I mean, with the name “Pensacola,” we had to at least stop and see. And then we decided December 25th it shall be! Merry Christmas in blog time followers! I hope you all are enjoying our Bahamas Voyage vicariously. Fun video and blog post for you below from our “holiday on the hook” at Pensacola Cay!
It is always so fun to go back through our photos and footage and share these stories with you. Pensacola Cay. We were destined for it, right? And boy what a beautiful little stop it was. Each island in the Abacos offered something unique and memorable. Pensacola afforded us the first stretch of clear beach and enough wind for kiting. So, it was the first time we kited on the Atlantic ocean. That is not something I’m likely to forget for a long, long time. This was our first kite spot!
For us, kiting is not just a hobby, it is a sort of freedom. As with the sailboat, you are moving, propelling forward actually, by the sheer virtue of the wind. You steer by skillfully working the kite and board together just as the boat does with the wind, keel, and rudder. It’s a powerful, sometimes frightening, but more often freeing, exciting feeling to know you are harnessing the wind. There’s no rumbling motor. No stinking fumes going into the air. Nothing but nature is moving you along.
Time for a jump-off! Annie …
Man, did you see that mega-hop?! I cleared like a foot and a half! Okay, now Phillip …
I think we have a clear winner! Man, Phillip can really fly. I’m still working on jumping. It’s just not something that is coming naturally to me. So far I can either launch and land a mega-hop (yeehaw!) or launch a huge leap and yard sale it at the end. I hate to say that kiting, just tacking back and forth and maneuvering the board without jumping, is so fun to me that I often don’t practice jumping as much as I should because it might mean I’ll lose my board, crash my kite, potentially end my session. “Over a silly jump?” my mind screams. “Nuh-uh, not this kiter!” But, I love that I can push myself to that goal anytime I want to and it’s always there: a fun, challenging reward if I attain it. This—the challenge, thrill, peacefulness, and simplicity, i.e., harnessing the wind to maneuver—along with, of course, the high-flying jumps and flips, is what draws us to kiting. And to look out the opening of that beautiful little cove at Pensacola Cay to see the Atlantic ocean! An enormous body of water that we crossed in a boat not much bigger than ours only one year ago, was a really cool feeling. Like everything is connected together—time, places, and people—by water. This was us on that same body of water, not so long ago!
The water in the Bahamas, however, while warmer than Pensacola’s mid- to low-sixties winter waters, was still a little chilly. Likely seventy degrees if I had to guess, along with air temps in the high sixties and low seventies. Definitely nice and cool for a day on the boat, but a little chilly to get wet and windy in just a bikini alone. Oh, you’re right, Phillip doesn’t always wear the bikini – ha! But we had brought all of our wet gear for this reason, so we donned what I call our “platypus suits” and didn’t let it stop us!
High fashion.
It was so “cold” there, Frosty came to join us!
I was kind of surprised by the landscape as well. Many of the cays in the Abacos are formed solely on limestone, so in some areas the only walkable shore is a jutty, jagged patch of very unforgiving limestone. Didn’t stop us from traversing it, but you definitely wanted to tread carefully!
We also often stumbled upon what we began to call “conch graveyards.” I, a very naive and silly Bahamian cruiser to begin with, thought all those conchs must have decided it was “their time,” so they huddled together and crawled to shore, a heaving pile of shell and slimy innards drying under the sun. I mean, how else would they all end up piled together in a collective, crumbling heap?
Yes, I know now (after the patient and kindly Phillip told me) they’re there because that is likely where a local fisherman harvested and cracked them. Ahhh … that makes more sense. A concher left them there. Yes, “conchers” are real in Annie Land. So is the blonde hair! Phillip is rather nice to put up with me. But, my very silly questions about all the intriguing things I always seem to find when we’re exploring definitely keep him entertained. As do these beautiful views. Just walking around the islands, making footprints in the sand, and picking up shells is one of our favorite pastimes.
I had thought about keeping this guy, but after holding him five minutes (which left a hand that stunk for five hours!), I decided he was never coming near our boat. Do you see that little brown dribble coming out of the bottom?
Yeah, he seemed empty when I picked him up. I mean there definitely was not a live squirmy conch in there when I peeked inside. But every time I sloshed water in and swished it out, more of this brown goo would come out and I’m sure it was his poor decaying body, but my God that stuff was potent. Sorry little man, but you’re staying with the other stinkies! We do not bring stench aboard Plaintiff’s Rest!
With “dollars” everywhere, we felt mighty rich! : )
It was also great to see our boat anchored out in the Sea of Abaco. After all the planning and prepping and work it took to get her there, it was like you could feel how happy she was to finally be floating in these beautiful green waters!
And, just our luck, a few billowing, beautiful clouds rolled in and brought us a refreshing rain storm. That’s right, for Christmas, we gave Plaintiff’s Rest a much-needed, well-deserved, indulgent freshwater rinse. I listened closely and could hear her singing during the storm. Do you know what she sang?
“Siiiiinging in the rain. I’m just siiiiinging in the rain! What a gloooorious feeling, I’m haaaaaapy again!” (That’s what she always sings when it rains ; ).
It was a well-timed, rather-welcomed rinse for the boat and all of our kite gear stacked up on the deck. And, the storm left behind a crystal clear sky for the sunset. It’s happy hour on our boat. Cheers!
And you know you’re living right when you watch the sun both set and rise every day:
I know, I know. Sunrises. Sunsets. Cocktails and bikinis. Yes, it really is just like that many days. When we’re not changing the oil on the boat, or cleaning the dinghy, or on a gas and provision run. It is paradise. Dozens of times over with each little cay you stop at in the Abacos. But, as I mentioned, each cay seemed to offer something unique that made it stand out in our memories and distinguish each cay from the other. Do you know what our favorite thing about Pensacola Cay was?
That’s right! The SIGNING TREE!! It was something Phillip had read about before we even got to the Abacos, some big tree on the back side of Pensacola Cay where boaters leave old buoys, or life rings, or pieces of driftwood (all kinds of creative nautical trinkets) often with their vessel name, the crew and the date written or painted on it.
It reminded me a lot of the sea wall at Azores which is covered with colorful paintings left behind by cruisers who have been there.
Some of the items hanging from the Signing Tree were very creative. One had a message in a bottle. Another, a carved silhouette of their boat. One, a toilet seat! I’m not kidding. And, from s/v Plaintiff’s Rest? Your very own signed copy of Salt of a Sailor, another one of my “traveling books.”
Phillip and I like to occasionally leave a book behind in a port or place where we hope one cruiser will read it then pass it along to another and another and another, so that the book gets to meet a lot of different people and see many different parts of the world. ”Go little book, go!” we often cry as we leave her behind.
“All you have to do is be a little brave and really resourceful. Happy cruising!” I wrote inside.
Then we triple-bagged her and hung her from the Signing Tree. I hope someone, somewhere, someday tells me they found the traveling Salt of a Sailor that we left at Pensacola Cay. What if the little books is still there when we go back? That would be fine too, but I’ll have to open it to see if folks are taking it to read, then putting it back! I put a little log in the front where people can leave a note with their vessel name and crew. So, it’s kind of like a “signing book” too.
We’re making some fantastic memories along the way. Hope you all enjoyed Pensacola Cay!
Next time, we’ll take you underwater on our very first colorful snorkel in the Bahamas! Stay tuned! glug, glug, glug … : )
“What’s in the Goombay Smash?” I asked the our dark-skinned Bahamian bartender.
“Well, first you start wit da coconut rum … ” she started in. When she finished, Phillip piped up:
“What’s in your Bahama Mama?” he asked.
“Well, first you start with da coconut rum … ” she rattled on again. Every drink it seems, in the Bahamas, “starts with the coconut rum.” And you have to say that with an “Island accent, Mon.” You can also probably guess Phillip and I said it plenty during the entire trip. Every happy hour began with us concurring: “First you start wit da coconut rum.”
Heck yeah! Cheers!
Ahoy followers. In HaveWind time, we have just entered the Bahamas. How cool is that? Last time we took you along on a beautiful, glassy passage across the Gulf Stream. Thankfully, we had a wonderful window open up for us which allowed a smooth two-day passage all the way from Key West to West End with winds of only 5 kts or less (albeit north) in the Stream.
Our decision to explore the northern Abacos first was both weather- and wind-dependent. We knew, right off the cusp of hurricane season, in December and January, that frequent north fronts pop up which are usually brief but intense, but the “Christmas Winds” (often 15-25 kts) definitely blow. Fellow cruisers (shout-out to BaBaLu if you see this Bob! : ) had told us the barrier islands in the northern Abacos offer many good anchorages and marinas, that could provide reliable protection during those frequent fronts. For this reason, rather than choosing to shoot straight across the Great Bahamas Bank first and head first for the more remote, spacious islands of the Berries and Exumas, we decided to ride the Stream as far north as we could (to West End) so we would enter the Bahamas near the Little Bahamas Bank and begin our exploration up north in the protected Abacos.
