Month: January 2019

Tucked into the ‘nosebleed’ section of Atlantis’ marina (we have yet to measure the walk to the marina office or the actual resort beyond, but from the burn of my legs after 5 or 6 trips back and forth yesterday, I’d say it’s a haul-plus 1 mile), I’m being blinded by the light reflecting off of the three massive decks of a 200-something foot yacht as it slowly creeps out of the harbor. Such is life in this place. So much opulence to ogle in the marina, and so much amusing people-watching just about everywhere else.  After sailing in virtual solitude for almost thirty hours, the contrast here was head-spinning to start. We went from quiet moments in the cockpit as we made great way with 10-15 kts on a broad reach to thousands of cruise ship passengers vying for machines and tables in the casino. Eyes on sticks, all of us.

Our passage was logistically uneventful (as we like them) but perfect weather for sailing, and we made great time. Violet slept for half of it – apparently the ‘anti-gravity’ chamber of the V berth in the swells is not a bother for that one- but per usual we did a lot of reading, eating and napping. Three of my favorites things to do in any locale, but put them on a boat and BOOM! Heaven.

We’ll spend a few nights here to maximize water park/resort adventuring, and we’re already off to a good start. While it rained yesterday the kids ran this way and that and managed to take care of the plan of attack that they all chattered about on the crossing. Underway, they kept listing names of slides and ‘rides’ and what order they were going to do them. (The fact that they can remember these slides’ names and whips and turns in detail from last year and yet still forget to not leave their clothes on the floor instead of putting them where they belong blows the mind, really, but I digress..) Andy, Susanne and I meanwhile rolled umbrellas together and made as dry of an oasis as we could for keeping our drinks out of the rain. Pro tip: the more you drink, the less the rain matters.

Though our bodies ached with exhaustion from the late watch hours of the passage and the multiple dock walks, we couldn’t resist the pull of activity on a Saturday night at Atlantis, so after dinner we walked in once more. After the kids dropped [their own, thankfully] cash at the $1 billion dollars-a-pound candy store, we met a junkanoo parade coming through the marina village. We then wandered some more, and happened upon an arcade for the kids, which is a great babysitter for anyone else living in the sticks who doesn’t yet know of this option. Well worth the extra push, and we’ve all slept like rocks (V still ‘rocking’ it), which will gear us up for a fun-filled Sunday, no doubt.

Violet, while assessing the day’s leg flesh wounds last night, said “Hey Mom! My scrape looks like a farm field! And.. my knee scab just looks like a blood pit.” A little insight to V’s funny and constant commentary, and I’m just so glad that she’s discussing the matter on the clean sheets that took me a full twenty minutes to change. (We store the stand-up paddle board at their feet before we get to the Bahamas, so wrestling that sucker out of there was only part of the fun…) That said, the days preceding the wound inventory were full, and we’re so glad that we had a chance to stop in Ft. Lauderdale for two nights. We have the wonderful fortune of having incredible people folded into our lives from times and places of our past, and this particular city’s cache of fine folk was great to visit with, if only briefly.

I type as a rainstorm passes over and washes the deck of the day’s salt spray, while also soaking the beach towels that I just hung on the rail. Win-lose on that one. Anchored just west of South Beach, we motored this morning with some wind on the nose (hence the salty deck), and we’re now poised to start our crossing after this front passes later tonight.

While Andy and Dan went to refill jerry cans of diesel, Susanne and I took the kids to the beach that we’re anchored off of, and they had their first sand extravangaza. It did not disappoint, despite the overcast skies and threat of rain. They swam, made a house in the trees with driftwood, dug giant holes, tried out a new skim board, and easily fell back into their routines. Looking forward to continuing the process with fewer high-rises in the distance!

After we eat dinner we’ll hoist anchor and make our way out and across for our ~30 hour journey to Nassua. For now though, we’ll take in the sights and sounds of Miami: boats and jet skis whizzing by, the tuba baseline of some banda music playing from a nearby day tripper, transatlantic planes making their steady approach into Miami International, and the rain on the bimini above.

More from the Bahamas soon!

