Aboard Chickadee, and couldn’t be more excited. Andy and I arrived at the boat yard yesterday afternoon for a quick trip to get the boat put together ahead of our trip with the girls next month. It’ll help get us ‘out of the barn’ faster when we arrive, and it’ll also give us time to work on any small projects we want to conquer. So continues the new era of weaving time aboard our beloved Chickadee into our very filled and crazy schedules. Ducking between swim meets and work and board obligations, we’ve found a couple of windows to make it work, and it’s worth every effort, we’ve all come to realize. We all miss our long winters so much. Lily yearns for the Exumas, (as do I), and we’ve [barely] come to grips with the fact that that will be in the next phase, when they’re out of school and when Andy and I are retired and sailing more full time. In planning and theory, it feels like lightyears away, but the reality of already having a senior in high school has reminded me that it’ll actually be here in the blink of an eye.
The first task upon arrival is to unwrap the boat, since we leave the boat covered with a tarp over the companionway, and then the entire boat with a sunshade cover, meticulously wire-tying it down to a thousand points on deck. Over the years we’ve felt like it’s kept the deck cleaner, but also the interior cooler, which makes a big difference when you’re storing so many things in such a small space for a long Bahamian summer. Once we un-snip, fold up and label the pieces of the sunshade, we’re in, which means picking our way through the cabin filled with halyards, jerry cans, our dinghy outboard, cushions, sails, etc. etc. Hatches are opened, and the game of Tetris begins, and I must say, I find myself grinning ear to ear all the while.
I feel like a kid in a candy store, working with rote memory of necessary tasks, smelling familiar smells, unpacking this in ‘this’ direction in order to be able to get to ‘that’ item with which to do ‘that’ particular job. Solar panels on, bilge cleaned out, water tanks filled, decked and cockpit washed off, rigging items up, salon items out of the v-berth, fridge wiped out. It’s tactical and fun and also gets easier every year as we perfect our stowage and ‘put-away’ routines upon exit.
Since the ferry dropped us off right at the yard, our quick trip to the store in town for coffee and a few snacks gave us the island overview we love every year upon our return. We get to see which building projects have finished (this category is almost always empty), which have stopped altogether (the bulk), and which houses and businesses are still plugging along, getting closer to their new faces since Dorian wiped out their old. There were new pop-up shops and convenience stores here and there, and this time a new Conch Salad stand, which we’ll definitely be hitting up at some point on this trip.
We had dinner at a familiar spot in town, caught up with the owner and his summertime activities, and then came home to fall into our bunk with bellies full of cracked conch, and, ahem, some rum.
Not having the girls here is definitely odd, and as I sip my coffee in the salon I find myself looking at their stateroom door, waiting for Lily’s head to pop out and wonder what’s for breakfast. (“Coffee” would be my only offer this time around, so she’d be disappointed.) Having ‘the band back together’ in February will be a special time, since it’ll be our last winter trip with the four of us for a while, considering Lily will be in college next year and the break schedules will likely be tough to navigate. Gah! How is that possible?
Being here is flooding us with memories of the girls onboard. Playing their hide and seek game at anchor with the green piece of glass they’d found: they’d hide it for one another in the sand under the boat, just enough peeking out so the seeker could see a glint. Worlds built on beaches, cafes created with the finest of sea grape tacos and salt water sodas, friends made on remote islands, movie nights squeezed into the settee, dominos on the cockpit floor while sailing along the bank… holy cow we are all so lucky.
And also so grateful. I’m here for piling on more memories, even if we have to work a bit harder for them these days. But first for now, we’re off to rig the main.