Here are some of the various routes cruisers often choose to traverse the Bahamas:
We also knew the first thing we would want once the winds started to blow, would be a nice stretch of beach on the Atlantic shore to allow us to tear up some ocean surf on our kites. The fact that we like when the wind blows 20-25 kts was one very big advantage for Phillip and I, because we did experience many, many, (many!) windy days in the Bahamas in December and January. If this was typical of a winter season there (which the locals seemed to say it was, albeit a bit colder and windier), then plan to have your wetsuits for winter water activities because the water was a bit cold (around 68 degrees once we got further north and into the Atlantic). And, as far as the wind goes, either make sure you have enough books and games to occupy you for those days spent on the boat or … just a suggestion … but you can always pick up kitesurfing!!! It’s never too late! Phillip and I had some wicked sessions in the Bahamas, that we cannot wait to share with you!
But, first, we must check in! There are only about two dozen places you can check in (i.e., clear customs) in the Bahamas. We chose West End because it was the furthest north point of entry. We were pleased to find the channel to West End was well-marked and easy to navigate. As you guys already probably know, Phillip and I always try to plan to enter a new port during the daytime, and we came in around 8:00 a.m., well after the sun had risen, so the channel was easy to spot using our Explorer Charts and Steve Dodge’s Guide to the Abacos. Highly recommend those. If you are planning a trip to the Bahamas, they’re the first thing you should buy and start studying.
The deck hands at West End were really nice, too, helping us get docked safe and sound and telling us everything we needed to know about the check-in process. It was really exciting to see our baby girl docked in the exotic (okay, exotic to meee) Bahamas for the first time! Just look at her!
The cruising permit for the Bahamas is $150 and allows the boat to stay in the islands for one year and you (the cruiser) are permitted to come and go for 90 days, then you have to renew if you are planning to stay longer. More info about the customs process and cruising permits if you are interested here. We found the check-in process to be super easy. They opened at 9:00 a.m. and it was just a quick 15-minute run-through, then we were stamped and official!
Our next chore (as it always is when we dock up after an offshore passage), was to wash the boat down. Even at $0.35/gal for the water at the marina, it was well worth it. Our baby was salty. But once clean, she was ready to proudly don her new colors! The brilliant yellow, blue and black of her Bahamian courtesy flag! See you later “Q!”
We really knew nothing about West End and found it to be a fantastic little quaint resort with a tiki bar and restaurants, beach games, poolside cabanas and music, surfboards and paddle boards all lined on the beach for you to play with and use on the stunning Atlantic coast.
What was the most important “toy” on the beach, though? These huge hammocks for napping!
Because boy did we. One goombay smash and a belly full of conch salad and this team was out!
“First you start wit da coconut rum … ”
“Add some tasty conch salad, yum … ”
“Then you’re out for the count, Mon!” ; )
That siesta will probably fall up there in one of my Top Ten favorite naps. Man, I may need to recount those some day, as a few are whirring through my mind right now. That would be a fun blog! Do you think you could recount your Top Ten siestas?
Our next big treat in West End was something we had both been looking forward to, you could literally say, for years. I’ll never forget Pam Wall’s energetic little booming voice when we first saw and heard her speak at the Miami Boat Show in February, 2015. “Go to the Bahamas!” she squealed. Visions of green waters, sea turtles and palm trees instantly filled my head. And Pam chimed back in with “Fill yourself with their fresh Bahamian bread!” Mmmmm … Phillip and I had been talking about that Bahamian bread ever since. Pam probably mentioned it 8-10 times in her speech. They should make it a drinking game. Go to one of her Bahamas seminars and each time she mentions “Bahamian bread,” you each take a shot of rum. I can promise you’d be a happy sailor after that speech. *hiccup*
But, I didn’t know where we were going to get the bread initially. Did they only serve it at restaurants, or perhaps in bakeries? Or only the locals baked it for themselves and you had to know someone who knew someone who could buy a loaf for you? I had no clue, but that’s what makes it an adventure. I had just wrapped my first “spa experience” of the trip (this is what Phillip and I now call a nice hot marina shower, thanks to some friendly cruisers in Pensacola Cay who coined the term for us).
Ahhh … a whole new person! Post-shower selfie to send to the (other) Captain!
And, I was setting up our cockpit table on the boat with a perfectly-chilled bottle of wine that we had been saving for this specific event: the day we made it across the Gulf Stream and had finally docked in the Bahamas. I was waiting for Phillip to finish his “spa treatment” to join me. I don’t know if you know this, but Phillip is a bit of a shower diva. If he is craving a luxurious long, hot shower, he’s going to get it. Trust me! I’m usually back from the showers before him, but I was perfectly content to wait.
Just then I saw a cheerful-looking elderly black woman with what appeared to be her granddaughter happily walking the docks, her granddaughter heaving and pulling a dock cart that was about twice her size behind her. I didn’t know what she was doing, but I watched for a bit as she and the adorable little girl walked the cart down our finger pier and the woman began to look eagerly at each boat, I sensed looking for people aboard. I also sensed she may be trying to sell us something that I figured I wasn’t going to want. I’m not much of a souvenirey-type person and I didn’t know if the locals would try to panhandle a bit or sell you their wares. I had no clue and I was prepared to politely decline and send her along so Phillip and I could enjoy our celebration alone. But, then she said those magic words. Words I could in no way turn down. Words that would have prompted me to invite her right down into our cockpit and pop the bubbly with her myself.
“Would you like to buy some fresh-baked Bahamian bread?” she asked.
A little stunned, I struggled to answer at first. Thinking to myself, ”Oh, so this is how you get it? They just come dockside and sell it? How freaking convenient!”
“Yes!” I practically shouted. “I want two!” And two I got. A fresh white loaf (I figured you have to try the original) and, upon the woman’s expert recommendation, a cinnamon raisin loaf as well. Only $5.00 a piece for those heavenly loaves. Phillip and I then enjoyed a true Bahamian feast. Crisp popped champagne to celebrate all the months and prep work that went into our voyage to the Bahamas with fresh Bahamian bread to boot! Still warm from the oven. Pam, you would have eaten the whole thing! (We almost did!)
Definitely a memorable moment worth celebrating. Cheers! The celebration continued with our first night out on Bahamian soil at a glorious, decadent little restaurant right next to the marina where we indulged on even more Bahamian bread and lobster tail. Mmm-mmm-hmmm!
While West End was a very cute little place, Phillip and I had already made our mind up that we wouldn’t stay long. It was just for us to check-in, clean the boat, fill the tanks and get ready to toss the lines the following morning to make our way into Little Bahamas Bank. Our study of the Explorer Charts in the many months before our departure date told us there were essentially two routes you could take from West End into Little Bahamas Bank. One is known as the “Indian Cut” and–we were told–this route could be, in some places and depending on the tide, a “very skinny six feet.” Leery of this option, particularly as it would be our first trek into the Bahamas, we opted for the longer route up north to Memory Rock, where there is a well-known inlet right next to Memory Rock that, albeit narrow but if followed closely, allows a good 10-12 feet of clearance into Little Bahamas Bank, even at low tide.
“Yeah, that one,” I remember telling Phillip many months ago. “The ten foot one.”
We do not like skinny water. Some more info on those two different routes, Indian Cut and Memory Rock, for you here. While our time in the Bahamas has definitely made us (because you just have to get used to it) more tolerant in shallow depths, we still do not opt to risk depths that are too shallow for our boat if we can avoid it. With many Bahamian cays and harbors now behind us, I can now say we have traveled in depths of 5.8’ and we didn’t touch bottom. While our manufacturing specs on the Niagara claim we have a draft of 5.2′, that’s a testament to the boat when it is dry. Not when it’s loaded down with the many, many bags of wine, booze, canned goods, water, oil, engine parts, sails, etc. All that stuff that is necessary for cruising, but that brings the boat down lower in the water. Well, we can now safely saw we are least not 5.8’. But how close we were to hitting bottom at that point in time, I do not want to know. Thankfully we knew it was soft, so we were clenched and braced for a sandy bump or two. But we’re thrilled it did not happen!
