Since our time in Hope Town we’ve spent two nights anchored in shallow waters a short distance from fabulous beaches, which is becoming a rhythm that I could get used to.
The first night we were near Baker’s Rock off of Tahiti Beach on the southern end of Elbow Cay, and when I say shallow, I mean shallow. We had a whopping six inches to spare under our keel at low tide, a fun sight to dive to see.
We spent the day following the tide out onto the ever-increasing spit of sand that Tahiti Beach consists of, while the kids hunted for treasures in the surf, and made yet another beach house. They’ve really hit their beach house stride, I must say.
Yesterday our plan was to make a quick trip south to Sandy Cay, which is reportedly a great place for snorkeling and diving. En route we realized that the mooring field and nearby snorkeling area were a bit too rolly and rough for a safe and fun experience, so we kept going and dropped the hook off of Lynyard Cay, a private island with a fantastic beach for combing and swimming. Just after killing the engine the kids start vibrating with the sight of a new land to conquer and new potential houses to make, so the kayaks go over the side and poof! they’re off to explore while we old folks are left to get our butts into gear to follow. (Since the reward for doing so is sitting back on those butts in the sand, it’s not usually too difficult to motivate.) We now pack the bags with rote efficiency: beach blankets, sunscreen, water, books, kadima paddles, SNACKS (emphasized because it IS the most important piece), and our folding umbrella. One bag, the snorkel gear at-the-ready in the dinghy should the need arise, and so begins the unwinding from a busy morning of breakfast, schooling, work (both of us have remained pretty steadily busy with work projects, though we’re lucky to be able to do it all at odd hours and pieced together through the day), boat chores and pulling things back together after our sail/travel. Again, the rhythm of the days is an easy one to get accustomed to.
Our kids are so lucky. We’re so lucky. We just keep sighing this phrase to ourselves and to each other while we spent this uber-rich time together. Though the girls got into a bad routine early on (thanks to us, we are the first to admit) of defaulting to their Kindles while we furiously got the boat ready, an activity that they often forget is even an option at home, the crackdown of screen time per our normal order has led to the girls as they best function- creating constant scenes of imaginative play here, there and everywhere, which, on a boat, means in the rigging, in the head (I wish this was a joke), and everywhere in between. Our gratitude extends to the friends they keep- our Ruach family has kids in sync with ours, and the eavesdropping we’re able to do on their house-creating worlds has been endearing, to say the least. We are teaching Lily to play cribbage, our Chutes and Ladders gaming has been intense, and dinner prep has begun a time for a United States quiz game (quiz me all you want, I can’t seem to dedicate to memory which states border Missouri). THIS is the thing of it: does winter get better than this for a family whose summertime life is scattered chaos?!
Late this morning we steamed into Little Harbor and picked up a mooring, just to change scenery since we woke to rain, and the skies (though not the forecast, strangely enough) indicated that we wouldn’t be getting much variety for the rest of the day. On a ‘hooray, rain!’ note, after the initial downpour which washed the salt and any residual ick off of the decks, we started collecting water off of the bimini by pulling the edges to catch in bowls. Ayuh. The Squatleys strike again.
Though it was a new experience to milk our bimini, it was also a great time for the kids to learn about how precious fresh water was, and the lengths that we’d potentially have to go to get it if the need was dire. (By the end of today with our ace catchment system, we estimated that we’d put about 3-4 gallons of water in our tanks- that’s a $0.75-$1.00 savings down here-boom!) Chickadee holds 71 gallons in tankage and we carry an extra 10 gallons in jerry cans on deck, plus two 5 gallon sun showers as well; we’re stingy on usage and can stretch our stores for quite a long time, but it was good to help the girls to understand that it’s a process that we continuously think about, even if it seems free and easy.
On a usage note, the girls have each tried their hand at washing the dishes, but the system that Andy and I have is a tough one to follow, especially with one of us watching over and cringing when we hear the pressure pump come on too often in one go. We wash and rinse in salt water (we have a foot pump in the galley), and then make a game of rinsing a vessel in fresh and then passing it on to the next item, swishing until you need to re-up from the faucet. It’s sick, really, and it’s more for the benefit of the Who Uses Less Water game than anything else. (For the record, it’s me, but Andy will no doubt say otherwise.) Like I said, we stretch our water out like nutters.
Once in Little Harbor we cozied up for a bit more rain (and water catching), and Half Ass Builders was aboard installing a new shelf and fiddle under our bunk and also the bungy cord for the girls’ book shelf/rail in their cabin. The creator and proprietor of Half Ass, one Andrew Allen, claimed that today’s efforts may have even been Three-Quarter, to which I whole heartedly agree. Steppin’ on up. (But not on the shelf- it’s not that strong.)
