January 2020 – Have Wind Will Travel

I have a confession to make. I have a phobia—thalassophobia—or a unique form of it, perhaps. Where Thalassophobia is the fear of what lies beneath you in a vast, deep body of water like the ocean, mine is limited to shallow bodies of water when the water is dark or murky and I cannot see what’s on the bottom. I think the fact that the bottom is closer to me, 20 feet or less, is what scares me more than the deep ocean, because the dark creatures below are now within striking distance! What the heck is down there? This guy?

I don’t know. Because I can’t see the bottom! And, I’m way too creative to not start imagining all kinds of monstrosities awaiting me there.

And, I say my phobia is different because I have swam in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean and nothing about it frightened me.

In the ocean, I guess I feel like whatever is down there is likely way, way, waaaayyy down there. I’ll have plenty of time to see that monster coming to crawl back onto the boat. But, when the bottom is just ten or so feet down, I have no hope of escaping. I’m only one tail/tentacle flap away from that guy!

What’s worse? If I can feel the murky, muddy, unknown bottom on my feet but I can’t see it. Bwwwummhhhuuh. I just had goosebumps flow through me thinking about that. When my feet start sinking into a murky bottom, I flip the heck out! Here’s what it probably looks like down there:

Here’s what I see down there.

Imagine stepping on this guy …

I have often been seen swimming, fully horizontal, in two-feet of water all the way to the shore because I don’t want to walk on the bottom. Is anyone with me on this? Am I crazy? Wait … Don’t answer that …

But, I mention the phobia to share one fantastic victory! My dive into the Blue Hole at Hoffman’s Cay in the Bahamas!

Just you wait. The real-live footage of my phobia is hilarious. After Phillip and I finally found our flanges while replacing our raw water impeller, got the engine put back together, and found me a suitable shower shoe, albeit it non-Croc, it was time for us to shove off and leave Great Harbour Cay for the first time in six months. Our baby girl had weathered exceptionally well there, even as Hurricane Dorian raged just over head, and it was time to reward her with another awesome cruising season! Phillip and I had been looking forward to flying back to the boat for months, and it was all for this moment! When we finally got our baby girl moving again! Oh, and when I could wear bikinis all day every day for months! Whoo-freaking-whoo! Captain Annie even de-docked us like a boss and we headed out the very narrow cut into Great Harbour Cay that kept Plaintiff’s Rest so well protected this past season.

Being out, the boat moving, the sails filled, for the first time in six months was exhilarating. You know what this calls for … That’s right. Sailing selfies!!

We sailed around the north tip of Little Stirrup Cay—which, now as Carnival Island’s “Coco Cay,” is sadly a monstrosity in the beautiful Berry Islands—in between four massive cruise ships. As I’ve mentioned before, we are not a fan of Coco Cay.

But, we had read great things about the anchorage between Devil’s Cay and Hoffman’s Cay just south of the Stirrup Cays, called “Devils-Hoffman” in the Explorer charts, including a pristine little Blue Hole in the middle of Hoffman’s Cay. Here is a map of the Berries showing the location of Devil’s Cay, which is just south of Hoffman’s Cay.

And, here is the Blue Hole on Hoffman’s. I mean, look how cool that is!

A place where the Earth just fell away, leaving behind a seemingly-perfect blue sphere of mysteries! Phillip and I were determined to find it, jump it, and call ourselves Blue Hole Champions! I think they give out little rings afterward that you can all clink together and say “Our powers combined, we are Captain Blue Hole!” or something along those lines. Just for fun : )

I used to love that show. Maybe if it had been more popular, we’d all be in better shape now. Captain Planet aside, Phillip and I had a great little motor-sail from Great Harbour Cay down to Devil’s-Hoffman. The winds were light and we knew we needed to run the engine a bit to get her legs stretched out. The guidebooks also did not disappoint. Devil’s-Hoffman offered a beautiful secure little anchorage that was easy to navigate with plenty of depth. Plaintiff’s Rest seemed incredibly happy to be off the dock and floating free on her hook.

And, Phillip and I were excited to pump up our dinghy, Dicta, for the first time this season and get to shore to find this mesmerizing Blue Hole!

