. 

Marsh’s big provisioning trip aside, we weren’t thrilled at the idea of waiting out the next blow there with so little to do with the kids ashore, so we made quick work of stowing our bounty and shoved off for Hope Town. A quick trip, and once again we have our pick of the harbor, since there are so few boats here. More loss and carnage visible here, but a safe harbor and beautiful beaches flanking the village that we love.

I’m currently living the experience that I wait ten months every year for- sitting in the cockpit as the world wakes up around me, coffee in its spot at my elbow, and a book to read. Must get to the reading bit. Happy Sunday, everyone!

You know what’s SO great? Things that are supposed to be cold that are actually cold. We have refrigeration again! After the speediest battery removal and install on Wednesday, yesterday was for refer upgrading. (The timing meant that we postponed our launch until this morning, boohoo, but with winds picking up for the next few days, another day on the stands was fine. (Unless you ask Lily.))

Naturally, the evaporator plate that they sent was not the one we ordered, because that would be too boring. It meant a call to the company to confirm that we could retrofit the one we had into participating as the one we want, and then Andy worked his skills. (We ordered a vertical unit, and they sent a horizontal one- complete with a door, and regular ice cube trays. What a novelty that would have been. Good thing we’re happy with our vertical ice.)

It did mean another day in the yard for the girls to occupy themselves while we work, which we’re pushing the limits on, we realize. School was interesting in that the entire interior was torn up for refrigeration purposes, and they did what they could, where they could. Violet did her work in the two and a half remaining square feet of the cockpit, crunched up like a Jack-in-the-box, and you can see below that Lily made the head her classroom. Finishing up these bigger projects will be a relief to all of us. After school, they use up their hour of ipad game time pretty quickly, so they’ve been roaming around, facetiming with friends when they’re out of school, and playing with their newest friend next door. 

——— Writing break for launching! ——-

The camaraderie felt in this boatyard in any given moment is intense and sweet to say the least, with neighbors cheering on neighbors as we all progress in our projects. Since some things seem so never-ending, it’s an important boost to have, not to mention that we’re getting to know others through the lenses of their own fixes. A borrowed tool means a fetching visit and then a returning visit, and the subsequent conversations that come- first the approach for the fix, and always some context for attendance on Green Turtle in the first place. Two weeks here and I feel like I have a family in the boaters and workers here at Abaco Yacht Service, and the pop-in congratulatory visits during and after our launch cemented that. The four of us were beaming with pride and excitement as she splashed, but so were so many others! Lots of farewells, oohs and aahs over Andy’s fine work, and kind sendoffs. (We’re just going around the corner to White Sound tonight, mind you, but we won’t see these fine folk on our walks to the bathroom, the laundry, etc. etc.)

Between the new batteries, the new bank manager monitoring system, our new solar panel, and the interest in what our air-cooled refrigeration unit draws, there has already been some serious nerding out over amperage flow. It’s so nice to be able to properly measure what our individual ‘necessities’ draw. 

It’s time to head over to fetch the girls from their last Green Turtle Cay playdate for a while, and to say goodbye to a family who has been so wonderful and dear to us. They have folded us in to their rhythm, feeding and entertaining us, for which we are so immensely grateful. More wonderful people on our journey; our Chickadee tribe gratefully swells in numbers even more.  

I just got a call from the Treasure Cay airport saying that our batteries and new refer will be on the 3:30p ferry today, and we’re all beside ourselves with excitement. (About batteries. Our kids’ standards for joy are getting pretty grim.)

Just AS exciting is the completion of all work on the hull, as of an hour ago. Andy did an amazing job, and it looks better than ever, truly! Now to clean up the mess below and around the boat.. Our yard space is littered with tarps, sun shades, a homemade-cinder block-and-old-door table covered in spent supplies and little projects, bilge pumps, buckets, kayaks, shoes, hanging suits and towels… I’m glad we’re in the corner of the yard, or I’d be appalled at anyone having to walk by Chickadee’s grotto of junk.

After school yesterday we blew up the paddle board and threw the kayaks in for a tour of Black Sound. There are a few places that we can’t measure the damage (and/or subsequent repair efforts) from the road, so I was interested to see them from the water. A favorite marina, just a few docks in from the yard, is a mess, and void of any work happening. It looks completely untouched since the storm, and I wonder what its fate holds.