After falling asleep last night with every long-sleeved item and blanket available onboard, we awoke to 39 degrees and bodies sore from shivering. A friend on a boat on the west coast texted a few days ago with a photo of himself at the helm bundled up with the caption  “Come to Florida they said. It’ll be warm they said.”, and it’s been our tongue-in-cheek mantra every time the thermometer has dipped below 60 and we find our easily-thinned blood complaining. But 39 onboard! I mean, really, BRR. I can’t wait to forget what it’s like to be cold, hopefully in just a few short days.

We cast off from Stuart this morning and had our usual steam down the ICW. The waterway holds much the same for activity and sights as we’ve seen in year’s past: intensive osprey watching on the mangroved banks of the barrier islands to the north of Jupiter, followed by glittering houses devoid of human existence, polished boats on each dock, and increased boat traffic with each southern bridge met and ducked under. Due to the opening schedule of each bridge (some on the hour/half hour, some on the quarter) and the distance between each, we’re often racing to make the openings. The spacing seems fairly in line with our average motoring speed, so that’s helpful, but a wind direction or current against us can spell timing doom. Missing them means waiting up to a half an hour each time, circling to navigate the current, nearby docks and other waiting vessels, so we do our best to haul buns from bridge to bridge.

We try not to ‘run the ditch’ on weekends so as to avoid the hulabaloo and shananigans of the hundreds of day trippers, but surprisingly on this holiday Monday it wasn’t too crowded ( a hint as to why, perhaps: it was FREEZING). Only a couple of wakes to shake a fist at, though I noticed that our captain didn’t put up too much of a stink. It could be that his fist was frozen. (The thermometer says that the temps have increased to 65, but I’m not buying it. (It’s probably frozen.))

Speaking of said captain, while the girls and I have been playing (and sometimes schooling), his ambitious work list has already had a huge dent put into it. A new engine room blower, new engine panel in the cockpit, a USB port in the cockpit, a new electrical panel and wiring clean up in a packed locker to accommodate the wiring and install of our new AIS transponder, dorade replacements, fan replacement, a new switch for the shower sump, splicing our new jib sheets, and still to come, a holding tank vent, replacing the glass in the forward ports, installing the fin for our outboard (to hopefully get us planing faster), and no doubt dozens of other things. Lest you think I’m sitting around and watching, be assured that I am, in fact, sitting around watching. My list includes the daily feeding and educating of our kids, which is of course no less important, but farther from the satisfying ‘check this off the list’ sort of task.

Truth be told, I have yet to wrap my head around the compilation of what I want the schooling to look like this year, which will be a mash-up of ‘assigned’ work from teachers at Pemetic tied in with the myriad options of boat living/learning infusion. Lily’s recent study of the planets, seasons, moon phases and such will tie easily into a study of weather and a better understanding of the tides. Obviously, this will help to understand navigational choices we make, which is something both of the girls are growing more and more interested in figuring out. Time will tell how any cohesive plan shakes out.

We’re anchored now across the channel from one of West Palm’s city piers (or IN the channel, as my AIS-snooping father would like to think), and after a delicious meal with friends that we were graciously chauffeured to and from (with a pit stop at the market on the way home!), we’re tucked in before our second long day on the waterway tomorrow. It’s the first night anchored amidst the ‘city lights’, which is always exciting, and it also marks the first night where the dang east coast railway isn’t blasting a train whistle within spitting distance of the boat. We have plenty of markers that seem to correspond with our relaxation and increased enjoyment of the trip as we make our way south and east, and creating distance between ourselves and that train is definitely one of them! (Another is being able to see all of the rungs of the swim ladder, so onward for warmth, for quiet, and for clear water!)

As fate would have it, we are settled into the ‘Captain’s Quarters’ (aka living room/lounge) at our marina here in Stuart and I am tucking into my first 1000 piece puzzle after a two week drought. (Nerd alert- I get it, but I do long for a boat large enough to have a puzzle going to continue my ‘off-season’ hobby!) We spent the day at the pool here, and we went home for dinner only to return for the amenities. Violet is helping me with the puzzle and Lily is knitting while Andy watches a game on the TV in here.. my kind of Sunday.