From the overhead view, you would think this hole would be super easy to find, right? Right in the middle of the island where all the trees and brush just fall away? One would think. It was not. There weren’t any signs or indications that we could find on how to find it. We started on a spit of sand on the eastern shore, ducking into different paths or openings in the thick brush, striking out left and right.

I even climbed a tree to try to look up and out to find the hole, with no luck. After a half hour of hiking around on the east side, we decided to hop back in the dinghy and cruise around to the south shore to try there. Our first few path attempts, we struck out again. With the setting sun on our heels, we were about to leave feeling disheartened and unaccomplished, until Phillip saw a little opening on the left side of the south beach. As we began to follow that along, it seemed clear this was finally it … THE TRAIL to the Blue Hole. And, turns out, it was! We turned a corner, the thick brush finally fell away, and there she was. The infamous Blue Hole.

With all the talk of this Blue Hole and our tremendous efforts to find it, I knew I had to jump in. Which, in and of itself has never been a problem for me. I’m an avid cliff diver.

But, I did not know this Blue Hole would trigger my murky-bottom version of Thalassophobia. When we looked over the edge, however, and saw the hole, I could see that there was a bottom, I just couldn’t make out what was down there. My brain said: “Where’s that phobia switch? Oh, there it is. Flick ” And I said: *GULP* Seriously, look at my expression. Does that look like a face of courage to you?

But, I was going to be brave. I’d talked a big blue-hole game. Phillip and I had overcome big hurdles to get here. I was not going to let my phobia stop me. Despite knowing monsters like this were down there …

… don’t try to convince me otherwise, I know they are … I dove anyway! There she goes!

But, to prove my phobia is real, I’m so glad Phillip filmed this bit. Listen closely to what I tell Phillip when I’m swimming back to shore.

PHOBIA ANNIE: “I don’t know what’s down there. I’m gonna swim fast.”

PHILLIP: “What do you think’s down there?”

PHOBIA ANNIE: “I don’t know!” (said with fear)

I crack myself up watching that. Phillip dipped in next and just swam around all leisure like.

Where Phillip lounges …

I swim like a maniac trying to get out.

I even dove with my flip flops in hand because I didn’t want to have to walk on any creepy murky bottom on the way out that might freak me out. But, by-golly I did it!

I DOVE THAT HOLE!!!

Now, where’s my ring? Ha! Now, tell me, do any of you out there think you have this phobia? If so, is it the deep version or the shallow, like mine? And, who has dove the Blue Hole at Devil’s-Hoffman?

Next up, we’ll share a fun little problem we had with our transducer. I mean who really needs a depth gage in the Bahamas? Pssshhh … That’s child’s play! When Phillip asked me “What’s the depth, Captain Annie?” I said …

November 9, 2019 – Great Harbour Cay, Bahamas:

[Spoken in a thick Aussie accent] There I was … standing on the precipice, knowing it was going to be a gnarly journey across treacherous waters and an even more unforgiving landscape once I reached the other side. But, he was out there, baiting me, challenging me … one wild and unpredictable Croc!

Okay, I know, it’s not an actual scary crocodile, but do you know what IS scarier than a crocodile? Whatever the heck is crawling around on this floor that I have nightmares will crawl under my toenails grow roots out if I don’t wear shower shoes.

And, it just so happens my shower shoes were Crocs. These cute little flamingo-themed croc flops that aren’t nearly as bad as the original Croc, which I both refuse to (and cannot) wear. Seriously, the first few times I tried to wear the iconic platypus style when they were a wild hot rage 15 years ago, that bulbous toe would always stub the ground causing me to stumble, trip, even fall. Apologies in advance if any of you are Croc-lovers out there, but I’m going to go out on a limb and say many of these “Croc truths” are not wholly UN-true …

Jesus, those are funny. And, yes, they make them in heels.

Yes, they make them in the form of a cake.

They even make everyone wear them to weddings on the lake.

I’m not sure about this one, though? Truth or a Croc?

While I cannot do the platypus version, I did love my flamingo shower flops and they taught me a very important lesson. Maybe this should be Cruising Rule #78: When boarding a boat, never leave your flops on the dock. Why?

They’ll blow the heck away! Flops mostly, but boat shoes too, particularly if they are Crocs, which mine are! Don’t hate, mine are cute!