There are SO many boats along the banks of the mangroves. Some sunken, some partially sunken, some overturned, some shards… all quite difficult recoveries if, for the sake of cleanup, that’s what’ll happen. It’s hard to guess at this point, since there are so many other priorities for the land-based damage. I feel like a novel based on the secrets that the mangroves will envelope will be on our shelves shortly- SOMEone will be inspired to write that!

For the mangroves themselves, I was happy to see a bit of green within the intricate networks of dead-looking branches. They’re coming back! And thank goodness for that, since they’re such a valuable ecosystem here. I didn’t spot any nudibranchs (my favorite mangrove denizens), and apart from a bunch of upside-down jellyfish, we didn’t scout too much in the way of sea life. The grasses were still and quiet, with a piece of roofing or siding folded into the bottom here and there. The new Abaconian decor.

Once we greet our batteries this afternoon we’re off to a cruiser potluck at a local bar and restaurant. I’ve never met a more planning group of people than cruisers- there is always something going on. And it often involves beverages and food, which isn’t the worst thing to join forces for, I must admit.

Tomorrow we launch! It felt so good to float on the paddle board yesterday, I feel like a kid on Christmas Even with anticipation of how great it’ll be to be in the water. Until the splash!

Mondays. Kind of the same everywhere. Ugh. Schooling has been largely kid-driven thus far, and surprisingly so- they’re one step ahead of my organizational prowess at the moment, since our gear has been so scattered until a couple of days ago. Now that we’re aboard and things are where they properly live, schooling things are easy access and I have no excuses but to bring my School Marm A-game. So.. ugh. For now I’ll enjoy my hot coffee, and the fact that they’re still snoozing.

No surprises on the Chickadee crew front, the weekend was a busy one. While prepping the bottom for paint, Andy found a crack on the keel, and spent more time grinding and fiberglassing. We thought we’d have put that chore to bed, but alas, always surprises. Thankfully the crack wasn’t deep, and didn’t even near the very-beefy glass on the structure itself, so his repair was easy. He then painted the bottom (sans keel until he puts the faring compound on), and it looks super sharp. A new waterline to account for a cruising family and all of our junk looks much better than it did. Can’t wait to see it in the water. Today a fiberglass and gelcoat whiz with fancy tools will come and spray our boot stripe on the starboard side, and then a hull buff is in order. And fin! That’ll be it for the hull repair. 

In the mean time, halyards and sheets have been run, Andy installed our new bank manager (for house battery monitoring), I mucked out the final hadn’t-yet-been-cleaned space behind the stove, we’ve sorted lines for cleaning and storage, and our Underway Project shelf is orderly and ready to go. 

We also managed some socialization and fun, in the form of dinners with friends, an exhausting-but-holy-cow-so-satisfying beach clean-up with about thirty people, and plenty of time at the beach not hauling splintered boards with nails in them. 

Yesterday Lily participated in her swim team’s aquathon from afar, which was an ordeal. She raised pledge money, and her goal was to swim 160 laps (of 25 yards) in ninety minutes. We started off doing what we did last year- measured off a stretch of beach with markers at the ends, and had her go back and forth without the luxury of flip turns, but with the added bonus of potentially seeing plenty of sea life. We opted for a leeward section of Gillam Bay, though the weekend’s winds hadn’t yet died down, so the semi-frequent rollers wrapping around the nearby point made for some interesting laps. I stood at one end and had V at the other, so she’d be able to get as close to a straight line as possible, and also to check the scene for incoming sea life. At lap 52 we had a visitor in the form of a very large (3’ wingspan) Southern stingray, and when I called out to her, she scrambled out faster than I’d ever seen her move. In areas where dive and tour boats feed them, they can be quite social, so we waded  back out to see if it’d come bump our ankles, but instead it proceeded to bury itself smack in the middle of Lily’s ‘lane’, which would have been a painful scene if a kick landed too low. Any further out and the waves were too much, and any closer in was too shallow- we had to wait. And wait. And… we gave up, and went to the only functioning pool on the island to finish up. Also salt water and still blowing quite a bit, by the time she saw 160 laps, she was so salt-saturated and exhausted, Diana Nyad would have been proud. We’re all glad it’s over!

Three more days until batteries and refrigeration! (But who’s counting?)