We left Indiantown on Friday and had a successful Day One on the Okeechobee Waterway, followed by a night at the St. Lucie Lock Campground, just west of the lock itself. They have six slips there alongside the campground, and a boat ramp as well, so Saturday morning proved to be most entertaining and eardrum shattering as the cigarette boats launched one at a time over the course of an hour. At one point the waterway was roiling with little boats, large outboards and noise noise NOISE. I got a hint of the Grinch’s plight, though I didn’t dare steal any of their stuff to show my true feelings. Instead we just watched from the cockpit, dumbfounded as they roared away down the waterway toward Lake Okeechobee, likely scaring any fish and alligators out of their shorts on their way.

We made our way (quietly!) through the Lock and into Stuart, where our favored spot was packed and offered no mooring for us. We moved on to a nearby marina, and the heated pool and now its ‘Captain’s Lounge’ have proven pretty invaluable for a good weekend’s play while we wait for this front to pass.

Lily and I went for a great walk today after having what I would consider the perfect Sunday morning- waking early to rain pounding the boat, only to fall back asleep as cozy as can be, only to wake again 30 minutes later and repeat the cycle. I’ve always said that I was a cat in my former life due in part to my inclination to small cozy spots, but I was clearly a cat who really liked hearing the rainfall as I slept. Plus, free wash down! (Minus: deck fittings that leak in the galley!)

After our exploration of downtown Stuart and the Sunday Green Market, we came back to the boat for round two of pruning the kids in the pool. They swam for almost 5 hours, which seems insane, especially factoring in that they’re still awake after all of that.

Back to the puzzle! It might be a long night.

Indiantown Marina has proven to be a magical realm: we pulled in earlier this week with two children who had perfected the mantra of “I’ll drop my things right where I’m finished with them, thank you very much. In the middle of the hallway? Eh, it won’t bother me.”. A day into our time here, and the second most-asked question I’ve received is “What can I do to help?”. (The number one non-question that ultimately ends in a silent-but-assumed question will of course forever be “I’m hungry..” (What are you going to feed me?))

At first I was so shocked I thought I was on camera, part of the new movie, but as the question persisted I warmed up to the idea of… child labor. SO, so great, child labor. And free! (But I should note that I’m preeetty sure you should only feel that way if it’s involving your own kids.) They have helped wash the boat, inventory the med kit, fold laundry, DO the laundry, put away provisions, make dumpster runs every time I ask without complaint, stow their things and tidy their cabin, and Lily’s assistance on the last major grocery shop today was invaluable. Kids! Not just for feeding anymore!

I’m just hoping that whatever crazy pact they must have made with each other covers at least the next ten years, and doesn’t end with a practical joke played on their parents. Even still, it’d probably be worth it.

 

We’re toying with the idea of leaving the marina tomorrow, though we still have a fairly hefty list to accomplish before we shove off. It would be nice to clear this first ‘obstacle’ and leave the nest. Having the car and the option to make ‘just one more’ run to West Marine or Publix is hard to pull away from, but I’m ready to get into clear water!

Meanwhile, Alex has lent the kids his hover board to use, so while we figure it all out they are slowly ramping up their own excitement levels. (And ramping down number of knee skin cells.)

Time will tell, and if we can get moving early I’ll report on our next locale soon!

Arrival! Launch! Exhaustion!

We arrived at the boatyard at 9am on Monday, and a mere thirty hours after our initial greeting, we splashed down yesterday afternoon.  I’ve  never seen anyone sand and bottom paint a boat as fast as Andy did, which is good, since it left him more time to prep everything while I wafted uselessly between car bins and bags and piles left stored onboard. (I also cleaned a few things.)

The boat was in great shape – as clean as we’ve see it upon return – and both the interior detail (moi) and the exterior cleaning (Andy and sort-of Lily) went swiftly, without any major critter evictions. (One anole was kicked out from under the forward hatch, but he didn’t put up a fight.) We ticked down our to-do list as the days went on: we hoisted the dinghy off of the bow, cleaned it, and put back in its winter ‘garage’ on the davits, cushions were put back together (a task which I greatly underestimated the time and strength, both mental and physical – you’re saints for doing it in year’s past without complaint, Andy and then Steve!), shopping lists were made, systems were checked, shaft zinc replaced, and days’ tasks were laid out. It’s amazing how much easier it is to stick to a job and complete it now that the kids are old enough to make their way around the yard without our constant attention.

