Chickadee has flown the nest. After a hop ashore to the little farmer’s market in Hope Town, we had a short sail north to Man-O-War Cay yesterday. About a half a mile from the harbor entrance we had a nice puff of breeze that gave the shackle on the head of the jib a run for its money, and in the end, the wind won. As we noted on the remaining piece that came down, it’s amazing that it held out as long as it did, thin as it was…
Also en route I met our fifth crew member while hunting for whatever sound on deck has been plaguing me below during any movement recently. It sounds like a block or something somewhat heavy dragging and rolling, and alas, I still don’t know what it is, but when my eyes focused to look in the shallow area between the cockpit hatch slider and its housing, a pair of eyes were looking back at me. A frog. Looking pretty indifferent to my existence, remarkably.
We’ve named her Diane. Four hours into knowing her and we already had major family debates about how hungry she is and whether or not she should be given some lettuce. (Apparently my family doesn’t know what frogs eat, despite me telling me them about their carnivorous ways.) She likely came aboard in the boat yard in Green Turtle, so yes, probably hungry, but do I want to think about a squishy frog living aboard and ALSO its poop? Not really. Also don’t you think Diane would find Man-O-War to a nice place to live, and don’t you think she should go check it out RIGHT NOW? I do too. But instead she’s been staring a piece of lettuce all night long, wondering what her roommates are up to and where are all of the good bugs are.
Despite the shackle blow-out and the stowaway, we had a nice catch-up with our friends after we arrived, and then headed to the beach so that the girls could get some body-surfing and skimboarding while the surf was still frisky from the easterlies. Following that, thankfully they came back to swim in the harbor to offload the pounds of sand they collected during their adventures before coming back aboard.
A dinghy ride to town for a few groceries, some ice cream, and a look around (not much doing in MOW, usually, but it felt like even less this time around, somehow) before heading back to the boat to fix the jib. We sent Lily aloft to grab the halyard (thankfully the other piece of the shackle was still attached to keep it from slipping through the roller and down the mast), and then remarkably found just the spare we needed on a nearby boat that had stores for the taking (a Dorian ‘survivor’ that is essentially using the rest of its life for spares for others). Sail bent back on, lickety split.
Lily cracked her second coconut before dinner with friends (you know people know you well when they hear you’re coming and they hunt for a perfect coconut for your coconut-loving daughter to get into), and bam, a full day of Abaco-ing complete.