Phillip and I had also decided to leave West End as early as light would allow so we could navigate Memory Rock in the bright, safe light of day as well as make it to our first intended stop, Mangrove Cay, also before the sun went too far down so we would have sufficient light to safely anchor. Our next intended stop thereafter would be Great Sale Cay before we made our way north into the Sea of Abaco. Here is a map of our destinations:
I’ll admit, Phillip and I were both a little nervous about navigating Memory Rock. Much of our work, education and training this past year (particularly my Sea School and Captain’s License courses) were meant to prepare us for encounters just like this–hairy, rocky inlets that would require keen and precise navigation to ensure our prized possession and our ticket to world travel didn’t collide into a reef or rock and cause significant damage. Following the explicit Explorer Charts headings and Pam Wall’s incredibly helpful and adamant advice to “not turn east into Little Bahamas Bank until you are with 1/4 mile of Memory Rock. 1/4 mile!” she screeched to us via the Delorme (which by the way proved very helpful in making navigation and weather routing decisions such as these).
So we didn’t. We watched the depths as they dropped from 20 to 15 to 12 ft and did not turn right into the Bank until our GPS coordinates were within .25 of the coordinates for Memory Rock. Then we turned, watched the depths, which remained between 11 and 13 and carefully traversed our way along the path detailed by the Explorer Charts. Soon we found ourselves back in a safe 17 feet of water breathing big sighs of relief, so happy we had our first “hairy” entrance behind us.
While planning and dreaming about the Bahamas for many months in 2017, navigating the sometimes tricky and dangerous reefs and rocky inlets was not something Phillip and I were looking forward to. But it’s something you have to accept and prepare for if you want to travel to places like this. It’s the “eustress” (I call it) of cruising, the good kind of stress. And, it was well worth enduring this time, because Phillip and I were rewarded with crystal-clear, lush water soon after we made our way into Little Bahamas Bank. Both of us could not stop staring. There were so many shades of jewel-toned greens, crystal blues, pearly whites, all swirling and flowing underneath our boat. The water was breathtaking!
It was the first time we were watching our boat traverse over the crystal waters of the Bahamas, and I swear it’s like you could feel her perking up, raising her bow, looking around and taking it all in. Plaintiff’s Rest was just as excited to be there as we were. We knew when we saw those colorful, can’t-really-describe them waters that we had made it–into the Bahamas! We motored over to Mangrove Cay just in time to drop the hook, with an hour or two of daylight so we could do our first Bahamian anchor check, which can practically be done from the boat, because you can see down, even to 13 feet and almost make out the anchor exactly. You’ll see in the video! But we were ready to get wet!
A quick dip and it was soon time for happy hour, a stunning sunset, and a special Chef Phillippe dinner on the boat. (I believe it was Cuban-style mojo pork tenderloin with black beans and yellow rice that night, but don’t quote me on that. We eat so good on the boat, every night is finer than a five-star gourmet feast!)
Our plan was to get up with the sun again the next day so we could make it well within daylight to our next stop, Great Sale Cay, and spend more time playing and exploring there before nightfall. And while I would have never believed it, the water that day was even more beautiful, easily the most breathtaking of our entire trek through the Abacos. Just. You. Wait. There’s a little preview of it at the end of the video, and some footage we are very excited to share, coming at you next time. Can you say a Silks Session at Sunset??
Yeeeessss. That’s all coming to you next time. For now go with us! Check in at West End, down your first Goombay Smash (followed by a hammock crash) and join us as we make our way into Little Bahamas Bank! Enjoy!
There were! Everywhere we went. More than we expected. Geckos here. Geckos there. Geckos extraordinaire! You’re right, not real geckos. I’ll admit I know not the native local habitat of geckos. The desert, I would imagine? This was—as I mentioned—a different breed of geckos. The cruising kind! Of all the fun, exciting things we were expecting to find in the Keys, a gecko overload was not one. But that’s the beauty of chance and fate. He stopped me by the pool in Stock Island with a sentiment I’ve heard often: “I know you from YouTube,” and there it happened. We had stumbled upon a pair of newbie cruisers who were about to purchase, splash and move onto their first liveaboard sailboat the next day and it just so happened they had bought the s/v Lazy Gecko. It’s amazing the happenstances that can happen out there and it is a constant reminder how truly small the cruising world is. Fun video for you all of the lazy splash below and a surprise visit from a rather famous cruising couple. But first, let’s get back to our Bahamas-Bound saga.
If you caught the video from our five-day voyage across the Gulf, you’ll know I got rather sick on that voyage. The sickest, I can easily say, I have been in my adult life. In true Annie-style, I spent the first few days of our trip trying to hide it from Phillip, telling him it was “just a sore throat,” “a little head cold, it’s almost gone.” But every time I swallowed, it felt like a fresh layer of skin was ripped off of my throat and swallowed down, leaving it raw and seething. Day three my voice began to go out so there was no more hiding it. I sounded like Patty and Zelma from the Simpsons. You remember this fun clip:
That’s one sexy rasp! Day four, my throat having been way more than “just sore” now for almost a full ninety-six hours, Phillip and I were both pretty sure I had strep throat. And every day began with a clattering cough trying to hack phlegm up and swallow it down. Appetizing, right? Just wait. Day seven, I woke in the middle of the night to the odd sensation of my eyes oozing. I would wipe some gook out of my tear ducts, but then I could feel it puff back up under my lids, ooze out of my duct, pool up on my nose and literally drip off the bridge of my nose onto my pillow. Nice. Several hours in I could mash it out of my eyes by running a thumb across my puffy lids and squeezing it out like a tube of toothpaste. Did I find it odd my eyes were oozing? Sure! Worrisome? Nah. All told, my sore throat had healed and my morning cough wasn’t too taxing. I figured whatever nasty shit was in my head was finally making its way out—albeit out my eyeballs—and I chalked the drainage up to be a good sign. Annie didn’t take a lot of selfies during that phase, but here was one pic Phillip snapped of me my first red-eye morning and you can see it’s not pretty.
Waiters and waitresses seemed to be afraid to serve me, or at least touch anything I had touched. Probably smart. While waking up several mornings in a row with lashes caked so heavily with snot clusters I had to manually pry my lids open was not fun, it did prove to be the last of my wicked strep-bronchinus-infection (we called it) and finally, somewhere around Day Ten, the Captain considered me fully-healed. Hooray!
Why am I sharing all of this with you? Because gross bodily stuff is really cool and interesting. At least I think so. But, really, I wanted to share all of this to pass along another important cruising lesson on first aid and medication: ANTIBIOTICS. When Phillip and I shove off on an extended cruise, we like to try to get a couple of rounds of preventative antibiotics prescribed so we can have them on-board in case one of us gets a wicked infection in a location where we are not close to a clinic … like 100 miles offshore in the Gulf. Did we have antibiotics aboard to treat Annie’s wicked illness? Yes. Points for us. But, was Annie too stubborn and stupid during the first four days of her illness to take them? Yes. Take back those points. I hate taking medication and I really thought it was just a pretty bad cold that was I was just about to overcome. So, I waited. I felt like taking antibiotics for “just a head cold” would be a waste. I usually have them prescribed for a UTI, which I am known to get every couple of years and I wanted to be sure I had them for that if one of those flared up while we were crossing. I would much rather have the gnarly shit I did than days and days of an untreated, raging UTI. Any ladies out there who know the feeling would probably totally agree. But when Phillip finally won out and I did start taking the antibiotics, I made another mistake. (Me? Stubborn? Noooo … ).
I am always a ball of sunshine!
You can probably guess what it was. Obviously, I’m trying to spare as much medication as possible and I still believed I could kick that thing on my own. So, I did what I often do when taking antibiotics: stop-mid dose and save the rest. That has often proved helpful. Here, it proved decidedly detrimental. I took the antibiotics for two days (the last two of our voyage), and I started to feel better, so I stopped. “Must save the rest now for a burning bladder, Annie,” I told myself. Then what happened? My eyes started oozing and my morning cough began and my illness lasted an extra five days. As Phillip later pointed out, if you stop an antibiotics regimen too early, the illness isn’t eliminated but, rather, educated on how to fight that particular antibiotic and it rears back twice as strong. Mine certainly did. So, two lessons for you here fellow cruisers (all lessons are free today): 1) carry preventative antibiotics aboard on long passages (as I mentioned, my ob/gyn nurse prescribes them for me for potential UTIs); and 2) take the whole damn dose. Don’t pull an Annie. Oozing eyes are not sexy.
But, back to our saga. We made it to Key West! Stock Island, rather, as this was the marina where we kept our boat most of the spring last year after returning from Cuba while we flew back and forth to work in Pensacola and play in Key West and we were very pleased with the security, cleanliness and efficiency of the marina at Stock Island Village. While it is a little pricey, it is also a fabulous facility, now with a completed hotel and nice pool, lounge and bar area available for free to all marina residents that we highly recommend.
We heart Stock Island!
