After a day’s journey across the banks and an evening and morning spent crossing the Gulf Stream, we dropped anchor here in West Palm yesterday around noon. We sailed for much of the day and evening on the bank, which was a nice respite from the louder option of motor sailing, and when the wind shifted behind us and dropped, we began the motorsail across. The swells were large in the stream, but spaced out enough to be comfortable, and it was pretty uneventful all around. More bracelets were made, plenty of food was eaten, and Violet continued her Harry Potter series movie obsession.
The changes in three years are pretty remarkable. Lily, who originally hated heeling, doesn’t give any boat motion a second thought anymore (even within our first year). Her latest concern has been the actual crossing of the Gulf Stream, not for the factors that Andy and I take into place (jockeying with ships’ courses, current offsets, etc.), but because it’s too deep for her ten year old sensibilities. Having spent so much time sailing in 20 feet or less, the idea of ‘dropping off’ into the thousands is jarring to her. The good news is that she slept for the ‘drop off’, so that too was forgotten. These two little ladies have logged more off-shore hours in the past three years than I had until I was twenty, which is so awesome to me. They’re old hats now, and know the routines as well as we do; it seems to have firmly seeped into their bloodstreams. (This is clear too with their talks of their adulthood and what type of boat they’ll sail and where. (Lily also wants a farm, so I’m curious to see how these two manage one another..) I love these daydreams of theirs; I hope they have a stateroom for their aged parents to visit.)
Upon arrival we checked into customs and then decided to stay put for a night to plan our next steps and to recharge. Nearby Peanut Island was hopping with day-trippers, kayakers and paddlers, and we dinghied in toward the end of its chaos to enjoy the beach and do some people-watching while our brains attempted to acclimate to the culture shock. In the past months our daily outings showcased maybe twenty boats in the course of a day, sometimes fewer if we were somewhere more remote. Here, thousands. Hundreds docked, more moored, anchored, boats whizzing by on the Intercoastal, ships docking at the nearby port, pilot boats silently guiding, cruise ships loading… boats, people, activity, noise, boats,boats, everywhere. Icing on the cake was the funny but sad realization that for weeks we’d been enjoying intense sunsets over the horizon; last night it was over a power plant.
After the sun set Lily learned about halyards, and how, if you tie Puppy to one, you need to continue it down to the deck so that you can retrieve Puppy later. (She then learned about a lassoing technique to force the line down, and one more use of a gaff.) Once this lesson was absorbed, every stuffy on deck was sent to the first spreader to check out the harbor from a higher vantage point. (This whole event is ultimately what happens when you ask a kid to take the Q flag down because you don’t want to leave your cockpit martini and cribbage game after realizing that you forgot to take it down upon your return from Customs.)
After stuffy-flying fun, the girls climbed into the stack pack, an activity which we often poo poo since our particular pack has a thin framing dowel along the top, easily snappable by little clamoring bodies. (It also usually has a top piece that zips in, taking away its ‘fun’ depths for sitting.) We gave them this treat last night, and they were so overjoyed that they immediately began planning living the rest of their lives in the folds of the mainsail. We had to fetch them for dinner, and I’m sure that they would have slept up there as well if we’d allowed. The great news here is that it has become a new bargaining tool for school: a successful, whine-free day (it’s usually me whining for them to focus, if I’m being honest), and they could ride in the pack while we motored down the ditch. (Why didn’t I think of this earlier?!?!)
Our day of Allen shenanigans completed, it was a swift night’s sleep for this crew, and lovely memories in the bank to keep the ‘return blues’ at bay for just a bit longer.