I can hear the voices in my head again!

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.

Throughout our soaking trips ashore while being sand-blasted any time we were on the windward side of the island, we couldn’t stop thinking about what 200mph winds must have sounded like in the hurricane. Freight train-zilla, no doubt. And as the multiple turtles keep popping up next to the boat, getting sloshed by the white caps, it had us wondering how packed the mangroves must have been with animals hunkering for protection. I know that the barometric drop is a big alarm for them, but it’s hard to imagine that it wasn’t all a terrifying hustle, and a difficult shelter to find for those air-breathing sea creatures as well.

Dorian ‘stairs to now nowhere’ are an obvious podium for aria practice.

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.

They had just all walked another shark down the shore, but apparently it didn’t bother them enough to stay dry.

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.

One of two sailboats still ashore from the hurricane (this one 5′ from the road)- apparently a crane and barge are coming soon to fetch them. We were checking out its winches like the scavengers we apparently are.

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.

Tropical bleeding heart, or Flaming Glorybower Vine, one of my favorites down here.

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