And, we were so glad to see it had not been damaged or wiped out entirely by Irma! One of the really fun things we discovered about this marina, immediately after our return from Cuba, was that there is a little Cuban restaurant within walking distance that everyone claimed was “very authentic.” Having just sailed 90 miles from that wonderful island last December, with plenty of Cuban ropa vieja, picadillo and plantains still making their way through our tummies, we were highly skeptical, but definitely intrigued. And the little Cuban gal that runs that tight ship at Deluna’s did not disappoint. We got a mojo pork, with beans, rice and fried plantains that definitely held its own up against our high Cuban standards. And, when we came back to Stock Island this time, we were pleasantly surprised once again by this little Cuban cuisine gem.
“We’re having a little dock party tonight over at Deluna’s to announce our Christmas parade winners,” one of our new boat neighbors told us after he helped us dock and tie-up. “Ahh … cool. Maybe we’ll check it out,” Phillip and I said, not knowing whether we would in fact as we had been planning (and talking, and dreaming, and drooling) about it for days. Our first dinner ashore after crossing the Gulf we had both agreed would be Roostica, a fabulously-decadent little pizzeria bistro in Stock Island that makes delicious wood-fired thin-crust pizzas with names like The Diablo, The Island Pie, Truffle & Mushroom. Are you getting hungry yet? We were. Phillip and I—splayed out wet, exhausted and salty in our stinky foul weather gear sloshing around on passage—had been daydreaming about every oily, buttery, cheesy bite for four days. After our first hot shore shower, it was the first place we were planning to go. But then our dock neighbor said:
“They’re serving food and drinks, too. For free.”
Free?! That’s “cruiser” for “We’re going.” So we did.
And turns out by “food” they meant a tantalizing Cuban feast! Braised pork shoulder, black beans, succulent yellow rice, yucas (Cuban-style mashed potatoes), fresh Cuban bread (“Pre-buttered? Shit yeah,” Phillip said) and sweet, fried plantains. As much as you could eat, with a full wine glass coming every 15 minutes? All for free?! The decision was immediate and mutual. Sorry Roostica. We knew it would be there for us another evening. The Delunas folks had tip jars out and we gave generously then hopped in line to fill a heaping plate.
Then another …
And another. I’m not kidding.
Yes, thirds. We had thirds. I don’t think I’ve had thirds since Thanksgiving 2009. Holy smokes did we eat. But it was the perfect “Welcome back to Stock Island” event. And then we were just stumbling distance from our boat. Our bellies so full we could have rolled home. It was a great way to end our first night ashore.
The next day we were planning to walk or jog to Key West. The beach stretch on the south side of the island is really beautiful and we’ve enjoyed trekking from Stock Island to Key West on foot before.
We wanted to eat at one of our favorite places in Key West, a little French creperia that makes (don’t tell Yannick) better crepes than we had in France. Sorry, but it’s just true. Savory ones with mushrooms, chicken and beschamel sauce. Or sweet ones with dark chocolate and bananas foster. God, can you tell we’re foodies??
Another item on our agenda while in Key West was a reunion visit with an old friend from Pensacola. Our buddy, Russ, who worked at www.PerdidoSailor.com in the shipyard under Brandon for a while, had left Pensacola a few years back on his 1969 42’ Pearson to begin his own cruising adventure and he had landed, as many do, in Key West where we heard he was working on one of the charter schooners there. There are only like a thousand charter schooners in Key West.
But I must share one little secret Russ and I had. Back at the shipyard in Pensacola, Russ and I … we got really close. Physically. I mean it! We did. The two of us were cramped in the bilge of our Niagara 35 for a week together rebuilding our rotten stringers back in the winter of 2015. There’s not a lot of room in there and there was a lot of work to do. We had to get close. Roll that fabulous shipyard footage!
Ahhh … good times with Russ. It was very fun to have a reunion with him and hit up a few of the dive bars and delightfully tacky joints around Key West Harbor. Everyone loves Schooner’s Wharf! Say “Hey!” to Russ! Cheers!
Another item on our to-do list while we were in Key West was give our baby some TLC. Plaintiff’s Rest had worked quite hard chugging us across the Gulf, particularly in those gnarly conditions outside of Tampa, winds of 25 kts and 6-8 foot seas. She had done a fantastic job and definitely deserved some pampering. We gave her a good scrubdown right after we docked, which we usually do every time we make a passage and come into a marina.
Oh, and I did mention that bilge pump in BV1 … we discovered our forward bilge pump, a 500 gph Rule, had gone out. For whatever reason. Just quit working. We figured that probably contributed to the bilge water accumulation I mentioned in BV2. Ahhh … that explains a lot. Good thing we brought a spare! We popped the new one in, not too bad of a chore. Re-wired her and we were in business.
And, Stock Island has a West Marine there so we were able to get another “spare” to replace the now-used spare. Good to keep stock of your spares! We also changed out the oil in Westie. He’d run a good 38 hours bringing us across the Gulf and we usually change the oil every 50 hours, so we figured an early rotation wouldn’t hurt. Our previous owner made a few small modifications to the engine which make it rather easy to change the oil, and a much cleaner process. He rotated the oil filter from sitting horizontal that it now screws up and down vertically (containing the spill) and he put in an extended tube we connect to our manual pump catch-bin to pump the old oil out. All told, this chore only takes about thirty minutes and isn’t too bad at all. Westie certainly deserved it.
Chugging 38 hours across the Gulf had burned a little bit of oil:
And some coolant, which we topped off as well:
Using a mirror to check the gasket around the thermostat in our raw water system to make sure there wasn’t any green ooze around it signifying a leak. “Nope! All dry!” shouted Diesel Mechanic Annie.
And, Stock Island has a nice facility where you can dump your used oil, making this chore even easier. Always good to properly dispose of your nasty fluids.
We also noticed some additional rust that had creeped into our stainless since we last polished (in July) and, while we had time to do it in Pensacola, we literally didn’t have the right weather for it. The Spotless Stainless recommended the product not be used in temps less than 78 degrees. “We’ll do it when we get south then!” the Captain decided and it was done. We gave our gal a beautiful spit shine at the dock in Stock Island and she was glistening!
One thing we would have never expected to happen while we were there in Key West, though, was an unlikely run-in with a pack of geckos! Do geckos run in packs? Perhaps it was a herd, or a flock, but it was way more than we expected to find in one place. FOUR! And, I’m not talking about reptilian geckos. We’re talking about the human kind. Here’s how it went down.
Phillip and I had been lounging by the pool at the Stock Island Marina our second day there (Roostica night! Shit yeah!) and I had a guy stop me by the awesome little tiki bar they built there. “Hey, I know you from YouTube!” he said. I smiled and laughed, because I do get that quite often, and promptly apologized for my Patty-and-Zelma voice. While I did feel and sound like crap most of our Key West days, I never let it stop me from having a good time or meeting fun new cruisers! “I’m Steve,” he said. “My wife and I just bought a boat. We’re going to splash tomorrow then move aboard.”
Super cool, right? Well, wait until you see the boat they bought! This vessel has quite the following.
Steve told me that afternoon at the bar—he and his super cool wife, Ashley were there having their necessary “Holy crap, we just bought a boat” drink—that the boat they bought was the s/v Lazy Gecko, so Phillip and I knew they were getting an awesome 1985 Alberg 37. And, Phillip and I had planned to come watch them splash, hand over a bottle of champagne and enjoy seeing two newbie cruisers launch their cruising dreams. But, what we didn’t know was that the geckos. THE GECKOS. Jeremiah and Brittany were going to be there, too. They had flew in just for the day to finalize the deal, make sure the engine ran for the new geckos and help get Steve and Ashley secure on their new boat and safely off the dock. When Phillip and I were walking toward the shipyard and I saw Brittany pushing Rhys in his little stroller, I jumped for joy!
It was so fun to get a spontaneous surprise visit with the Geckos. We have only been able to connect with them in person on very few occasions. One time they were coming through Pensacola and stopped to get a quick tour of our boat. It was very fun to finally meet them in person.
Then we got to spend another millisecond together when we were all at the Miami Boat Show in February last year. Say Hey to Teddy J with SailLoot!
We had also collaborated remotely doing a virtual tour of their beautiful Alberg, which you can watch here. You’ll see Steve and Ashley are getting one heck of a bluewater boat. In all, we’ve always enjoyed hanging out with them and it was a lot of fun to have a quick impromptu reunion in Key West. We’re very excited for the new geckos, sailing under the name “Bella Vista” and we’re eager to see where their plans take them. Phillip and I had some influence on their first destination. I’ll let some of you guess where we encouraged them to go! For now, meet the new Geckos and say hello to some old friends. Jeremiah, Brittany, we’ll sure miss seeing you guys on the beautiful Alberg, but we’re really excited to see what the sailing future holds for you. I’m sure Bella Vista is going to take the Alberg to many new and exciting places!