But, you know those things are made out of super-light NASA foam stuff that can never sink (and likely never biodegrade, unfortunately). While they are not recyclable either, I was at least pleased to find the company Crocs has partnered with a program, Soles 4 Souls, where you can donate your used Croc shoes back so Crocs can then distribute them to poverty-stricken countries for kids and adults who cannot afford shoes. At least there’s that.

Sadly I had broken Rule #78 that November day post-shower and one of my poor Croc-tastic shower flops blew off the dock and across the bay at Great Harbour Cay. I came back up after dropping my shower goodies down below and making a cocktail (because that’s the first thing you do post-shower!) to find only one lone flamingo flop left on the dock! But, Phillip and I did not fear, because those things float forever, right? We’d lost Crocs to the same plight before only to find them happily floating on the other side of the harbor the next day. As the sun was setting that evening, he and I both swore we saw a tiny little white spec across the harbor from our boat, so we eased merrily into the evening (and into round two of our ‘tails) assuring ourselves a quick Croc hunt in the morning would surely uncover my missing reptile.

Do you see a little white spec? We did! (Might have been the cocktails … )

So, the next morning, we lit up early and pumped up our awesome inflatable YOLO paddleboard on deck so I could paddle over to find that darned shoe! Phillip got me this paddleboard as a birthday gift (he’s kind of awesome that way) back in … gosh … 2014 I believe, and it’s been a real asset on the boat.

It’s a secondary vehicle to/from shore when we need it, a nice getaway from one another when we need a solitary “check-out” paddle, and even fun trying to surf it in light waves! We even patched it with G-Flex 3-4 years ago when it blew out a seam and that crazy fix has held ever since!

[Back to the Aussie accent] Pumped and prepared, off she went, rigid paddle in hand, eyes laser-focused on her target. As she muscled her way across the tumultuous, enemy-laden waters, her knuckles whitened and her muscles flexed. Hunter Annie was on a mission to wrangle a killer Croc on the uncharted eastern shore.

Yes, it was that dramatic. That was quite the paddle. I almost … broke a sweat! *gasp* I’m kidding. You sweat all the time in the Bahamas. From the minute you wake, until the sun goes down and you shower. It’s just part of it. Sadly, though I did make it safely across, I found no white flamingo-themed Croc on the lee shore. Whatever white spec Phillip and I had seen the night before was just that … a crock! I checked and overturned every white piece of anything I could find – pieces of Styrofoam, white tennis shoes, white take-out containers, you name it. But, no flamingo Croc. I did, however, find a spongy gem! Laid bare, all on its own, as if calling to me, was one lonely black Teva flop. It looked fairly new, sun-baked so I assumed it was clean, and just my size! Likely a men’s shoe from the look of it, but still just my size! Only problem was, I couldn’t recall which Croc flop I had lost … the right or the left? Hoping for the best, I tucked the black Teva under the bungee on my board and paddled my way back to the boat.

And, wouldn’t you know it …

The perfect pair! Ebony and ivory! These are, I kid you not, my shower shoes to this day. I get some funny looks sometimes on my way to/from the showers. But, if folks think me mismatching my shoes is the worst I did that day, then I believe I’m ahead of the game! And, I love a shoe with a story. I love anything that has a story.

The funny thing was, though, this tongue-in-cheek “croc hunt”—while not in actuality dangerous at all—did almost end in actual danger on the way back. So … I mentioned the inflatable paddleboard, right? And, the “enemy-laden waters.” I wasn’t kidding about that. Do you want to know what swims around in the Great Harbour Cay Marina?

Sharks. Plenty of them.

We were disheartened to find, about an hour after my paddle, our paddleboard wilting and sinking into the water behind the boat. Poor thing. She’d blown another seam But, she’d definitely done her job first. It gives me chills looking back thinking that paddleboard could have started deflating and sinking when I was still many yards from the boat and I would have been flailing around in those shark-ridden waters. *gulp* I know they say that sharks in the wild will likely ignore you if you’re not failing about, injured, or bleeding. But, I’m two out of three of those things on any given day, so I don’t want to test the theory. In all, I called the croc hunt a success as it restored my shower show pair, and we set to patching up the YOLO hoping she wouldn’t be any worse for the wear!

And, if I didn’t mention this I would be sorely amiss! That night on the boat Phillip whipped up pure bliss! Homemade meatloaf with spinach and mushrooms.