With the Ruach kids (and Susanne’s gracious facilitation) the kids had lemonade stands both Monday and Tuesday, so our efforts onboard were even rewarded with lemonade delivery (for the family discount of 50 cents a cup). The kids roam the boatyard like a foursome of scraggly Eloises. They peruse the free table a few times a day for any potential treasures, check in with Jessie and Alex (the yard workers who run the travel lift and move boats) to see about area of assistance and to get the lemonade sales going, pop into the office for popsicles, purchased with their newly pocketed lemonade cash, and generally scamper and skibble around like the band of exploratory latchkey kids that they are. It’s a pretty great scene for everyone involved, if I do say so myself. They’re imaginative (they’ve already started filming their second annual movie), they’re active, reports are that they’re polite (but do I really believe this?!), and they’re back together again. Good stuff.

We’re headed back to Indiantown as I type, after three nights of staying in Stuart while we worked onboard. We only meant to stay two, but we forgot to bug bomb (a necessary evil despite no real visible problems) the boat on Monday night, which meant that it happened last night instead, and today is the day that will have us unpacking the car, finally. (I didn’t want to stow our belongings onboard to have them exposed to the ‘bomb’ before now.) I’m ready to drive around without things packed around my legs!

It also means today is the day that we organize the storage under the berths in order to make them up for sleeping tonight, and if time, getting a jump on provisioning. I’ll enjoy one of my favorite stretches of Floridian driving (the last ten miles north of Indiantown coming from Stuart) to mentally prepare- it’s going to be a long one!

An update from the road:

-Lily swam like the champ she is during her meet yesterday!

-It’s been precipitating since yesterday around 7 (snow last night, though thankfully not sticking to the treated roads), and now plenty of rain here in NC.

-We went down the DelMarVa peninsula to stay as far east as possible last night (SALVio storm navigation in full effect), and the trip over/through the Chesapeake Bridge/Tunnel prompted some interesting research. $200m to build it in 1964- what a bargain for a 17 mile, two-canal span!

-We ate leftover licorice for first breakfast.

-Second breakfast was our traditional Waffle House stop, where I had approximately $8 worth of pecans in my $2 waffle. The server called Andy ‘Honey Buns’, which increased the value of our meal even more.

-Haircuts were planned for all in Stuart, but Violet’s has moved from want to need in short order, after car and bed thrashing sans easily accessible hairbrush brought her resident hair rats home.

-Stuart tonight, Chickadee tomorrow!

After a whirlwind of weeks that included birthdays, holidays, houseguests, mini trips, basketball games, swim meets, piano lessons, art classes and work projects and deadlines, we find ourselves once again crammed in the car heading southbound!

While the temperature reads 8 degrees at the moment, I can’t say that I’m sad to be heading somewhere with a lot more degrees in the near future. While the snow is beautiful and all of us love playing in it, you know what else is nice? Warm sand. And face skin that doesn’t hurt on windy walks. (I will miss my brown walking companion, however. The boat isn’t quite big enough for our Olive, so she’s luxuriating in her winter home with her winter family.)

Andy and I are semi-mute on this first leg, trying to process what we’ve likely forgotten and the subsequent ramifications, and also a slow unfurling of mental lists of tasks left to do both remotely for work, and physically on Chickadee in a few short days. When we’ve cleared the state line and have a bit of distance under our belt I’ll grab a pad and become our scribe, putting ideas to paper to formulate the best plan of attack for our work upon arrival.

This is the first year where Andy didn’t go down ahead of time to do major projects on the boat, and while that had some cost savings for us, it increases the work load and stress level to know that the magic ‘boat put together fairy’ isn’t going to have the dodger up, large items stored and dealt with, the cushions wrangled back into their very complicated slip covers and the general time-consuming drudgery of waking our sleeping girl up.

First stop for us is only a ‘hop’ down the road; we’ll stay in Portland tonight so that Lily can swim in a meet tomorrow morning nearby.  We’ll then pack Torpedo Allen into the car and point our nose to Indiantown. Here’s to hoping we make it to the hotel’s free happy hour in time!