Love these crazy sexy two!
“I need an Annie selfie!” Brittany said. “You got it!”
Bon Voyage Bella Vista!
So, tons of fun in Key West, right? We love that quirky little colorful town. Tons of great restaurants and tiki bars, too. Not to mention sunset at Mallory Square. The street performers. Boat parades. Pool parties. All kinds of perks.
But, Phillip and I had our sights set on the Bahamas for a reason. It was time to go! But, one must never be in a hurry when cruising. We knew one of the toughest jumps we might have to make on this journey would be across the Gulf Stream. Pam Wall and so many other experienced cruisers had advised (very harshly but necessarily) against crossing the stream in any kind of north wind. The Gulf Stream is a powerful current that runs south to north along the east coast of the United States and trying to cross it with any kind of north wind we had heard was like trying to run on a treadmill while someone is spraying a fire hose in your face. Very lumpy seas and forceful current-meets-wind conditions.
When Phillip and I left the dock in Pensacola we were prepared to sail straight to the Bahamas if the weather would allow, we figured it was unlikely but possible. When we got the weather data our fourth day of the journey across the Gulf from our router, it showed a front coming through the next couple of days with steady north winds, so a complete Pensacola-to-Bahamas passage was not advised.
We also knew we might be holed up either in Key West, Marathon or some other key (we had heard Rodriguez Key makes a good jumping off point) possibly for weeks waiting for a good window to cross the Gulf Stream, which would not be ideal but totally tolerable. We were thrilled to find, however, that just a few short days after our landfall in Key West, a wonderful weather window was opening up soon that would likely allow us to make the jaunt from Key West all the way up to West End in the Bahamas. Here is the window we were watching:
We checked the GRIBS, checked with friends and confirmed with our weather router this was our window! On Wednesday late-morning, December 20th, we tossed the lines in Key West headed for West End. Next up on the blog, we make the jump! BV4: Crossing the Stream – Key West to West End. Stay tuned!
What inspires me? It’s people, you see? People like me, and people very unlike me. People who seek out, overcome and achieve. Particularly this one: NikkiB!
You know that moment when you meet someone you just know is going to be a part of your life from that day forward, in some capacity? Well, and I shouldn’t say know. I’ll say hope. If there’s one thing I’ve learned in this life is that it can all change tomorrow. You meet people. You connect with people. You lose people and you learn from people. And I have learned so much from this fiesty, fiery little gal. Even as strangers we sensed it. Every moment we spent together we became less and less strange to one another and more and more connected. People like Nikki make you laugh, smile, think, challenge yourself and see the things they have accomplished in a way that makes you want to charge the battlefield and conquer your own. I believe Nikki and I felt that way about each other the day we met.
Okay, okay, we didn’t meet up on a mossy rock in the mountains. That’s from mine and Phillip’s recent trip to Denver to visit Nikki, which is what inspired me to write this post as Nikki and I have traveled a similar path since the day we met: blazing new career paths, striking out into areas of the world that were once foreign to us, striking out into industries that were foreign to us and searching and grasping for those things that connect our mind and body with the world around us and make us feel free. That’s NikkiB’s mantra: Mind. Body. Free.
But, where was Nikki when I found her? Not so free. Stuck in a place she did not want to be. Nikki and I both actually remember that day, because we were both in very different places at the time. In addition to some hobby writing and struggling book sales after leaving the law practice (which was earning me just about enough to eat canned beans every night), I was also selling ads for a local magazine. Yep. Door-to-door salesman right here. And, while I was pretty good at it (it helps being charismatic at times), I found it draining, stressful, not very rewarding and just not the right fit for the life I wanted to live. And, Nikki? A similar situation. As a Navy pilot’s wife, she had spent the last handful of years being uprooted and transplanted from one city to the next, struggling to build a career and life for herself and to figure out what she really wanted to do. While Nikki was an accomplished yoga instructor, a seasoned traveler, photographer and writer as well as a talented aerial silks artist, she knew these weren’t really attributes that translated well to steady income and–knowing travel was a huge priority in her life–Nikki wanted to build a career that offered work that challenged her, engaged her creativity and that she could do remotely. Anything of this sound like a common struggle to you?
At the time, Nikki was working in a yoga studio, which was fun, but demanded many, many hours of her time (weekends and evenings included) for, again, not the kind of money or work freedom that was going to graduate her from canned beans to exploring Cambodia.
I popped into the studio one day (trying to get them to buy an ad in the magazine, of course), met the magnetic NikkiB and BOOM. Magic. A lifelong friendship was forged. Nikki was hopping around on some Kangaroo boots, in spandex with more colors than I knew even existed. I was actually (every bit of this is true) leaving the next day for mine and Phillip’s first big cruise on our boat to the Florida Keys in April, 2014, which Nikki was totally absorbed by, and we instantly ignited. Nikki and I actually ended up doing a photo shoot for the magazine together after I returned (in conjunction with the yoga studio’s ad in the magazine … I told you I was good) which I think was an “Aha!” moment for us both, spending hours getting slathered with makeup only to spend more hours taking staged photos in a studio.
It all felt so canned, when we both knew all we wanted was to be out, abroad, unbridled. Free! After that shoot, Nikki and I scrubbed the gunk off of our faces, grabbed my aerial silks and headed to sea! We hung my silks off the pier at Pensacola Beach, which I’m quite sure was a slight bit of trespassing but it was totally worth it.
This was one of my last days with Nikki in Pensacola and I will never forget it. Isn’t she stunning?
Love that face. I think it was soon after that day (and a few more wine-induced “Where’s my life going?” girlfriend rants) that Nikki made the bold decision to take charge and change her life forever.
“I’m moving to Colorado,” she said.
“What, really? Alone? Why? ” I asked, surprised at the seeming randomness of it. Colorado? I’d never heard her mention the word before … “What’s out there?”
“My new life,” Nikki said.
Nikki knew design, creativity and the creation of photos, videos, articles, etc. was something she was passionate about but she also knew she needed a degree and the technical know-how to create these things digitally (as that is clearly where the world is going). The tough choice for Nikki, here, was that she was going to have to do it alone. Her husband, Chris, was still serving in the Navy and would have to remain in Florida while she struck out for a year, solo, to get her degree. What did Chris have to say about this?
“If it takes one year for you to find what makes you happy, I’ll pack your bags myself.”
You see? Inspiring. And off Nikki went. It was tough to lose a friend like that, but a friend like that you never really lose. They just move and travel and grow and, in between the times you meet up with them in really cool places like Denver (but I’m sure some day Nikki and I will unite again in Bali, Cambodia or even the Bahamas), you share fun emails, texts and photos to stay connected. Even though sometimes, being wrapped up in our busy lives, Nikki and I would go a couple of months without checking in, the moment we re-connected, it always felt like no time had passed between us at all. With Nikki and I, our “check-ins” were often just a photo titled “POL” for Proof of Life:
Nikki: “POL!”
Annie: “POL back : )”
I am incredibly proud to say Nikki conquered her fears, moved out to Colorado in 2015 to strike out on a path all her own, and she graduated Summa Cum Laude with a diploma in Web Design and Development from the Art Institute of Colorado in June, 2016, having conquered 40 very tough hours of course work in just one short year.
Nikki is now a talented (and highly-utilized) freelance digital designer specializing in User Experience and Interface Design. And, no one is more proud of her than Chris. While working as a freelance designer, just since June, 2016, Nikki and Chris have traveled to France, Switzerland, Italy and Asia. Nikki even did a solo trip by herself to Costa Rica. She has done it! Designed and built the very life she wanted. If any of you out there are looking to create a smart, attractive website or custom app for your business, NikkiB is exactly where you need to start. I have included her website link below and quick bio, sharing her passion for digital design, as well as her very fun Instagram photos that really highlight the challenging, exciting life Nikki lives. As she should. She designed it that way. And while she was building a digital design career for herself, I found myself inspired and enjoying the challenge of building my own online marketing/writing career that now allows me to travel and work remotely much like Nikki. Many you out there ask me often how you, too, can build a career that allows you to travel and work at the same time. Well, NikkiB is one inspiring example. Know that it will not be easy. It will often require tough, difficult choices and sacrifices, as well as failures. It can be a very challenging mountain to climb, but as Nikki said: “after the fog has lifted, you find yourself at a place you could have never dreamed-it’s better.” If you want a better life, you have to design it.
Diploma, Web Design and Development, Summa Cum Laude
I create experiences – ones that leave a lasting impression. I am a digital designer specializing in User Experience and Interface Design. I have had the opportunity to work with big brands as well as local small businesses. I strategically plan, research, and test concepts to optimize a user’s interaction with an app or website. I enjoy problem solving and integrating effective UX into an aesthetically pleasing design. I’m inspired most when I get to push creative and technological limits to help clients connect with their customers. I love what I do and sharing that passion with others. When I’m not designing, I’m climbing or riding around the world and taking photos along the way – rock, snow, ice, surf, silks. If it requires a board or movement upwards, I’m there.
– Nikki B
Nikki’s Journey:
You recognize that boat don’t you? ; )
Nikki’s Photos:
Find inspiration wherever you can and hold onto those who inspire you.
“What are we doing?” “I can’t tell you. It’s a surprise. I just need your shoe size.” That’s all I knew. While Phillip planning some total surprise for me—just on any given day, and especially when we travel—is totally normal, this was one of the first times I was overwhelmingly intrigued by it. Riddled with the thought of it. Excited by the unknown prospect of it. One of the many (many) things that make Phillip and I work so well is that he loves to plan: trips, excursions, first-time experiences and random, active adventures for us. And me? I love to do it, all of it, every bit of it. Seriously, pretty much any outdoor/active/artsy thing he has in mind for us. Phillip has surprised me with spur-of-the-moment bike tours, walking haunted house excursions, random rock-climbing, pub crawls, even a super intense personal trainer session for me and I loved them all.
That last one, in particular, was a ton of fun. The Sweat Social out of New Orleans. Phillip told me we were going for an “adventure run” off of Bourbon Street. “Okay, cool,” I thought. I love to run. Well … jog … semi-fastly. Let’s put it that way. But as we jogged along the bank of the Mississippi River near Hannah’s Casino in downtown New Orleans, I ran by a spunky little gal thumping out some awesome booty music, setting up a few yoga mats for a private river-view fitness session and I thought: “Man, that would be cool. A private pump-it-up session on the streets of New Orleans.” I tapped Phillip who was running ahead of me and pointed out Street-Fit Frida to him with a thumbs up. He laughed, smiled, but kept running and I left Frida in my rearview, thinking nothing more of it. But then Phillip circled around, jogged slowly up to the little circle of yoga mats and said “Surprise!” I soon found the little private Sweat Social workout session on the Mississippi River was for me. Me?? You see? Totally cool shit like that! Phillip plans it all the time. He loves to do it and he loves that I will always love to do whatever he plans—no questions asked, with no idea what my day is going to look like. I just need to know what to wear and if I’m going to get wet. That last question I forgot to ask this time because, although I didn’t know it, I was about to get very, very wet.
My first thought when Phillip asked for my shoe size, though? A play date in moon shoes!
Heck yeah!
Or maybe those funky impact-reducing kangaroo boots? I even thought maybe we were going to some place where you can walk on the walls or ceiling with special Velcro or magnetic boots and gloves.
I would totally do that. …. Well, with a safety net. I’m not crazy! Well, not entirely.
These are serious thoughts that ran through my mind because these are the types of things Phillip might seriously plan for me. Super cool, right? What had he actually planned this time?
A dive. No, take that back. The best dive of our lives. To date.
And Phillip has been diving for more than twenty years: for pleasure, in the Marines, as a volunteer search and rescue diver. He’s gone on hundreds of dives. I’ve gone on, maybe a dozen. The best with him, though. Hands down. And now the best, ever, for both of us, together. And it wasn’t out in the Gulf or the Ocean or even a magnificent, secluded cave. It was in a tank. In Tampa, Florida. What made it so special?
We swam with these guys!
Yes, sharks. Right next to us. We weren’t in a cage. We weren’t in some protected tank just looking at them. We were there. Exposed, in open water, with only a half-inch of neoprene between us and their thousands upon thousands of sharp teeth. At first it didn’t frighten me because they swam pretty far away but as we got closer and closer, there were a few times I found myself inadvertently in their path as they swam straight toward my face, deciding how best to avoid me, and I did have a few “Don’t freak out Annie, just breathe” moments when the shark locked his eyes on me for a frightening second before he just puttered on by. It was such an enlightening, frightening, invigorating experience. Way better than moon shoes I’m sure! You want one of those moments too? Well, we’re all suited up …
Whose ready to dive with us? Some very cool footage for you here from our dive with the sharks, many thanks to the fantastic Dive Masters at the Florida Aquarium who trained us, took us down and graciously filmed the entire dive for us so Phillip and I could share moments like this with you.
Our most important take-away from this dive? The education and enlightenment as to the true nature of sharks, their docile temperament, the need for them in our oceans and the unfortunate, very human-like tragedy of the greedy, plunder with which we trap, maim and needlessly kill them. Our highly enthusiastic and passionate aquarium guide and dive masters spent a good bit of time talking with us before-hand about the nature of the sharks, their absolute disinterest in us, particularly as food, and their desire to simply be left alone, to rest, eat and explore. They also taught us sharks in the wild generally only eat about five times a month and, when they do, unlike the many degrading movies that portray them as human killers, it is not humans. The occasional reported bite is more often a case of mistaken identity or harassment.
Humans harassing animals? Noooo!
Don’t you wish that were true? A shark’s number one enemy is actually humans. Particularly in China and other Asian countries, where they catch sharks by the hundreds upon hundreds, pull them out of the water for mere seconds to cut their fins off and toss them back—bloody and maimed—where they die in minutes. Simply because they like shark fin soup. Knowing that, before Phillip and I went into the tank, changed my perspective entirely. I didn’t feel as scared as I thought I would. Rather, I felt sorrow and appreciation for an ancient animal that was put on this earth to help keep it healthy. What I did not know, but our guide explained to us, is that sharks help keep the oceans and reefs healthy by eating diseased and dying fish. They help filter the waters of diseases and decay harmful to other fish and marine life. Yet, there are so fewer sharks in our waters than there used to be because of us. Greedy humans. It was humbling.
The dive, itself, however, was mesmerizing. It was a tank of wonder! We saw huge sting rays, bright green eels, hundreds of fish, a sea turtle, a nurse shark and, of course, the big beauties we swam with: three tiger sharks, a female approximately 7’5” feet long and two males between 5-6” feet long. They were slick and silvery, their skin, naturally the color of shimmery low-rider paint, and their thousands of teeth (constantly bared at you because they are always “breathing” water in) scattered in an impressive array in their large mouths. Because their eyes are located on either side of their skull, they also see two separate fields of vision. Imagine what that “looks like” and computes to in their brain? One large panoramic image joining at the bridge of their nose? I have no idea, but I had a great time imagining what they were seeing. Especially when they saw me. A wide, blue-eyed blonde, my hair wafting strangely around my head, these odd appendages sticking out and flailing, and bubbles constantly floating above me. How strange I must have looked? Certainly more weird than edible, right? That’s definitely the impression the sharks gave us as they swam overhead, many times just inches from our heads. Oh, how my heart pounded! It was such an amazing experience. Easily our best dive ever. And, all because this man decided, yet again, to plan something fun for us.
It only required some spontaneity on my part. And my shoe flipper size. Had Phillip said that, I might have had a clue. But I’d rather not. Surprises are my favorite.
Even with ocean travel on the horizon, I still think some of my most memorable adventures spawn from some of the smallest excursions. I had to share this one with you. Whether you’re headed home for a family reunion, setting off on a random road trip for the weekend, or just headed out to paddle around the bayou, don’t let the chance for an adventure slip by you!
This past weekend Phillip and I hitched a ride in an RV to a good ole’ Alabama wedding with our friends, Boat Repair Badass Brandon and his wife Christine. A good buddy of ours (for those of you hard core Salt of a Sailor fans, it was actually the “Ringer” we brought along when we looked at that first Pacific Seacraft with Hookmouth!) got hitched this past Saturday in the beautiful back country of Lillian, Alabama and being the classy folks we are, Phillip, Brandon, Christine and I decided to roll up to that party Uncle Eddie style in Christine’s folks’ RV and rock that party out. I believe this story would be told best through mere captions alone. I give you: Have Gas Will Travel
“Brandon, can we hitch a ride to the wedding?”
“Thanks B. Pick us up at the No Loading Zone.”
Have roadies will travel.
Shotgun selfie.
We’re here, and “Shitter’s full!
“Better make the bed while I still know how.”
“Are the girls falling out yet?”
“Nope, not yet. You should drink some more.”
Cheers!
Phillip: “How’s my hair?”
Brandon: “No pictures with britches off.”
Can you bring to-go drinks into a wedding?
“I’m getting some of that pig.”
The higher the hair, the closer to God. We love you Camy!
“What happened last night?”
“Well … Christine drove our asses to Pirates Cove and parked it last night.”
Scratch that: “Christine drove our asses to Pirate’s Cove and ran aground.”
“It got soft,” she said.
“Is that the community tractor?”
“You got to floor it,” Brandon says.
“Is that a proximity alarm?”
“‘Preciate it.”
“Dude, where’s my RV?”
Time for breakfast at the Cove.
“Morning!” says the man brushing his teeth. (Typical morning at the Cove.)
Bloodies all around, please.
“Cheers! To Phillip’s bloody birthday!”
Nuff said.
Found the perfect book for my followers in the book swap.
Found a lot of other stuff, too.
Hangover cure. And best greasy breakfast sandwich in Alabama.
Cutest puppy in … the WORLD! (And almost the new second mate on s/v Plaintiff’s Rest!)
If you haven’t checked out our good buddies, Dani and Tate’s RV Coast-to-Coast vlog – DO!
We had a great time glimpsing the RV life. Turns out RVs are way easier to maintain than boats, the gas right now is super cheap and (who knew?) but you can stay free in Wal-Mart parking lots. Sure helps with provisioning, and I believe I’d have a helluva time watching the People of Wal-Mart traipse by my living room window.
Something tells me, though, we would miss the water a little too much.
We’ll sail for now, but when the time and circumstances are right, RV’ing is definitely on the list! How about you all. Any RV’ers out there?
Atlantic crossing update: We splashed the Catamaran yesterday and took her out for a test ride (first for the crew). It was a gorgeous day out there and (if my goofy smile doesn’t full capture it) we had a great time testing out some of the systems. I’ll be posting some pics on Patreon this morning.
Let’s KICK OFF this third season, shall we! With a trip to Ft. Lauderdale where we get a great visit in with the super-knowledgeable Pam Wall, get some initial rigging hardware quotes on rod versus wire and … well a funky little surprise at the end with my bad-ass brother, John. Bring your jukebox money!
Only $48 to go?! Shut the front door. That’s awesome. Just a teeny bit more to go. Get inspired. Get on board!
That probably needs some context. It was a legal conference, many moons ago. Phillip and I were listening to this speaker talk about, well, to be honest I can’t remember what his actual topic was, assuming he had one. He was this big, spirited man. He looked and sounded like James Earl Jones and had the same presence as a preacher at a Bible Belt revival. While his whole speech was entertaining, I only remember this one little bit. He was talking about handling what we call a “dog case” — one you know at the outset you’re going to lose. Everyone knows you’re going to lose, but then something happens:
“Now, I’ve told everyone from the outset–my legal assistant, my paralegals, my opposing counsel even–I-mona lose this case. I stand no chance to win. I never did. As we work the case up I continue these rants and tell everyone again. Then we start trying the case and somewhere in the middle, I get one little glimmer of hope. Things started going surprisingly in my favor–a witness unexpectedly cracks, some key evidence gets admitted, some … whatever. Little things start to happen and all of a sudden: I get delusional. I think I-mona win! I start walking around the office like I got something. But, what am I? Delusional. You know what happens? I lose. Big time. Just like I thought I was going to, just like I knew I was going to, just like I told everyone I was going to. Don’t let this happen to you my friends. You got a dog case. You gohna lose.
June 5-7, 2015:
After our rousing, rhythmic boat-to-dinghy Patron delivery, Phillip and I continued on our way down the ICW to Pirate’s Cove. We were headed there for the 9th annual Illuminating Autism FUNraiser hosted by High Hopes 4 Autism. We had never been before, but Bottom-Job Brandon had been telling us about it for weeks and encouraging us to sign up. The previous year, the event raised over $70,000 for High Hopes, which is pretty astounding. We learned it’s one big raffle fundraiser (excuse me, FUNraiser – because it totally is!) where they give away a ton of awesome prizes, one of which is a brand new Jeep donated by Chris Myers.com.
It is a two-day event with a silent auction, live music and all sorts of entertainment. The way they do the raffle, though, was really interesting. I had certainly never heard of this. Rather than drawing tickets that are winners, it is a “draw-down.” Meaning, they start with 500 raffle tickets and they draw down to the winner. If your number is not the last to be drawn, no Jeep for you! While they do give away several pretty nifty prizes (an ice chest, a Pirate’s Cove bar tab — who doesn’t want that?, etc.) for say the first ticket drawn, the 100th ticket and the 250th ticket, being the last number, the 500th ticket to be drawn, is what everyone is aiming for.
I’m not a gambling man, or a lucky lady, so Phillip and I pretty much spent the second day, the raffle day, lounged back enjoying all the entertainment, eye candy and people watching the Cove is famous for, hung some hammock chairs and just kicked back and soaked it all in. We only checked the numbers occasionally out of random interest as we made our way back to the bar occasionally for a refill.
Some friends of ours — John and Jody (you better watch out for these two, they’re trouble!) — gave us the inside scoop on the whole “High Hopes” part. “Don’t look to see if your number has been drawn until late in the day,” Jody said. “That way you can maintain ‘high hopes’ that you’re still in the running.”
So, that’s what we did. Phillip and I rarely checked the board. Instead we piddled, drank, partied and even took Brandon’s daughter, Ella’s, hand-made wooden 17′ sloop out for a sail.
Raffle, what raffle? We’re gohna lose. No need to worry about it. We didn’t even care that a little squall came through. Rain, what rain? We’ve got foulies. No need to worry about it.
It was a nice, easy day until we finally made our way, late in the afternoon, back to the bar for a refill and back to the board where we were sure we’d see our numbers drawn. I had to rub my eyes and look again. I couldn’t believe it. My number–lucky number 80–was still standing strong. I was one of the final TEN!
That’s when it happened.
I got delusional.
When they get down to the Final Ten at the draw-down, we learned that’s when things get real fun. They line the Final Ten up on bar stools in front of everyone and spend the last hour of the FUNraiser drawing down the final ten to see who wins the Jeep. But, there is some mad scheming that goes on during this time. Pirate’s Cove regulars had told us in years past some of the Final Ten folks will start auctioning off their tickets to the crowd. I mean, they’ve got 10-1 odds for winning a $25,000 Jeep. That’s worthy of some gambling. We had heard some offers got as high as $3k, $5k even $9k in the past. You see what I mean? Delusional. We were sick with it. They lined us up, I took my stool and started spending my daydream raffle dollars. I-mona WIN!
I had Elvis next to me (that’s got to be good luck) and my buddy Jody sitting down the way in proxy for a friend who was also in the Final Ten.
This cool cat, Tom, was the MC.
He was phenomenal. Okay, anyone who can pull off tails and a bowtie paired with shorts and flip-flops is phenomenal in my book, but he had such personality. He was smooth but saucy and took total control of the crowd.
[Bro-Lo, check it out. An “Alchies shot!”]
Tom got the crowd gathered and appropriately riled up while his striking lady-friend, Christy, got the top tenners seated and settled. They were FUNraiser masterminds.
My temporarily-appointed financial adviser giving me some advice:
Then the fun began. Before they even drew the first ticket off, Tom had the crowd shouting and heckling. “$1,000” someone shouted from the back, offering to buy one of our top ten seats. I glanced at Phillip but he had conceded all authority to me (dumb move), but no one thinks they’re going to be drawn first. I’ve made it this far, surely I’ve got some luck pushing me along, you tell yourself. Surely I won’t be the first to be drawn (although someone’s gotta be). But, it’s just too much fun sitting up there, being a part of the Final Ten. I held fast. Tom made me feel good about it. “That’s cheeap for a Jeeep!” he hollered. “Draw her down!”
Now, let’s recall. What was I?
Delusional!
You can’t catch me. I’m number eight-tee!
What happened?
I lost. Big time.
“Number 80!” they said as they drew my number first from the bin. Dag-nabbit. First to be nixed from the Final Ten.
But, c’est la vie. If I hadn’t gotten delusional, I would have never even believed I could have won in the first place. I should’ve jumped on that grand, though … I blame my financial adviser (you know who you are John : ), and Tom. I blame him, too. And, Phillip. Might as well blame everybody for my failed delusion.
But, there was still the matter of watching the rest of the final nine duke it out. Jody was sitting in for a friend, Billy, who was reportedly on his way. She kept joking that he was stopping in at the church to pray!
Billy soon got nixed, too, though. After he was gone, the bids for the tickets started to increase as more numbers were drawn. Tom was certainly helping to up the anty, by scolding those who bid low with his same, shameful sentiment, “That’s cheeap for a Jeeep!”
One guy, and you had to feel sorry for him on this, offered to buy one of the final four seats for $3,800. I mean, it’s not a terribly risky bet. You’ve got a one in four shot of winning a $25k Jeep. But, before his rear even warmed the seat, his number was called, and he was out. That’s got to sting. I didn’t feel so bad about the $1,000 I’d turned down after that.
This guy hung in there till the very end. He was sitting proxy as well for his “Ma” on the other end of the line who actually held the No. 232 ticket.
Ma was sharp, too, always making the right call, sticking to her guns. After a few back-and-forths, Tom the MC would just look at this guy and ask “What’s Ma gonna do?” The guy would wait for Ma to decide and announce it. When he and one other guy were the last two tickets standing, Ma made the bold move to buy the other guy out for a smooth $9,000 — a small price to pay, really, for a guaranteed win. I’m telling you, Ma knew her stuff. But, the other ticket-holder held fast. He must have been delusional, too, because he lost as well. Big time. No nine grand, no Jeep, no nothing. Ma took the cake.
But, it was all in good fun and all for a good cause. I’m not sure how much they raised at the 9th annual FUNraiser, but I know the initial reports were it was more than the previous year’s $70,000, which is awesome. I highly recommend the event next year for any local cruisers in the area. Let me just warn you, keep high hopes for the autism research only, not the raffle.
Don’t let delusion happen to you!
Thanks as always, to the many patrons who help make these posts just a little more possible through PATREON.
Okay, who are we kidding? He doesn’t need the rum. He’s always a pirate.
May 1, 2015:
It’s B! Our buddy, Bottom-Job Brandon (who has rightfully reminded me anytime I mention his name, I should also mention his company — Perdido Sailor, Inc. — or he’s going to have to re-brand). He’s all decked out here for the annual Pirate’s Ball, the kick-off for the annual Perdido Wooden Boat Festival at Pirate’s Cove in Josephine (more commonly referred to as Orange Beach), Alabama.
Phillip and I had the event on our calendar for weeks — May 2-3, 2015. Not just because it’s an awesome pirate party, our friends were planning to sail over for it, too, and we really don’t need an excuse to get that boat out. No, we were really going for the book signing! The Point Yacht Club, the self-proclaimed “Little Yacht Club That Could” whose clubhouse-in-progress is right next door to the Cove, invited me over for a Salt of a Sailorbook reading and signing before the ball. Pirate costumes, rum and salty book sales? Who says ‘no’ to that?
We were also curious to see how the fridge would perform without power for the weekend after the pancreas-splitting Great Stuff repair. We turned the fridge on on Wednesday evening to let it start cooling down. While it did take some time (and several cranks up on the fridge setting), we were pleased to see it finally reach 40 degrees Friday morning on the 6 setting and holding. We headed out that afternoon, planning to meet up with Brandon and his family on their Gulf Star at the Cove. But, we were surprised to have him cruise right up next to us in the ICW on our way over. Good timing.
That little 17′ sloop rig he’s towing is s/v Ellavday, a wooden boat he and his father-in-law built for Brandon’s daughter, Ella. Great name, huh? That thing is a beauty and so much fun to sail. If you want to really sharpen your sailing skills, test them in a little boat!
It was great to have Brandon cruising along next to us, too. I love when we see fellow boat buddies out on the water. It’s just “boat code” to snap pics of each other under sail. With s/v5 O’clock leading the way, we made our way on over to the Cove.
In the weeks before the ball, Phillip and I had been snatching up some pirate attire and accessories and sending pictures to Brandon and his crew with a little light trash-talking as to whose costumes were going to be better. It must have worked because the Halls took the prize with their complete family pirate ensemble, from parents to little pirate run-a-mucks, even the gangly photo-bomber in the back.
Nice hat Uncle Russ.
I would say the doo-rag on their little pirate bundle (Kaitlin) was the cutest, but I just couldn’t. This little rapscallion (Ella) stole the show, unsheething her cardboard sword at every opportunity and poking the air with a fierce “AAAaarrrggghhh!”
You know it makes you want to do it, too. Go on. Who cares what your co-workers think. Close your door and unleash your inner pirate — “AAaarrrgghhh!”
The Captain and I came decked out in full costume as well, donning head-to-toe swashbuckler attire:
Jody Horner with the Yacht Club was instrumental in putting together this whole reading and signing, and I can’t thank her enough.
She literally dragged people over to my table by force, fished twenties out of their pockets and made them buy my book. It was awesome!
At Jody’s request, I read a fun passage from the book that describes our Second Mate for the momentous journey — the infamous MITCH! This was the passage she chose:
Now, let me take a moment to tell you a little more about our Second Mate–the infamous Mitch. Where do I begin? First, I must say, he’s an incredible friend to give up five days to sail across the open Gulf with us and help get the boat back. As fun as it is, remember what I told you about sailing, it is indeed hard work, and we were out of touch with the rest of the cellular world for days at a time. That’s a big commitment, and there is no way we could have done it without him. But, as I mentioned, Mitch is all of six feet, four inches. While that may seem pretty normal for a guy–on land–it’s a bit much on a 35-foot sailboat. Mitch lumbered and bumbled around that boat like an elephant going through a carwash. Each step of his foot on the deck sounded like Neal Armstrong landing on the moon. Ka-boom. I honestly felt sorry for him while I watched him bumble up and down the companionway stairs and through the hatch. He must have felt like he was crawling around on Playskool equipment. After a while, he decided to give it up altogether. Instead, each time I got up to go down the stairs, and I mean the minute I merely lifted my ass off of the cockpit seat, he would start in with “While you’re down there.” Sometimes I just had to screw with him. “Down where? I was going up on the deck to check the sails,” I would say as I walked up topside, knowing full well I had had every intention of going down below, but whatever it was for was now going to wait another fifteen minutes until the next time Mitch beckoned. I have to admit, it was fun, and Phillip and I had a good time christening him with the nickname–Mitch, While-You’re-Down-There, Roberts. But, to be honest, I’m sure it was a lot of work for him to lug that big body up and down those tiny stairs, and he did hold the helm for several shifts that day, so, the teasing was always followed with, “Sure buddy. What do you need.” Mitch was a talker and a screamer but he had a heart of gold. He taught me a great deal about sailing and he was a true asset on the trip.
The reading really was quite an honor and I enjoyed chatting with readers and fans afterward while Jody hustled them out of their hard-earned bills.
I also donated a few books and bottles of wine as a giveaway to help the Point Yacht Club raise money to finish their clubhouse-in-progress. They’re getting close!
After my Sharpie was worn to a nub, it was time for the much-anticipated Pirate’s Ball! We shuffled our way over to the Cove and stumbled upon this striking figure on the way in:
Lady BlackSquall!! Yowza!
And, do know that the bottle she’s holding was chalk full of home-made moonshine which she forced you to take a shot of before you could pass through to the party. Love that gal. But, the real treat of the evening? Mr. While-Your-Down-There himself showing up for the party, dressed in full pirate regalia with his trusty sea-wench at side!
Clearly we don’t need the rum to act like pirates …
After we petered out from the pirate party, we crashed hard on the boat. Having it right there docked up at the Cove always makes for an awesome boating weekend. That way you have easy access to all your amenities (which for us, was still a cold fridge on the 6 setting), yet easy access to the ongoing party at the Cove.
The next day we toodled around and checked out the exquisite wooden boats on display for the festival.
I set up a little table as an official “vendor” with my books in tow (Little Author Who Could here) in hopes of selling a few copies at the festival. Business was slow at first, so I busted out my ukulele and started strumming about in hopes of drawing folks to my sad little tent. Somehow, I managed to entice this interesting chap. Meet Gnarly:
He’s gnarly. He was also an awesome guitarist. He gave me his pick and taught me how to (in his words) “spank on the strings.” I had a great time hanging out with Gnarly. Life is so full of cool people.
With Gnarly’s magic touch on the uke, I was able to snag a few folks in my web and sell some books.
It was enough, at least, to buy us dinner and a few rum drinks that night. If sales ever start to cover boat repairs and maintenance, I think we’ll be all set. In all, it was another wild and raucous weekend at the Cove, with great friends and supporters of my author endeavors. I can’t thank the kind folks at the Point Yacht Club enough for hosting the book signing for me. It was fun being a celebrity for an hour. We had a great sail home, too, with the sun setting on our port and the moon rising at the same time to starboard.
Strange to think it really is the same sun and moon that set and rose back in the pirate heydays. Heck, I’ll bet some of the crumbling planks that make up the walls at Pirate’s Cove are from the same era. The swashbuckling behavior there sure hasn’t changed. They still drink, holler, spit and dance. I don’t think it’s the rum that makes the pirate, it’s the spirit.
Thanks as always, to the many patrons who help make these posts just a little more possible through PATREON.
Photo credit : 
